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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..af0c25a --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65944 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65944) diff --git a/old/65944-0.txt b/old/65944-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ed73130..0000000 --- a/old/65944-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,15465 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Bread, by Charles G. Norris - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Bread - -Author: Charles G. Norris - -Release Date: July 28, 2021 [eBook #65944] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Tim Lindell, SF2001, and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from - images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BREAD *** - - - - -BREAD - - - - -BY THE SAME AUTHOR - - - SALT - or The Education of Griffith Adams - -“Ye are the salt of the earth; but if the salt have lost his savour, -wherewith shall it be salted?” - - --_Matthew_ V:13 - - - BRASS - A Novel of Marriage - - “Annul a marriage? ’Tis impossible! - Though ring about your neck be brass not gold, - Needs must it clasp, gangrene you all the same!” - --_Robert Browning_ - - -E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY - - - - - BREAD - - BY - CHARLES G. NORRIS - AUTHOR OF “BRASS,” “SALT,” ETC. - - [Illustration] - - NEW YORK - E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY - 681 FIFTH AVENUE - - - - - _Copyright_, 1923, - BY CHARLES G. NORRIS - - _All Rights Reserved, Including that of - Translation into Foreign Languages, - Including the Scandinavian_ - - - Printed in the United States of America - - - - - DEDICATED TO - The Working Women of America - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - Book I. 1 - Chapter I. 3 - Chapter II. 34 - Chapter III. 61 - Chapter IV. 89 - Chapter V. 131 - Chapter VI. 152 - - Book II. 163 - Chapter I. 165 - Chapter II. 190 - Chapter III. 242 - Chapter IV. 273 - Chapter V. 287 - Chapter VI. 320 - Chapter VII. 331 - - Book III. 377 - Chapter I. 379 - Chapter II. 413 - Chapter III. 446 - Chapter IV. 470 - - - - -BOOK I - - - - -BREAD - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -§ 1 - -“_One_ and two and three and four and--_one_ and two and three and four -and....” - -Mrs. Sturgis had a way of tapping the ivory keys of the piano with her -pencil when she was counting the beat during a music lesson. It made -her little pupils nervous and sometimes upset them completely. Now she -abruptly interrupted herself and rapped the keys sharply. - -“Mildred, dearie--it doesn’t go that way at all; the quarter note is on -‘three.’ It’s one and two and _three_ and.... You see?” - -“Mama.” A tall dark girl stood in the doorway of the room. - -Mrs. Sturgis affected not to hear and drew a firm circle with her -pencil about the troublesome quarter note. There was another insistent -demand from the door. Mrs. Sturgis twisted about and leaned back on the -piano bench so that Mildred’s thin little figure might not obstruct the -view of her daughter. Her air was one of martyred resignation but she -smiled indulgently. Very sweetly she said: - -“Yes, dearie?” Jeannette recognized the tone as one her mother used to -disguise annoyance. - -“It’s quarter to six....” Jeannette left the sentence unfinished. She -hoped her mother would guess the rest, but Mrs. Sturgis only smiled -more sweetly and looked expectant. - -“There’s no bread,” Jeannette then said bluntly. - -Mrs. Sturgis’ expression did not change nor did she ease her -constrained position. - -“Well, dearie ... the delicatessen shop is open. Perhaps you or Alice -can run down to Kratzmer’s and get a loaf.” - -“But we can’t do that, Mama.” There was a note of exasperation in the -girl’s voice; she looked hard at her mother and frowned. - -“Ah....” Mrs. Sturgis gave a short gasp of understanding. Kratzmer -had been owed a little account for some time and the fat German had -suggested that his bills be settled more promptly. - -“My purse is there, dearie”; she indicated the shabby imitation leather -bag on the table. Then with a renewal of her alert smile she returned -to the lesson. - -“One and two and three and four and--_one_ and two and----” - -“Mama, I’m sorry to interrupt....” - -Mrs. Sturgis now turned a glassy eye upon her older child, and the -patient smile she tried to assume was hardly more than a grimace. It -was eloquent of martyrdom. - -“I’m sorry to have to interrupt,” Jeannette repeated, “but there isn’t -any money in your purse; it’s empty.” - -The expression on her mother’s face did not alter but the light died -in her eyes. Jeannette realized she had grasped the situation at last. - -“Well ... dearie....” Mrs. Sturgis began. - -Jeannette stood uncompromisingly before her. She had no suggestion to -offer; her mother might have foreseen they would need bread for dinner. - -The little music-teacher continued to study her daughter, but presently -her gaze drifted to Mildred beside her perched on a pile of music -albums. - -“You haven’t a dime or a nickel with you, dearie?” she asked the child. -“I could give you credit on your bill and your papa, you see, could pay -ten cents less next time he sends me a check....” - -“I think I got thome money,” lisped Mildred, wriggling down from her -seat and investigating the pocket of her jacket which lay near on a -chair. “Mother alwath givth me money when I goeth out.” She drew forth -a small plush purse and dumped the contents into her hand. “I got -twenty thenth,” she announced. - -“Well, I’ll just help myself to ten of it,” said Mrs. Sturgis, bending -forward and lifting one of the small coins with delicate finger-tips. -“You tell your papa I’ll give him credit on this bill.” - -She turned to Jeannette and held out the coin. - -“Here, lovie; get a little Graham, too.” - -There was color in the girl’s face as she accepted the money; she drew -up her shoulders slightly, but without comment, turned upon her heel -and left the room. - -Mrs. Sturgis brought her attention once more cheerfully back to the -lesson. - -“Now then, Mildred dearie: _one_ and two and three and four and--_one_ -and two and _three_ and four and.... Now you have it; see how easy that -is?” - - -§ 2 - -Jeannette passed through the dark intervening rooms of the apartment, -catching up her shabby velvet hat from her bed, and came upon her -sister Alice in the kitchen. - -There was a marked contrast between the two girls. Jeannette, who -was several months past her eighteenth birthday, was a tall, willowy -girl with a smooth olive-tinted skin, dark eyes, brows and lashes, -and straight, lustreless braids of hair almost dead black. She gave -promise of beauty in a year or two,--of austere stateliness,--but now -she appeared rather angular and ungainly with her thin shoulders and -shapeless ankles. She was too tall and too old to be still dressed -like a schoolgirl. Alice was only a year her junior, but Alice looked -younger. She was softer, rounder, gentler. She had brown hair, brown -eyes and a brown skin. “My little brown bird,” her mother had called -her as a child. She was busy now at the stove, dumping and scraping -out a can of tomatoes into a saucepan. Dinner was in process of -preparation. Steam poured from the nozzle of the kettle on the gas -range and evaporated in a thin cloud. - -“Mama makes me so mad!” Jeannette burst out indignantly. “I _wish_ she -wouldn’t be borrowing money from the pupils! She just got ten cents out -of Mildred Carpenter.” - -She displayed the diminutive coin in her palm. Alice regarded it with a -troubled frown. - -“It makes me so sick,” went on Jeannette, “wheedling a dime out of a -baby like that! I don’t believe it’s necessary, at least Mama ought -to manage better. Just think of it! Borrowing money to buy a loaf of -bread! ... We’ve come to a pretty state of things.” - -“Aw--don’t, Janny,” Alice remonstrated; “you know how hard Mama -tries and how people won’t pay their bills.... The Cheneys have owed -eighty-six dollars for six months and it never occurs to them we need -it so badly.” - -“I’d go and get it, if I was Mama,” Jeannette said with determination, -putting on her hat and bending her tall figure awkwardly to catch her -reflection in a lower pane of the kitchen door. “I wouldn’t stand it. -I’d call on old Paul G. Cheney at his office and tell him he’d have to -pay up or find someone else to teach his children!” - -“Oh, no, you wouldn’t, Janny!--You know that’d never do. Paul and -Dorothy have been taking lessons off Mama for nearly three years. -Mama’d lose all her pupils if she did things like that.” - -“Well--” Jeannette drawled, suddenly weary of the discussion and -opening the kitchen door into the hall, “I’m going down to Kratzmer’s.” - - -§ 3 - -In the delicatessen store she was obliged to wait her turn. The shop -was well filled with late customers, and the women especially seemed -maddeningly dilatory to the impatient girl. - -“An’ fifteen cents’ worth of ham ... an’ some of that chow-chow ... and -a box of crackers....” - -Jeannette studied the rows of salads, pots of baked beans, the pickled -pig’s-feet, and sausages. Everything looked appetizing to her, and the -place smelled fragrantly of fresh cold meat and creamy cheeses. Most of -the edibles Kratzmer offered so invitingly, she had never tasted. She -would have liked to begin at one end of the marble counter and sample -everything that was on it. She looked curiously at the woman near -her who had just purchased some weird-looking, pickled things called -“mangoes,” and gone on selecting imported cheeses and little oval round -cans with French and Italian labels upon them. Jeannette wondered if -she, herself, would ever come to know a time when she could order -of Kratzmer so prodigally. She was sick of the everlasting struggle -at home of what they should get for lunch or dinner. It was always -determined by the number of cents involved. - -“Well, dearie,” her mother invariably remonstrated at some suggestion -of her own, “that would cost thirty cents and perhaps it would be wiser -to wait until next week.” - -A swift, vague vision arose of the vital years that were close at -hand,--the vital years in which she must marry and decide the course of -her whole future life. Was her preparation for this all-important time -ever to be beset by a consideration of pennies and makeshifts? - -“Vell, Miss Sturgis, vat iss it to-night?” - -Fat Mrs. Kratzmer smiled blandly at her over the glass shelf above the -marble counter. Jeannette watched her as she deftly crackled thin paper -about the two loaves, tied and snapped the pink string. Kratzmer and -his wife were fat with big stomachs and round, double chins; even Elsa -Kratzmer, their daughter, who went to the High School with Jeannette -and Alice, was fat and had a double chin. The family had probably all -they wanted to eat and a great deal more; there must be an enormous -amount of food left on the platters and dishes and in the pans at the -end of each day that would spoil before morning. Kratzmer, his wife and -daughter must gormandize, stuff themselves night after night, Jeannette -reflected as she began to climb the four long flights of stairs to -her own apartment. It was disgusting, of course, to think of eating -that way,--but oh, what a feast she and Alice would have if they might -change places with the trio for a night or two! - -As she reached the second landing, a thick smell of highly seasoned -frying food assailed her. This was the floor on which the Armenians -lived, and a pungent odor from their cooking frequently permeated -the entire building. The front door of their apartment was open and -as Jeannette was passing it, Dikron Najarian came out. He was a tall -young man of twenty-three or-four, of extraordinary swarthy beauty, -with black wavy masses of hair, and enormous dark eyes. He and his -sister, Rosa,--she was a few years older and equally handsome,--often -met the young Sturgis girls on the stairs or fumbling with the key to -the mail-box in the entrance-way below. Jeannette and Alice used to -giggle sillily after they had encountered Dikron, and would exchange -ridiculous confidences concerning him. They regarded the young man as -far too old to be interested in either of themselves and therefore -took his unusual beauty and odd, foreign manner as proper targets for -their laughter. - -Jeannette now instinctively straightened herself as she encountered her -neighbor. Upon the instant a feminine challenge emanated from her. - -“Hello,” Dikron said, taken unawares and obviously embarrassed. “Been -out?” - -For some obscure reason Jeannette did not understand, she elected at -that moment to coquet. She had never given the young Armenian a serious -thought before, but now she became aware of the effect their sudden -encounter had had upon him. She paused on the lower step of the next -flight and hung for a moment over the balustrade. Airily, she explained -her errand to Kratzmer’s. - -“What smells so good?” she asked presently. - -She thought the odor abominable, but it did not suit her mood to say so. - -“Mother’s cooking mussels to-night; they’re wonderful, stuffed with -rice and peppers.... Have you ever tasted them? Could I send some -upstairs?” - -Jeannette laughed hastily, and shook her head. - -“No--no,--thanks very much.... I’m afraid we wouldn’t....” She was -going to say “appreciate them” but left the sentence unfinished. “I -must go on up; Mother’s waiting for the bread.” - -But she made no immediate move, and the young man continued to lean -against the wall below her. Their conversation, however, died dismally -at this point, and after a moment’s uncomfortable silence, the girl -began nimbly to mount the stairs, flinging over her shoulder a somewhat -abrupt “Good-night.” - - -§ 4 - -“Get your bread, dearie?” Mrs. Sturgis asked cheerfully as Jeannette -came panting into the kitchen and flung her package down upon the -table. Her daughter did not answer but dropped into a chair to catch -her breath. - -Mrs. Sturgis was bustling about, pottering over the gas stove, stirring -a saucepan of stewing kidneys, banging shut the oven door after a brief -inspection of a browning custard. Alice had just finished setting the -table in the dining-room, and now came in, to break the string about -the bread and begin to slice it vigorously. Jeannette interestedly -observed what they were to have for dinner. It was one of the same -old combinations with which she was familiar, and a feeling of weary -distaste welled up within her, but a glimpse of her mother’s face -checked it. - -Mrs. Sturgis invariably wore lace jabots during the day. These were -high-collared affairs, reinforced with wires or whalebones, and they -fastened firmly around the throat, the lace falling in rich, frothy -cascades at the front. They were the only extravagance the hard-working -little woman allowed herself, and she justified them on the ground -that they were becoming and she must be presentable at the fashionable -girls’ school where she was a teacher, and also at Signor Bellini’s -studio where she was the paid accompanist. Jeannette and Alice were -always mending or ironing these frills, and had become extremely expert -at the work. There was a drawer in their mother’s bureau devoted -exclusively to her jabots, and her daughters made it their business to -see that one of these lacy adornments was always there, dainty and -fresh, ready to be put on. Beneath the brave show of lace about her -neck and over the round swell of her small compact bosom, there was -only her “little old black” or “the Macy blue.” Mrs. Sturgis had no -other garments and these two dresses were unrelievedly plain affairs -with plain V-shaped necks and plain, untrimmed skirts. The jabots gave -the effect of elegance she loved, and she had a habit of flicking the -lacy ruffles as she talked, straightening them or tossing them with a -careless finger. The final touch of adornment she allowed herself was -two fine gold chains about her neck. From the longer was suspended her -watch which she carried tucked into the waist-band of her skirt; while -the other held her eye-glasses which, when not in use, hung on a hook -at her shoulder. - -The tight lace collars creased and wrinkled her throat, and made -her cheeks bulge slightly over them, giving her face a round full -expression. When she was excited and wagged her head, or when she -laughed, her fat little cheeks shook like cups of jelly. But as soon -as her last pupil had departed for the day, off came the gold chains -and the jabot. She was more comfortable without the confining band -about her neck though her real reason for laying her lacy ruffles -aside was to keep them fresh and unrumpled. Stripped of her frills, -her daughters were accustomed to see her in the early mornings, and -evenings, with the homely V-shaped garment about her withered neck, her -cheeks, lacking the support of the tight collar, sagging loosely. Habit -was strong with Mrs. Sturgis. Jeannette and Alice were often amused at -seeing their mother still flicking and tossing with an unconscious -finger an imaginary frill long after it had been laid aside. - -Now as the little woman bent over the stove, her older daughter -noted the pendant cheeks criss-crossed with tiny purplish veins, the -blue-white wrinkled neck, and the vivid red spots beneath the ears left -by the sharp points of wire in the high collar she had just unfastened. -There were puffy pockets below her eyes, and even the eyelids were -creased with a multitude of tiny wrinkles. Jeannette realized her -mother was tired--unusually tired. She remembered, too, that it was -Saturday, and on Saturday there were pupils all day long. The girl -jumped to her feet, snatched the stirring spoon out of her mother’s -hand and pushed her away from the range. - -“Get out of here, Mama,” she directed vigorously. “Go in to the table -and sit down. Alice and I will put dinner on.... Alice, make Mama go in -there and sit down.” - -Mrs. Sturgis laughingly protested but she allowed her younger daughter -to lead her into the adjoining room where she sank down gratefully in -her place at the table. - -“Well, lovies, your old mother _is_ pretty tired....” She drew a long -breath of contentment and closed her eyes. - -The girls poured the kidney stew into an oval dish and carried it and -the scalloped tomatoes to the table. There was a hurried running back -and forth for a few minutes, and then Jeannette and Alice sat down, -hunching their chairs up to the table, and began hungrily to eat. It -was the most felicitous, unhurried hour of their day usually, for -mother and daughters unconsciously relaxed, their spirits rising with -the warm food, and the agreeable companionship which to each was and -always had been exquisitely dear. - -The dining-room in the daytime was the pleasantest room in the -apartment. It and the kitchen overlooked a shabby back-yard, adjoining -other shabby back-yards far below, in the midst of which, during -summer, a giant locust tree was magnificently in leaf. There were -floods of sunshine all afternoon from September to April, and a brief -but pleasing view of the Hudson River could be seen between the wall -of the house next door and an encroaching cornice of a building on -Columbus Avenue. At night there was little in the room to recommend -it. The wall-paper was a hideous yellow with acanthus leaves of a more -hideous and darker yellow flourishing symmetrically upon it. There was -a marble mantelpiece over a fireplace, and in the aperture for the -grate a black lacquered iron grilling. Over the table hung a gaselier -from the center of which four arms radiated at right angles, supporting -globes of milky glass. - -Mrs. Sturgis’ bedroom adjoined the dining-room and was separated from -it by bumping folding-doors, only opened on occasions when Jeannette -and Alice decided their mother’s room needed a thorough cleaning and -airing. The latter seemed necessary much oftener than the former for -the room had only one small window which, tucked into the corner, gave -upon a narrow light-well. It was from this well, which extended clear -down to the basement, that the evil smells arose when the Najarians, -two flights below, began cooking one of their Armenian feasts. - -In the center of the apartment were two dark little chambers occupied -by the girls. Neither possessed a window, but the wall separating -them was pierced by an opening, fitted with a hinged light of frosted -glass which, when hooked back to the ceiling, permitted the necessary -ventilation. These boxlike little rooms had to be used as a passageway. -The only hall was the public one outside, at one end of which was -a back door giving access to the kitchen and the dining-room, and, -opposite this, a front one, opening into the large, commodious -sitting-room, or studio--as it was dignified by the family--in which -Mrs. Sturgis gave her music lessons. - -It was this generous front room, with its high ceiling, its big bay -window, its alcove ideally proportioned to hold the old grand piano, -which had intrigued the little music-teacher twelve years before, -when she had moved into the neighborhood after her husband’s death -and begun her struggle for a home and livelihood. Whether or not the -prospective pupils would be willing to climb the four long flights of -stairs necessary to reach this thoroughly satisfactory environment for -the dissemination of musical instruction was a question which only -time would answer. Mrs. Sturgis had confidently expected that they -would and her expectations had been realized. The dollar an hour, which -was all she charged, had appealed to the more calculating of their -parents; moreover Henrietta Spaulding Sturgis was a pianist of no mean -distinction. She was a graduate of the Boston Conservatory, was in -charge of the music at Miss Loughborough’s Concentration School for -Little Girls on Central Park West, and was the accompanist for Tomaso -Bellini, a well-known instructor in voice culture who had a studio -in Carnegie Hall. These facts the neighborhood inevitably learned, -and that lessons at such a price could be had from a teacher so well -equipped was confided by one shrewd mother to another. The stairs were -ignored; a little climbing, if taken slowly, never hurt _any_ child! - -But while year after year it became more and more advertised that -bustling, round-faced, cheerful Mrs. Sturgis _did_ have charge of -the music at Miss Loughborough’s school on Tuesdays and Fridays of -each week, and _did_ play the accompaniments for the pupils of Signor -Bellini at his Carnegie Hall studio on Mondays and Thursdays, no one -suspected that sharp Miss Loughborough handed Mrs. Sturgis a check -for only twenty-five dollars twice a month and that thrifty Signor -Bellini paid but five dollars a day to his accompanist. Wednesdays -and Saturdays were left for private lessons at a dollar an hour, and -although Mrs. Sturgis could have filled other days of the week with -pupils, Miss Loughborough and Signor Bellini represented an income that -was certain, while nothing was more uncertain than the little pupils -whose parents sent them regularly for a few months and then moved away -or summarily discontinued the instruction often without explanation. -Jeannette and Alice had urged their mother repeatedly to drop one -or the other of her close-handed employers and take on more pupils, -but to these entreaties Mrs. Sturgis had shaken her head with firm -determination until her round little cheeks trembled. - -“No--no, lovies; that may be all very well,--they may be underpaying -me,--perhaps they are, but the money’s _sure_ and that’s the comfort. -It’s worth much more to me to know _that_ than to earn twice the -amount.” - -It was the dreary hot summers that Mrs. Sturgis and her daughters -dreaded when Miss Loughborough’s school closed its doors and Signor -Bellini made his annual pilgrimage to Italy, and the little pupils -who had filled the Wednesday and Saturday lesson hours drifted away -to the beaches or the mountains. July and August were empty, barren -months and against their profitlessness some provision had to be made; -a little must be put by during the year to take care of this lean and -trying period. But somehow, although Mrs. Sturgis firmly determined at -the beginning of each season that never again would she subject her -girls to the self-denials, even privations, they had endured during -the summer, every year it became harder and harder to save, while -each summer brought fresh humiliations and a slimmer purse. Even in -the most prosperous seasons the small family was in debt, always a -little behind, never wholly caught up, and as time went on, it became -evident that each year found them further and further in arrears. They -were always harassed by annoying petty accounts. Miss Loughborough’s -and Signor Bellini’s money paid the rent and the actual daily food, -and when a parent took it into his or her head to send a check for a -child’s music, the amount had to be proportioned here and there: so -much to the druggist, the dentist and doctor; so much to the steam -laundry; so much to the ice company and dairy; so much for gas and fuel. - -Emerging from the chrysalis of girlhood, Jeannette and Alice were -rapidly becoming young women, with a healthy, normal appetite for -pretty clothes and amusement. These were simple enough and might so -easily have been gratified, Mrs. Sturgis often sadly thought, if her -income would keep but a lagging pace with modestly expanding needs. -It required a few extra dollars only each year, but where could she -lay her hands on them? When a business expanded and its earnings grew -proportionately, an employee’s salary was sure to be raised after a -time of faithful service. Mrs. Sturgis did not dare increase the rates -she charged for her lessons. She felt she was facing a blank wall; she -could conceive of no way whereby she might earn more. Skimping what -went on the table was an old recourse to which she and her children -were now thoroughly accustomed. She did not see how she could possibly -cut down further and still keep her girls properly nourished. - - -§ 5 - -She watched them affectionately now as they finished their dinner, -observing her older daughter’s fastidious manipulation of her fork, -the younger one’s birdlike way of twisting her small head as she ate. -A fleeting wonder of what the future held in store for each passed -through her mind. Jeannette was the more impetuous, and daring, -was shrewd-minded, clear-thinking, efficient, was headstrong, and -actuated ever by a suffering pride; she would undoubtedly grow into -a tall, beautiful woman. Alice,--her mother’s “brown bird,”--seemed -overshadowed by comparison and yet Mrs. Sturgis sometimes felt that -Alice, with her simpler, unexacting, contented nature, her gentle -faith, her meditative mind, was the more fortunate of the two. She, -herself, turned to Jeannette for advice, for discussion of ways and -means, and to Alice for sympathetic understanding and uncritical -loyalty. They were both splendid girls, she mused fondly, who would -make admirable wives. They must marry, of course; she had brought -them up since they were tiny girls to consider a successful, happy -marriage as their outstanding aim in life; she had trained them in the -duties of wives, even of mothers, but she shuddered and her heart grew -sick within her as she began dimly to perceive the time approaching -when she must surrender their bloom and innocence and her complete -proprietorship in them to some confident, ignorant young male who would -unhesitatingly set up his half-baked judgment for his wife’s welfare -against her hard-won knowledge of life. Yet both girls must marry; her -heart was set on that. Marriage meant everything to a girl, and to the -right husbands, her daughters would make ideal wives. - -With the speed of long practice, the remains of the dinner were swept -away and the kitchen set to rights. Both girls attempted to dissuade -their mother from performing her customary dish-washing task, urging -her that to-night she must rest. But Mrs. Sturgis would not listen; -she was quite rested, she declared, and there was nothing to washing -up the few dishes they had used; why, it wasn’t ten minutes’ work! She -invariably insisted upon performing this dirtier, more vigorous task; -Alice’s part was to wipe; Jeannette’s to clear the table, brush the -cloth, put away the china and napkins, and replace the old square piece -of chenille curtaining which had for years done duty as a table cover. -Then there was the gas drop-light to set in its center, and connect -with the gaselier above by a long tube ending in a curved brass nozzle -that fitted over one of the burners. Where this joining occurred, there -was always a slight escape of gas, and it frequently gave Mrs. Sturgis -or her daughters a headache, but beyond an impatient comment from one -of them, such as “Mercy me! the gas smells horribly to-night!” or “Open -the window a little, dearie,--the gas is beginning to make my head -ache,” nothing was ever done about it. It was one of those things in -their lives to which they had grown accustomed and accepted along with -the rest of the ills and goods of their days. - -Mother and girls used the dining-room as the place to congregate, sew, -read or idle. They rarely sat down or attempted to make themselves -comfortable in the spacious front room. It was not nearly so agreeably -intimate, and they felt it must always be kept in order for music -lessons and for rare occasions when company came. “Company” usually -turned out to be a pupil’s mother or a housemaid who came to explain -that little Edna or Gracie had the mumps or was going to the dentist’s -on Saturday and therefore would not be able to take her lesson, or a -messenger from Signor Bellini to inquire if Mrs. Sturgis could play for -one of his pupils the following evening. Such was the character of the -callers, but the fiction of “company” was maintained. - -The group Mrs. Sturgis and her daughters made about the dining-room -table in the warm yellow radiance of the drop-light was intimately -familiar and dear to each of them. There was always a certain amount of -sewing going on,--mending or darning,--and hardly an evening passed -without one or another industriously bending over her needle. Usually -they were all three at it, for they made most of their own clothes. -Each had her own particular side of the table and her own particular -chair. They were extremely circumspect in the observance of one -another’s preferences, and would apologize profusely if one happened -to be found on the wrong side of the table or incorrectly seated. Mrs. -Sturgis, on the rare occasions when she found herself with nothing -particular to do, spread out a pack of cards before her and indulged -in a meditative solitaire; Alice had always a novel in which she was -absorbed. Generally three or four books were saved up in her room, and -she considered herself dreadfully behind in her reading unless she had -disposed of one of them as soon as she acquired another. Jeannette -studied the fashions in the dress magazines and sometimes amused -herself by drawing costume designs of her own. - -But dressmaking occupied most of the evenings. There was usually a -garment of some kind in process of manufacture, or a dress to be ripped -to pieces and its materials used in new ways. Alice acted as model no -matter for whom the work was intended. She had infinite patience and -could stand indefinitely, sometimes with a bit of sewing in her hands, -sometimes with a book propped before her on the mantel, indifferent -and unconcerned, while her mother and sister crawled around her on -the floor, pinning, pulling and draping the material about her young -figure, or else sitting back on their heels and arguing with each -other, while they eyed her with heads first on one side, then on the -other. - - -§ 6 - -To-night Jeannette was making herself a corset cover, Alice was -struggling over a school essay on “Home Life of the Greeks in the Age -of Pericles,” and Mrs. Sturgis was darning. They had not been more than -half-an-hour at their work, when there was the sound of masculine feet -mounting the stairs, a hesitating step in the hall, and a brief ring of -the doorbell. They glanced at one another questioningly and Alice rose. -Alice always answered the bell. - -“If it’s old Bellini wanting you to-night....” Jeannette began in -annoyance. But the man’s voice that reached them was no messenger’s; -it was polite and friendly, and it was for Alice’s sister he inquired. -Jeannette found Dikron Najarian in the front room. The young man was -all bashful breathlessness. - -“There’s an Armenian society here in New York, Miss Sturgis. My father -was one of its organizers, has been a member for years. We’re having a -dance to-night at Weidermann’s Hall on Amsterdam Avenue, and my cousin, -Louisa, who was going with me, is ill; she has a bad toothache. I have -her ticket and ... will you come in her place? Rosa’s going, of course, -and ... tell your mother I’ll bring you home at twelve o’clock.” - -It was said in an anxious rush, with hopeful eagerness. Jeannette, -bewildered, went to consult her mother. Mrs. Sturgis hastily pinned one -of her jabots around her neck and appeared to confront young Najarian -in the studio. She listened to the invitation thoughtfully, her head -cocked upon one side, her lips pursed in judicial fashion. Janny was -still very young, she explained; she had never attended anything -quite--quite so grown-up, she was used only to the parties her school -friends sometimes asked her to, and Mrs. Sturgis was afraid.... - -Suddenly Jeannette wanted to go. She pinched her mother’s arm, and an -impatient protest escaped her lips. - -“Oh, please, Mrs. Sturgis....” pleaded the young man. - -A rich contralto voice sounded from the hallway of the floor below. -The door to the apartment had been left open and now they could see -big handsome Rosa Najarian’s face through the banisters as she stood -halfway up the stairs. - -“Do let your daughter come, Mrs. Sturgis. They are all nice boys and -girls. I will keep a sharp eye on her and bring her home to you safely.” - -“Well,” said Mrs. Sturgis, “I just wanted to feel satisfied that -everything was right and proper.” - -There were some further words. Jeannette left her mother talking with -Dikron and flew to the dining-room, to her sister. - -“Quick, Alice dearie! Dikron Najarian’s asked me to a dance. I must -fly! Help me get ready. He’s waiting.” - -Instantly there was a scurry, a jerking open of bureau drawers, a -general diving into crowded closets. The question immediately arose, -what was Jeannette to wear? In a mad burst of extravagance, she had -sent her dotted Swiss muslin to the laundry. There remained only her -old “party” dress, which had been done over and over, lengthened and -lengthened, until now the velvet was worn and shiny, the covering of -some of the buttons was gone and showed the bright metal beneath, the -ribbon about the waist was split in several places. Yet there was -nothing else, and while the girl was hooking herself into it, Alice -daubed the metal buttons with ink, and sewed folds of the ribbon over -where it had begun to split. Jeannette borrowed stockings from her -sister and wedged her feet into a pair of her mother’s pumps which were -too small for her. Her black lusterless locks were happily becomingly -arranged, and excitement brought a warm dull red to her olive-tinted -cheeks. She was in gay spirits when Najarian called for her some -fifteen minutes later, and went off with him chattering vivaciously. - -Mrs. Sturgis stood for a moment in the open doorway of her apartment -and listened to the descending feet upon the stairs, to the lessening -sound of gay young voices. She assured herself she caught Rosa -Najarian’s warmer accents as the older girl met her brother and -Jeannette two flights below; she still bent her ear for the last sounds -of the little party as it made its way down the final flight of stairs, -paused for an interval in the lowest hallway, and banged the front door -behind it with a dull reverberation and a shiver of glass. As the house -grew still she waited a minute or two longer with compressed lips and a -troubled frown, then shook her round little cheeks firmly, turned back -into her own apartment, and without comment began to help Alice hang up -Jeannette’s discarded clothing and set the disordered room to rights. - - -§ 7 - -Jeannette found her mother sitting up for her when she returned a -little after twelve. Mrs. Sturgis was engaged in writing out bills -for her lessons which she would mail on the last day of the month. The -old canvas-covered ledger with its criss-crossed pages, its erasures -and torn edges in which she kept her accounts was a familiar sight in -her hands. She was forever turning its thumbed and ink-stained leaves, -studying old and new entries, making half-finished calculations in the -margins or blank spaces. She sat now in the unbecoming flannelette gown -she wore at night, her thin hair in two skimpy pig-tails on either side -of her neck, a tattered knitted shawl of a murderous red about her -shoulders, and a comforter across her knees. In the yellow light of the -hissing gas above her head, she appeared haggard and old, with dark -pockets underneath her scant eyebrows and even gaunt hollows in the -little cheeks that bulged plumply and bravely during the day above her -tight lace collars. - -“Well,--_dear_-ie!” Bright animation struggled into the mother’s face, -and her voice at once was all eagerness and interest. “Did you have a -good time? ... Tell me about it.” - -Immediately she detected something was amiss. There was none of the gay -exhilaration and youthful exuberance in her daughter’s manner, she had -confidently expected. One searching glance into the glittering dark -eyes, as the girl stooped to kiss her, told her Jeannette was fighting -tears, struggling to control a burst of pent-up feeling. - -“Why, dearie! What’s the matter? ... Tell me.” - -“Oh----!” There was young fury in the exclamation. Jeannette flung -herself into a chair and buried her face in her hands, plunging her -finger-tips deep into her thick coils of black hair. For several -minutes she would not answer her mother’s anxious inquiries. - -“Wasn’t Mr. Najarian nice to you? Didn’t he look after you? Didn’t you -have a good time? Tell Mama,” Mrs. Sturgis persisted. - -“Oh, yes,--he was very nice, ... yes, he took good care of me,--and -Rosa did, too.” - -“Then what is it, dearie? What happened? Mama wants to know.” - -Jeannette drew a long breath and got brusquely to her feet. - -“Oh, it’s this!” she burst out, striking the gown she wore with -contemptuous fingers. “It’s these miserable things I have to wear! -There wasn’t a girl there, to-night,--not even one,--that wasn’t better -dressed. I was a laughing-stock among them! ... Oh, I know I was, I -know I was! ... They all felt sorry for me: a poor little neighbor of -Dikron Najarian’s on whom he had taken pity and whom he had asked to a -dance! ... Oh! I can’t and _won’t_ stand it, Mama.” - -Tears suddenly choked her but she fought them down and stilled her -mother’s rush of expostulations. - -“No--no, Mama! ... It’s _nobody’s_ fault. You work your fingers to the -bone for Allie and me; you work from daylight till dark to keep us in -school and in idleness. I’m not going to let you do it any longer.... -No, Mama, I’m not going to let things go on as they are. I needed some -experience like to-night’s to make me wake up.” - -“What experience? Don’t talk so wild, baby.” - -“Finding out for myself I was the shabbiest dressed girl in the room! -There were a lot of other girls there,--really nice girls. I didn’t -expect it. I suppose I thought I wouldn’t find any American girls like -myself at an Armenian dance. I don’t know _what_ I thought! ... But -there were only a few like Rosa and Dikron, and all the other girls -were beautifully dressed.” - -Jeannette broke off and began to blink hard for self-control. Her -mother, her face twisted with sympathy and distress, could only pat her -hand and murmur soothingly over and over: “Dearie--my poor dearie--my -dearie-girl----” - -“I saw one old lady sizing me up,” Jeannette went on presently. “I -could see right into her brain and I knew every thought she was -thinking. She looked me over from my feet to my hair and from my hair -to my feet. There wasn’t a thing wrong or right with me that that old -cat missed! She didn’t mean it unkindly; she was merely interested in -noting how shabby I was.... And Mama,--it was a revelation to me! I -could just see ahead into the years that are coming, and I could see -that that was to be my fate always wherever I went: to be shabbily -dressed and be pitied.” - -“Now--now, dearie,--don’t take on so. Mama will work hard; we’ll -save----” - -“But that’s just what I won’t have!” Jeannette interrupted -passionately. “I’m not going to let you go on slaving for Allie and -me, making yourself a drudge.... What’s it all for? Just so Allie and -I can marry suitable rich young men! Isn’t that it? Ever since I can -remember, I’ve heard you talk about our future husbands and what kind -of men they are to be. You’ve been describing to us for years the time -when we’ll be going to dances and theatres. Going, yes, but how? -Dressed like this? Worn, shabby old clothes? To be pitied by other -women? ... No, Mama, I won’t do it. I’d rather stay home with you for -the rest of my life and grow up to be an old maid!” - -“Oh, Janny, don’t talk so reckless. You take things so seriously, -and you’re always imagining the worst side of everything. There are -thousands of girls a great deal worse off than you. There are thousands -of mothers and fathers and daughters in this city right this minute who -are facing just this problem. It’s as old as the hills. But there’s -always a way out,--a way that’s right and proper. Don’t let it trouble -you, dearie; leave it to Mama; Mama’ll manage.” - -“No, Mama, I _won’t_ leave it to you! I’ve got eyes in my head and -I see how hard you have to struggle. We’re always behind as it -is,--pestered by bills and the tradespeople. Why, this very afternoon -we didn’t have a cent in the house,--not even a copper,--and you had to -borrow a dime from Mildred Carpenter to buy bread! Just think of it! -_We didn’t have money enough for bread!_” - -“But, dearie, I’ve got Miss Loughborough’s check in my purse.” - -“Yes, and we owe ten times its amount! ... We’re running steadily -behind. I don’t see anything better ahead. It’s going to be this way -year after year, always falling a little more and a little more behind, -until--until, well--until people won’t trust us any more.” - -“Perhaps we could cut down a bit somewheres, Janny.” - -“Oh, Mama, don’t talk nonsense! I’m going to work,--that’s all there is -about it.” - -“Jeannette! ... You can’t! ... You mustn’t!” - -“Well, I am just the same. Rosa Najarian is a stenographer with the -Singer Sewing Machine Company, and she gets eighteen dollars a week! -... Think of it, Mama! Eighteen dollars a week! She took a ten weeks’ -course at the Gerard Commercial School and at the end of that time they -got her a job. She didn’t have to wait a week! ... No, I’m not going to -High School another day. To-morrow I’m going down to that Commercial -School.” - -“But, dearie--dearie! You don’t want to be a working girl!” - -“You’re a working woman, aren’t you?” - -“But, my dear, I had no other choice. I had my girls to bring up, -and I’ve grubbed and slaved, as you say, just so my daughters would -never have to take positions. I’ve worked hard to make ladies of you, -dearie,--and no lady’s a shop-girl.... Oh, I couldn’t bear it! You and -Allie shop-girls! ... Janny,--it would _finish_ me.” - -“Well, Mama, you don’t feel so awfully about Rosa Najarian--do you? You -consider Rosa a lady, don’t you?” - -“She’s an Armenian, Jeannette, and I know nothing about Armenians. -Besides she is not _my_ daughter. The kind of men I want for husbands -to my girls will not be looking for their wives behind shop counters!” - -“But, Mama, stenographers don’t work behind counters.” - -“Oh, yes, they do.... Anyway it’s the same thing.” - -Jeannette felt suddenly too tired to continue the discussion. Her -mind began turning over the changes the step she contemplated would -occasion. Mrs. Sturgis’ fingers played a nervous tattoo upon her -tremulous lips. She glanced apprehensively at her daughter and in that -moment realized the girl would have her way. - -“Oh, dearie, dearie!” she burst out. “I can’t _have_ you go to work!” - -Jeannette knew that no opposition from her mother would alter her -purpose. Where her mind was made up, her mother invariably capitulated. -It had been so for a long time, and Jeannette, at least, was aware of -it. As she foresaw the full measure of her mother’s distress when she -put her decision into effect, she came and knelt beside her chair, -gathered the tired figure in its absurd flannelette nightgown in her -arms and kissed the thin silky hair where it parted and showed the -papery white skin of her scalp. Mrs. Sturgis bent her head against -her daughter’s shoulder, while the tears trickled down her nose and -fell upon the girl’s bare arm. Jeannette murmured consolingly but her -mother refused to be comforted, indicating her disapproval by firm -little shakes of her head which she managed now and then between watery -sniffles. - -There were finally many kisses between them and many loving assurances. -The girl promised to do nothing without careful consideration, and -they would all three discuss the proposition from every angle in the -morning. When they had said a last good-night and the girl had gone to -her room, Mrs. Sturgis still sat on under the hissing gas jet with the -red, torn shawl about her shoulders, the comforter across her knees. -The tears dried on her face, and for a long time she stared fixedly -before her, her lips moving unconsciously with her thoughts. - -The little suite of rooms she had known so intimately for twelve long -years grew still; the chill of the dead of night crept in; Jeannette’s -light went out. Mrs. Sturgis reached for the canvas-covered ledger -on the table beside her and began a rapid calculation of figures on -its last page. For a long time she stared at the result, then rose -deliberately, and went into her room. There she cautiously pulled -an old trunk from the wall, unlocked its lid, raised a dilapidated -tray, and knelt down. In the bottom was an old _papier-maché_ box, -battered and scratched, with rubbed corners. She opened this and began -carefully to examine its contents. There was the old brooch pin Ralph -had given her after the first concert they attended together, and -there were her mother’s coral earrings and necklace, and the little -silver buckles Jeannette had worn on her first baby shoes. There were -some other trinkets: a stud, Ralph’s collapsible gold pencil, a French -five-franc piece, a scarf-pin from whose setting the stone was missing. -Tucked into a faded leather photograph case was a sheaf of folded -pawn tickets. That was the way her rings had gone, and the diamond -pin, Ralph’s jeweled cuff-links and the gold head of her father’s -ebony cane. She picked up the pair of silver buckles and examined -them in the palm of her hand; presently she added the gold brooch and -the collapsible pencil before she put back the contents of the trunk -and locked it. For some moments she stood in the center of her room -gently jingling these ornaments together. Then her eye travelled to -her bureau; slowly she approached it, and one after another lifted -the gold chains she wore during the day. These she disengaged from her -eye-glasses and watch, and wrapped them with the buckles and the brooch -in a bit of tissue paper pulled from a lower drawer. But still she did -not seem satisfied. With the tissue-paper package in her hand, she -sat on the edge of her bed, frowning thoughtfully, her fingers slowly -tapping her lips. Presently a light came into her eyes. She lit a -candle and stole softly through the girls’ rooms, into the great gaunt -chamber that was the studio. In one corner was a bookcase, overflowing -with old novels, magazines, and battered school-books. It was a -higgledy-piggledy collection of years, a library without value save -for five substantial volumes of Grove’s Musical Dictionary on a lower -shelf. Mrs. Sturgis knelt before these, drew them out one by one, and -laid them beside her on the floor. She opened the first volume and read -the inscription: “To my ever patient, gentle Henrietta, for five trying -years my devoted wife, true friend, and loving companion, from her -grateful and affectionate husband, Ralph.” There was the date,--twelve -years ago,--and he had died within six months after he had written -those words. Her fingers moved to her trembling lips and she frowned -darkly. - -She closed the book, carried the five volumes to a shelf in a closet -near at hand, and tucked them out of sight in a far corner. There was -one last business to be performed: the books in the bookcase must be -rearranged to fill the vacant place where the dictionary had stood. -Mrs. Sturgis was not satisfied until her efforts seemed convincing. At -last she picked up her wavering candle and made her way back to her -own room. As she got into bed the old onyx clock on the mantel in the -dining-room struck three blurred notes upon its tiny harsh gong. Only -when darkness had shut down and the night was silent, did tears come -to the tired eyes. There was then a blinding rush, and a few quick, -strangling sobs. Mrs. Sturgis stifled these and wiped her eyes hardily -upon a fold of the rough sheet. She steadied a trembling lip with a -firm hand and resolutely turned upon her side to compose herself for -sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -§ 1 - -It took all Jeannette’s young vigorous determination to carry into -effect the plan she had conceived the night of the Armenian dance. -She met with an unexpected degree of opposition from her mother, and -even from Alice, who was as a rule indecisive, and the vaguest of -persons in expressing opinions. It was too grave a step; Janny might -come to regret it bitterly some day, and it might be too late then to -go back; Alice thought perhaps it would be wiser to wait awhile. But -Jeannette did not want to wait. The more she thought about being a -wage-earner, and her own mistress, free to do as she pleased and spend -her money as she chose, the more eager she was to be done with school -and the supervision of teachers. She felt suddenly grown up, and looked -enviously at the young women she met hurrying to the elevated station -at Ninety-third Street in the early mornings on their way downtown to -business. She noted how they dressed and critically observed those who -carried their lunches. She thought about what she should wear, the -kind of hat and shoes she would select, when she was one of them. If -it meant skipping her noonday meal entirely, she decided, she would -never be guilty of carrying lunch with her. Alice and her intimates at -school on a sudden became drearily young to her; she was irritated by -their giggling silliness. She chose to treat them all with a certain -aloofness, and began to regard herself already as a highly-paid, valued -secretary of the president of a large corporation. In the evenings she -found excuses for visiting Rosa Najarian and eagerly listened to the -older girl’s account of the business routine of her days. - -The tuition at the Gerard Commercial School for ten weeks’ instruction -in shorthand and typing was fifty dollars payable in advance, and it -was her inability to get this sum that prevented Jeannette from putting -her plan immediately into effect. She made herself unhappy and her -mother and sister unhappy by worrying about it. Mrs. Sturgis fretted -uncomfortably. She alone was aware of an easy way by which the money -could be obtained, but since she did not approve of her daughter’s -purpose, she had no inclination to divulge it. - -A five thousand dollar paid-up insurance policy from a benevolent -society had become hers at the time of her husband’s death. It -represented a nest-egg, the thought of which had always been the -greatest comfort to her. In sickness or in case of her death, the girls -would have something; they would not be left absolutely destitute. She -had never mentioned this policy to her daughters, always being afraid -she might borrow on it, and many a time she had been sorely tempted to -do so. With the knowledge of its existence unshared with anyone, Mrs. -Sturgis felt herself equal to temptation; but once taking her children -into her confidence, she feared she would soon weakly make inroads upon -it. - -Now as Jeannette became restive and impatient for want of fifty -dollars, her mother grew correspondingly depressed. It was to protect -herself against just such wild-goose schemes as this, she told herself -over and over, that she had refrained from telling her darlings -anything about the money. - -But events, unforeseen, and from her point of view, calamitous, robbed -her of her fortitude, and forced her to play into her daughter’s hands. -Scarlet fever broke out in the neighborhood; an epidemic swept the -upper West Side; the Wednesday and Saturday lessons,--all of them,--had -to be discontinued; Miss Loughborough’s school closed its doors. Mrs. -Sturgis found some music to copy, but the money she earned in this way -was far short of the meager income upon which she and her daughters -had depended. The days stretched into weeks and still new cases were -reported in the district. The time came when there was actual want in -the little household, literally no money with which to buy food, and no -further credit to be had among the tradespeople. - -Jeannette applied for and secured the promise of a job in a small -upholsterer’s shop in the neighborhood at six dollars a week, and in -the face of her firm resolution to accept the offer and go to work on -the following Monday morning, Mrs. Sturgis confessed her secret. As she -had foreseen, Jeannette had little difficulty in persuading her,--since -now she would be compelled to borrow on her store,--to make the amount -of her loan fifty dollars additional. - -“Why, Mama, I’ll be earning that much a month in ten weeks, and I can -pay it back to you in no time.” - -“I know--I know, dearie. But I just hate to do it.” - -Eventually, she gave way before her daughter’s flood of arguments. -It was what she had feared ever since Ralph died; there would be no -stopping now the inroads upon her little capital; she saw the beginning -of the end. - -But Jeannette went triumphantly to school. - - -§ 2 - -After the first few days while she felt herself conspicuous as a new -pupil, she began to enjoy herself immensely. The studies fascinated -her. Hers was an alert mind and she was unusually intelligent. She -had always been regarded as an exceptionally bright student, but she -had achieved this reputation with little application. Her school work -heretofore had represented merely “lessons” to her; it had never -carried any significance. But now she threw herself with all the -intensity of her nature upon what seemed to her a vital business. -She realized she had only ten weeks in which to master shorthand and -typing, and at the end of that time would come the test of her ability -to fill a position as stenographer. She dared not risk the humiliation -of failure; her pride,--the strongest element in her make-up,--would -not permit it. She must work, work, work; she must utilize every hour, -every minute of these precious weeks of instruction! - -The girl knew in her heart that she had many of the qualifications of -a good secretary. She was pretty, she was well-mannered, intelligent, -and could speak and write good English. To find ample justification for -this estimate, she had but to compare herself with other girls in the -school. These for the most part were foreign-born. A large percentage -were Jewesses, thick-lipped and large-nosed, with heavy black coils of -hair worn over ill-disguised “rats.” Jeannette detected a finer type, -but even to these exceptions she felt herself superior. They chewed gum -a great deal, and shrieked over their confidences as they ate their -lunches out of cardboard boxes at the noon hour. She could not bring -herself to associate with such girls, and forestalled any approach to -friendliness on their part by choosing a remote corner to devote the -leisure minutes to study. In consequence she became the butt of much -of their silly laughter, and though she winced at these whisperings -and jibes, she never betrayed annoyance. There was a sprinkling of -men and boys throughout the school, but the male element was made up -of middle-aged dullards and pimply-necked raw youths, none of whom -interested her. - -The weeks fled by, and Jeannette was carried along on an undiminished -wave of excitement. Everything she coveted most in the world depended -upon her winning a diploma from the school at the end of the ten weeks’ -instruction. She discovered soon after her enrollment, that while this -might be physically possible, it was rarely accomplished, and most of -her fellow students had been attending the school for months. A diploma -represented to her the measure of success, and as the time grew shorter -before she was to take the final examinations, she could hardly sleep -from the intensity of her emotions. - -At home, matters had materially improved. The epidemic was over; Miss -Loughborough’s school had reopened its doors, and Mrs. Sturgis was -again beginning to fill her Wednesdays and Saturdays with lessons. -But the problem of finances was still unsolved. There was a loan of -five hundred dollars now on the insurance policy, and Jeannette foresaw -her mother would not cease to fret and worry over that until it had -somehow been paid back. Everything, it seemed to her, depended on her -success at school. There was no hope for the little family otherwise. -Alice--trusting, complacent little Alice--was not the type who could -shoulder any of the burden; her mother was perceptibly not as strong as -she had been. There would always be debts, there would always be worry, -there would always be skimping and self-denial, unless she, Jeannette, -got a job and went to work. - -Weary with fatigue, she would drive herself at her practice on the -rented typewriter in the studio every evening until her back flamed -with fire and her fingertips grew sore. She made Alice read aloud -to her while she filled page after page in her note-book with her -hooks and dashes, until her sister drooped with sleep. Mrs. Sturgis -protested, actually cried a little. The child was killing herself to no -purpose! There wasn’t any sense in working so hard! She was wasting her -time and it would end by their having a doctor! - -Jeannette shook her head and held her peace, but when the reward came -and old Roger Mason, who had been principal of the school for nearly -twenty years, sent for her and told her he wanted to congratulate her -on the excellent showing she had made, she felt amply compensated. But -none of those who eagerly congratulated her,--not even her mother nor -Alice,--suspected how infinitely harder than mastering her lessons had -been what she had endured from the jeering, mimicking girls who had -made fun of her through the dreadful ten weeks. - -But that was all behind her now. She could forget it. She had justified -herself, and stood ready to prove to her mother and sister that she -could now fill a position as a regular stenographer, could hold it, -and moreover bring them material help. She was all eagerness to -begin,--frightened at the prospect, yet confident of success. - - -§ 3 - -Graduates of the Gerard Commercial School ordinarily did not have to -wait long for a job. The demand for stenographers was usually in excess -of the supply. Little Miss Ingram, down at the school, who had in hand -the matter of finding positions for Gerard graduates, was interested -in obtaining the best that was available for Miss Sturgis who had made -such an excellent record, and Jeannette was thrilled one morning at -receiving a note asking her to report at the school without delay if -she wished employment. - -Miss Ingram handed her an address on Fourth Avenue. - -“It’s a publishing house. They publish subscription books, I -think,--something of that sort. I don’t urge you to take it,--something -better may come along,--but you can look them over and see how you -think you’d like it. They’ll pay fifteen.” - -“Fifteen a week?” Jeanette raised delighted eyes. “Oh, Miss Ingram, do -you think I can please them? Do you think they’ll give me a chance?” - -Miss Ingram smiled and squeezed Jeannette’s arm reassuringly. - -“Of course, my dear, and they’ll be delighted with you. You’re a great -deal better equipped than most of our girls.” - -The Soulé Publishing Company occupied a spacious floor of a tall -building on Fourth Avenue. Jeannette was deafened by the clatter of -typewriters as she stepped out of the elevator. - -The loft was filled with long lines of girls seated at typewriting -machines and at great broad-topped tables piled high with folded -circulars. Figures, silhouetted against the distant windows, moved to -and fro between the aisles. It was a turmoil of noise and confusion. - -As she stood before the low wooden railing that separated her from it -all, trying to adjust her eyes to the kaleidoscopic effect of movement -and light, a pert young voice addressed her: - -“Who did chou want t’ see, ple-ease?” - -A little Jewess of some fourteen or fifteen years with an elaborate -coiffure surmounting her peaked pale face was eyeing her inquiringly. - -“I called to see about--about a position as stenographer.” - -Jeannette’s voice all but failed her; the words fogged in her throat. - -“Typist or regular steno?” - -“Stenographer, I think; shorthand and transcription,--wasn’t that what -was wanted?” - -“See Miss Gibson; first desk over there, end of third aisle.” The -little girl swung back a gate in the railing, screwed up the corners of -her mouth, tucked a stray hair into place at the nape of her neck, and -with an assumed expression of elaborate boredom waited for Jeannette to -pass through. - -It took courage to invade that region of bustle and clamor. Jeannette -advanced with faltering step, felt the waters close over her head, -and herself engulfed in the whirling tide. Once of it, it did not -seem so terrifying. Already her ears were becoming attuned to the -rat-ti-tat-tating that hummed in a roar about her, and her eyes -accustomed to the flying fingers, the flashing paper, the bobbing -heads, and hurrying figures. - -Miss Gibson was a placid, gray-haired woman, large-busted and severely -dressed in an immaculate shirtwaist that was tucked trimly into a snug -belt about her firm, round person. - -She smiled perfunctorily at the girl as she indicated the chair beside -her desk. Jeannette felt her eyes swiftly taking inventory of her. Her -interrogations were of the briefest. She made a note of Jeannette’s -age, name and address, and schooling. She then launched into a -description of the work. - -The Soulé Publishing Company sold a great many books by subscription: -_Secret Memoirs_, _The Favorites of Great Kings_, _A Compendium of -Mortal Knowledge_. Their most recent publication was a twenty-five -volume work entitled _A Universal History of the World_. This set of -books was supposed to contain a complete historical record of events -from the beginning of time, and was composed of excerpts from the -writings of great historians, all deftly welded together to make a -comprehensive narrative. A tremendous advertising campaign was in -progress; all magazines carried full-page advertisements, and a coupon -clipped from a corner of them brought a sample volume by mail for -inspection. When these volumes were returned, they were accompanied -by an order or a letter giving the reason why none was enclosed. -To the latter, a personal reply was immediately written by Mr. -Beardsley,--Miss Gibson indicated a young man seated by a window some -few desks away. He dictated to a corps of stenographers, and followed -up his first letters with others, each containing an argument in favor -of the books. - -Miss Gibson enunciated this information with a glibness that suggested -many previous recitations. When she had finished, with disconcerting -abruptness, she asked Jeannette if she thought she could do the work. -The girl, taken aback, could only stare blankly; she had no idea -whether she could do it or not; she shook her head aimlessly. Miss -Gibson frowned. - -“Well,--we’ll see what you can do,” she declared. “Miss Rosen,” she -called, and as a young Jewess came toward them, she directed: “Take -Miss--Miss”--she glanced at her notes,--“Sturgis to the cloak room, and -bring her back here.” - -Jeannette’s mind was a confused jumble. “They won’t kill me,--they -won’t eat me,” she found herself thinking. - -Presently she stood before Miss Gibson once more. The woman glanced at -her, and rose. - -“Come this way.” They walked toward the young man she had previously -indicated. - -“Mr. Beardsley, try this girl out. She comes from the Gerard School, -but she’s had no practical experience.” - -Jeannette looked into a pleasant boy’s face. He had an even row of -glittering white teeth, a small, quaint mouth that stretched tightly -across them when he smiled, blue eyes, and rather unruly stuck-up hair. - -She wanted to please him--she could please him--he seemed nice. - -“Miss--Miss--I beg pardon,--Miss Gibson did not mention the name.” - -“Sturgis.” - -“There’s a vacant table over there. You can have a Remington or an -Underwood--anything you are accustomed to; we have all styles.... Miss -Flannigan, take charge of Miss Sturgis, will you?” - -A big-boned Irish girl came toward him. She was a slovenly type but -apparently disposed to be friendly. - -“I’ll lend you a note-book and pencils till you can draw your own from -the stock clerk. You have to make out a requisition for everything you -want, here. You’ll find paper in that drawer, and that’s a Remington if -you use one.” - -Jeannette slipped into the straight-back chair and settled with a sense -of relief before the flimsy little table on which the typewriter stood. -She was eager for a moment’s inconspicuousness. - -“This is the kind of stuff he gives you.” - -Miss Flannigan leaned over from behind and offered her several yellow -sheets of typewriting. - -Jeannette took them with a murmured thanks, and began to read. - -“... deferred payment plan. Five dollars will immediately secure this -handsome twenty-five volume set.... On the first of May, the price of -these books, as advertised, must advance, but by subscribing now....” - -She wet her dry lips and glanced at another page. - -“The authenticity of these sources of historical information cannot be -doubted.... Eliminating the traditions which can hardly be accepted as -dependable chronicles, we turn to the Egyptian records which are still -extant in graven symbols.” - -She couldn’t do it! It was harder than anything she had ever had in -practice! She saw failure confronting her. The sting of tears pricked -her eyes, and she pressed her lips tightly together. - -Blindly she picked up a stiff bristle brush and began to clean the -type of her machine. She slipped in a sheet of paper, and, to distract -herself, rattled off briskly some of her school exercises. Those other -girls could do it! She saw them glancing at their notes, and busily -clicking at their machines. They did not seem to be having difficulty. -Miss Flannigan,--that raw-boned Irish girl with no breeding, no -education, no brains!--how was it that _she_ managed it? - -She frowned savagely and her fingers flew. - -“Miss Sturgis.” - -Young Mr. Beardsley was smiling at her invitingly. She rose, gathering -up her pencils and note-book. - -“Sit down, Miss Sturgis. This work may seem a little difficult to you -at first but you’ll soon get on to it. Most of these letters are very -much alike. There’s no particular accuracy required. The idea is to get -in closer touch with these people who have written in or inquired about -the books, and we write them personal letters for the effect the direct -message....” - -He went on explaining, amiably, reassuringly. Jeannette thawed under -his pleasant manner; confidence came surging back. She made up her mind -she liked this young man; he was considerate, he was kind, he was a -gentleman. - -“The idea, of course, is always to have your letters intelligible. -If you don’t understand what you have written, the person to whom it -is addressed, won’t either. I don’t care whether you get my actual -words or not. You’re always at liberty to phrase a sentence any way -you choose as long as it makes sense.... Now let’s see; we’ll try one. -Frank Curry, R.F.D. 1, Topeka, Kansas.... I’ll go slow at first, but if -I forget and get going too rapidly, don’t hesitate to stop me.” - -Jeannette, with her note-book balanced on her knee, bent to her work. -Beardsley spoke slowly and distinctly. After the first moments of -agonizing despair, she began to catch her breath and concentrate on -the formation of her notes. More than once she was tempted to write a -word out long-hand; she hesitated over “historical,” “consummation,” -“inaccurate.” She had been told at school never to permit herself to do -this. Better to fail at first, they had said, than to grow to depend on -slipshod ways. - -The ordeal lasted half-an-hour. - -“Suppose you try that much, Miss Sturgis, and see how you get along.” - -She rose and gathered up the bundle of letters. Beardsley gave her a -friendly, encouraging smile as she turned away. - -“How pleasant and kind everyone is!” Jeannette thought as she made her -way back to her little table. - -But her heart died within her as she began to decipher her notes. -Again and again they seemed utterly meaningless,--a whole page of -them when the curlicues, hooks and dashes looked to her like so many -aimless pencil marks. She frowned and bent over her book despairingly, -squeezing hard the fingers of her clasped hands together. What had he -said! How had he begun that paragraph? ... Oh, she hadn’t had enough -training yet, not enough experience! She couldn’t do it! She’d have to -go to him and tell him she couldn’t do the work! And he had been so -kind to her! And she would have to tell capable, friendly Miss Gibson -that a month or two more in school perhaps would be wiser before she -could attempt to do the work of a regular stenographer! And there were -her mother and sister, too! She would have to confess to them as well -that she had failed! The thought strangled her. Tears brimmed her eyes. - -“Perhaps you’re in trouble? Can I help?” A gentle voice from across -the narrow aisle addressed her. Jeannette through blurred vision saw a -round, white face with kindly sympathetic eyes looking at her. - -“What system do you use? The Munson? ... That’s good. Let me see your -notes. Just read as far as you can; his letters are so much alike, I -think I can help you.” - -Jeannette winked away the wetness in her eyes, and read what she was -able. - -“Oh, yes, I know,” interrupted this new friend; “it goes this way.” She -flashed a paper into her machine and clicked out with twinkling fingers -a dozen lines. - -“See if that isn’t it,” said the girl handing her the paper. - -Jeannette read the typewritten lines and referred to her notes. - -“Yes, it’s just the same.” Her eyes shone. “I’m _so_ much obliged.” - -“It seemed to me awfully hard at first. I thought I never could do it.” - -“Did you?” Jeannette smiled gratefully. - -“Oh, yes; we all had an awful time. He uses such outlandish words.” - - -§ 4 - -The morning was gone before she knew it. She went out at lunch-time, -walked a few blocks up Fourth Avenue and then turned back to the -office. She did not eat; she did not want any lunch; her mind was -absorbed in her work; she had hardly left the building before she -wanted to get back to her desk, to recopy a letter or two in which she -had made some erasures. The afternoon fled like the morning. - -A whirl of confused impressions spun about in her brain as she shut -her eyes and tried to go to sleep that night. Although she ached with -fatigue, she was too excited to lose consciousness at once. The day’s -events, like a merry-go-round, wheeled around and around her. On the -whole she was satisfied. She had finished all of the letters Mr. -Beardsley had given her; he had beckoned her to come to him after he -had read them, had commended her, and given her back but one to correct -in which the punctuation was faulty. - -“I’m sure you’ll do all right, Miss Sturgis,” he told her. “You’ll find -it much easier as soon as you get used to the work.” - -And Jeannette felt she had made a real friend in Miss Alexander, the -girl across the aisle who had so generously, so wonderfully helped -her. Among the riff-raff of girls that surged in and out of the -office, cheaply dressed, loud-laughing, common little chits, Beatrice -Alexander was easily recognizable as belonging to Jeannette’s own -class. Each had discerned in the other a similarity of thought, of -taste and refinement that drew them immediately together. - -A wonderful, tremendous feeling of importance and self-respect came to -Jeannette as she had made her way across crowded Twenty-third Street -and encountered a great tide of other workers homeward bound; as -she climbed the steep elevated station steps, and with the pushing, -jostling crowd wedged her way on board a train; as she hung to a strap -in the swaying car and squeezed herself through the jam of people about -the doorway when Ninety-third Street was reached, and as she walked the -brief block and a half that remained before she was at last at home. -Every instant of the way she hugged the soul-satisfying thought that -she had proven herself; now she was truly a full-fledged wage-earner, a -working girl. She had achieved, she felt, economic value. - - -§ 5 - -Life began to take on a new flavor. The future held hidden golden -promises. Jeannette had always had a protecting, proprietary attitude -toward her mother and Alice, but now she was acutely aware of it, and -the thought was sweet to her; she revelled in the prospect of the rôle -she must inevitably assume. All her world was centered in her eager, -hard-working, ever-cheerful, fussy little mother, and her gentle -brown-eyed sister who looked up to her with such adoration and implicit -faith. Jeannette felt she had forever established their confidence in -her by this successful step into the business world. Her mother had -been completely won by her good fortune, and her stout little bosom -swelled with pride in her daughter’s achievement. Eagerly she told her -pupils about it, and even regaled with the news fat good-natured Signor -Bellini and politely indifferent Miss Loughborough. - -To Jeannette, the Soulé Publishing Company became at once a concern of -tremendous importance. Before little Miss Ingram had mentioned its name -to her, she was not sure she had ever heard it. Now she seemed to see -it wherever she turned, heard about it in chance conversations at least -once a day; it leaped at her from advertisements in the newspapers and -from the pages of magazines. Books, she casually picked up, bore its -imprint. A great pride in the big company that employed her came to -her: it was the largest and most enterprising of all publishing houses; -it was spending a million dollars advertising _The Universal History of -the World_; it had hundreds of employees on its pay-roll! - -If there were less roseate aspects of the concern that paid her fifteen -dollars every Saturday, Jeannette did not see them. She never stopped -to examine critically the history she was helping to sell, nor to -glance into the pages of the _Secret Memoirs_, nor to open the leaves -of the set of books labelled _Favorites of Great Kings_. She never -thought it curious that the firm employed so many cheaply dressed, -vulgar-tongued little Jewesses, and sallow-skinned, covert-eyed girls. -Nor did she wonder that she never observed any important-looking -individuals who might be officials of the company, walking about or -up and down the aisles of the racketting, bustling loft. There was -only Mr. Kent. The others, whoever they might be, confined their -activities, she came to understand, to the main offices of the Company -on West Thirty-second Street. This great loft with its sea of life was -only a temporary arrangement,--part of the great selling campaign by -which a hundred thousand sets of the History were to be sold before -May first. Something of tremendous import was to happen on this -fateful date,--an upheaval in trade conditions, a great change in the -publishing world. Jeannette was not sure what it was all to be about, -but she was convinced that after May first, the public would no longer -have this wonderful chance to buy the twenty-five volumes of the -History at such a ridiculously low price. - -Behind glass partitions in one corner of the extensive floor were the -inner offices,--the “holy of holies” Jeannette thought of them,--where -Mr. Edmund Kent existed, pulled wires, touched bells, and gave orders -that generalled the activities of the hundreds of human beings who -clicked away at their typewriters, or deftly folded thousands and -thousands of circulars, to tuck into waiting envelopes that were later -dragged away in grimy, striped-canvas mail sacks. Mr. Edmund Kent -was the Napoleon, the great King, the Far-seeing Master who in his -awesome, mysterious glass-partitioned office, ruled them with arbitrary -and benevolent power. All day long, Jeannette heard Mr. Kent’s name -mentioned. Miss Gibson quoted him; Mr. Beardsley decided this or that -important matter must be referred to him. What Mr. Kent thought, said, -did, was final. The girl used to catch a glimpse of the great man, now -and then, as he came in, in the morning, or went out to a late lunch: -a square-shouldered, firm-stepping man with a derby hat, a straight, -trim mustache, and an overcoat whose corners flapped about his knees. -He seemed wonderful to her. - -“Shhhh....” a whisper would come from one of the girls near by; -“there’s Mr. Kent”; and all would watch him out of the corners of their -eyes as they pretended to bend over their work. - -“Mr. Kent is President of the Company?” Jeannette one day ventured to -ask Mr. Beardsley. - -“Oh, no, just the selling agent,” he replied. This was perplexing, but -it did not make Jeannette regard with any less veneration the stocky -figure in derby hat and flapping coat corners which strode in and out -of the office. - -There were other mysterious persons who had desks in the “holy of -holies,” but Jeannette was never able to make out who these were, nor -what might be their duties. Miss Gibson was in charge of the girls on -the floor; Mr. Beardsley was her immediate “boss.” There was a cashier -who made up the pay-roll and whose assistants handed out the little -manila envelopes on Saturday morning containing the neatly folded -bills. She had no occasion to be concerned about anyone else. - -Her “boss’s” full name was Roy Beardsley. _Roy!_ She smiled when -she heard it. He was young,--twenty-three or-four; he was a recent -Princeton graduate, was unmarried and lived in a boarding-house -somewhere on Madison Avenue. She found out so much from the girls her -second day at the office; they were glib with information concerning -any one of the force. - -Jeannette liked her young boss, principally because it soon became -apparent that he treated her with a courtesy he did not accord -the other girls. She was, after all, a “lady,” she told herself, -straightening her shoulders a trifle, and he was sufficiently well-bred -himself to recognize that fact. He must see, of course, the difference -between herself and such girls as--well--as Miss Flannigan, for -instance. But more than this, Jeannette grew daily more and more -convinced that he was beginning to take a personal interest in her -for which none of these considerations accounted. Nothing definite -between them gave this justification. There was no word, no inflection -of voice that had any significance, but she saw it in a quick glimpse -of his blue eyes watching her as she sat beside his desk, in the smile -of his strange little mouth that stretched itself tightly across -his small teeth when he first greeted her in the day and wished her -“good-morning.” Some strange thrilling of her pulses beset her as she -sat near him. It irritated her; she struggled against it, even rose to -her feet and went to her desk upon a manufactured excuse to check the -subtle influence that began to steal upon her when she was near him. -All her instincts battled against this upsetting something, whatever it -was,--she could not identify it by a name--which began more and more to -trouble her. - -Jeannette was a normal, healthy girl budding into womanhood, with -broadening horizons and rapidly increasing intimate associations with -the world. She was growing daily more mature, more impressive in her -bearing, and notably more beautiful. She was fully conscious of this. -Her mirror told her so, the glances of men on the street contributed -their evidence, the covert inspection of her own sex both in and out -of the office confirmed it. She was becoming aware, too, of a growing -self-confidence, of poise and power in herself that she had never -suspected. - -With what constituted “crushes,” “cases,” with what was implied in -saying one was “smitten,” she was thoroughly familiar. To a confidant -she would now have frankly described Roy Beardsley as having a “crush” -on her. He was not the first youth of whom she could have truthfully -said as much. Various boys at one time or another, during her school -days, had slipped notes to her as they passed her desk, or shamblingly -trailed her home after school, carrying her books for her, and had -hung around the doorstep of the apartment house, loitering over their -leave-taking, digging the toe of a shoe into the pavement, grinning -foolishly. Some of them had confided to her that they “loved” her -and asked her to promise to be their “girl.” She, herself, had had a -“terrible case” on a vaudeville dancer named Maurice Monteagle, and on -a youth of Greek extraction who worked in Bannerman’s Drug Store on the -corner near her home, tended the soda-water counter there and whose -name she never learned. - -But in none of these affairs of her young heart had there been anything -like this. She began by being somewhat flattered by Beardsley’s -attention, and was guilty of provoking him a little at first with a -smile and glance. Like all girls of her age, she had been willing, even -anxious, to whip his interest into flame. But she soon grew frightened. -There was now something in the air, something in herself she could -not quite control; she could not still the sudden throbbing of her -heart, the swimming of her senses. The moment came when she actually -dreaded meeting him in the mornings, when the minutes she was obliged -to sit beside his desk and listen to the peculiar little twang in his -voice were an ordeal. She dared not lift her eyes to meet his, but she -could see his long white fingers moving about on the desk, playing with -pencil and pen, and she could feel him looking at her when his voice -fell silent. These were the moments that disturbed her most, when she -could not--not for the life of her--control the mounting color that -began somewhere deep down within her, and swept up into her cheeks, -over her temples, to the roots of her hair. She had to rest her hand -against her note-book, to keep it from trembling. During these silences -when she felt him studying her she sometimes thought she must scream or -do something mad, unless he turned his eyes elsewhere. She seriously -considered resigning and seeking another position. - - -§ 6 - -Jeannette drank deeply of satisfaction in being a wage-earner. She -walked the streets of the city with a buoyant tread; she gazed with -pride and affection into the eyes of other working girls she passed; -she was self-supporting like them; she had something in common with -each and every one of them; there was a great bond that drew them all -together. - -But while she felt thus affectionately sympathetic to these girls in -the mass, no one of them drew the line of social distinction more -rigidly, even more cruelly than did she, herself. She felt she was the -superior of the vast majority of them, and the equal of the best. -She might not be earning the salary perhaps some of them did who -were private secretaries, but she was confident that she would. Her -experience with stenography confirmed this self-confidence. With three -weeks of actual practice the trick, the knack, the knowledge,--whatever -it was,--had come to her of a sudden. Now she could sweep her pencil -across the page of her note-book, leaving in its wake an easy string -of curves, dots and dashes, setting them down automatically, keeping -pace with even the swiftest of young Beardsley’s sentences. Nothing -could stop her progress in the business world; she loved being of it, -revelled in its atmosphere, realizing that she was cleverer than most -men, shrewder, quicker, with the additional advantage of unerring -intuition. - -This new-born ambition told her to keep herself aloof from other -working girls. Not that she had any inclination to associate with them; -they offended her,--not only those in the office but the giggling, -simpering girls she saw on the street, who were obviously of the same -class, teetering along on ridiculously high heels, wearing imitation -furs, and building their hair into enormous bulging pompadours. They -were the kind who did not leave the offices where they worked at the -noon hour but gathered in groups to eat their lunches out of cardboard -boxes and left a litter of crumbs on the floor; they were the kind who -crowded Childs’ restaurant, adding their shrill voices and shrieks to -the deafening clatter of banging crockery. - -Jeannette, feeling that it was a working girl’s privilege to become an -habitué of Childs’, eagerly entered one of these restaurants at a noon -hour during the early days of her employment. Accustomed as she had -become to the din of an office, the noise in the eating place did not -distress her. But she shrank from rubbing elbows with neighbors whose -manner of feeding themselves horrified her. A study of the price card -and an estimate of what she could buy for fifteen cents, the amount she -decided she might properly allow herself for lunches, completed her -dissatisfaction with the restaurant and similar places. She decided -to go without lunch and to spend the leisure time of her noon-hour -wandering up and down Fifth Avenue and Broadway, looking into shop -windows,--- Lord & Taylor’s, Arnold Constable’s and even Tiffany’s on -Union Square,--and in making tours of inspection through the aisles of -Siegel-Cooper’s mammoth establishment on Sixth Avenue. - -It was in the rotunda of this gigantic store, where stood a great -golden symbolic figure of a laurel-crowned woman, that there was a -large circular candy counter and soda fountain, and here the girl -discovered one might get coffee, creamed and sugared, and served in a -neat little flowered china cup, and two saltine crackers on the edge of -the saucer, for a nickel. In time, this came to constitute her daily -lunch. She could stand at the counter, sipping her drink, and nibbling -the crackers at her ease, feeling inconspicuous and comfortable, -presenting, she realized, merely the appearance of a lady shopper, who -had taken a moment from her purchasing for a bit of refreshment. - -The nourishment, slight as it was, proved sufficient. On the days she -had gone lunchless, she had developed headaches late in the afternoon, -but the coffee and crackers, she found, were enough to sustain her from -a seven o’clock breakfast to dinner at six-thirty. A nickel for lunch, -a dime for carfare--sometimes she walked downtown--took less than a -dollar out of her weekly wage. That left fourteen dollars to spend as -she liked. She gave her mother nine and kept five for clothes. Five -dollars a week for new clothes! Her heart never failed to leap with joy -at the thought. Five dollars a week to save or to spend for whatever -she fancied! Oh, life was too wonderful! Just to exist these days and -to plan how she would dress herself, and what else she would do with -her earnings, filled her cup of joy to the brim. - -Her little mother protested vehemently when she put nine dollars in -crisp bills into her hand at the end of the first week of work. - -“Oh--dearie! What’s this? ... What’s all this money for?” - -“It’s what I’m going to give you every week, Mama.” - -Mrs. Sturgis for a moment was speechless, gazing with wide eyes into -her daughter’s smiling face. She wouldn’t accept it. She wouldn’t hear -of such a thing. It was the child’s own money that she had earned -herself and not one cent of it should go for any old stupid bills or -household expenses. She shook her head until her round fat cheeks -trembled like cupped jelly. - -But Jeannette had her way, as she knew, and her mother knew, and -admiring, exclaiming Alice knew she would from the first. That same -evening, after the pots and pans and the supper dishes had been washed, -Mrs. Sturgis established herself under the light at the dining-room -table with the canvas-covered ledger before her and began to figure. -Thirty-six dollars a month! Thirty-six dollars a month! Six times six? -That was ...? Why, they’d almost be out of debt in six months! And they -wouldn’t need to fall behind a cent during summer! It was wonderful! It -was too--too wonderful! Tears filmed Mrs. Sturgis’ bright blue eyes; -her glasses fogged so that she had to take them off and wipe them. She -didn’t deserve such daughters! No woman ever had better girls! - -They got laughing happily, excitedly over this, an hysterical sob -threatening each. They kissed each other, the girls kneeling by their -mother’s chair, their arms around one another, and clung together. And -then Alice said she had half a mind to go to work, too, and do her -share. - -But there was an immediate outcry at this from both her mother and -sister. What nonsense! What a foolish idea! She mustn’t _think_ of such -a thing! Just because Jeannette had given up her schooling and gone -out into the world was no reason why both sisters should do it. There -was not the slightest necessity. Alice’s place was at school and at -home. Some one had to run the house; that was her contribution. She was -fitted for it in every way: she was domestic, she liked to cook and she -liked to clean. - -A still more convincing argument that persuaded apologetic Alice that -indeed she was quite wrong, and her mother and sister were entirely -right, was voiced by Jeannette. Alice had much too retiring a nature -to be a success in business. Assurance, self-assertiveness, even -boldness were required, and Alice had none of these qualities. This -was undeniably true; they all agreed to it. It seemed to be the last -word on the matter; the topic was dismissed. Mrs. Sturgis went back to -figuring on her bills; Jeannette to speculating about Roy Beardsley as -she darned a tear in an old shirtwaist. - -“I’ve often wondered,” ventured Alice after a considerable pause, “just -what I should do,--how I could support myself if both of you happened -to die. I mean--well, if Jeannette should go off somewhere,--to Europe, -maybe,--and Mother should get sick, and I should have to....” - -Her voice trailed off into silence before the astonished looks turned -upon her. - -“Well, upon my word ...” began Jeannette. - -“Why, Alice dearie, what’s got into you?” - -“You’re going to kill us both off,--is that it? I’m to run away and -leave Mother sick on your hands?” - -“I mean--well, I meant----” struggled the confused Alice. - -“Dearie,” said her mother, “you won’t have to worry about the future. -Mama’ll take care of you until some nice worthy young man comes along -to claim you for his own.” - -“You’ll be married, Allie dear, long before I will. You’re just the -kind rich men fall madly in love with.” - -“Oh, hush, Janny! ... please.” - -But her sister’s thoughts were already upon a more engaging matter. She -was busy once again with Roy Beardsley. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -§ 1 - -Spring burst upon New York with a warm breath and a rush of green. -The gentle season folded the city lovingly in its arms. Everywhere -were the evidences of its magic presence. The trees shimmered with -green, shrubbery that peeped through iron fence grillings vigorously -put forth new leaves, patches of grass in the areaways of brownstone -houses turned freshly verdant, hotels upon the Avenue took on a brave -and festal aspect with blooming flower-boxes in their windows, florist -shops exhaled delicate perfumes of field flowers and turned gay the -sidewalks before their doors with rows of potted loveliness, the Park -became an elysian field of soft invitingness, with emerald glades -and vistas of enchantment like tapestries of Fontainebleau. Spring -was evident in women’s hats, in shop windows, in the crowded tops of -lumbering three-horse buses, in the reappearance of hansom cabs, in -open automobiles, in the smiling faces of men and women, in the elastic -step of pedestrians. Spring had come to New York; the very walls of -houses and pavements of the streets flashed back joyously the golden -caressing radiance of the sun. - -Walking downtown to her office on an early morning through all this -exhilarating loveliness, stepping along with almost a skip in her gait -and a heart that danced to her brisk strides, Jeannette felt rather -than saw a man’s shadow at her elbow and turned to find Roy Beardsley -beside her, lifting his hat, and smiling at her with his tight little -mouth, his blue eyes twinkling. - -“Oh!” she exclaimed, her fingers pressed hard against her heart. She -had been thinking of him almost from the moment she had left home. - -“Morning.... You don’t mind if I walk along? ... It’s a wonderful -morning; isn’t it glorious?” - -“Oh, my, yes,--it’s glorious.” She had herself in hand by another -moment and could return his smile. They had never stood near one -another before, and the girl noticed he was half-a-head shorter than -herself. There were other things the matter with him, seen thus upon -the street while other men were passing, and with his hat on! Jeannette -could not determine just what they were. Glancing at him furtively as -they walked together down the Avenue, she was conscious of a vague -disappointment. - -“Do you walk downtown every morning?” he asked. - -“Oh, sometimes. How did you happen to be up this way so early?” - -“I take a stroll through the Park occasionally. It’s wonderful now.” - -“Yes, it’s very beautiful.” - -“I think New York’s the loveliest place in the world in spring.” - -“Well, I guess it is,” she agreed. - -“And you have to go through a long wet winter like this last one to -appreciate it.” - -“Yes, I think you do.” - -“I thought we’d never get rid of the snow.” - -“They clean the streets up awfully quickly though;--don’t you think so?” - -“Yes, they have a great system here.” - -“The poor horses have a terrible time when it’s slippery.” - -“There was a big electric hansom cab stuck in the snow for four days in -front of the place where I live. They had to dig it out,” he said. - -“It makes the spring all the more enjoyable when the change comes.” - -“Yes, the people seem to take a personal pride in the weather.” - -“It’s as though they had something to do with it themselves.” - -“That’s right I noticed it the first year I was here.” - -“You’re not a New Yorker, then?” - -“Oh, no; my home’s in San Francisco. I only came East three years ago -to go to college.” - -“I thought you were ... one of the girls at the office mentioned you -were a Princeton man.” - -“I was, but I ... well, I flunked out at Christmas. I was tired of -college, anyway. I wanted to go into newspaper work, but I couldn’t get -a job with any of the metropolitan dailies, so temporarily I am trying -to help sell the _Universal History of the World_.” - -They talked at random, the man inclined to give more of his personal -history; the girl, pretending indifference, commented on the steady -encroachment of stores upon these sacred fastnesses, the homes of the -rich. She interrupted him with an exclamation every now and then, to -point out some object of interest on the street, or something in a shop -window. - -It was thrilling to be walking together down the brilliant Avenue -in the soft, morning sunshine. They paused at Madison Square before -beginning to weave their way through the traffic of the street, and -striking across the Park, gay with beds of yellow tulips, trees budding -into leaf, and fountains playing. Roy put his hand under the girl’s -forearm to guide her. The touch of his fingers burnt, and set her -pulses thrilling. She pointedly disengaged herself, withdrawing her -arm, when they reached the farther side of the Avenue. - -Crossing the Square, she glanced at him critically once more. He seemed -absurdly young,--a mere college boy with his cloth hat at a youthful -angle, his slim young shoulders sharply outlined in the belted jacket. -It was possible he was a few years her senior, but she felt vastly -older. - -He was commenting on the portentous date, May first, when the price -of the History was to advance. The company had somehow succeeded in -postponing the fateful day for two weeks, and the public was to have a -fortnight longer in which to take advantage of the low prices. - -“... and after that, no one knows what will happen. Perhaps we’ll all -lose our jobs.” - -“Oh,--do you really think so?” Jeannette was aghast. - -“Well, some of us will go; they can’t continue to keep _that_ mob on -the pay-roll. I don’t think they’ll let you go, though, you’re such a -dandy stenographer. I shall certainly recommend them to keep you, but I -doubt if they’ll have any further use for me. They’ll let me out, all -right.” - -He smiled whimsically. It was this whimsical smile the girl found so -appealing and so--so disconcerting. - -“I shall be sorry if that happens,” she said slowly. - -“Will you?” - -“Why, of course.” - -“But will you be really sorry if--if I’m no longer there?” - -“We-ll,--it will be hard getting used to someone else’s dictation; I’m -accustomed to yours now.” - -“Yes,--I’ll be sorry to go,” he said after a moment. “I like the work, -after a fashion, ... but, of course, it isn’t getting me anywhere. I -want to write; I’ve always been interested in that. If I could get -any kind of work on a newspaper or a magazine, it would suit me fine. -My father’s awfully sore at me for being dropped at Princeton. He’s a -minister, you know,”--Beardsley laughed deprecatingly with a glance at -his companion’s face,--“and he didn’t like it a little bit. I didn’t -want to go back home like--well--like the prodigal son, so I wrote him -I’d get a job in New York, and see what I could do for myself.” - -“I see,” the girl said with another swift survey of his clean features -and tight, quaint smile. There was an extraordinary quality about him; -he was pathetic somehow; she felt oddly sorry for him. - -“I’d like to make good for my father’s sake.... He’s only got his -salary.” - -“I see,” she repeated. - -“But summer’s the deuce of a time to get a job on a newspaper or -magazine in New York, everybody tells me.... I don’t know what I’ll do -if I don’t get something.” - -Jeannette wondered what she would do herself. She had begun to enjoy so -thoroughly her daily routine, and to take such pride in herself! ... -Well, it would be too bad.... - -They had reached the intersection of Fourth Avenue and Twenty-third -Street where the ground was torn up in all four directions, and hardly -passable. - -“I’ll say a prayer of thankfulness when they get this subway finished, -and stop tearing up the streets,” Jeannette remarked. - -Once again Roy caught her elbow to help her over the pile of débris, -across the skeleton framework of exposed tracks, and again the girl -felt the touch of his young fingers like points of flame upon her arm. -She caught a shining look in his eyes. Love leaped at her from their -blueness. A moment’s giddiness seized her, and there came a terrifying -feeling that something dreadful was about to happen, that she and -this boy at her side were trembling on the brink of some dreadful -catastrophe. Instinct rose in her, strong, combative. She turned -abruptly into the open door of a candy shop and steadied herself as she -bought a dime’s worth of peppermints. - -Emotions, burning, chilling, conflicting, took possession of her -the rest of the day. From her typewriter table she covertly studied -Beardsley, as he leaned back in his armed swivel-chair before his -flat-topped desk, his fingers loosely linked together across his chest, -his eyes unseeing, fixed on some distant point through the window’s -vista, dictating to the stenographer who bent over her note-book, as -she scribbled beside him. What was it about him that moved her so -strangely? What was it in his twinkling blue eyes, his quaint mouth -with its whimsical smile that stirred her, and set her senses swimming? -He was in love with her. Perhaps it was just because he cared so much -that she was thus deeply stirred. There had been others, she reminded -herself, who had been in love with her, but they had awakened no such -emotion. - -Had she come to care herself? - -She asked the question with a beating heart. Was this love,--the -feeling about which she had speculated so long? Love,--the _great_ -love? Was she to meet her fate so soon? Was her adventure among men to -be so soon over? Was this all there was to it? The first man she met? -She and Roy Beardsley? - -She denied it vehemently. No, it was nonsense,--it was ridiculous! Roy -Beardsley was a boy,--a mere youth who had been dropped from college. -She would not permit herself to become interested in him. It was -preposterous,--absurd! - -She assured herself she would have no difficulty in controlling her -emotion in future, but the emotion itself continued to puzzle her. What -was it, she felt for this man? Was she in love,--_really_ in love,--in -love at last? She looked at him a long time. She wondered. - - -§ 2 - -That he would meet her on the Avenue next morning she felt was almost -certain. She said to herself a hundred times it would be much wiser -for her to take the elevated train, or at least to walk down another -street and avoid the possibility of such an encounter. If she were not -to permit herself to become further interested, it was obvious she must -see him as little as possible. But when morning came it was into Fifth -Avenue she turned.... She felt so sure of herself; she wanted to see if -he would really be there. - -Once or twice she thought she recognized his distant figure coming -toward her. Each time her heart came into her throat. She stopped and -made a pretense of studying a milliner’s window, while she wrestled -with herself. She was mad, she was a fool, she had no business to let -herself play with fire this way! At the next corner she would turn -eastward, and go down Fourth Avenue. But when she reached the cross -street she decided to walk just one more block, and in that interval he -stepped from a doorway where he had been watching for her, and joined -her. - -“Good-morning.” - -“Oh--hello!” - -The sudden sight of him, the sound of his voice affected her like -fright. She hurried on, trying to still the pounding in her breast, -turning her face toward the traffic in the street to hide her confusion. - -“What’s the hurry?” he laughed. “It isn’t half past eight yet.” - -“I have a personal letter to type before office hours,” Jeannette said -abstractedly, but she lessened her pace. - -“I love these early walks on the Avenue,” he said. - -“I always walk down if I have time,” she replied. “I wouldn’t -miss it for anything.” She gave him a quick inspection. He was -insignificant,--he had a weak, effeminate expression,--his features -were small and lacked resolution. And yet it was the same face with -its blue eyes, always brightly alight, its twisted mouth and thin -lips stretched tightly over his small, glittering, even teeth when -he smiled, that haunted her through the day, pursued her to her -home, gleamed at her from the blackness of her room after she had -gone to bed, visited her in her dreams, and greeted her with its -irresistible charm when she awoke in the mornings. She loved that -irresolute face, with all its weakness, its curious eccentricities; -she loved the grace of that slight boyish figure with its square, bony -shoulders, its tapering, slim waist; she loved those thin, almost -emaciated white wrists, and those long chalk-hued hands and attenuated -fingers. She loved the way he bore himself, the poise of his figure, -the lithesomeness and suppleness of his young body. And she despised -herself for loving, and hated him for the emotion he stirred in her. -She wanted to kiss him, she wanted to kill him, she wanted him in her -arms, she wanted never to see him again; she wanted him to be madly, -desperately in love with her, and she wanted herself to be coldly -indifferent. - -The spring sunlight flooded the Avenue gloriously; the green omnibuses, -dragged by three horses harnessed abreast, rambled up and down; cabs -teetered on their high wheels, and weaved their way through the traffic -at a smart clip-clap; hurrying women, with the trimming of their -flowered hats nodding to their energetic gait bustled upon their early -morning errands; stores were being opened, shirt-sleeved porters were -noisily folding the iron gates before the doors back into their daytime -positions; shop-girls, and stenographers, briskly on their way to their -offices, half smiled at one another as they passed. - -It was impossible not to respond to the infectious quality that was -in the air. Jeannette laughed happily into her companion’s face, and -he gazed at her eagerly, his eyes shining, his mouth twisted into its -whimsical smile. They were exhilarated, they were enthralled, they were -oblivious to everything in the world except themselves. - -He stopped her abruptly, a block from the office. - -“I think perhaps ... I believe you would prefer it, Miss Sturgis, -if--if you and I ... if you were not seen entering the building, -with--with an escort. It might be easier, pleasanter for you, if I....” - -He hesitated, floundering helplessly. They stood still a moment facing -one another, each thinking of impossible things to say. Then Beardsley -murmured: “Well ...” lifted his hat, and she put her hand in his. He -held it tightly in the firm grip of his thin white fingers, until she -had to free it. She laughed shakily, as she turned away. - -“That was really very nice of him,” she thought as she hurried -on. “That was really very nice. I shan’t mind walking with him -occasionally, if it doesn’t set the office gossiping.” - - -§ 3 - -Love swept them tumultuously onward. There was no time to pause, to -consider, no time to calculate, none to take stock of one’s self. In a -week Jeannette Sturgis and Roy Beardsley were friends, in ten days they -were lovers. Every morning he met her on the Avenue and walked with her -to within a block of the office, and in the evening he joined her for -the tramp homeward. He begged her again and again to lunch with him but -to this she would not agree. They knew they loved each other now, but -dared not speak of it. He was diffident, eager to ingratiate himself -with her, fearful of her displeasure; and she,--while she confessed her -love to herself,--passionately resolved he should never guess it nor -persuade her to acknowledge it. She had an unreasonable primitive dread -of what might follow if Roy should speak. Their love was all too sweet -as it was. She did not want to risk spoiling it, and trembled at the -thought of its avowal. - -Yet in her heart she knew what must inevitably happen. Their attraction -for one another was stronger than either; it was rushing them both -headlong down the swift current of its precipitous course. - -On the very day the words were trembling on her lover’s lips came the -staggering announcement that on the fifteenth day of May the activities -of the Soulé Publishing Company in selling the _Universal History -of the World_ would cease, and the services of all employees would -terminate on that date. - -The girls told Jeannette the news the moment she arrived at the office, -and she found it confirmed on a slip of paper in an envelope on her -typewriting table. - -“All? Every one?” she asked blankly. She had confidently expected that -she would be kept on,--for a month at least. - -“Well, that’s what they say; Mr. Beardsley, Miss Gibson,--everybody.” - -“Oh,” murmured Jeannette, betraying her disappointment. - -“Did you think they’d keep you on the pay-roll after the rest of us -were fired?” asked Miss Flannigan airily. - -Jeannette perceptibly straightened herself and levelled a cool glance -at the girl. - -“Perhaps,” she admitted. - -“Oh-h,--is that so?” mimicked Miss Flannigan. “Well, you got another -think coming,--didn’t you?” - -Jeannette drowned the words by attacking her machine, her fingers -flying, the warning ping of the tiny bell sounding at half-minute -intervals. But her heart was lead within her, and her throat tightened -convulsively. She was going to lose her job! She was going to be thrown -out of work! She was going to be among the unemployed again! Her -mother! ... And Alice! ... That precious five dollars a week that was -all her own! - -The rest of the day was dreary, interminable. Demoralization was in the -air. The girls whispered openly among themselves, and filtered by twos -and threes to the dressing-room, where they congregated and gossiped. -The spring sunshine grew stale, and poured brazenly through the west -windows. Miss Flannigan chewed gum incessantly as she giggled noisily -over confidences with a neighbor. Even Beardsley seemed to have lost -interest for Jeannette. - -Yet when she came to his desk later in the day for the usual dictation, -he handed her a paper on which he had written: - -“You mustn’t be downhearted. There is always a demand for good -stenographers. You won’t have the slightest difficulty in getting -another job. I wish I was as sure of one myself. May I walk home with -you this evening?” - -She gave him no definite answer but she liked him for his encouragement -and sympathy. Whenever she sat near his desk, note-book in hand, -waiting for him to dictate to her, he was to her a superior being, one -whose judgment and perception were above her own; he was her “boss.” It -was different when she met him outside the office; he was just a boy -then,--a boy who had flunked out of college. Now he, too, had lost his -job. Like her, he would soon be unemployed. No longer need she fear his -possible censure of her work, or take pleasure in his praise of it. She -realized he had lost weight with her. - -After office hours that evening, he met her outside the building and as -he walked home with her was full of philosophical counsel. - -“Why, Miss Sturgis, it’s never hard for a girl to get a job,--a, girl -who’s got a profession, and who’s shown herself to be a first-rate -stenographer. The offices downtown are just crazy to get hold of girls -like you. You won’t have the slightest difficulty in finding another -position.... If you were me, you’d have something to worry about. I’ve -got to get a job that will land me somewhere,--a job in which I can -rise to something better.” - -“But so have I,” said Jeannette. - -“Well, yes, I know.... But girls’re different. They only want a job for -a little while,--a year, two or three years perhaps, and then they get -married. Working for girls is only a sort of stop-gap.” - -“No, it isn’t; not always. There’s many a girl who perhaps doesn’t -regard matrimony with such awful importance as you men think. I mean -girls who aren’t thinking about marriage at all, and who really want to -become smart, capable business women.” - -Roy smiled deprecatingly. “But I’m talking about the average girl,” he -said. - -“And so am I. Girls have a right to be economically independent, and I -can’t see why they have to stop working just because they marry,--any -more than men do.” - -“Girls have to stay home and run the house.” - -“Oh, what nonsense!” cried Jeanette. “It’s no more her home than it is -the man’s.” - -Roy shrugged his slight shoulders. He had no desire to argue with her. -He was more concerned with the thought that in the future there would -be no office to bring them together daily. - -“There are only two days more. Saturday we get our last pay envelope.” - -They walked on in silence. - -“I hope you’ll let me come to see you. We’ve become such good friends. -I’d hate to....” - -He left the sentence awkwardly unfinished. - -“Oh,--I’d like to have you call some evening,” she said with apparent -indifference. “I’d like to have you meet my mother and sister.” - -“I’d love to.... I want to know them both.” - -“Well, come Sunday,--to--to dinner. We have it at one o’clock. I -suppose it’s really lunch, but we’re awfully old-fashioned and we -always have our Sunday dinner in the middle of the day.... You mustn’t -expect much; we live very simply.” - -“Thanks, awfully....” - -“We don’t keep any servant, you know.” - -“I quite understand. You’re very good to invite me.” - -“I’m sure my mother and sister will be glad to meet you.” - -“I’m awfully anxious to know _them_.” - -“Well, come Sunday.” - -“You bet I will.” - -“Of course, they’ve heard about ‘Mr. Beardsley.’” - -“Have they? ... Do you talk about me sometimes to them?” - -“Why, of course! ... Naturally.... What do you expect?” - -“I hope you’ve given me a good character.” - -“I daresay they think you’re an old bald-headed man with a thick curly -beard.” - -“Oh, _no_! ... They’ll be terribly disappointed!” - -“I’m going to tell them you’re a gruff old codger with a perpetual -grouch.” - -“Miss Sturgis,--please!” - -They were both laughing hilariously. - -“Here’s your home. I had no idea we had walked so far.... Shall I see -you to-morrow? I’ll be waiting at the Seventy-second Street entrance to -the Park.” - -“All right.” - -“At eight o’clock?” - -She nodded, waved her hand to him, and ran up the stone steps. He -waited until she had fitted her key into the lock, and the heavy -glass-panelled door had closed behind her. - - -§ 4 - -Saturday was their first intimate little meal by a window in a café. It -had been their last morning at the office, and by noon the activities -of the Soulé Publishing Company in selling the _Universal History of -the World_ had ceased. Pay envelopes had been distributed shortly -after eleven, and an hour later all the little Jewesses with their -absurd pompadours and high heels, the Misses Rosens and Flannigans, -the office clerks and office boys had packed the great elevators for -the last time, laughing and squeezing together, and swarmed out of the -building not to return. And Roy and Jeannette were among them. - -“You will go to lunch with me?” he had written on a sheet of paper and -pushed toward her as she sat at his elbow. “I’ve got a lot of things to -talk to you about, and it’s our last day here together.” - -She had tried to consider the matter dispassionately, but a glimpse of -his bright, eager eyes fixed on her had sent the blood flooding her -neck and cheeks, and before she quite knew what she had done she had -nodded. - -He joined her at the street entrance and together they made a happy -progress toward Broadway. - -A great felicity descended upon them. Their senses thrilled to the -beauty of the warm day and their being thus together. Roy piloted her -through the hurrying noontime throng, his hand about her arm. She -tingled again at the touch of his fingers, and loved it. Then they -entered the café of a hotel, and found a cozy table for two by the -window where, dazzled and enthralled by their great happiness, they -smiled into one another’s eyes across the white cloth, glittering with -cutlery and glasses. - -Love was wonderful! He loved her; she loved him. They both knew it; -they were drunk with the thought. This was their adventure,--theirs and -theirs alone! - -“I may have to go home this summer,” Roy said with a troubled air after -he had given their order to the waiter. He stared at the winding crowd -that surged back and forth beneath their window. “But I’m coming back -right away. In August.” - -“You mean to San Francisco?” - -“My father wants me to come West for a month or two. He sent me my -ticket.... I guess he expects me to settle down out there. Of course -he wants me to. The ticket is only a one-way one. But he’s in for a -disappointment. I can’t be happy in San Francisco; I want to come back -to New York.” - -They both fell silent, thinking their own thoughts. Jeannette was -conscious of the dreariness and drabness of life once more; it was -disheartening and depressing to be unemployed. All these people -hurrying past the window, she reflected, were intent upon some -particular errand; each one had a job; the whole world had jobs -but herself. There would be nothing for her to do but “apply for -employment.” - -“Please can you give me a position? ... Excuse me, sir, I’m looking for -work.... Could you use a stenographer?” - -Oh, it was detestable, it was intolerable! It dragged her pride in the -dust! ... And there would be no one to sympathize, to advise her,--or -help her! She would be alone all summer in New York with no one -interested! - -Roy, watching her, guessed her thoughts. - -“I’m coming back....” - -She flushed warmly. - -“Would you like me to come back? Would it make any difference to you, -if I did? If you’ll just say you’d like me to come back, I will; ... -I’ll promise! ... Will you?” - -The girl bent over her plate, hiding her face with the brim of her hat. -The giddiness she had experienced that day in the street threatened -her. - -“Would you want me to come back?” Roy insisted. - -She raised her eyes and met his gaze; he held them with the burning -intentness of his own, and for a long, long moment they stared at one -another. - -“You know I love you,” he said tensely. - -His lip quivered; his face was aglow. - -“I love you with every fibre of my being! I’ll come back to you,--I’ll -come back from the ends of the earth. Only just say you love me, -too, Jeannette.... You _do_ love me, don’t you? ... You’re the most -wonderful girl I’ve ever known, Jeannette! ... God, Jeannette, you’re -just wonderful!” - -Why was it that in the supreme moment of his great avowal he seemed -a little ridiculous to her? She felt suddenly like laughing. He was -so absurdly young, so juvenile, so school-boyish, leaning toward her -across the table in his youthful Norfolk jacket, with his unruly hair -sticking up on top his head! - - -§ 5 - -He kissed her when they parted from one another late that afternoon. -They had been absorbed in talk, and the hours slipped by until before -they were aware it was five o’clock. He walked home with her and just -inside the heavy glass doors of the old-fashioned apartment house where -she lived he put his arms about her, their faces came close together, -and for the briefest of moments their lips met. It was a shy kiss, -hardly more than a touch of mouth to mouth. For another moment they -stood raptly gazing into each other’s eyes, their fingers interlocked. -Then Jeannette fled, running up the stairs, nor did she grant him -another look, even when she reached the landing above and had to turn. -But on the third flight of stairs she paused, held her breath to still -the noise of her panting, and listened. There was nothing. A cautious -glance over the balustrade down through the narrow well of the stairs -revealed his shadow on the stone flagging below. She sank to the -step, and waited to catch her breath, her ears strained for a sound. -Presently she heard him moving; there was a crisp clip of his shoes; -she guessed he was searching the gloom of the stairwell for a glimpse -of her. But she would not look, and sat motionless with tightly clasped -hands. After a long interval she heard his hesitating step again. The -half-opened door swung slowly back, brightening the hallway below a -moment with yellow daylight from the street, then closed with a dull -jangle of heavy glass. She sat for a moment more, then a tiny choking -sound burst from between her close-shut lips, and she buried her -glowing face in her hot hands, pressing her fingertips hard against her -eyeballs until the force of them hurt her. - - -§ 6 - -That night Jeannette experienced all the exquisite joy and fierce agony -of young love. It was an exhausting ordeal; she lived over and over -the thrilling hours of the day that had terminated in that glorious, -intoxicating second when the boy’s thin lips were against her own, and -she had felt their warm, tingling pressure. The recollection brought -to her wave upon wave of hot flushes that began somewhere deep down -inside her being and flooded her with ecstasy. She strove against it, -yet had no wish to control her thoughts. Shame,--some curious sense of -wrong,--distressed her. It was not right;--it was all wrong! Instinct -grappled with desire. She wept deliciously, convulsively, burying her -head in her pillow and pressing its smothering softness against her -mouth to stifle her sobbing breath that neither her mother nor Alice -might hear it. Past midnight she rose and went noiselessly to the -bathroom where she washed her face, carefully brushed and re-braided -her hair. Her head ached and her swollen eyes were hot and painful. But -she felt calmer. She studied her face for a long moment in the battered -mirror that hung above the wash-stand, and as she looked a great -quivering breath was wrung from her. - -“Roy ... I can’t ... it can never be ... never, never be,” she -whispered despairingly to her image. - -For the moment she felt triumphant. She had conquered something, she -did not know what. She dimmed the gaslight and found her way back to -bed. Sleep came mercifully, and she did not wake until her mother -kissed her the next morning. - - -§ 7 - -It was Sunday, the day he had promised to come to dinner. Dinner, -with the Sturgises on Sunday, was always the noontime meal. Cold meat -or a levy on Kratzmer’s delicatessen counters, with weak hot tea, -constituted Sunday supper. Dinner, however, invariably involved roast -chicken and ice cream which was secured at the last moment from O’Day’s -Candy Parlor, and carried home by one of the girls, packed in a thin -pasteboard box. There was seldom ice in the leaky ice-box, and Sunday -dinner was therefore usually a hurried affair, as mother and the girls -were always acutely conscious during every minute of its duration of -the melting cream in the kitchen. - -For this Mrs. Sturgis was responsible. Her frugality would not allow -her leisurely to enjoy her meal at the sacrifice of the ice cream. -The fear of its becoming soft and mushy pressed relentlessly upon her -consciousness. - -“Now, dearie,--don’t talk! Eat your dinner. It’s much more digestible -if it’s eaten while it’s hot,” she would urge her daughters almost with -every mouthful. - -No one ever spoke of the ice cream itself. The reason for such close -application to the business of eating was never voiced. It was part of -the ritual of Sunday dinner that it should not be mentioned. Not until -Alice had piled and crowded the aluminum tray with the soiled dishes, -carried these away, and returned with the mound of cream sagging upon -its platter, could Mrs. Sturgis and her daughters allow themselves -to relax. No matter how well the rest of the dinner might be cooked, -it must be gulped down and its enjoyment wasted for the sake of a -quarter’s worth of frozen cream. - -It was upon these circumstances that Jeannette’s rebellious thoughts -centered on the morning of Roy Beardsley’s visit. She was worn out -after her troubled night, and the prospect of seeing him so soon after -the tremendous occurrences of the previous afternoon and her stormy -reflections upon them made her nervous, apprehensive. She wanted time -to think things out, to consider matters.... Anyhow--what would her -mother and sister think of him? What would he think of them? - -“Dearie--dearie!” Mrs. Sturgis expostulated more than once. “Whatever -makes my lovie so cross this morning? ... You’ll get another position, -dearie,--if that’s what’s troubling you.” - -“Oh, you make me tired!” thought her daughter, angrily, though the -words were unsaid. - -“Well, I _do_ hope we can at least have some other kind of dessert,” -she said aloud. “We always have to rush so infernally through dinner; -it makes me sick! ... Or, I’ll tell you what,” she went on hopefully, -“we can get in a little ice.” - -“It will leak all over the floor,” Alice objected. “The old thing is -full of holes.” - -“There’s nothing better than O’Day’s strawberry cream,” Mrs. Sturgis -declared; “and there isn’t a thing in the house, so I can’t make a -pudding.” - -Jeannette said nothing further but gloomed in silence. She elected -to be furiously energetic, and undertook a thorough cleaning of the -studio, strewing strips of damp newspaper over the floor, sweeping -vigorously, her head tied up in a towel. The broom shed its straw, and -she discovered little triangles of dirt in obscure corners which Alice -had evidently deliberately neglected. The white curtains were dingy, -the front windows needed washing, and in the midst of her cleaning, -Dikron Najarian came in upon her to ask her to walk with him in the -afternoon. In a fury she attempted to move the piano to pull loose a -rug, and in the effort, which was far beyond her strength, she hurt -herself badly. Her mother found her lying on the floor, crying weakly. - -“Dearie--_dearie_! What happened to you! My darling! You shouldn’t -work so hard; there’s no necessity for your being so thorough.” - -The girl had really injured herself. Mrs. Sturgis called wildly for -Alice, and between them they carried her to her room and laid her on -her bed. She had wrenched her back, but she refused to admit it. She -wouldn’t be put to bed. She was all right, she told them; just a few -moments’ rest, and she would be herself again. It was twelve o’clock -and Roy would be there at one! - -She lay on her bed, and gazed blindly up at the old familiar discolored -ceiling; presently her eyes closed and two large tears stole from under -her lashes and rolled down her cheeks. She knew she had hurt herself -far more seriously than she would let her mother or sister suspect. -Something had given way in the small of her back; she made an effort -to sit up, and the pain all but tore a cry from her. But she was -determined they should not know; she would get up, and meet Roy, and go -through with dinner as though nothing was the matter! - -Struggling, with tiny explosions of pent-up breath and smothered -groans, her hand at every free moment pressed to her side, she managed -to dress herself. The effort exhausted her; a film of perspiration -covered her forehead, her upper lip and the backs of her hands. She -steadied herself now and then by leaning against the dresser, until -her strength came back to her. She did not care, now, whether Roy -Beardsley found the studio clean or not, whether or not he was hustled -through dinner, thought her home cheap and poor, her mother and sister -commonplace and fussily solicitous. - -He was ahead of time. She met him with careful step and a fixed smile -of welcome. He was glowing with eagerness; his hands trembled a little -as he held them out to her. At sight of him, a moment’s wave of -yesterday’s emotion swept over her, but immediately there came a sharp -stab of pain, and she caught a quick breath from between the lips that -held her smile. His anxious questions were cut short by the bustling -entrance of Mrs. Sturgis and Alice. - -Jeannette’s mother was at once flatteringly hospitable, inviting the -guest to sit down and make himself comfortable, while she established -herself with an elegant spread of skirts on the davenport, and began to -toss the lacy ruffles of her best jabot with a careless finger. - -Were Mr. Beardsley’s parents living? Ah, yes,--in San Francisco. They -had fogs out there a great deal, she’d heard. And he had lost his -mother. Consumption? Ah, that was indeed a pity! ... And his father -was a clergyman? Eminently laudable profession.... And he had wanted -to come East to college? Quite right and proper. Princeton was a fine -college; nice boys went there.... And he had spent some time in New -York? Wonderful city,--but a very expensive place to live,--probably -the most expensive in the world.... - -Jeannette recognized a favorite theme and broke in with an inquiry -about dinner. She was suffering miserably; she wondered if she -would have the strength to get to the dining-room. Alice already -had disappeared; the slam of the back door some moments before had -announced her departure for O’Day’s Candy Parlor. Mrs. Sturgis excused -herself with many profuse explanations, and departed kitchenward, -whence presently there came the bang of pots in the sink and the hiss -of running water. - -Left together, Roy turned eagerly to Jeannette where she stood beside -the mantel, a white hand gripping its edge. - -“Dearest, I’ve been so crazy to see you! ... Is anything wrong? You’re -not angry with me after yesterday?” - -Her eyes softened, but, as if to check for that day any moment’s -tenderness, there was again a sharp twinge. Involuntarily she winced. - -“Jeannette! You’re not well! What’s the matter?” - -She laid her hand on his arm to reassure him and steady herself. - -“Nothing,” she breathed. “I hurt my back this morning. I must have -wrenched it. It’s really nothing. Now and then it gets me.” - -She managed a disarming smile. - -“Mother and Allie mustn’t know a thing about it. I don’t want to -alarm them; they’re so excitable. To-morrow, I’ll be quite all right -again.... You must help me.” - -“Why, surely; you know I will.... But, dearest----” - -“Oh, please! Don’t make a fuss.” Her tone was sharp, and at once he -fell silent, watching her face anxiously. - -“Do you love me?” he queried in a low voice. - -She did not answer; she was in no mood for love-making. In a moment, -she moved with difficulty to the window, and stood there, fighting her -pain, and looking down vacantly into the street. Provokingly, tears -rose to her eyes. She was afraid she was going to cry. She could see -Allie returning with the square paper box held with a finger by its -thin wire handle, and presently the great front door of the house shut -with a jangle. - -Roy’s arm stole about her waist, but its touch hurt her. - -“Oh, please!” she begged crossly. - -“I’m sorry,--awfully sorry. I forgot.... You’re in terrible pain, -aren’t you? ... Shall I get a doctor? ... Don’t you want to lie down? -... Would you like me to go?” - -She wanted to slap him. - -“Just leave me alone!” - -Mrs. Sturgis’ eager step was approaching, and in a moment she presented -at the doorway a face reddened from the heat of the stove, and moist -with perspiration. - -“Dinner’s ready, dearie,” she announced. “Won’t you come this way, Mr. -Beardsley? We use our bedrooms for a passage-way, although the hall -outside, I suppose, is really better, but, you see, it’s much more -convenient....” - -Jeannette motioned him to precede her, and followed, holding on by -the furniture as she made her way. Her mother was in the kitchen and -Alice’s back was turned as in anguish she got into her chair. - -Dinner was endless. The soup had curdled; the potatoes were scant; the -salt-cellar in front of Roy had a greenish mold about its top; Roy, -himself, kept fiddling with his silverware,--rattling knife and fork, -and fork and spoon; her mother and sister had never, in Jeannette’s -opinion, jumped up from the table so incessantly for errands to -kitchen or sideboard. The pain in her back every now and then became -excruciating. She sat through the dragging meal with a set smile -upon her lips, turning her head with assumed brightness from face to -face as each one spoke. Her mother did most of the talking, keeping -up a continual flow of chatter to fill the silences. Alice rarely -volunteered an observation when there was company, and Jeannette’s -misery made her dumb. Mrs. Sturgis rose to the occasion and supplied -conversation for all three. Jeannette, watching Roy’s face, resented -his polite show of interest. Her mother had what her daughters -described as a “company” manner. When it was upon her she interrupted -herself every little while with nervous giggles and to-day, Jeannette -decided, she had never indulged in them so often. She was eloquent -during the meal with reminiscences of her childhood’s escapades and -early cuteness, and Jeannette watched the animated face with its -jogging, pendent cheeks in an agony of spirit that matched her physical -misery. - -“... Nettie,--we always called Janny, ‘Nettie,’ when she was -little,--was only six then, and she was awfully pretty and cute. We -were having dinner at a restaurant downtown,--her papa had a friend -to entertain. Allie....? I don’t remember where Allie was....”; Mrs. -Sturgis gazed in sudden perplexity at her younger daughter. “I guess -you were at home with Nora, lovie.... At any rate, we were at this -restaurant and a waiter was serving us nicely, and nobody was paying -any attention, when all of a sudden Nettie says loud and pertly to the -waiter: ‘Now that you’re up, will you please get me a glass of milk?’” -Mrs. Sturgis shut her eyes and laughed until her little round cheeks -shook. “Imagine,” she finished, “‘Now that you’re _up_!’ ... To the -_waiter_!” She went off into gales of mirth. - -Roy laughed too, a thin, polite laugh, without a trace of spontaneity. -Jeannette hated him. She hated her sister, too, for her smug -complacency. Alice sat there encouraging her mother with responsive -twitterings every time Mrs. Sturgis threw her head back to chuckle. -Jeannette felt she was suffocating; the pain dug itself steadily and -cruelly into the small of her back; she could not draw one adequate -breath. - -The platter and remains of the hacked and dismembered chicken, and the -soiled dishes eventually were removed; Alice brushed the table-cloth -with a folded napkin, sweeping crumbs and litter, ineffectually, -as Jeannette noted in utter desolation, into the palm of her hand, -carrying the refuse handful by handful to the kitchen, until the -operation was complete. The ice cream was borne in, in mushy -disintegration, and her mother commented on its melted condition and -the various responsible reasons, until the girl thought she would -scream in protest. - -She could not eat; she could not drink; lifting her hand to her lips -was misery. Roy’s solicitous glance was more and more intently fixed -upon her; Alice, also, was beginning to send concerned looks in her -direction. She felt her strength rapidly ebbing from her. She could -endure but little more--but little, little more. Her will power was -deserting her, resolution forsaking her, she felt it going--going; -it was slipping away ... she was going to fall! ... Ah, she _WAS_ -falling....! - -“Janny, dearie!” Her mother’s alarmed cry faintly reached her dimming -consciousness. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -§ 1 - -The following summer was one of the hottest on record in New York -City. The thermometer persistently hung around ninety, and the -newspapers gave daily accounts of deaths and prostrations. Thousands -of East-siders sought Coney Island and the cool beaches to spend their -nights upon the sands. Thunderstorms brought but temporary relief. -Jeannette, slowly regaining strength and energy, declared she had never -known so many violent thunderstorms in the space of one short summer. -She hated the vivid, blinding darts and the cracking ear-splitting -detonations. She could reason convincingly with herself that there was -but the minutest atom of danger, yet the menacing crashes never failed -to bring her heart into her mouth and make her wince. - -She had been in bed four weeks since the Sunday Roy had dined with the -family, and she had fainted at the table. The doctor, when he arrived, -had declared, after careful examination, that several ligaments had -been torn from the bone, and the muscles of her back had been badly -strained. She had been tightly bandaged with long strips of adhesive -tape, and put to bed in her mother’s room, where she had lain for a -month, rebellious and raging, at the mercy of a horde of disturbing -thoughts. - -Roy sent flowers, a box of candy, magazines. He wrote her long letters -in a boyish hand in which he boyishly expressed his concern for her -condition, his earnest hope of her speedy recovery, his tremendous -devotion. It was for the last that she eagerly looked when she -unfolded his scrawled pages. But his words never seemed to satisfy her -wholly; they were never vehement enough. She longed for something more -vigorous, aggressive, violent. - -At the end of ten days he begged to be allowed to come to see her. -There was no reason why he shouldn’t, Jeannette reflected, but she -could not bring herself to the point of asking her mother to arrange -for the visit. She did manage to say, with a light air of ridicule, one -morning, when Mrs. Sturgis brought her breakfast tray to her bedside: - -“Roy’s got the nerve to want to come to see me.” - -“Why don’t you let him, dearie,--if you’d like it? He seems a right -nice young fellow, and you could put on your dressing sacque, and Alice -could do your hair.... I’ll be home to-morrow,--all day, you know. It -would be quite right and proper.” - -But the girl only made a grimace. - -“That kid! That rah-rah boy! ... He thinks he’s got an awful case.” - -“Why do you treat Mr. Beardsley so mean, Janny?” Alice asked her a -few days later, closely studying her face. “You know,” she continued -slowly, “sometimes I think you’re really in love with him.” - -“Love!” cried her sister. “Hah! with _that_ kid?” - -“I think he’s terribly attractive, Janny.” - -“Half baked!” Jeannette said scornfully. - -“Well, I think he’s _charming_.” - -“You can have him!” - -“Oh, Janny! ... You’re _dreadful_!” - -But in the dark nights Jeannette would kiss the scrawled writing, press -the stiff note-paper to her cheek, and let her thoughts carry her back -to their first meeting, their first encounter on the Avenue, their -first kiss in the hallway downstairs, their memorable lunch together.... - -Ah, it was beautiful? It was all so very beautiful,--so infinitely -beautiful! Every glance, every word, every moment! She loved him! She -could not deny it. Oh,--she loved him, she loved him! - -He wrote he was obliged to go to San Francisco. It was impossible -to find a position in New York during midsummer, and his father had -telegraphed him to come home. He would have to go, but he longed to -see Jeannette just once before he went. He _must_ see her, if only to -say “good-bye.” He was coming back the first of September, and then he -would.... But they must talk everything over. Wouldn’t she please let -him come? - -Jeannette still hesitated. She wanted to see him again; yet she was -afraid,--afraid of disappointment, of what her mother and sister might -think, of herself and Roy. In the end, with what seemed to her a -weakness she despised, she wrote him, and named an afternoon; Although -the doctor had said she was to remain in bed for another week, she -prevailed upon her mother and sister to move her into the studio, where -with pillows about her and a comforter across her knees, and her hair -arranged in the pretty fashion Alice sometimes liked to dress it, she -received her lover. - -It was as unsatisfactory an interview as she had feared. Constraint -held them both. Jeannette was intent upon not betraying the delicious -madness into which her thoughts of Roy had led her during the empty -hours of her long illness, and she sat up stiffly, unbendingly. Roy did -not understand. He thought the change in her was due to her illness, -but there was something about her that troubled him. They made their -promises to one another, they held each other’s hands, they kissed -good-bye, but there was nothing fervid about any of it. At the door, -however, when he turned, hat in hand, for a final, searching look, she -saw a glitter in his eyes, his queer little mouth was straight and -drawn harshly, unsmilingly across his teeth. It was that last look of -him, that wet gleam in his eyes which took her courage and brought -her own tears in a rush. But by then he was gone. The dull boom of -the hall-door closing downstairs announced his departure with stern -finality. - - -§ 2 - -The summer bore on, hot, unalleviated. The apartment smelled of strange -odors, was close, airless in spite of open windows. The Najarians, -with much banging and clattering, left with their trunks and boxes for -several weeks at the seashore, and on the first of the month old Mrs. -Porter, who had occupied the first floor since the building was erected -thirty years before, moved away. Only the two trained nurses, one -flight down, who were rarely at home, remained in the city during the -burning weeks of July and August. - -With the Sturgises, life became dreary and grew drearier. Miss -Loughborough’s school closed, Signor Bellini departed for his beloved -Italy, the Wednesday and Saturday pupils became fewer and fewer and -by mid-July had evaporated entirely. Mrs. Sturgis, fretting over the -trivial expenses each day inevitably brought, wore a worried, harassed -air. She found some work to do, copying music, but this had to be given -up, as her teeth commenced to give her trouble. How long she was able -to disguise her discomfort from her daughters, they never guessed, but -her misery eventually was discovered, and she was summarily driven to a -dentist. It developed that her teeth were in such a decayed condition -they would all have to be pulled, and replaced by an artificial set. - -Poor Mrs. Sturgis wept and protested. She objected strenuously to -anything so drastic. It wasn’t _in the least necessary_! She couldn’t -_possibly_ afford it! Her daughters urged her and argued with her until -they lost their tempers and there was almost a quarrel in the little -household. The dentist declined to modify his advice. Pain--cruel, -persistent pain, that robbed her of her sleep, and sapped her -strength--finally compelled her to give way. - -“I’ll do it,--but my girlies haven’t the faintest idea what they are -letting me in for! It will be the death of me!” wailed Mrs. Sturgis. - -Jeannette, able to sit up now and hobble from one room to another, -regarded her mother with frank impatience as she rocked vigorously back -and forth, weeping abjectly into a drenched little handkerchief. She -felt sorry for her, she would have made any sacrifice to alleviate her -pain to make matters easier for her, and yet it was obvious there was -no other course for her, and the sooner the teeth were out and a false -set in their place, the better it would be for them all. The girl gazed -gloomily out of the window. - -“And my daughter’s no comfort to me,” continued Mrs. Sturgis, -piteously, conscious of Jeannette’s unvoiced criticism. “The child -that I’ve raised through sorrow and tribulation, through hunger and -self-denial,--the daughter for whom I’ve worked and sacrificed my -life....” - -Jeannette continued to stare stonily into space, locked her fingers -more tightly together, but said nothing. - -Eventually there came the terrible day when Mrs. Sturgis and Alice went -forth to the dental surgeon, and when the young girl brought her spent -and broken mother home in a cab. The four flights of stairs for the -exhausted woman were a dreadful ordeal. Jeannette, catching a glimpse -of the labored progress, as she gazed over the balustrade from the top -landing, forgot her own weakened condition, the doctor’s caution, and -hurried to her mother’s assistance. She ran down the stairs and grasped -the little woman’s almost fainting figure in her young arms. Together -the sisters dragged and pushed her up the remaining steps, but the -older girl knew before she reached the top, that she had put too great -a strain upon her own partially regained strength. - -She paid for the imprudence by another three weeks in bed. It was -the longest three weeks of her life. Her mother roamed about from -room to room, toothless and inarticulate, unable to eat solid food, -waiting for her lacerated gums to heal. She complained and mumbled -almost incessantly, harassed by the thought of doctor’s and dentist’s -bills which she declared over and over she saw no way of ever paying. -Jeannette, chained to her bed, had to listen unhappily. Mrs. Sturgis -gave her no respite. She refused to leave the house for fear of meeting -a friend in the street who would discover her toothlessness. Alice -went to market and ran the errands, while Mrs. Sturgis rocked back and -forth, back and forth, beside Jeannette’s bed, picked at her darning, -and complained of life. It was not like her mother, thought the -daughter wearily; she of indomitable spirit, who had never been afraid -of hardships, but rejoiced in overcoming them. - -Letters from Roy brought the only alleviating spots in these long, -tiring days. He wrote almost every day and there were numerous picture -post-cards. His letters were full of assurances and young hopes. -Jeannette loved his endearments, his underscored protestations, but -the plans which he elaborately unfolded seemed so uncertain, their -realization so improbable that they left her cold. She read the -scrawled words in the immature script, and tried to conjure up a -picture of him penning them. It eluded her. The boy in the Norfolk -jacket with the stuck-up hair, blue eyes, and whimsical smile, that -had so strangely fired her heart, had already become hazy and remote. -Her own weak back and helplessness, her mother’s trembling cheeks -and mumbled complaints were harsh realities, very close at hand. The -summer sun blazed on unsparingly, and perspiration covered her arms -and neck and trickled down between her breasts. Spring and young -love, the glittering Avenue, walks and talks and murmured confidences -that whipped the blood and caught the breath, were of a far distant -yesterday. Was there ever a time when thoughts of this boy had kept -her awake at nights, a time when at the memory of his kiss her tears -had blinded her? It was some other Jeannette,--not the one who sighed -wearily and wished Alice would keep the door shut, and not let in the -flies to bother her. - - -§ 3 - -Slowly Nature reasserted herself. Strength returned, old hopes revived, -youth throbbed again in the veins, life once more took on a pleasing -aspect. The late August day, that found Jeannette making a cautious way -toward the Park on her first venture from the house, was brilliant with -warm but not too hot sunshine, and the foliage of trees and shrubbery -in the Park vistas never appeared greener or more inviting. - -Mrs. Sturgis’ false teeth had made a great improvement in her -appearance, had rounded out her face, given strength to her jaw, -and made her seem ten years younger. The little woman was delighted -with the effect, and was now evincing a gratified interest in her -appearance. Signor Bellini had returned earlier than he expected, -had already started his Monday and Thursday classes, while Miss -Loughborough’s Concentration School for Young Ladies was about to open -its doors, and pupils were flocking back from their vacations. And -lastly, and to the girl, most important of all, Roy was returning to -New York. - -He would arrive in the city in a few days, and she wondered how she -would feel toward him when they met. As she sat upon a park bench, -enjoying the sun and the toddling children playing in the soft gravel -of the pathway near by, she asked herself if she cared. She could not -tell. Of far more interest to her was the prospect of work again. She -had been stifled all summer by illness and heat, but now she wanted -to get back to the business world and win her independence anew. Her -ambition was afire; she was all eagerness to have a job once more.... -Roy? ... Well, it would be pleasant to have him making love to her -again, to watch him tremble at her nearness. - -But she found herself thrilling on the afternoon he was to see her. -He had telephoned in the morning from the station, and his voice -had sounded wonderfully sweet and eager. When his ring at the door -announced him, her heart raced madly. Delicious tremors, one after -another, coursed through her. - -He came hurrying up the stairs and she met him in the studio. Their -hands instantly found one another’s, and they stood so a moment, -smiling happily and ardently into each other’s eyes; then she drifted -into his arms, and it seemed the peace of the world had come. - -Ah, she had forgotten how dear he was, how lovable, how sweet! It was -good to have him take her to himself that way, and feel his thin arms -about her, and have him hold her close against his young hard breast. - -Plans--plans,--they were full of them. They were engaged now; Mrs. -Sturgis and Alice must be told, the father wired, and Roy must -immediately set about finding a job. He had some corking letters, -he told her eagerly, and he was on the trail of a splendid position -already. Jeannette was going to find work, too; they would both save, -buy all the clothes they would need, and be married,--oh, some time -in the spring! Roy, holding both her hands, gazed at her with shining -eyes, his whole face glowing with excitement. - -“Oh, God, Jeannette--oh, God! Just think! You and me! Married!” - -It _was_ a wonderful prospect. - - -§ 4 - -In less than a week, he had obtained a promising position with the -Chandler B. Corey Company, publishers of high-class fiction and the -best of standard books. It was a new but flourishing organization with -offices on Union Square. In addition to its book business, there were -two monthly magazines, _The Wheel of Fortune_ and _Corey’s Commentary_, -and Roy was made part of the staff that secured advertisements for -the pages of these periodicals. He was full of enthusiasm for his new -work. Mr. Featherstone, the advertising manager, who was also a member -of the firm, was the jolliest kind of a man, and the other fellows in -the department, Humphrey Stubbs and Walt Chase, were “awfully nice” -chaps. He was to receive from the start, twenty dollars a week, and Mr. -Featherstone promised him a raise of five dollars at the end of three -months, if he made good. The gods were with them. Jeannette and he -could be married early in the spring. - -The girl listened and pretended to rejoice, but her heart was -sick within her. Roy, getting twenty dollars a week!--back in a -job!--independent and secure once more!--a bright future and rapid -advancement ahead of him! She was bitterly envious. She longed for -the old life of business hours, of office excitement, for her neatly -managed if frugal lunches, for the early hours in the mornings and the -tired hours at night, for the heart-warming touch of the firm, plump -little manila envelope on Saturday mornings, and, above all, she longed -for the satisfaction of being a wage-earner again, of being financially -her own mistress, and being able to contribute something toward the -household bills each week. - -The next day she started out to find work. She knew it would be a -humiliating business, but she found it worse than she feared. The -advertisements for stenographers in the newspapers which she answered, -all turned out to be disappointing. The most she was offered was ten -dollars a week, and in the majority of cases only six or eight. She -had made up her mind to accept nothing less than what she had earned -before. She would walk out of an office into the glaring street with -the prick of tears smarting her eyes, with lips that trembled, but she -would vigorously shake her head, and renew her determination. - -She went to interview Miss Ingram of the Gerard Commercial School, but -Miss Ingram had no vacant positions on her list. - -“I’ve never seen anything like it,” the little teacher said with a -forlorn air; “I’ve got three girls now just waiting for something to -turn up, but all they want downtown are boys--boys--boys!” - -Twice Jeannette had the unpleasant experience of having men to whom she -applied for work lay their hands on her. One slipped his arm about her, -and tried to kiss her, pressing a bushy wet mustache against her face; -the other placed his fat fingers caressingly over hers and, leering at -her, promised he would find her a good job, if she’d come back later -in the day. She was equal to these occasions but there was always a -sickening reaction that left her weak and trembling with a salt taste -in her mouth. She said nothing about them at home. - -Her mother and Alice, even Roy, had urged her not to go to work again. -Mrs. Sturgis reiterated her original objection; Alice thought it was -not necessary, that Janny had better take things easy and devote her -time to wedding preparations. Roy did not like the idea, he frankly -admitted, of her associating so intimately with a lot of men in an -office, and, besides, it distracted her, made her nervous. - -“In three months, sweetheart, I’ll be getting twenty-five dollars -a week and we can get married. A hundred a month is enough for a -while. You ought to run the table on ten dollars a week,--your mother -does that for the three of you!--and out of the remaining sixty, we -surely will have enough for rent, and a lot left over for clothes and -theatres.” - -“Oh, yes,” Jeannette sighed wearily, “it’s plenty,--only I want--I -want to earn some money myself. I need clothes, and I ought to have -everything for a year, at least!” - -September passed, and October came with a tingle of autumn, and an -early touch of yellow, drifting leaves. Jeannette missed the chance -of an excellent position in the manager’s office of a large suit and -cloak manufacturer by no more than a minute or two. She saw the other -applicant enter the office just ahead of her, and was presently told -the place was filled. The girl who had preceded her was Miss Flannigan! - -There was another position in a lawyer’s office for which she eagerly -applied. She heard the salary was twenty-five dollars a week, but when -she was interviewed, and it was discovered she had no knowledge of -legal phraseology, she was rejected. - -Desperate and discouraged, she was obliged to listen in the evenings -to Roy’s glowing praise of his new associates, to detailed accounts of -small happenings in the office, and gossip between desks. She learned -all about Mr. Featherstone, his devoted and adoring wife, his small, -crippled son, his own good nature, and hearty joviality. She heard a -great deal about Humphrey Stubbs and Walt Chase. Stubbs, she gathered, -was already Roy’s enemy. He had made several efforts to discredit the -newcomer, and was on the lookout for things about which to criticize -him to his chief. Walt Chase, on the contrary, was amiable and inclined -to be very friendly. Walt had been married less than a year, lived in -Hackensack, and his wife had just had a baby. - -Jeannette listened enviously, with despair in her heart, when she heard -about Miss Anastasia Reubens, the editor of _The Wheel of Fortune_. -That Miss Reubens was forty-five and had spent all the working years -of her life on the editorial staff of one magazine or another made -little difference to Jeannette. She hated to inquire about her, but her -curiosity was too great. - -“What do you suppose she gets?” she asked Roy with a casual air. - -“Oh, I don’t know; perhaps fifty or sixty a week. I’m sure I haven’t -an idea. None of the folks down there get high salaries; everyone is -underpaid. Mr. Corey hasn’t more than got the business started. He -only began it five years ago. He tells us, we’ve got to wait with him, -until the money begins to come in, and then we’ll all share in the -profits.” - -“Fifty or sixty a week?” sniffed Jeannette. “Did she tell you she got -that? ... She’s lucky, if she gets twenty-five!” - -Roy shrugged his shoulders. He had an irritating way of avoiding -arguments, Jeannette noticed, by lapsing silent. She considered the -matter for a moment further, but decided it was not worth pressing. - -“What kind of a man is Mr. Corey?” she asked. - -“Oh, Corey? Corey’s a peach. He’s a dynamo of energy, and has all sorts -of enthusiasm. He’s got the most magnetic personality I’ve ever seen -in my life. He’s going to make a whale of a big business out of that -concern. Every Wednesday we all lunch together,--that is, the men in -the editorial and book departments,--and we go to the Brevoort; we’ve -got a private room down there, and Mr. Corey always comes and talks to -us about the business and we try to offer suggestions that will help -each other. We call it ‘The Get Together Club.’ It’s great.” - -Jeannette studied her lover’s face and for a moment felt actual dislike -for him. What did _he_ know? Why should _he_ be so fortunate? Why -should everything go so smoothly for _him_? Why shouldn’t _she_ have a -chance like that? - -“Mr. Featherstone may send me to Boston Friday to see the Advertising -Manager of Jordan & Marsh about some copy. He said something about it -last night. I’d hate to go, but, gee! it would be a great trip!” - -Jeannette rose to her feet abruptly and lowered a hissing gas-jet. Oh, -she was unreasonable, silly, ungenerous! But she couldn’t listen any -longer. It made her sick. - - -§ 5 - -Mr. Abrahms, of Abrahms & Frank,--fur dealers and repairers of fur -garments,--would pay twelve dollars a week for a first-class “stenog,” -who “vood vork from eight till sigs.” He was very anxious that -Jeannette should accept his offer. - -“I need a goil chust lige you, who c’n tage letters vot I digtate an’ -put ’em into nice English, and be polide to der customers vot come in -ven I am busy,” he explained. - -It was a cheap little establishment, crowded into the first floor and -basement of an old private dwelling, now devoted to similar small -enterprises. A dressmaker occupied the second floor, an electrician the -next, and a sign-painter the last and topmost. It was far from being -the kind of employment Jeannette wanted, but it was the best that had -been offered, and she promised to report on Monday. - -She went dismally home on the “L,” deriving a bitter satisfaction -in picturing to herself what her days would be like, cooped up in -an ill-ventilated back office with the swarthy, none-too-clean Mr. -Abrahms, interviewing the none-too-clean customers who would be likely -to patronize such a place. Still it was a job and she was a wage-earner -again. There would be some comfort in announcing the news to Roy and to -her mother and sister. - -She found a message from Roy when she reached home. It had been brought -by the clerk in Bannerman’s Drug Store. He had said, Alice repeated -for the hundredth time, that Mr. Beardsley had ’phoned and asked him to -tell Miss Jeannette Sturgis to come down at once to his office; he had -said it was important. Alice didn’t know anything more than that; there -wasn’t any use asking her questions; the clerk had just said that, and -that was all. - -“Perhaps he’s got a job for me!” Jeannette exclaimed with a wild hope. -“He knows how badly I want one!” - -“I’m sure I haven’t the faintest idea.” Her sister turned back to the -soapy water in the wash-tub where she was carefully washing some of her -mother’s jabots. - -“Well, I’ll fly.” - -Jeannette hurried to her room, and jerked the tissue paper out of her -best shirtwaist. Her fingers trembled as she re-dressed herself; the -tiny loops that connected with small pearl buttons on her cuffs eluded -her again and again until she was almost ready to cry with fury. She -felt sure that Roy had a job for her; he would have telephoned for no -other reason. In thirty minutes she was aboard the “L” again, rushing -downtown. - -As she crossed Union Square the gold sign of the Chandler B. Corey -Company spreading itself imposingly across the façade of an ancient -office building made her heart beat faster, and her rapid, breathless -walk doubled with her excitement into almost a skip as she hurried -along. Oh, there was good news awaiting her! She felt it! - -The wheezy elevator bumped and rumbled as it leisurely ascended. At the -fourth floor she stepped out into a reception room whose walls were -covered with large framed drawings and paintings. There were some -magazines arranged on a center table. The place smelt of ink and wet -paste. A smiling girl rose from a desk and came toward her. - -“I’ll see if he’s in,” she said in reply to Jeannette’s query and -disappeared. - -Upon an upholstered wicker seat in one corner of the room an -odd-looking woman wearing a huge cart-wheel hat was talking animatedly -to another who listened with a twisted, sour smile. They were -discussing photographs, and the woman in the cart-wheel hat was handing -them out one by one from a great pile in her lap. Jeannette was forced -to listen. - -“This one is of some monks in a village monastery in Korea, and this -shows some of the Buddhist prayers for sale in a Japanese shop,--did -you ever see such a number?--and here is a group of our Bible students -at Tientsin,--could you ask for more intelligent faces? ... Wonderful -work.... these men are sacrificing their lives ... twelve thousand -dollars....” The words trailed off into an impressive whisper. - -Down in the Square the trees were a mass of lovely golden brown and -golden yellow shades. Tiffany’s windows across the way sparkled with -dull silver. - -Roy’s quick step sounded behind her, and Jeannette turned to meet his -grinning, eager face, his smile stretched to its tightest across his -small and even white teeth. - -“Gee, I’m glad you’ve come, Janny!” he exclaimed boyishly. “Say, you -look dandy!--you look out-of-sight!” He eyed her delightedly. The woman -with the sour, twisted smile glanced toward them casually. Jeannette -was all cool dignity. - -“What was it, Roy? ... Why did you send for me?” - -He continued to smile at her, but at last her serious, expectant look -sobered him. - -“I think I’ve got a job for you!” he said quickly, dropping his voice. -“I only heard about it this morning. I couldn’t telephone until I went -out to lunch. One of our regular stenographers is sick; she’s very sick -and is not coming back. Mr. Kipps, the business manager, was explaining -why they were short-handed upstairs and I was right there, so of course -I heard about it. I spoke to Mr. Featherstone about you, and he sent -me to Kipps, and Kipps told me to tell you to come down, so he could -talk to you. I told him what a wizard you were, and he seemed awfully -interested. I didn’t lose a minute; I telephoned as soon as I went out -to lunch. I had a deuce of a time making that drug clerk understand.... -Gee, you look dandy! ... Gee, you look swell! ... Gee, I love you!” - -He piloted her a few minutes later into the inner offices. Jeannette -gained a confused impression of crowded desks and clerks, the iron -grilling of a cashier’s cage, an open safe, a litter of paper, wire -baskets of letters, and stacks of bills. Before she knew it, she found -herself confronting Mr. Kipps, and Roy had abandoned her. She was aware -of a nervous, fidgety personality, with a thin, hawklike face and long, -thin fingers. He had unkempt hair and mustache, and wore round, black -tortoise-shell glasses through which he darted quick little glances -of appraisement at the girl who had seated herself at his invitation -beside his desk. - -He fitted his finger-tips neatly together as he questioned her, lolled -back in his swivel armchair, and swung himself slowly from side to -side, kicking the desk gently with his feet. He asked her to spell -“privilege” and “acknowledgment,” and to tell him how many degrees -there were in a circle. He nodded with her replies. - -He would give her a trial; she could report in the morning. He -dismissed her with no mention of what salary she would receive. - -But Jeannette did not care. She was delighted and in high spirits. This -was just the kind of a job she wanted, just the sort of an atmosphere -she longed for; she felt certain that, whatever they paid her at first, -she would soon make them give her what she was worth. - -When Roy arrived that evening there was great hilarity in the Sturgis -household. He had never seen Jeannette in such wild spirits, or found -her so affectionate with him. The coldness he sometimes met in her, the -reserve, the unyieldingness, were all absent now. He pulled the shabby -davenport up before the fire, and they sat holding hands, watching the -dying fire flicker and flicker and finally flicker out, and when the -light was gone she lay close against him, his arms about her, and every -now and then, as he bent his head over her, she raised hers to his, and -their lips met. - - -§ 6 - -Her desk, with those of the five other stenographers employed by the -publishing company, was located on the floor above the editorial -offices. Here were also the circulation and mail order departments. -Light entered from three broad front windows but it was far from -sufficient and thirty electric bulbs under green tin cones suspended -by long wire cords burned throughout the day over the rows of desks -and tables that filled the congested loft. At these were some hundred -girls and women, and half a dozen men. In the rear, where the daylight -failed almost completely to penetrate, the cones of electric radiance -flooded the dark recesses brilliantly. Old Hodgson, who was in charge -of the outgoing mail, there had his domain, and it was in this quarter -that the lumbering freight elevator occasionally made its appearance -with a bang and crash of opening iron doors. Toward the front, near the -windows, and separated from the rest by low railings, were located the -desks of Miss Holland and Mr. Max Oppenheim. The former was a tall, -thin-faced woman with iron-gray hair and a distinguished voice and -manner. Just what her duties were Jeannette could not guess. She had -her own stenographer and was forever dictating, or going downstairs -with sheaves of letters in her hands for conferences with Mr. Kipps. -Oppenheim was the Circulation Manager. He was a Jew, intelligent and -shrewd, with a pallor so pronounced it seemed unhealthy, further -emphasized by a thick mop of coal-black glistening hair that swept -straight back without a parting from his smooth white forehead. -Jeannette thought she recognized in him a type to be avoided; but she -never saw anything either in his manner toward her or the other girls -at which to take exception. - -There was one other individual in the room who had a department to -herself. This was a chubby, bespectacled lady with an unpronounceable -German name who presided over a huddle of desks and conducted the -mail order department. No one ever seemed to have anything to say to -her, nor did she in her turn appear to have anything to say to anyone. -She plodded on with her work, unmolested, lost sight of. Sometimes -Jeannette suspected that Mr. Corey and Mr. Kipps and the other men -downstairs had forgotten the woman’s existence. - -The stenographers with whom she was immediately and intimately thrown -were distinctly of a better class than the girls who had been her -associates in the Soulé Publishing Company. Miss Foster was red-headed -and given to shouts of infectious mirth, Miss Lopez was Spanish, pretty -and charming, Miss Bixby was a trifle hoidenish but good-natured, and -Miss Pratt was frankly an old maid for whom life had been obviously -a hard and devastating struggle; there remained Miss La Farge, who, -Jeannette suspected, was not of the world of decent women; her -be-ribboned _lingerie_ was clearly discernible through her sheer and -transparent shirtwaists, and she was given to rouge, lavish powdering, -and strong scent. - -The first day in her new position was as difficult as Jeannette -anticipated. She knew she gave the impression of being cold and -condescending, but her shyness would not permit her to unbend. The -girls were politely distant with her at first, but Jeannette was fully -aware that each and every one of them was alive to her presence, and -everything they did and said was for her benefit. - -She made an early friend of Miss Holland. The tall woman stopped at her -desk in passing, smiled pleasantly at her and asked if everything was -going all right. Something of quality, of good breeding in the older -woman’s face brought the girl to her feet, and it was this trifling act -of courtesy that won Miss Holland’s approval and favor, which Jeannette -never was to lose. - -There were plenty of girls scattered among the tables where the -business of folding circulars, addressing envelopes, and writing cards -went on, who were of the high-heeled, pompadoured, sallow-skinned -variety with which Jeannette was already familiar, but these persons -came and went with the work; few of them were regular employees. - -When a stenographer was needed in the editorial department a buzzer -sounded upstairs and the girl next in order answered the summons. -Miss Foster usually took Mr. Corey’s dictation and also that of his -secretary, Mr. Smith, but the other girls went from Mr. Featherstone to -Mr. Kipps to Miss Reubens and to the rest as they were required. - -Mr. Kipps sent especially for Jeannette on her first morning. She -was nervous and her pencil trembled a little as she scribbled down -her notes. She found his dictation extremely difficult to take; he -hesitated, paused a long time to think of the word he wanted, corrected -himself, asked her to repeat what he had said, or to scratch out what -she had written and to go back and read her notes to a point where -he could recommence. But he seemed pleased when she brought him the -finished letters. - -“Very good, Miss Sturgis,--very good indeed,” he said without -enthusiasm, tapping his pursed lips with the tip of his penholder as he -scanned her work. - -She was jubilant. She looked for Roy; she was eager to tell him -what Mr. Kipps had said. But he was not at his desk as she passed -through the advertising department, nor was he waiting for her--as she -hoped--when five o’clock came and she started home. - -Well, she was satisfied,--she had gotten just what she wanted,--she -would soon make herself indispensable.... Mr. Kipps was really a lovely -man, although one would never suspect it from his nervous manner. She -felt a sudden assurance she was going to be very happy. - -Roy found her again in her sweetest, kindest mood that evening. They -began at once to discuss everyone in the entire organization of the -company from the President, himself, down to Bertram, the little Jew -office boy, who was inclined to be fresh. The publishing house had -suddenly become their entire world and everyone in it was either friend -or foe. - -“I hope I make good,” sighed Jeannette. - -“Make good?” repeated her lover indignantly. “Of course, you’ll make -good. Don’t _I_ know how good you are? Why, _say_, Janny dear, you’ve -got that bunch of girls skinned a mile!” - -It was soon evident to Jeannette that Roy was right. The next day she -made a point of glancing at some of Miss Foster’s and Miss Lopez’s -letters; she noted two errors in the former’s, and the latter’s were -rubbed and full of erasures; the letters, themselves, were poorly -spaced and the sheets in several instances were far from being clean. -She was genuinely shocked at such slovenliness. They would not have -tolerated it at the school for a minute! The girls who had been with -her under Beardsley had done better work than that!.... She paused -over the thought and smiled. It was funny now to think of dear old Roy -as the Mr. Beardsley who had once filled her with such awe and in fear -of whose displeasure she had actually trembled. - - -§ 7 - -Her satisfaction with her new position found utter completeness when -on her first Saturday morning her pay envelope reached her, and she -discovered she was to receive fifteen dollars a week. It was the last -drop in her felicity. She flung herself into her work with all the -eagerness of an intense young nature. In turn she took dictation from -Mr. Featherstone, Miss Reubens, Mr. Olmstead, the auditor, and young -Mr. Cavendish, who edited _Corey’s Commentary_. Everyone seemed to -like her. Miss Reubens, having tried the new stenographer, thereafter -invariably asked for her, and while this was gratifying in its way, -Jeannette would have willingly foregone the distinction. Miss Reubens -was not a pleasing personality for whom to work; she referred to -Jeannette as “the new girl,” treated her like a machine, and kept her -sitting idly beside her desk while she sorted papers or carried on long -conversations at the telephone. She was a high-strung, perpetually -agitated person, given to complaining a great deal, undoubtedly -overworked, but finding consolation in pitying herself and in bemoaning -her hard lot. Jeannette recognized in her the lady with the twisted, -sour mouth who had been inspecting photographs the day she first came -to the office. - -Mr. Olmstead, the auditor, was a tiresome old man, who teetered on his -toes when he talked and tapped his thumb-nail with the rim of his -eye-glasses to emphasize his words. He took a tedious time over his -dictation, and Jeannette had to shut her lips tightly to keep from -prompting him. - -Mr. Cavendish, on the other hand, was charming. He was about -thirty-three or-four, Jeannette judged, handsome, with thick, very -dark red hair, and a thick, dark red mustache. He was always very -courteous, and had an ever-ready stock of pleasantries. She was aware -that he admired her, and she could not help feeling self-conscious -in his company. They joked together mildly and their eyes frequently -held one another’s in amused glances. Of all the people in the office -she liked best to take dictation from him; he never repeated himself, -his sentences were neatly phrased and to the point, and his choice of -words, she considered, beautiful. That he was unmarried did not detract -from her interest in him. She read some of the recent back numbers of -_Corey’s Commentary_ and particularly the editorials, and told Roy she -admired them enormously. - -She was far happier in the environment of the editorial rooms than -upstairs where she worked with the other stenographers in the midst -of the bustle, racket and confusion of the circulation and mail order -departments. She soon discovered she had little in common with Miss -Foster or Miss Bixby; Miss Lopez was a pretty nonentity; Miss Pratt, an -elderly incompetent, and Miss La Farge, a vulgar-lipped grisette. The -girls realized she looked down on them and clannishly hung together, -to talk about her among themselves. They were not openly rude, but -Jeannette was aware she was not popular with them. - -Miss Holland alone on the first floor attracted her. They smiled at -one another whenever their eyes met, and Jeannette enjoyed the feeling -that this faded, kindly gentlewoman recognized in her a girl of her own -class. - - -§ 8 - -There were a dozen other personalities in the company that the new -stenographer learned to know and with whom she came more or less -into contact. Important among these was Mr. Corey’s secretary, Mr. -Smith, whom nobody liked. He was suspected of being a tale-bearer, an -informant who tattled inconsequences to his chief. He was obviously a -toady, and treated everyone in the office, not a member of the firm, -with an air of great condescension. Mrs. Charlotte Inness of the book -department was a regal, gray-haired personage, with many floating -draperies that were ever trailing magnificently behind her as she -came and went. Miss Travers, who was cooped up all day behind the -wire grilling of the Cashier’s cage, was a waspish, merry individual, -and although sometimes common, even vulgar, was both friendly and -amusing. Francis Holme and Van Alstyne spent most of their time on -the road visiting book dealers. Van Alstyne was English and inclined -to be patronizing, but Holme was large-toothed, large-mouthed and -big-eared, bluff and frank, noisy and good-hearted. And there was also -Mr. Cavendish’s assistant, Horatio Stephens, a tall, rangy young man, -with rather a dreamy, detached air, with whom Roy shared a room at -his boarding-house. Jeannette found him vaguely repellent; there was -something about his long skinny hands and drooping eyelids that made -her creepy. And then there was Mr. Corey himself. - -Chandler B. Corey was, as Roy had described him, a man of vivid -personality. Although not yet in his fifties, he had a full head of -silky white hair. In sharp contrast to this were his black bushy -eyebrows and his black mustache which curled gracefully at the ends -and which he had a habit of pulling whenever he was thinking hard. His -skin was pink and clear as a boy’s, but there was nothing effeminate in -his face with its heavy square jaw. There was a dynamic quality about -him that communicated itself to everyone who came in contact with him, -and yet with all his energy and fire, Jeannette noted there was an -extraordinary gentleness about him, somewhat suggesting sadness. - -On a day toward the end of her third week, she took a long and -important letter from him. Miss Foster was struggling with a pile -of other work he had already given her, and Mr. Smith sent Bertram -upstairs with a request for Miss Sturgis to come down. - -She had never been in Mr. Corey’s office before. At once she was struck -with its quality. Compared with the noisy ruggedness and bare floors -outside, it was quiet, luxurious. Sectional bookcases, filled to -overflowing, and many autographed framed photographs lined walls that -were covered with burlap. There were one or two large leather armchairs -and in the center a great flat-topped desk heaped with manuscripts -and stacks of clipped papers. A film of dust lay over many of these, -and the scent of cigar smoke was in the air. Mr. Corey’s silvery head -beyond the desk appeared as a startling blot of white against the -background of warm brown. - -She was surprised to discover how tersely he dictated. There was -nothing of a literary quality about his sentences, nothing savoring of -the polish of Mr. Cavendish. He was all business and dispatch. She felt -oddly sorry for him; more than once during the brief quarter of an hour -that she was with him a great sympathy for him came over her. He seemed -weighed down with responsibilities. A paper mill was pressing him for -money; no funds would be available for another three months; his letter -offered them his note for ninety days. While he dictated, the telephone -interrupted him; something had gone wrong with the linotype machines, -and the delay would result in _The Wheel of Fortune_ being two or -three days late on the news-stands. In the midst of this conversation -Mr. Featherstone came in to report that Shreve & Baker had cancelled -their advertisement and had definitely refused to renew it. An army of -annoyances pressed around on every side. - -She told Roy about it when he came to see her that night. - -“Oh, C. B.’s a wonder,” he agreed; “he carries that whole concern on -his shoulders, and you can rest assured there’s nothing goes on down -there that he doesn’t know. They all depend on him.” - -“He seems so over-burdened, and so--so harassed,” Jeannette said. - -“I guess he’s all of that. You know he’s had an awful hard time getting -a start; the business is just about able to stand on its own feet now.” - -“I don’t think Mr. Smith is much help to him. He could save him a whole -lot if he would.” - -“Oh, _that_ fish! He’s no good. He told C. B. a most outrageous lie -about Mr. Featherstone; there was an awful row.” - -“Then why doesn’t Mr. Featherstone have him discharged?” - -“Nobody’s got anything to say down there except Mr. Corey. He owns -fifty-one per cent of the stock, I understand, and if he likes Smith, -Smith is going to stay.” - -“I can’t see how Mr. Corey can put up with him.” - -“How did C. B. like your work?” - -“I don’t know. Mr. Smith took it when I brought it downstairs, and -carried it in to him. I didn’t hear a word; but he didn’t send it back -to me for anything.” - -“He was pleased all right. You’ve made a hit with everyone. They’re -all crazy about you; Miss Reubens always wants you; and Cavendish, I -notice, seems to take a special interest in his dictation now.” - -The last was said with an amused scrutiny of her face. - -“Oh, don’t be silly, Roy!” - -“I’m not,” he declared sensibly. “I don’t care if he admires you. Men -are always going to do that. Holme asked me the other day who the new -queen was, and I was mighty proud to tell him you were my fiancée. I -guess I appreciate the fact that the smartest, loveliest girl in the -world is going to be my wife!” - -“Oh,--don’t!” Jeannette repeated. There was trouble in her face. - - -§ 9 - -Her days were packed full of interest now. She enjoyed every moment of -the time spent within the shabby portals of the publishing house. The -rest of the twenty-four hours were given to happy anticipation of new -experiences awaiting her, or in pleasant retrospect of happenings that -marked her advancement. For it was clear to her she was progressing, -daily tightening her hold upon her job, making the “big” people -like her, bringing herself nearer and nearer the goal she some day -eagerly hoped to reach: of being indispensable to these delightful, -new employers. To what end this tended, how far it would carry her, -under what circumstances she would achieve final success she could not -surmise. She was conscious these days only of an intense satisfaction, -a delight in knowing she was steadily, though blindly, attaining her -ambition. - -Often she wished during these early weeks she had a dozen pairs of -hands that she might take everyone’s dictation and type all the letters -that left the office. She became interested in the subject and purpose -of these letters. Cavendish wrote an urgent note to a Mr. David Russell -Purington, who was a regular contributor to _Corey’s Commentary_ from -Washington, telling him how extremely important it was, in connection -with a certain article shortly to appear in the magazine, for him -to obtain an exclusive interview on the subject with the Japanese -plenipotentiary at that time visiting the capital. Miss Reubens fretted -and murmured complainingly as she worded a communication to Lester -Short, the author, explaining that it was impossible for _The Wheel of -Fortune_ to pay the price he asked for his story, _The Broken Jade_. -Mr. Kipps, through her, informed the Typographical Union, Number 63, -that under no conditions would the Chandler B. Corey Company reëmploy -Timothy Conboy and that if the union persisted, the Publishing Company -was prepared to declare for an open shop. Mrs. Inness confided to her -hand an enthusiastic memorandum to Mr. Corey urging him to accept and -publish at once a novel called _The Honorable Estate_ by a new writer, -Homer Deering, which she declared was of the most sensational nature. - -But after typing these letters and memorandums Jeannette heard nothing -more of them. She wanted to know whether or not Mr. David Russell -Purington succeeded in obtaining the much desired interview, what -Lester Short decided to do about the seventy-five dollars Miss Reubens -offered, how the Typographical Union, Number 63, replied to Mr. Kipps’ -ultimatum, and if Mr. Corey accepted Homer Deering’s significant -manuscript. Her curiosity was seldom gratified; she hardly ever saw the -replies to the letters she had typed with such interest. Miss Foster, -Miss Lopez, Miss Pratt, Miss Bixby or Miss La Farge continued the -correspondence. Often she would see a letter unwinding itself from a -neighboring machine at the top of which she would recognize a familiar -name, but she had no time to read further, and there was a certain -restraint observed among the girls about overlooking one another’s -work. Jeannette realized she was merely a small cog in a machine and -that her prejudices, enthusiasms, her interest and opinion were of -small consequence to anyone. - -She rose early in the morning, sometimes at five, and her mother would -hear her thumping and pounding with an iron in the kitchen as she -pressed a shirtwaist to wear fresh to the office, or clitter-clattering -in the bathroom as she polished her shoes or washed stockings. Her -costume was invariably neat and smart, but she dressed soberly, with -knowing effectiveness for her working day. Her mother, yawning sleepily -or frowning in mild distress, would find her getting her own breakfast -at seven. - -“Why, dearie,” she would plaintively remonstrate, “whatever do you want -to bother with the stove for? I’m going to get your breakfast; you -leave that to me.... I don’t see,” she might add querulously, “why you -have to get up at such unearthly hours.” - -Alice would shortly make her appearance, and with wrappers trailing, -slippers clapping and shuffling about the kitchen, her mother and -sister would complete the simple preparations for her morning meal, -and set about getting their own. About the time they had borne in the -smoking granite coffee-pot again to the dining-room, and had hunched -up their chairs to the table, Jeannette would be ready to leave the -house. When she came to kiss them good-bye, she would always find them -there, her mother’s cheek soft and warm, Alice’s firm, hard face, cool -and smelling faintly of soap. She would seem so vigorously alive as -she left them, so confident and capable. There was always a tremendous -satisfaction in feeling well-dressed, well-prepared and early-started -for her day’s work. As she left the house, and filled her lungs with -the first breath of sharp morning air, there would come a tug of -excitement at the prospect of the hours ahead. She loved the trip -downtown on the bumping, whirring elevated; she loved the close contact -with fellow-passengers, wage-earners like herself; she loved the brisk -walk along Seventeenth Street and across the leaf-strewn square, where -she faced the tide of clerks and office workers that poured steadily -out of the Ghetto and lower East Side, and set itself toward the great -tall buildings of lower Fifth Avenue and Broadway, and she loved the -first glimpse of the gold sign of the Chandler B. Corey Company, with -the feeling that she belonged there and was one of its employees. - -She would be at her desk half to three-quarters of an hour ahead of the -other girls. There would usually be work left over from the previous -day. She liked settling herself for the busy hours to come when no one -was around and she could do so with comfort. - -She would hardly be conscious of the other girls’ arrival, and would -often greet them with a smiling good-morning, or answer their questions -with no recollection afterwards of having done so. - -The whirlwind of office demands and the tide of work would soon be -about her. Miss Reubens wanted her, Mr. Kipps rang for a stenographer, -Mr. Featherstone had an important letter to get off before he went out. -Would Miss Sturgis look up that letter to the Glenarsdale Agency? Would -Miss Sturgis come down when she was free? Mr. Cavendish had an article -he wanted copied as soon as possible. Miss Bixby was busy, Miss Foster -was busy, Miss Lopez, Miss Pratt, Miss La Farge were busy; Miss Sturgis -was busiest of all. She thrilled to the rush and fury of her days. -There was never a let-up, never a lull; there was always more and more -work piling up. - -At noon, at twelve-thirty, at one,--whenever she was free for a moment -about that time,--she would slip out for her lunch. She had learned -she must eat,--eat something, no matter how little, in the middle of -the day. She still patronized the soda and candy counter in the big -rotunda of Siegel-Cooper’s mammoth department store for her china cup -of coffee and two saltine crackers. Sometimes she spent another nickel -for a bag of peanut brittle. Somewhere she had read that the sugar in -the candy and the starch in the peanuts contained a high percentage of -nutritious value. She nibbled out of the bag on her way back to the -office. - -She would be gone hardly more than half the hour she was allowed for -luncheon. Between one and three in the afternoon was the time she was -least interrupted, and in this interval her fingers flew, and letter -after letter,--slipped beneath its properly addressed envelope,--would -steadily augment the pile in the wire basket that stood beside her -machine. She rejoiced when it grew so tall, the stack was in danger of -falling out. - -In the late afternoon came the rush and the most exacting demands. Miss -Reubens had a letter that must go off that night without fail; Mr. -Featherstone had just returned from a conference with a big advertiser -and wanted a record of the agreement typed at once; Mr. Kipps had -a communication to be instantly dispatched; Mr. Corey needed a -stenographer. The girls were all busy; they had too much to do already; -they could not finish half the letters that had been given them. Well, -how about Miss Sturgis? Could Miss Sturgis manage to get out just one -more? It was _so_ important. Yes, Miss Sturgis could,--of course she -could; it might be late, but if the writer would remain to sign it, -she’d manage to finish it somehow. - -“You’re a fool,” Miss Bixby said to her one day sourly. “Nobody’s going -to thank you for it; you don’t get paid a cent more; I don’t see why -you want to make a beast-of-burden out of yourself. They just use you -like a sponge in this office; squeeze every ounce of strength out of -you, and then throw you away. Look at Linda Harris!” - -Linda Harris was the girl who had sickened, and whose place Jeannette -now filled. - -Perhaps Miss Bixby was right, Jeannette would say to herself, riding -home after six and sometimes after seven o’clock on the lurching train, -tired to the point where her muscles ached and her sight was blurred. -But there was something in her that rose vigorously to this battle of -work, that made her reach down and ever deeper down inside herself for -new strength and new capacity. - - -§ 10 - -Wearily, her hand dragging on the stair rail, she would pull herself -step by step up the long flights to the top floor. Tired though she -might be, her mind would still be buzzing with the events of the day: -Mr. Cavendish’s letter to Senator Slocum,--had she remembered the -enclosures? Mr. Kipps had been short with her, or so he had seemed; -perhaps he had been only vexed at the end of a long day of worry. Mr. -Corey’s smile at a comment she had ventured was consoling. Then there -was that friction between Miss Reubens and Mrs. Inness; they had had -some sharp words; she wondered which one of them eventually would -triumph. Mrs. Inness, of course.... And little Miss Maria Lopez had -confided to her in the wash-room she was going to be married! - -“Hello, dearie! ... Home again?” Jeannette’s mother would call to her -cheerfully as she pushed open the door. Alice would turn her head with -a “’Lo, Sis”; she would kiss them dutifully, perfunctorily. The kitchen -would be hot and steamy; the smell of food would make her feel giddy, -perhaps faint. She would be ravenously hungry. She would go to her dark -little bedroom, light the gas, remove her hat, blouse, and skirt and -stretch herself gratefully on her bed.... Would Mrs. Inness go to Mr. -Corey about her difference with Miss Reubens? ... Miss Holland had had -a conference with Mr. Kipps all afternoon; what could it be about? ... -Would Bertram be discharged for losing that manuscript? ... Mr. Van -Alstyne had certainly been unnecessarily curt; she cordially disliked -him.... And Mr. Smith had most assuredly not given her Mr. Corey’s -message; why, she remembered distinctly.... - -“Dinner, dearie.” She would drag herself to her feet, rub her face -briskly with a wet wash-rag, and in her wrapper join her mother and -sister at table. - -“Well, tell us how everything went to-day,” Mrs. Sturgis would say, -busy with plates and serving spoon. - -“Oh,--’bout the same as usual,” Jeannette would sigh. “Bertram, the -office boy, lost a manuscript to-day. It was terribly important. We -were awfully busy upstairs, and Mrs. Inness sent the book out to be -typed, and he left the package somewheres,--on the street car, he -thinks. Mr. Kipps will probably fire him; he deserves it; he’s awfully -fresh.” - -“You don’t say,” Mrs. Sturgis would murmur abstractedly. “Drink your -tea, dearie, before it gets cold.” - -Jeannette dutifully sipping the hot brew would consider how to tell -them of the trouble between Mrs. Inness and Miss Reubens. - -“Miss Reubens,--you know, Mother,--is the editor of _The Wheel of -Fortune_, and Mrs. Charlotte Inness runs our book department. They -dislike each other cordially and I just know some day there’s going to -be a dreadful row----” - -“Alice, dearie,--get Mother another tea-cup,” Mrs. Sturgis might -interrupt, her eye on her older daughter’s face to show she was -attending. “And while you’re up, you might glance in the oven.... Yes, -dearie?” she would say encouragingly to Jeannette. - -The girl would recommence her story, but she could see it was -impossible to arouse their interest. Their attention wandered; they -knew none of the people in the office; it was no concern of theirs what -happened to them. - -“Kratzmer had the effrontery to charge me thirty cents for a can of -peaches to-day,” Mrs. Sturgis would remark. “I just told him they were -selling for twenty-five on the next block and I wouldn’t pay it, and -he said to me I could take my trade anywhere I chose, and I told him -that that was no way to conduct his business, and he as much as told me -that it was his business and he intended to run it the way he liked! I -wouldn’t stand for such impudence, and I just gave him a piece of my -mind.” An indignant finger tossing an imaginary ruffle at her throat -suggested what had been the little woman’s agitated manner. - -“Kratzmer’s awfully obliging,” Alice commented mildly. - -“Well, perhaps,--but the idea!” - -“Mr. Corey was unusually nice to me to-day,” Jeannette remarked. - -Her mother would smile and nod encouragingly, but her eyes would be -inspecting her daughters’ plates, considering another helping or -whether it was time for dessert. - -“I couldn’t match my braid,” Alice would murmur in a disconsolate tone. -“I went to the Woman’s Bazaar and to Miss Blake’s and they had nothing -like it. I suppose I’ll have to go downtown to Macy’s. Do you remember, -Mother, where you got the first piece?” - -“No, I don’t, dearie,” her mother would reply slowly. “Perhaps it was -O’Neill & Adams.... How much do you need?” - -“About three yards. I could manage with two. Do you suppose you’d have -time to-morrow, Janny, to try at Macy’s?” - -“Maybe; I can’t promise. You have no idea how rushed we are sometimes.” - -“You know I’ve a good mind to try Meyer’s place over on Amsterdam; it -always seems so clean. Kratzmer’s getting too independent.” - -“Kratzmer knows us, Mama, and sometimes it’s awfully convenient to -charge.” - -“I know. That’s perfectly true. But the idea of his talking to me that -way!” - -“They might have it at Siegel-Cooper’s. You could ask there to-morrow. -It would only take you five minutes. I hate to go all the way downtown, -and there’s the carfare.” - -“I’ve traded with Kratzmer ever since he moved into the block. I guess -he forgets I’ve been a resident in this neighborhood for nearly -thirteen years. He shouldn’t treat me like a casual customer; it’s not -right and proper.” - -“It would be the greatest help if I could get it to-morrow. I’m -absolutely at a standstill on that dress until I have it. Siegel’s sure -to keep a big stock. I’ll give you a sample.” - -“I’ve always liked the look of things at Meyer’s. All the Jewesses go -there and they always know where to get the best things to eat,--but I -suppose he _is_ more expensive.” - -“It oughtn’t to cost more than twenty cents a yard. Do you remember -what you paid for it, Mama?” - -“Dearie,--it’s so long ago; I’m sorry.... I’d rather hate to break -with Kratzmer after all these years. You can’t help but make friends -with the trades-people. Do you think Meyer’s would really be more -high-priced, Janny?” - -Jeannette would shrug her shoulders and carefully fold her napkin. They -were dears,--she loved them best of all the world,--but they seemed -so small and petty with their trifling concerns: matching braids and -disagreeing with trades-people. - -The dinner dishes would be cleared away. Jeannette would brush the -cloth, put away the salt and pepper shakers, the napkins, and unused -cutlery; then she would carefully fold the tablecloth in its original -creases, replace it with the square of chenille curtaining, and climb -on a chair to fit the brass hook of the drop-light over the gas-jet -above. - -Roy would arrive at eight,--he was always there promptly,--and she -would have a bare twenty minutes to get ready. She would hear her -mother and sister scraping and rattling in the kitchen as she dressed, -water hissing into the sink, the bang of the tin dishpan, their voices -murmuring. - -She would be glad when her lover came. A flood of questions, surmises, -hazarded opinions about office affairs, poured from her then. She -was free at last to talk as she liked about what absorbed her so -much; she had an audience that would listen eagerly and attentively -to everything. What _would_ Mr. Kipps do about Bertram, and if the -manuscript was really lost, what _would_ Mrs. Inness do about it? -... Did he hear anything about the row between Mrs. Inness and Miss -Reubens? Well,--she’d tell him, only she wanted first to ask his advice -about whether she should go to Mr. Corey and simply tell him that Smith -had certainly _never_ given her his message? - -Roy would meet this eager gossip with news of his own. Mr. Featherstone -had given Walt Chase an awful call-down for promising a preferred -position he had no right to, and Stubbs was starting on a trip to -Chicago and St. Louis. There was talk of putting Francis Holme in -charge of the Book Sales Department, and Roy hoped he’d get it instead -of Van Alstyne. And what did Jeannette think the chances would be of -Horatio Stephens getting Miss Reuben’s job if Miss Reubens quit on -account of Mrs. Inness? - -Roy would tire eventually of this shop talk. He longed to reach the -love-making stage of the evening; he was eager to tell her how much -he adored her, and to have her confess she cared for him in return; -he liked to have her nestle close against him, his arms about her, to -hold her to him and have her raise her lips to his each time he bent -over her. But Jeannette grew less and less inclined these days to -surrender herself to these embraces. Each time Roy mentioned love, -she would tell him not to be silly, and would speak of another office -affair. It distressed her lover; he would fidget unhappily, not quite -understanding how she eluded him. Again and again he would return to -the question of their marriage. Did Jeannette think March would be a -good month? It was three months off. Yes, March would be all right, -but did he suppose Miss Reubens was really overworked? Roy didn’t know -whether she was or not; she complained a good deal, he admitted. But -now about where they were to live; he had heard of a little house in -Flatbush that could be rented for twenty dollars a month. How did she -feel about living in Brooklyn? - -But marriage did not interest her for the present; she was too much -absorbed in the affairs of the publishing company. Weddings could wait; -hers could, anyhow. Just now she wanted Roy to help her guess the -salaries of everyone in the office. - -And when, as ten and ten-thirty and eleven o’clock approached, Roy, -conscious of the passing minutes, would press his love-making to a -point where Jeannette could no longer divert him, she would send him -home. She would suddenly remember she had her stockings to wash out, -or gloves to clean before she went to bed. She would realize at the -moment, how dreadfully tired she was, and the morrow always presented a -difficult day. - -“You must go now, Roy,” she would say. “You simply _must_ go. I’m dead -and I’ve got to get some sleep. Please say good-night.” - -“Not until you kiss me,” he would insist. - -“... There. Now go.” - -“But tell me first you love me?” - -“Oh, _Roy_!” - -“No,--you must tell me.” - -“Why, of course; you know I do.” - -“Lots?” - -“Yes--yes.” - -“And you’ll marry me?” - -“Surely.” - -“When?” - -“Now, Roy, you _must_ go. I tell you I’m dropping, I’m so tired.” - -“But tell me when you’ll marry me?” - -“Well,--whenever we’re ready.” - -“You darling! Kiss me again.” - -“Roy!” - -“Kiss me.... Oh, kiss me _good_.” - -“Good-night!” - -“Good-night.... You darling!” - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -§ 1 - -Roy wanted to be married; he wanted Jeannette to set the date; he -wanted her to make up her mind where she preferred to live, and to -start making plans accordingly. Just before Christmas his salary was -raised five dollars a week and the last barrier--for him--to the -wedding was removed. There was nothing to prevent their being married -at once. Everyone agreed, even Jeannette herself, that a hundred -dollars a month would be sufficient for their needs the first year. -With a mysterious air, Mrs. Sturgis hinted at responsibilities that -might come to them, but Roy’s salary would undoubtedly be raised more -than once by that time. She liked her daughter’s promised husband; he -had such an honest, clean face, his eyes were so clear and blue. He -made her think of her Ralph. She felt she could with safety entrust -Jeannette’s happiness to him. Alice was frankly a warm admirer of her -prospective brother-in-law. She agreed with everything he said and -always sided with him in an argument. Mother, sister and future husband -shared the opinion that the marriage must soon take place; there was -no sense in Jeannette’s wearing herself to death down there at that -office; she took it all too seriously; she was undermining her health. - -Jeannette, with vague misgivings, agreed. It was too bad; she liked the -business life so much. But marriage was the thing; she must make up -her mind to be married and settle down in a little house with Roy over -in Brooklyn,--presumably. She thought of the dish-washing, bed-making, -carpet-sweeping, cooking, and shuddered. She hated domesticity. Alice -would have loved it; but she was different from Alice. - -Roy? ... Oh, she loved Roy, she guessed, but not with the fluttering -pulse and quickened breath he had once occasioned. She liked him; he -was sweet and companionable. Sometimes she felt very motherly toward -him, liked to brush his stuck-up hair and rest her cheek against his. -She could see herself happy with him, knowing she would always dominate -him and he was disarmingly amiable. Sometimes she thought about babies. -She wouldn’t mind having them. She had always imagined she would like -one some day, to dandle about and cuddle close to her. Roy was sure -to be a sweet-tempered father. But she sighed when she thought of -the office, the progress she was making there, her popularity, and -particularly the five dollars a week that was her own to spend just as -she pleased. She loved that five dollars; once she touched the soft -greenback to her lips. - -She agreed to be married on the second of April. - - -§ 2 - -It was shortly after the beginning of the new year that the news went -around the office that Mr. Smith was going;--fired, everyone decided. -No one knew how the rumor got about, but there was universal and secret -rejoicing. It was whispered that, as Mr. Corey’s secretary, he had been -indiscreet. - -There were to be other changes in the office. Miss Travers was to take -Smith’s place, Mr. Holme was to be put in complete charge of the Book -Sales department, Van Alstyne was leaving, and Miss Holland was to go -downstairs to assist Mr. Kipps. - -Jeannette, excited by these readjustments, surmised that her own -news of resignation would create its particular stir. How interested -everyone would be to learn that she and Roy Beardsley of the -Advertising Department were to be married! There would be a lot of -rejoicing and good wishes. The office would consider it a happy match. -Her going would be regretted,--she knew that she was valued,--but all -would be glad nevertheless that she and young Beardsley were going to -be man and wife. An ideal couple!--Happy romance!--Miss Sturgis and Mr. -Beardsley! How delightful! Well--well! - -If everyone was sure to think so well of her marriage, why should she -have any doubts about it? - -She was pondering on this, one day, while mechanically folding her -letters and putting them into their proper envelopes, when there came -a summons from Mr. Corey. She found him idly thumbing the pages of an -advance dummy of one of the magazines. When she had seated herself and -flapped back her note-book for his dictation, he asked her without -preamble how she would like the idea of being his secretary. He -elaborated upon what he should expect of her: there would be plenty -of hard work, long hours sometimes, she might have to come back -occasionally in the evenings, and there must be no gossiping with other -employees of the company or outside of the office. - -“What goes on in here, what you learn from my letters or see from my -correspondence, what you come to know of my business or private life, -must be kept strictly to yourself. Nothing must be repeated,--not even -what may seem to you a trivial, insignificant fact. I wish to have no -secrets from my secretary, and I do not wish my affairs discussed with -anyone, not even with members of the firm, such as Mr. Kipps, or Mr. -Featherstone. Understand? Miss Holland thinks you’re qualified to fill -the position,--recommends you warmly,--and Mr. Kipps has a good word -for you. Personally I have a feeling you will do very well, and that I -can trust you. If you think you can do the work, we will start you at -twenty-five a week.... What do you say?” - -Jeannette’s throat went dry, her temples throbbed, her face burned. -Visions swift, tormenting, rose before her: she saw Roy, her mother, -sister!--she saw herself a bride, a wife, with hair hanging about her -face, bending over a steaming pan full of dirty dishes; she saw herself -sitting where Mr. Smith had sat, moving about the office, respected, -looked up to, feared and conciliated. She thought of the number of -times she had said that Smith was of small help to his chief, and the -number of times, in her secret soul, she had pictured herself in some -such post as his, helping, protecting, serving as she knew she could -help, protect and serve. She gazed at the kind face with its crown of -silvery white, and into the dark eyes studying her, as she felt rising -up strong within her the consciousness of how she could work for this -man, and be to him all he could ever expect in a secretary. The sadness -that surrounded him, the big fight he was waging to make his business -a success touched her imagination. She sensed his need of her,--his -great need of her,--and she saw in the dim future how dependent he -would grow to be on her. She would have a part in his struggle; she -could help him achieve his ambition as he could help her achieve -hers. Suddenly Roy’s stricken face interposed again. Rebellion rose -passionately! ... But it was too late. She was going to be married; she -was going to be Roy’s wife.... Yet how desperately she longed to be -this big man’s secretary! She thought of the sensation the promotion -would cause, how it would stagger Miss Foster, Miss Bixby, the other -girls,--how it would impress her mother, Alice,--_Roy_! - -Her strained, hard expression brought a puzzled look to her employer’s -face. She tried to speak; her lips only moved soundlessly. - -“Well, well,--you don’t have to make up your mind at once,” Mr. Corey -said. “Suppose you try it for a month or two. I don’t think you’ll find -it as hard as you anticipate. I am away for some months every year,--I -go abroad in the spring,--and while that does not mean a vacation for -you, the work is naturally easier. I would greatly appreciate loyalty -and conscientiousness. I think you have just the qualities. Try it, as -I suggest, until, say the first of March, and then we’ll see how we get -along together and whether you think the work too hard.” - -She could not bring herself to tell him she was going to be married, -that she was thinking of resigning in a few weeks; she could not dash -from his hand the cup, brimming with all her ambitions realized, which -he held out to her so persuasively. No,--not just yet. He suggested she -try the position until the first of March. There was nothing to hinder -her from doing that! The glory would be hers, even if she were to enjoy -it but for six weeks. She would be “Mr. Corey’s secretary” before the -office; everyone would know of it, her mother, Alice, Roy,--all of them -would see how she had succeeded. On the first of March,--went her swift -mind,--she could talk it over with Mr. Corey, tell him the work was -beyond her strength, that she didn’t like it,--or that she was going to -be married! It wouldn’t matter then. - -“Well,--what do you say?” Mr. Corey leaned forward slightly, his shrewd -eyes watching her. - -She swallowed hard, and met his steady gaze. - -“Yes,--I’ll try it. I--I think I can do it.” - -“Good. Then we’ll start in to-morrow. Mr. Smith leaves us Saturday. -He can show you about my private filing system and some of the ropes -before he goes.” - - -§ 3 - -Quietly she told the news to her mother and sister that evening. -At once there was a hubbub; they were lavish with kisses, hugs and -congratulations. Alice, clapping palms, exclaimed: - -“That will give you seventy-five--ninety dollars more to spend on your -trousseau! ... Oh, what will you _do_ with it, Janny?” - -“It’s more than Roy gets,” Mrs. Sturgis commented proudly with an -elegant gesture of her hand. - -“No, he was raised just before Christmas.” - -“Well, it’s as much anyway. Think of it: twenty-five dollars a week! -... For a _girl_! ... Why, your father never earned much more!” - -Roy was delighted, too. - -“By golly!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “I told you, didn’t I? -I guess I can tell a good stenographer when I see one. You were -worrying--remember?--when you first went down there whether you were -going to make good or not.... Well,--_say_,--isn’t that great! ... I -guess I’ve got a pretty smart girl picked out for a wife; hey, old -darling? You’re just a wonder, Janny! You can do anything. I wish -I was good enough for you, that’s all.... Poor old C. B.! He’ll be -disappointed as the deuce when you quit!” - -Nevertheless, within the next few days Roy wondered if he altogether -liked the change in Jeannette’s status. Her manner towards him became -different. She no longer would gossip about office matters, and during -business hours she treated him with cold formality. There had always -been a pleased light in her eyes at a chance encounter with him and -sometimes he would find a little note on his desk she had left there. -But now she held him at a distance rather pompously, he thought. She -answered “I don’t know,” or “Mr. Corey didn’t say,” when he asked some -casual question about business. She had become close-mouthed, and gave -herself an air as she went about her work. - -“I can’t act differently towards you than I do towards anybody else,” -she said in her defence when he complained. “Don’t you see, Roy, I’ve -got to be a kind of machine now. I’ve got to treat everybody alike. Mr. -Corey wouldn’t like it if he thought I was intimate with you.” - -“But we’re _engaged to be married_!” - -“Yes, of course,--but he doesn’t know it. And I want to make good, -even if it’s only for a few weeks. You understand, don’t you, Roy?” - -Perhaps he did, perhaps he didn’t. Jeannette did not concern herself. -She was absorbed in adequately filling this coveted job which satisfied -her heart and soul and brain. - -The hour of triumph when the news went abroad of her promotion was as -gratifying as she could possibly have wished. The girls crowded about -her, congratulating her, wringing her hands; Miss Foster impulsively -kissed her. Jeannette knew they envied her; she knew that, for the time -being, they even hated her; but their assumed pleasure in her good -fortune was none-the-less agreeable. Miss Reubens complained sourly -that the general office had lost its only efficient stenographer; -Mr. Cavendish charmingly expressed his personal satisfaction in -her advancement and gave her hand a warm pressure of friendliness; -Mr. Kipps and Mr. Featherstone both complimented her with hearty -enthusiasm. Jeannette was not cynical but she believed she put a -proper value on these felicitations,--particularly those of these last -two gentlemen. Mr. Corey was indeed the dominant power behind them -all; their destinies lay largely in his hands, and she was now the -go-between, the avenue of approach between the underlings and leader. -As they had feared and disliked Smith, so they would fear and perhaps -dislike her. She hoped they would learn to like her in time, but it -was natural they should feel a great respect for President Corey’s -secretary, and be anxious to gain her favor, hoping that to each of -them she might prove a “friend at court.” Still they were not wholly -insincere. Miss Holland, Jeannette felt, was genuinely pleased. The -older woman held both her hands and told her how happy the news had -made her; her eyes shone with the light of real pleasure. The girl felt -her to be indeed a friend. - -Jeannette took her new work with the utmost seriousness. She -determined at the outset to treat everyone in the office with absolute -impartiality, to carry whatever anybody entrusted to her to the -President’s attention with an equal measure of fidelity, to see to -it that Mr. Kipps or Horatio Stephens would fare the same at her -hands. She planned to execute her secretarial duties automatically, -disinterestedly, with the impersonal functioning of a machine. - -But she discovered the futility of this scheme of conduct within the -first few days. Miss Reubens wished to speak to Mr. Corey. Was Mr. -Corey busy? Would Miss Sturgis be so good as to tell her when she might -see him for a few minutes? Jeannette knew, as it happened, what Miss -Reubens wished to interview Mr. Corey about; Miss Reubens had already -discussed it with him, and he had already advised her. It would be -merely adding to his troubled day to go over the matter again; nothing -more would be accomplished. Besides, Jeannette knew Miss Reubens bored -Mr. Corey just as she bored everybody else. The interview did not take -place. - -Again, Mr. Cavendish had promised a check to a distinguished contributor -to _Corey’s Commentary_; he had assured the author-statesman it would -be in the mail that afternoon without fail; would Miss Sturgis manage -to get Mr. Corey to sign it at once? Miss Sturgis could and did, but -a check to an engraving company, which Mr. Olmstead wished to be sent -the same day, waited until next morning for the hour which Mr. Corey -set apart for check-signing. - -Her first concern was for Mr. Corey himself. She had guessed he was -harassed and harried, but had no idea how greatly harassed and harried -until she came to work at close quarters with him. He had tremendous -capacity, was an indefatigable worker, but she had not observed -his methods a week before she noted he did far too much that was -unnecessary. Insignificant things engaged and held his attention; he -frittered away his time upon trivialities. She set herself to save him -what she could and began by keeping the office force from troubling -him. Mr. Corey had a delightful personality, was a charming and -stimulating talker, a most pleasing companion; his secretary understood -quite clearly why every member of the staff liked to sit in an easy -chair in his office and spend half-an-hour with him, chatting about -details. He was too ready to squander his precious moments on anyone -who came to him. It was difficult to sidetrack these time-wasters but -in some measure she succeeded. Memorandums that came addressed to -him, she dared answer herself; she even went so far as to lift papers -from his desk and return them whence they came with a typed note -attached: “Mr. Corey thinks you had better handle this. J. S.” Her -daring frightened her sometimes. It was inevitable she should run into -difficulties. - -One afternoon the “buzzer” at her desk summoned her; it sounded more -peremptory than usual. - -“Miss Sturgis,” Mr. Corey addressed her, “Mr. Kipps left some -information about our insurance on my desk a day or two ago; have you -seen it?” - -“Yes, sir, I returned it to him early this morning and suggested that -he take care of the matter for you.” As she spoke she felt the color -rushing to her face. - -Corey’s black brows came together in an annoyed frown. He cleared his -throat with a little impatient cough, and jerked at his mustache. - -“I wish, Miss Sturgis,--I wish you would not be quite so officious.” - -Jeannette squared herself to the criticism, and stood very erect, -returning his look. - -“I thought Mr. Kipps could take care of the matter, without bothering -you further,” she said, beginning to tremble. - -There was silence in the room. The girl’s defiant figure, tall and -straight, confronted the man at the desk, and the dark frown that bore -down upon her. She was very beautiful as she stood there, with the warm -color tinging her olive-hued cheeks, her eyes clear and unwavering, -her head flung back, her small hands shut, resolute, unflinching. -Perhaps Corey saw it, perhaps it occurred to him that she showed a fine -courage, bearding him in this fashion, facing him with such spirit, -acknowledging her high-handedness yet defending it. As he considered -the matter, it came to him that she was right. Kipps was perfectly -capable of taking care of this insurance business himself. - -What was passing in the man’s mind the girl never knew. Slowly she saw -the scowl drift away, the stern face relax. He swung his chair toward -the window and contemplated the horizon. The sun was setting over the -Jersey shore, and the glow of a red sky was reflected on his face. - -“Very well,” he said at last. It was ungracious, it was curt, but there -was nothing more. There was no dismissal. The girl waited a few minutes -longer, then turned and quitted the room. - -There were errors--serious errors--for which she was accountable. She -incorrectly addressed envelopes in the hurry of dispatching them, -she mixed letters and sent them to the wrong people, she mislaid -certain correspondence that upset the whole office, and she kept the -great Zeit Heitmüller, painter and sculptor,--of whom she had never -heard,--waiting for more than an hour in the reception room, though -Mr. Corey had begged him to call. Mr. Featherstone criticized her -sharply when she neglected sending off some advertising copy after Mr. -Corey had O.K.’d it, and she was aware that Mr. Olmstead complained of -her in great annoyance when she returned to him an inventory he had -prepared after it had lain four days on Mr. Corey’s desk. At times she -felt herself an absolute failure, and at others knew she was steadily -gaining ground in the confidence and regard of the man she served. -There were hard days, days when everything went wrong, when everybody -was cross, when it was close and suffocating in the office, and -whatever one touched felt gritty with the grime of the dusty wind that -swept the streets. There were days when Corey was short and critical, -when whatever Jeannette did, seemed to irritate him. A dozen times -during a morning or afternoon she might be near to tears and would -rehearse in her mind the words in which she would tell him that since -she could not do the work to satisfy him, he had better find someone -else to take her place. There were other days when he chatted with her -in the merriest of moods, asked how she was getting along, inquired -about herself and her family, looked up smilingly when she stood before -his desk to interrupt him, and thanked her for having protected him -from some trifling annoyance. - -Her heart swelled with pride and satisfaction the first Saturday she -tore off a narrow strip from the neat, fat little envelope Miss Travers -handed her, and found folded therein two ten-and one five-dollar bills. -Twenty-five dollars a week! She rolled the words under her tongue; she -liked to hear herself whisper it. “Twenty-five dollars a week!” There -were hundreds and hundreds of men who didn’t earn so much, and a vastly -larger number of women! - -Her mother, warmly seconded by Alice, refused to allow her to -contribute more than ten dollars toward the household expenses. She had -her trousseau to buy, they argued, and this was Jeannette’s own money -and she ought to spend it just as she chose and for what she chose. -Finances at the moment were much less of a problem than they had been -for the little household. A wealthy pupil of Signor Bellini with a fine -contralto voice had engaged Mrs. Sturgis as her regular accompanist, -and paid her ten dollars every time she played for her at an evening -concert. - -Jeannette allowed herself to be persuaded, and Saturday afternoons -became for her orgies of shopping. She priced everything; she ransacked -the department stores. She knew what was being asked for a certain -type and finish of tailor suit on Fifth Avenue, and what “identically -the same thing” could be bought for on Fourteenth Street. She got -the tailor suit, and a new hat, a pair of smart, low walking pumps, -some half-silk stockings, be-ribboned underwear, a taffeta petticoat, -everything she wanted. She lunched at the St. Denis in what she felt to -be regal luxury, and indulged herself in a bag of chocolate caramels -afterwards. The joy of having money to spend intoxicated her; she -revelled in the glory of it; it was exciting, wonderful, marvellous. -Not one of the things she bought would she allow herself to wear; -everything was to be saved until she was married, and became Mrs. Roy -Beardsley. - -Her future husband took her one Sunday to inspect the small brick -house in Flatbush which could be rented for twenty dollars a month. -The weather was unduly warm,--an exquisite day with a golden sun,--one -of those foretastes of spring that are so beguilingly deceptive. From -the janitor, who showed them over it, they learned that the house -would cost them twenty-two dollars a month. It was one of a solid, -unrelieved row of fourteen others exactly like it, all warmed by a -central heating system, and supplied similarly with water and gas. It -was dark, the floors were worn and splintery, the windows dingy; the -whole place smelled of old carpets and damp plaster. Still it had three -bedrooms upstairs, and a living-room, a really pleasant dining-room, -and a kitchen on the ground floor. Roy watched Jeannette’s face eagerly -as they stepped from room to room, but he failed to detect any sign of -enthusiasm. It impressed the girl as anything but cheerful. She saw -herself day after day alone in this place, sweeping, dusting, making -beds, washing dishes, getting herself a plate of pick-up lunch and -eating it at the end of the kitchen table, trying to read, trying to -sew, trying to amuse herself during the empty afternoons until it was -time to start dinner and wait for her husband to come home. After the -bustle and excitement of the office, it would be insufferably dull. - -As they waited a moment on the front steps for the janitor to lock up -after them, Jeannette noticed a large, fat woman in a shabby negligée, -watching them from the upper window of the adjoining house, her plump, -pink elbows resting on a pillow, as she leaned out upon the sill, -enjoying the mellowness of the afternoon. On the ground floor behind -the looped lace curtains of a front window, her husband was asleep in a -large upholstered armchair, Sunday newspapers scattered about him, the -comic section across his round, fat abdomen. - -“These would be the kind of neighbors she would have!” thought -Jeannette. Oh, it wasn’t what she wanted! It wasn’t her kind of a -life--_at all_! She would be lonely, lonely, lonely. - -Roy was getting twenty-five dollars a week; she was getting twenty-five -dollars a week. Why couldn’t they go on working together in the same -office and have a joint income of fifty dollars a week,--two hundred -dollars a month! The idea fired her. - -But she found no one to share her enthusiasm. Alice pressed a dubious -finger-tip against her lips; Roy frowned and said frankly he didn’t -think it was the right way for a couple to start in when they got -married; her mother indulged in firm little shakes of her head that set -her round cheeks quivering. When the heated discussion of the evening -was over and Roy had taken himself home, Mrs. Sturgis came to sit on -the edge of Jeannette’s bed after the girl had retired, and in the -darkness discoursed upon certain delicate matters which evidently her -dear daughter hadn’t considered. - -“I hope my girl won’t have responsibilities come upon her too soon -after she’s married,” she said, after a few gentle clearings of her -throat, “but, dearie, you know about babies, and you’ll want to have -one, and it’s right and proper that you should. But where would you be -if a--if a--you found you were going to have one,--and you were working -in an office? You must consider these things. Roy’s perfectly right in -not wanting his wife at a dirty old desk all day.... And then, dearie, -there are certain decencies, certain proprieties. A bride cannot be -too careful; she must always be modest. Suppose you actually tried -this--this wild scheme of yours, and after your happy honeymoon, went -back to the office among your old associates, the men and women with -whom you’ve grown familiar; imagine how it would seem to them, and what -dreadful thoughts they might think about you and Roy! One of the lovely -things about marriage, Janny, is the dear little home waiting to shield -the young bride.” - -“Oh, but Mama ...” began Jeannette in weary protest. But she stopped -there. What use was it to argue? None of them understood her; none of -them was able to grasp her point of view. - -Roy voiced the only argument that had weight with her. - -“I don’t think C. B. would like it; I don’t think he would want to have -a secretary who was married to somebody in the same office.” - -Jeannette felt that this would be a fact. No matter how well she might -please Mr. Corey, a secretary who was married to another employee of -the company would not be satisfactory. It was highly probable that in -the event of her marriage he would be unwilling for her to continue -with him. - -No, it was plain that if she married Roy, she must resign, she must -let go her ambition, her hopes for success in business, and she must -accept Flatbush, and the dismal little brick house, the unprepossessing -neighbors, and the lonely, lonely days. - -Well--suppose--suppose--suppose she _didn’t_ marry! - -The relief the idea brought was startling. But she couldn’t bring -herself to give up Roy,--she couldn’t hurt him! She loved him,--she -loved him dearly! Never in the last few months since he had come back -to her from California had she been so sure she loved him as now. Those -eager blue eyes of his, that unruly stuck-up hair, that quaint smile, -that supple, boyish figure,--so sinuous and young and clean,--she -couldn’t give them up! - -A battle began within her. It was the old struggle,--the struggle of -ambition and independence, against love and drudgery, for marriage -meant that to her; she could think of it in no other way. - -Daily in her work at the office, she felt a steady progress; daily, she -beheld herself becoming increasingly efficient; daily, more and more -important matters were entrusted to her. - -“Thank you very much, Miss Sturgis.” “That’s fine, Miss Sturgis.” -“Please arrange this, Miss Sturgis.” “Miss Sturgis, will you kindly -attend to this matter yourself?” - -These from Mr. Corey, and in the office she overheard: - -“Well,--get Miss Sturgis to do that.” “Better ask Miss Sturgis.” “Miss -Sturgis will know.” “If you want C. B.’s O.K., get Miss Sturgis to put -it up to him.” - -It was wine to her. She felt herself growing ever more confident, -established, secure. - - -§ 4 - -“Now, Janny,--what are you going to do about a house or an apartment -or something where we can begin housekeeping? Gee, I hate the idea -of boarding! We ought to have a place we can call our _home_. April -second is only two weeks off, and I don’t suppose it’s possible to find -anything now. We’ll have to go to a hotel or a boarding-house for a -while until we can look ’round.... Do you realize, Miss Sturgis, you’re -going to be Mrs. Roy Beardsley inside of a fortnight!” - -“Roy--_dear_!” she exclaimed helplessly. - -“But, my darling,--you’ve got to make up your mind.” - -Make up her mind? She could not. She listened dumbly, miserably while -her mother and sister discussed, with the man she had promised to -marry, the details of the wedding, and what the young couple had -better do until they could find a suitable place in which to start -housekeeping. - -“We’ll go over to the church on Eighty-ninth Street about six o’clock, -and Doctor Fitzgibbons will perform the ceremony and then we’ll come -back here for a happy wedding supper,” planned Mrs. Sturgis confidently. - -On what was she expected to live? asked Jeannette, mutinously, of -herself. Twenty-five dollars a week for both of them? It had seemed -ample when they first discussed it. Her mother’s income for herself -and two daughters had rarely been more and frequently less. Mrs. -Sturgis paid thirty dollars a month rent for the apartment, and Alice -was supposed to have ten dollars a week on which to run the table; in -reality she provided the food that sustained the three of them at an -expenditure of one dollar a day. But at forty dollars a month for food -and twenty or twenty-five a month for rent and at least five dollars a -week for Roy’s lunches and carfare, what was she, Jeannette, to have -left to spend on clothes or amusement? She would be a prisoner in that -dismal little Flatbush house, bound hand and foot to it for the lack of -carfare across the river to indulge in a harmless inspection of shop -windows! Now she was free,--now she could get herself a gay petticoat -if she wanted one, or a new spring hat in time for Easter, or take -Alice and herself to a Saturday matinée and nibble chocolates with her, -hanging excitedly over the rail of the gallery from front row seats! -And she was to relinquish all this liberty, which now was actually -hers, actually her own to enjoy and delight in rightfully and lawfully, -and manacle her hands, rivet chains about her ankles and enter this -prison, whose door her mother, her sister and Roy held open for her, -and where they expected her to remain contentedly and happily for the -rest of her life! - -It was too much! It was preposterous! It was inhuman! She didn’t love -_any_ man enough to make a sacrifice so great. She was self-supporting, -independent,--beholden to no one,--she could take care of herself for -life if necessary, and after her room and board were paid for, she -would always have fifteen dollars a week--sixty dollars a month!--to -spend as foolishly or as wisely as she chose with no one to call her -to account. She hugged her little Saturday envelopes to her breast; -they were hers, she had earned them, she would never give them -up,--never--never--never! - - -§ 5 - -She persuaded Roy to postpone the wedding. There was no special need -for hurry. It would require a lot more saving before they could -properly furnish a little house or an apartment; it was much wiser for -them to start in right; in a few months they could have two or three -hundred dollars. She presented the matter to him in a rush of words one -evening and, as she had foreseen, he was overborne by her vehemence. -Roy was sweet-tempered, he was amiable, he was always willing to give -way in an argument. Often she had felt impatient with him for this easy -tractability. He didn’t have enough backbone! Even now his readiness to -concede what she asked disappointed her. Something within her clamored -for an indignant rejection of her proposal. She wanted him to insist -with an oath that their marriage must take place at once, that she -must make good her promise without further to-do. He lost something -very definite in her regard at that moment; he never meant quite so -much to her again. It was the pivotal point in their relationship. - -Alice let her hands and sewing fall into her lap when her sister -told her the marriage was to be postponed, and said anxiously: “Oh, -Janny,--I’m awfully sorry,” but her mother unexpectedly approved. - -“There’s no need of your rushing into all the troubles and worries of -marriage, dearie,--until you’re quite, quite prepared. I think you’re -very wise to wait a little while; it’s right and proper; you and Roy -are showing a lot of real common sense. You’ll have some capital to -start in with, and you can take your time about finding just the right -kind of a place to live in. And then it means I’m going to have my -darling all summer.... Only,” she added with a reproachful glance at -the girl and a pout of lips and cheeks, “I wish you’d give up that -horrid, old office and stay at home with your mother and sister, and -have a few months to yourself before you fly away to be a bride.” - -What a relief to know she had escaped for a time at least the net that -had been spread for her! With head held high, and a free heart, with -eager step and a pulse tuned to the joy of living, Jeannette plunged on -with her work. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -§ 1 - -The cold of winter clung with a tenacious grip to the city that year -until far into April. Jeannette had eagerly looked forward to the -spectacular flower-vendors’ sale of spring blooms in Union Square on -the Saturday before Easter but a bitter wind began to assert itself -early in the day and by ten o’clock had wrought pitiful havoc with the -brave show of potted lilies and azaleas. The Square was littered with -their battered petals and torn leaves. Three days before the first of -May a flurry of snow clothed the city again in white, and then, without -warning, summer breathed its hot, moist breath upon the town. The air -was heavy with water; a mist, thick and enervating, spread itself -like a miasma from a stagnant pool, through the streets. A tropical -heat,--the wet clinging heat of a conservatory,--enveloped New York. -And in June came the rain, an intermittent downpour that lasted for -weeks. - -It was a trying time for everyone. The office felt damp, and there was -a constant smell all day of wet rubber and damp woolens. Black streams -of water meandered over the floor from the tips of wet umbrellas, -stacked in corners. On the fifth floor the roof leaked, and old Hodgson -had to be moved elsewhere. In the midst of the general discomfort Mr. -Corey fell sick. - -It proved nothing more serious than a heavy bronchial cold, but -his physician ordered him to bed, and he was warned he must not -venture into the damp streets until the last vestige of the cold had -disappeared. The doctor consented to let him see his secretary and to -keep in touch with the office by telephone. It was thus that Jeannette -came to visit her employer in his own home. - -Mr. Corey lived in one of three cream-painted brick houses on Tenth -Street, a hundred yards or so from the corner of Fifth Avenue. -The houses were quaint affairs, only two stories in height, with -square-paned glass in the shallow windows and wide, deep-panelled front -doors ornamented in the center with heavy, shining brass knockers. -They were old buildings, dating back to the early nineteenth century, -and had somewhat of a colonial atmosphere about them. The Corey family -consisted of Mrs. Corey and two children,--a boy of eighteen, Willis -Corey, in his first year at Harvard, and a girl, Helen, a year younger, -who lived at home and was called “Babs.” Jeannette was disappointed, -not to say disturbed, at meeting her employer’s wife. - -“I wasn’t aware that I had a preconceived idea of her,” she said to -Alice in recounting her impressions. “Mr. Corey seems to be devoted -to her, and has a large silver-framed photograph of her on his desk. -I supposed from her picture and from the way he speaks about her that -she was the same kind of earnest, hard-headed, clear-thinking person -as himself. But she isn’t that way at all. In the first place, she’s -very tall and stately; she’s got lots of hair,--it’s quite gray and -very curly,--and she piles it up on top of her head and always wears -a bandeau or a fillet to bind it. She’s rather intense in her manner -and a trifle theatrical. She’s a handsome woman, faded of course now, -but she has very large dark eyes, that she uses effectively, and -really beautiful brows. She affects the weirdest of costumes, all lace -and floating scarf, with lots of color. She had several rings on her -fingers and bracelets dangling and jingling on her wrists. I thought -her stupid; I mean _really_ dense. When I got to the house she came out -to the hall where I was waiting, led me into the parlor and made me sit -down. She said she wanted to have a good talk with me. She was so glad -Mr. Smith had gone, and she went on at once to say how she had urged -‘Chandler!’--it was funny to hear Mr. Corey called by his first -name!--how she had urged him to make a change for a long time. She said -he said to her: ‘Where do you think I could find anybody to replace -him?’ and she said: ‘Well, how about that clever Miss Sturgis who’s -just come to you?’ She told me she had begged him for weeks to give me -a trial before he consented. - -“You know, Allie, it rather puzzled me what her object could be in -romancing that way, for, of course, I don’t believe a word of it. She -never heard of me until Mr. Corey happened to tell her he had a new -secretary! And then she went on to talk about the business. My dear, -it was pathetic! She wanted me to think that she knew about everything -that went on at the office, that Mr. Corey kept nothing from her, -and talked over every important decision with her before he made up -his mind. I almost laughed in her face! She doesn’t know one single -thing about his affairs. She hasn’t the faintest idea, for instance, -that he’s in debt, that the paper company could wind up his affairs -to-morrow if it wanted to, nor what bank has helped to finance him -from the start, nor where the money comes from that buys her food and -clothing. She supposes, I presume, that it comes from profits. Profits -are a negligible quantity with the Chandler B. Corey Company and have -been ever since Mr. Corey launched it. It’s getting in better shape all -the time, and some day there _will_ be profits. - -“Mrs. Corey looked brightly at me with her large soulful eyes and said: -‘Those two volumes of _The Life and Letters of Alexander Hamilton_ are -quite wonderful, aren’t they? Such beautiful bookmaking!’ and ‘We were -quite successful with _The Den_, weren’t we?’ Imagine, Alice! ‘_We!_’ -What she knows about the business is about as much as she can gather -from the books Mr. Corey publishes and occasionally brings home to her! -She talked a lot about the magazines, and asked me if I didn’t think -Miss Reubens was making a very wonderful periodical out of _The Wheel -of Fortune_. - -“I just nodded and agreed with her. She was trying to impress me how -well-informed she was, and I let her think she succeeded. Toward the -end she got started on Mr. Corey, and how hard he worked, and how -keenly I ought to feel it my duty to save him from petty annoyances; I -must consider myself a guard, a sentinel, stationed at the door of his -tent to keep the rabble from disturbing the great man! I let her rave -on, but it was all I could do to listen. I thought as I sat there that -in all probability she was the noisiest and most disturbing of the lot. -She wound up by telling me what the doctor had said to her about Mr. -Corey having caught cold, and she wanted to urge me particularly to -guard him against draughts. Then she asked me if Mr. Corey ever took me -to lunch! Now what do you think made her ask me a question like that? -You don’t suppose she’s jealous? It seems too ridiculous even to think -about. My goodness! When you see the kind of women some men get for -wives you wonder how they put up with them!” - - -§ 2 - -All Mr. Corey’s personal mail passed through Jeannette’s hands; she -opened and read most of it. He dictated to her his letters to his son -at Cambridge, and even those to his wife and Babs when they went to -Kennebunkport for the summer. Jeannette learned that Willis had been -madly in love with a married woman who sang in the choir of a Fifth -Avenue church, that he was given to midnight carousing, smoked far -too many cigarettes, that his mother spoiled him, and his father was -disgusted with him. With the aid of a “cramming” school, he had somehow -wiggled himself into Harvard, but Mr. Corey had made him distinctly -understand that at the first complaint concerning him he would have -to withdraw and go to work. Jeannette came to know, too, that Babs -was epileptic and that early in May she had had the first fit in two -years, and that the day after her mother and herself had arrived in -Kennebunkport, she had had another. Letters of a very agitated nature -passed between the parents as to what should now be done. Nothing was -decided. Likewise Jeannette learned that Mrs. Corey was at times -recklessly extravagant. Her husband repeatedly had to call her to -account, and sometimes they had violent quarrels about the matter. -Just before Mrs. Corey departed for Maine she had bought six hats for -herself and Babs, and had charged over three hundred dollars’ worth -of new clothing. Mr. Corey had been exasperated, as only a few weeks -before he had made a point of asking her to economize in every way -possible during the coming summer. He himself, Jeannette knew, must -shortly undergo a more or less serious operation, of which his family -was totally ignorant, that he was worried because his Life Insurance -Company had declined after an examination to increase the amount of his -insurance, and that he had successfully engineered a loan to wipe off -his indebtedness to the big Pulp and Paper Company. - -There was little that concerned him with which she did not become -acquainted. She knew that his house on Tenth Street was heavily -mortgaged and that on the second loan carried by the property he was -paying an outrageous rate of interest; that on the tenth of every month -he never failed to send a check for sixty-six dollars and sixty-seven -cents to a man in Memphis, Tennessee, that his dentist threatened to -sue him unless he settled a bill that had been owing for two years; -that on the first of every month, Mr. Olmstead deposited to his account -in the Chemical National Bank five hundred dollars; that no month ever -passed without his chief sending for the old man and directing him -to deposit an additional hundred, or two hundred, or sometimes three -hundred to his account, and that these sums appeared on the books of -the company as personal indebtedness. Frequently this levy upon the -Company’s bank balance upset Mr. Olmstead, and more than once Jeannette -heard the old cashier emphatically assert as he rapped his eye-glasses -in his agitated fashion upon his thumb-nail: - -“All right, Mr. Corey,--you’re the boss here, and I’ve got to do as you -say, but I won’t answer for it, Mr. Corey. I warn you, sir, we won’t -have enough for next week’s pay-roll!” - -“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” Mr. Corey would soothe him. “We’ll manage -somehow; you pay the money in the bank for me and we’ll talk about it -afterwards.” - -There were even more intimate things about the man she served which -became his secretary’s knowledge. He sometimes took the sixtieth of a -grain of strychnine when he was unusually tired, he dyed his mustache -and eyebrows, and wore hygienic underwear for which he paid six dollars -a garment. She had charge of his personal bank account. She drew the -checks, put them before him for his signature, and sent them out in the -mail. While Mrs. Corey was in Kennebunkport, she paid all the household -expenses of the establishment on Tenth Street: electric light and milk -bills, grocer’s and butcher’s accounts, the wages of the cook. She knew -what were Mr. Corey’s dues and expenses at the Lotus Club, what he paid -for his clothes, what he owed at Brooks Bros., and at the Everett House -where he had a charge account and signed checks for his lunches. There -were no secrets in his life that were closed to her; he had less than -most men to conceal; she considered him the most generous, the most -upright, the most admirable man in the world. - - -§ 3 - -It was on a hot Saturday afternoon in July when no one but themselves -were in the office, that Jeannette told Mr. Corey about Roy. She had -not seen quite so much of Roy lately; he had been away on a business -trip, and Horatio Stephens had asked him to spend his fortnight’s -vacation with himself and family at Asbury Park. He had written her -letters full of endearments and underscored assertions of love, and -had returned to plead eagerly that she set the day for the wedding and -begin to plan with him how and where they should live. His earnestness -made her realize she could temporize no longer. - -“It isn’t that I don’t care for him,” she said to Mr. Corey; “it’s just -that I don’t want to get married, I guess.” - -The windows were open and a gentle hot wind stirred the loose papers on -the desk. A lazy rumble of traffic rose from the street, punctuated now -and then by the shrill voices of children in the Square, and the merry -jingle of a hurdy-gurdy. - -“You mustn’t trifle with your happiness, Miss Sturgis,” Corey said, -pulling at his mustache thoughtfully. “You know this is all very well -here for a time, but you must think of the future.” - -Jeannette stared out of the window and for some minutes there was -silence; she spoke presently with knitted brows. - -“Oh, I’ve gone over it and over it, again and again, and it seems -more than I can do to give up my independence and the fun of living -my own life just yet. I--I like Mr. Beardsley; I think we’d be happy -together. He’s devoted to me, and he’s most amiable,”--she glanced -with a smile at her employer’s face. “My mother and my sister are eager -to have me marry him, but I just can’t--can’t bring myself to give up -my work and my life here to substitute matrimony.” - -“No consideration for me, my dear girl, ought to influence you. I’d be -sorry to lose you, of course; you’re the best secretary I ever had, -and I’d be hard put to it to find anyone who could begin to fill your -place even remotely. But you mustn’t think I couldn’t manage; I’d find -somebody. Your duty is to yourself and living your own life.” - -“It isn’t that, Mr. Corey. It’s the work that I love; I don’t want to -give it up,--the excitement and the fun of it. It’s a thousand times -more exhilarating than cooking and dish-washing.... And then there’s -the question of finances, which, it seems to me, I’m bound to consider. -Mr. Beardsley’s getting twenty-five and I’m getting twenty-five; that’s -fifty dollars a week we earn, but if I marry him, we both would have to -live on just his salary.” - -“Yes,--that’s very true,” the man admitted. - -The girl threw him a quick glance, and went on hesitatingly: - -“I don’t suppose we could marry and each of us go on holding our jobs?” - -Mr. Corey considered, stroking his black mustache with a thoughtful -thumb and finger. - -“Well,” he said slowly, “what do you gain? If you went on working, -you’d find it difficult to keep house; you’d have to live in a -boarding-house. And that isn’t homemaking. And then, Miss Sturgis, -there’s the, question of children. What would you do about them? You -wouldn’t care to have a child as long as you came downtown to an office -every day.... No, I wouldn’t advise it. If you love your young man well -enough, I would urge you to marry him.” - -“I _don’t_!” Jeannette said to herself violently on her way home. - -But did she? Almost with the denial, she began to wonder. - -That night when Roy came to see her and asked her again for the -thousandth time to name the day, she took his face between her hands -and kissed him tenderly, folded his head against her breast, and with -arms tight about him, pressed her lips again and again to his unruly -hair. - -Later, when he had gone and she was alone, she dropped upon her knees -before the old davenport where they had been sitting, and wept. - -It was the end of the struggle. She told no one for a long time, but in -her mind she knew she would never marry him. Her work was too precious -to her; her independence too dear; to give them up was demanding of her -more than she had the strength to give. - - -END OF BOOK I - - - - -BOOK II - - - - -BREAD - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -§ 1 - -The Chandler P. Corey Company was moving its offices. A twenty-year -lease had been taken on a building especially designed to fit its needs -in the East Thirties. The new home was a great cavernous concrete -structure of eight spacious floors. On the ground floor were to be the -new presses destined to print the magazines, and perhaps some of the -books in the future; the next two floors were to house the bindery, the -composing room and typesetting machines; the editorial rooms were to be -located on the fourth floor, and above these would come in order the -advertising, circulation and pattern departments, each with a stratum -in the great concrete block to itself. The eighth floor was to be given -over to surplus stock, and it would also serve as a store-room for -paper and supplies. - -Both _Corey’s Commentary_ and _The Wheel of Fortune_ had made money -for their owners during the past three years. It was the day of the -“muck-raking” magazine, and Cavendish had unearthed a Wall Street -scandal that sent the circulation of _Corey’s Commentary_ climbing -by leaps and bounds. _The Wheel of Fortune_ had been rechristened -_The Ladies’ Fortune_, and its contents were now devoted to women’s -interests and fashions. The pattern business, that had been launched in -connection with it, had proven from the outset immensely successful. -Horatio Stephens was now its editor, and Miss Reubens conducted the -special departments appearing among the advertising in its back -pages, always referred to in the office as “contaminated matter.” -The circulation of both periodicals had increased so rapidly that -Mr. Featherstone had been obliged to announce an advance in their -advertising rates every three months. - -Other branches of the business, too, had grown and shown a profit. -Francis Holme, who was head of the Book Sales Department, and now a -member of the firm, had developed the manufacture and sale of book -premiums and school books. He sold large quantities of the former -to the publishers of other magazines, for use in their subscription -campaigns, and was even more successful with the latter among private -schools and some public ones throughout the country. One or two recent -novels had sold over the hundred thousand mark, and the general -standing of the Chandler B. Corey publications had improved. It was -conceded in the trade they had now a better “line.” Something was being -done, too, in the Mail Order Department, in charge of Walt Chase, and -more and more sets of standard works were being sold by circularizing -methods. - -The installation and operation of their own presses had been a grave -undertaking. Mr. Kipps had strenuously opposed it, arguing that the new -building was enough of a responsibility, and that they should mark -time for awhile and see how they stood, rather than incur a new loan -of half a million dollars which the new presses involved. Mr. Corey -was convinced, however, that a tide had arrived in their affairs which -demanded a rapid expansion of the business, and if he and his partners -were to make the most of the opportunity thus presented, they must rise -to the occasion, and show themselves able to expand with it. - -“There’s no use of our trying to crowd back into our shells after we’ve -outgrown them, is there, Miss Sturgis?” he said to his secretary, with -an amused twinkle in his eye, after a heated conference with the other -members of the firm, during which Kipps in high dudgeon had left the -room. - -Jeannette smiled wisely. She believed that her chief was one of those -few men who had far-seeing vision, and could look with keen perception -and unfaltering eye into the future, and that he would carry Mr. Kipps, -Mr. Featherstone, the office, his family, herself, everybody who -attached themselves to him, to fame and fortune in spite of anything -any one of them might do. When he was right, he knew it, and knew it -with conviction, and nothing could shake him. - -He had only one weakness, his secretary felt, and that was his attitude -toward his son, Willis, who, two years before, had been withdrawn -from the intellectual atmosphere of Cambridge, and put into the -business, presumably that his father might watch him. He was one of -the sub-editors of _Corey’s Commentary_ and demoralized the office by -his late hours, his disregard of office rules against smoking, and his -condescending attitude toward everyone in his father’s employ. - -The three years that Jeannette Sturgis had been Mr. Corey’s secretary -had seen many changes. Poor Mrs. Inness had turned out to be a -dipsomaniac. Jeannette guessed her secret long before it was discovered -by anyone else, and she had been full of pity and sorrow when this -gray-haired, regal woman had to be dismissed. Van Alstyne was gone, -and Humphrey Stubbs as well; Max Oppenheim likewise had departed. The -new Circulation Manager was a shrewd, keen-eyed, spectacled young -Scotchman, named MacGregor, whom everyone familiarly spoke to and -of as “Sandy.” Miss Holland was still Mr. Kipps’ assistant, and now -most of the routine affairs of the business were administered by her. -Besides Mr. Holme, there was another new member of the firm, Sidney -Frank Allister, who had come into the Chandler B. Corey Company from -a rival house, and was now entrusted with the book-publishing end of -the business. It was usually his opinion that decided the fate of -a manuscript. He had his assistants: a haughty Radcliffe graduate, -named Miss Peckenbaugh, whom Jeannette heartily disliked, and old -Major Ticknor, who had a stiff leg since his Civil War days, and who -stumped into the office two or three times a week with his bundle of -manuscripts and stumped out again with a fresh supply. Very rarely Mr. -Corey was consulted; he frankly declared he hated to read a book, and -would only do so under the most vigorous pressure. - -“Do I _have_ to read this, Frank?” Jeannette would often hear him ask -Allister, when the latter brought him a bulky manuscript and laid it on -his desk. “You know, I don’t know anything about literature,” he would -add, smilingly, with his favorite assumption of being only a plain -business man and lacking in appreciation of the arts. - -“Well, Mr. Corey, this is really important,” Allister would say. “We -don’t agree about it in my department.” - -“Has Holme read it? He can tell you whether it will sell or not.” - -“Mr. Holme doesn’t think it will, but I believe this is a very -important book, and one we most assuredly ought to have on our list.” - -Frequently Mr. Corey would hand the manuscript over to Jeannette after -Mr. Allister had left the room, and beg her to take it home with her, -read it, and give him a careful synopsis and her opinion. She used to -smile to herself when she would hear him quoting her, and once when he -repeated a phrase she had used in her report, he winked at her in a -most undignified fashion. - -“I’m nothing but a hard-headed business man, you know,” he would say, -justifying himself to his secretary when they were alone together. “I -haven’t any time to read books. I can hire men to do that,--men with -much keener judgment about such things than I have. I’m watching the -circulation of our magazines, the advertising revenues, our daily sales -report, and seeing that our presses are being worked to their maximum -capacity. I’m negotiating with a mill for a year’s supply of paper, and -buying fifty thousand pounds of ink, and at the same time arranging for -a loan from the bank. I haven’t got time for books. Anyhow I never went -to college,”--this with a humorous twinkle as he had a general contempt -for college men,--“and I don’t know anything about ‘liter-a-choor.’” - - -§ 2 - -Jeannette took a tremendous pride in the new building. She had an -office to herself, now,--one adjoining Mr. Corey’s. He left the details -of equipping both to her. She took the greatest delight in doing so. -She bought some very handsome furniture,--a great mahogany desk covered -with a sheet of plate glass for Mr. Corey; some finely upholstered -leather armchairs, a rich moquette rug, and she had the walls -distempered, and lined on three sides with tall mahogany bookcases -with diamond-paned glass doors. She had all the authors’ autographed -photographs reframed in a uniform narrow black molding, and hung them -herself. She arranged to have some greens always on the bookcases, and -a great bunch of feathery pine boughs in a large round earthenware jar -on the floor in one corner. - -There had come to exist a very warm and affectionate companionship -between the president of the publishing house and his secretary. -Jeannette thought him the finest man she knew. She admired him -tremendously, admired his shrewdness, his cleverness, his extraordinary -capacity for work. He was impatient beyond all reason, sometimes. She -had often seen him jump up with a bang of a fist on his desk and an -angry exclamation on his lips when an office boy had dallied over an -errand, or had heard these things when it was she who was keeping him -waiting, and he would come himself after the carbon of the letter, or -the report, or the book he had asked for. He would stride through the -aisles between the desks, or across the floor to somebody’s office -with great long steps, his fists swinging, his brows knit, intent upon -putting his hands at once upon what he wanted. He could be brutally -rude, when annoyed, and he gave small consideration to anyone else’s -opinion when he had a definite one of his own. But she could forgive -these shortcomings. She saw the odds against which he contended, she -saw the ultimate goal at which he aimed, and she saw the vigorous -battle he was waging toward this end,--and her esteem for him knew no -bounds. - -She felt herself to be his only real ally though she did not -overestimate her services. Among those who came close to him--his -business associates and family--she was the only one not an actual drag -upon him. Mr. Featherstone and Mr. Kipps were of no more assistance -to him in conducting the affairs of the company than any two of the -salaried clerks. Frequently they hampered him, rubbing their chins or -hemming and hawing over one of his brilliant flashes of wisdom, to -rob him of his enthusiasm. As the business increased, they were more -and more inclined to demur at any new scheme he proposed. His family -were so much dead weight about his neck. The boy had proved himself -of small account, the daughter was epileptic, Mrs. Corey an exacting, -extravagant, capricious wife. - -Jeannette’s surmise upon their first meeting that her employer’s -wife was already unaccountably jealous of her soon found ample -confirmation. Mrs. Corey grew more and more resentful of Jeannette’s -intimate knowledge of her personal affairs, the complete confidence of -her husband which she enjoyed, the close daily association with him. -Jeannette was aware there had been several violent quarrels over her -between husband and wife, Mrs. Corey demanding that she be dismissed, -Mr. Corey firmly declining to agree. It did not make matters any too -pleasant for the girl. Whenever Mrs. Corey encountered her, she was -effusively sweet, but her manner suggested: “You and I, my dear, _we_ -know about him,” or “We women,--his secretary and his wife,--must -stand together for his protection.” Jeannette was keenly conscious of -the utter falseness and insincerity of this attitude. She knew that -Mrs. Corey hated her, and would gladly see her summarily dismissed. -She would smile with equally apparent sweetness in return, and fume -in silence. She considered she was often doing for Mr. Corey what his -wife should have been doing, that she filled the place of assistant, -philosopher and friend only because Mrs. Corey was utterly incompetent -to fill any of these rôles. If her relation to her employer had grown -to be that of companion and helpmate, if she had been obliged to assume -part of the province of a wife, none of the compensations were hers, -she reflected indignantly. Mrs. Corey lived in luxury, came and went -as she pleased, observed no hours, exercised no self-restraint, posed -as her husband’s partner in life, his guide and counsellor, spent his -money extravagantly, and enjoyed the satisfaction of being the wife -of the president of what had now become one of the big publishing -houses in New York, while she, Jeannette, who worked beside him eight, -nine, sometimes eleven or twelve hours out of every twenty-four, got -thirty-five dollars a week! - -But in moments of fairer judgment she realized she received much more -than merely the contents of her pay envelope. She had an affection -and a regard from Mr. Corey that he never had given his wife. She was -closer to him than anyone else in the world; she was what both wife and -daughter should have meant to him; he loved her with a warm paternal -feeling, and her love for him in return was equally sincere, deep and -devoted. She sometimes felt that she and this man for whom she slaved -and whom she served and helped could conquer the world. There existed -no sex attraction between them; each recognized in the other the half -of an excellent team of indefatigable workers; their relation was -always that of father and daughter, but their feelings could only be -measured in terms of love,--staunch, enduring, unswerving loyalty. - - -§ 3 - -There was nothing in Jeannette’s life from which she derived more -satisfaction than the way in which she had deflected Roy Beardsley’s -interest in herself to her sister. There was a time after she had -made up her mind she could not marry him, when dark hours and aching -thoughts assailed her, when she felt she was sacrificing all her -happiness in life to a mere idea. But she had fought against these -disturbing reflections, resolutely banishing Roy from her mind, and -making herself think of ways in which their relationship could be -put upon a platonic basis. She took walks with him, made him read -aloud to her when he came in the evenings, persuaded him to take her -to lectures, and formed the habit of going with him once a week to a -vaudeville show in a neighboring theatre on upper Broadway. Her policy -was always to be _doing_ things with him, never to be idle or to sit -alone with him, for this always led to intimate talk and love-making. -She strove to keep the conversation impersonal. Roy was so easily -managed, she sometimes smiled over it. And yet there came times when it -was hard to deny herself the firm hold of his young arms. - -What proved an immediate and tremendous help in conquering herself was -a discovery she made from a chance glimpse of her sister’s earnest, -brown eyes fixed upon Roy’s face. The three of them were in the studio -one evening, and happened to be discussing religion. Roy delivered -himself sententiously of a trite truism, something like: “It should -be part of everyone’s religion to respect the religion of others.” As -Jeannette was considering him rather than his words at the moment, -her gaze happened to light upon her sister’s face, and little Alice’s -secret stood revealed. The girl sat with her mouth half-open, staring -at Roy with wide eyes, and an adoring look, eloquent of her thoughts. -Jeannette was staggered. She was instantly aware of a great pain in -her own heart, a great longing and hurt. It was clear Alice did not -understand herself, had no suspicion that she was in love. - -At once the elder sister began to readjust herself, “clean house,” as -she expressed it. She marvelled again and again about Alice; it was -hard to accept the idea that love had come to her little sister, yet -the look in the rapt face had been unmistakable, and as the days went -by Jeannette found plenty of evidence to confirm her suspicions. It was -surprising how much the knowledge of her sister’s secret helped her to -overcome any weakness for Roy that remained in her own heart. She saw -at once the suitableness of a match between them; Alice and Roy were -ideally suited to each other, and their coming to care for one another -would surely be the best possible solution to her own problem. She -could not, would not, marry him; the next best thing, of course, would -be for him to marry her sister. - -She set about her schemes at once. The very next evening it had been -arranged Roy was to go with her to the theatre. They usually sat in one -of the back rows of the balcony. That afternoon she left a little note -on his desk to say she wanted to see him when he came in, and when he -appeared, told him she would be obliged to work with Mr. Corey that -evening, and suggested he take her sister to the show in her place. -When he came of an evening to see her at her home, she would send Alice -out to talk to him, while she dallied over her dressing. Whenever -Alice happened to join her and Roy, she found an excuse to leave them -together. She persuaded the young man frequently to include her sister -in their jaunts or walks, and in the evenings, more and more often -she complained of a headache, took herself to bed, and left Alice to -entertain him. Poor little Alice was blindly unconscious of the strings -that were being pulled about her, but she came to a full and terrifying -realization at last of where her heart was leading her. She began to -mope and weep, to talk of going away. She spoke of wanting to be a -trained nurse. - -Roy was still placidly indifferent to her interest in him. His ardor -for Jeannette had cooled, but he still fancied himself in love with -her, and expected that some day they would be married. He no longer -fretted her, however, with demands or troubled her with love-making. -His days were full of interests: he had his friends, his work at the -office, his companionship with the two Sturgis girls,--all of which -was very agreeable and entertaining. Jeannette and he would be married -some day before long; he was content to let matters drift until she -was ready to name the day.... Alice? Oh, Alice was a lovely girl,--a -_deuce_ of a lovely girl. She was going to be his sister-in-law soon. - -Before long Mrs. Sturgis came fluttering in great agitation to her -oldest daughter. By various circumlocutions, she approached the subject -which was causing her so much distress. It was quite evident that -Alice was not well; she was run down and getting terribly nervous. Had -Jeannette noticed anything wrong with her? Jeannette didn’t suppose it -could be a _man_, did she? The little brown bird was still her mother’s -baby after all, but you never could tell about girls. Alice was,--well, -Alice was nineteen! And if it _was_ a man,--the dear child acted -exactly as if there was one,--who could it possibly be? She didn’t see -anybody but Roy; she didn’t go any place with anybody else. Now her -mother didn’t want to say _one word_ to distress Jeannette, or to say -anything that would--would upset her.... Perhaps she was all wrong -about it anyway, but--but did Jeannette think it was possible that -Alice and Roy,--that Alice,--that Alice.... - -Amused, Jeannette watched her anxious little mother floundering on -helplessly. Then she suddenly took the plump and worried figure in her -arms, hugged her, and told her all about it. - -Mrs. Sturgis could only stare in amazement and interject breathless -exclamations of “But, _dearie_!” “Why, _dearie_!” “Well, I don’t know -what to make of you!” - -But the question now remaining was how to jog Roy’s consciousness -awake, make him see the little brown flower at his feet that looked up -at him so adoringly, only waiting to be plucked. Jeannette said nothing -to her mother, but she went to Roy direct. She felt sure of her touch -with him. - -First she made him realize that she could never be satisfied with being -his wife. She explained carefully and convincingly why it could never -be, and then while he gazed tragically at the ground, twisting his lean -white fingers, she spoke to him frankly of Alice. - -As she talked it came over her with fresh conviction that, had she -married him, she could have done as she liked with Roy; he was putty in -her hands. But her husband must be a man who would mold _her_, make her -do what he wished, bend her to his will. Only such a man would awaken -her love and keep it. She despised Roy for his amiability. - -He looked very boyish and silly to her now, as he rumpled his stuck-up -hair, and dubiously shook his head. He was surprised to hear about -Alice, and,--Jeannette could see,--at once interested. She left the -thought with him and confidently waited for it to take hold. Mr. Corey, -she felt, would have handled the situation in just some such fashion as -she had,--direct, cutting the Gordian knot, plunging straight to the -heart of the matter. - -One night at dinner she casually told her mother and sister that her -engagement with Roy had been broken by mutual consent. She explained -they both had begun to realize they did not really love one another -well enough to marry and had decided to call it off. Roy was a sweet -boy, she added, and would make some girl a splendid husband. She -glanced covertly at Alice. The girl was bending over her plate, -pretending an interest in her food, but her face was deadly white. A -rush of tenderest love flooded Jeannette’s heart. At the moment she -would have given much to have been free to take her little sister in -her arms and tell her everything, assure her that the man she loved was -beginning to love her in return and would some day make her his wife. - -And that was how it turned out. A year later Roy and Alice were married -by the Reverend Doctor Fitzgibbons in the church on Eighty-ninth Street -in just the way the bride’s mother had planned for her older daughter, -and now they were living in a small but pretty four-room apartment -out in the Bronx for which they paid twenty-five dollars a month. -Happy little Mrs. Beardsley’s mother and sister were aware that very -shortly those grave responsibilities at which Mrs. Sturgis had often -mysteriously hinted were to come upon her. Alice was “expecting” in -March. - -Roy was no longer an employee of the Chandler B. Corey Company. He -had found another job just before he married and was now with _The -Sporting Gazette_, a magazine devoted to athletic interests, gaming, -and fishing, where he was getting forty dollars a week as sub-editor. -He had always wanted to write and this came nearer his ambition than -soliciting advertisements. Moreover there was the increase in salary. -Of course _The Sporting Gazette_ was new and had nothing like the -circulation of the Corey publications, but Roy considered it a step -ahead. He had given Mr. Featherstone a chance to keep him, but Mr. -Featherstone had rubbed his chin and wagged his head dubiously when -asked for a raise. No,--there mustn’t be any more raises for awhile, no -more increases in salary until the company was making larger profits; -they were expanding; there was the new building with the larger -rent, and all those new presses to be paid for. So Roy had gone in -quest of another job, and had found it in one of three rough little -rooms comprising the editorial offices of _The Sporting Gazette_. He -considered himself extremely happy, extremely fortunate. - -The attraction Jeannette had once felt for him was as dead as though it -had never been. - - -§ 4 - -Mrs. Sturgis no longer had to work so hard. She had given up her -position as instructor in music at Miss Loughborough’s Concentration -School for Little Girls and her work as accompanist for Signor -Bellini’s pupils. Jeannette had made her resign from both places. -With Alice married and gone, it was better for her mother to stay at -home and take charge of the housekeeping. Mrs. Sturgis gave private -lessons, now,--a few hours only in the morning or afternoon,--and -these, she asserted, were a “real delight.” It left her plenty of time -for marketing and for preparing the simple little dinners she and her -daughter enjoyed at night. She took the keenest interest in these, and -was always planning something new in the way of a surprise for her -“darling daughter when she comes home just dead beat out at the end -of the day.” Finances were no longer a problem. Jeannette contributed -twenty dollars a week to the household expenses while her mother earned -as much and sometimes more. She often reminded her daughter she could -do even better than that, especially during the winter months, but -Jeannette would not hear of her working harder. - -“But what’s the use, Mama?” she would ask. “We’ve got everything we -want. I can dress as I like on what’s left out of my salary, and there -is no sense in your teaching all day. I love the idea of your being -free to go to a concert now and then, and Alice’s going to need you a -lot when the baby comes and afterwards.” - -“That may be all very true, dearie, but I don’t just feel right about -having so much time to myself. I could easily do more. There was a lady -called this afternoon and just _begged_ me to take her little girl. You -know I have all Saturday morning.” - -“No,” said Jeannette decisively; “I won’t consider it.” - -They were really very comfortably situated, the girl would reflect. -Once a week, sometimes oftener, Mrs. Sturgis would be asked to -accompany a singer at a recital. That meant five dollars, often -ten,--ten whenever Elsa Newman sang. Then there was the twenty she, -herself, contributed weekly, and the lessons that brought in an equal -amount. Between her mother’s earnings and her own, their income was -never less than two hundred and fifty dollars a month. They were rich; -they lived in luxury; they need never worry again. Jeannette knew she -could remain with Mr. Corey for life if she wanted to; there was no -possible danger of her ever losing her job. Her mother fussed about -the apartment, cooked delicious meals, took an interest in arranging -and managing their little home in a way that previous demands upon her -time had never permitted. A new rug was bought for the studio, and some -big easy chairs, which they had talked about purchasing for years. -The piece of chenille curtaining that had done duty as a table cover -so long in the dining-room was supplanted by a square of handsomer -material; the leaky drop-light vanished and was replaced by one more -attractive and serviceable. More particularly Jeannette had seen to -it that her mother got new clothes. Mrs. Sturgis had always favored -lavender as the shade most becoming to her, and her daughter bought -her a lovely lavender velvet afternoon dress which had real lace down -the front and was trimmed with darker lavender velvet ribbon. Some -lavender silk waists followed, and a small lavender hat upon which the -lilac sprays nodded most ingratiatingly. Mrs. Sturgis was radiant over -her new apparel. Her extravagant delight touched the daughter. It was -pathetic that so little could give so much intense enjoyment. - -Once or twice a month, Jeannette took her mother to a matinée. She -loved to go to the theatre herself, and studied the advertisements, -read all the daily theatrical notes and never missed a review. She -would secure seats for the play, weeks in advance, and always took her -mother to lunch downtown before the performance. These were wonderful -and felicitous occasions for both of them. They had great arguments -each time as to where they should eat, what they should select from -the magnificent menus, and later about the play itself. Jeannette liked -to startle her mother by selecting some extravagant item from the -bill-of-fare, or surprise her by handing her a little present across -the table. Sometimes as they came out of the theatre she would pilot -her without preamble toward a hansom-cab and before the excited little -woman knew what it was about, would help her in, and tell the cabby to -drive them home slowly through the Park. - -“Oh, dearie, you’re not going to do this again!” Mrs. Sturgis would -expostulate drawing back from the waiting vehicle. She really wished -to protest against the needless extravagance. Jeannette would smile -lovingly at her, and urge her in. Later as they were rumbling through -the leafless Park and met a stream of automobiles and sumptuous -equipages going in the opposite direction, Mrs. Sturgis would settle -herself back with a sigh of contentment and say: - -“Really, dearie, I don’t think there is anything I enjoy quite as much -as riding in a hansom. You’re very good to your old mother. We may land -in the poorhouse, but we’re having a good time while the luck lasts.” - -On the occasion of the first performance of _Parsifal_ at the -Metropolitan, Jeannette, through Mr. Corey, was able to secure one -ten-dollar seat for her mother. It was the greatest event in little -Mrs. Sturgis’ life. She longed for Ralph, and wept all through the Good -Friday music. - -Frequently on Sunday afternoons Jeannette’s mother made her daughter -accompany her to Carnegie Hall for a concert or a recital. Then, she -declared, it was her turn to treat and she would not allow the girl -to pay for anything. Her entertainments were never as “grand” as her -daughter’s, but she took a keen delight in playing hostess, and after -the music always suggested tea. They were both exceedingly fond of -toasted crumpets, and Mrs. Sturgis was ever on the lookout for new -places where they were served. But neither of her daughters inherited -her love for music. Jeannette went to the concerts dutifully, but the -satisfaction derived from these afternoons came from giving her mother -pleasure rather than from the jumble of sound made by the wailing -strings, tooting wood-winds and blaring trumpets. She could make -nothing out of it all. When there was a soloist she was interested, -especially if it was a woman, of whose costume she made careful notes. - -Mother and daughter also went to church sometimes. Doctor Fitzgibbons -had made a deep impression upon Mrs. Sturgis when he officiated at the -marriage of Roy and Alice. She had been “flattered out of her senses” -when the clergyman called upon her a few weeks after the ceremony to -inquire for the young couple. He had talked to her about “parish work,” -and expressed the hope that she would see her way clear “to join the -church” and become interested in his “guild.” Mrs. Sturgis had laughed -violently at everything he said, and had promised all he suggested. -Thereafter she referred to him as her “spiritual adviser,” and -Jeannette was aware she called occasionally at the rectory to discuss -what she termed her “spiritual problems.” - -Sunday evenings, Mrs. Sturgis and Jeannette usually invited Alice and -Roy to dinner, and sometimes they were the guests of the young couple -in the little Bronx apartment. Roy and Alice were like two children -playing at keeping house, Mrs. Sturgis said with one of her satisfied -chuckles. Jeannette, too, thought of them as children. Alice had -always seemed younger to her than she really was, and even when her -own thoughts had been filled with Roy, he had always impressed her as -a “boy.” She often wondered nowadays, when he and his happy, dimpling, -brown-eyed bride sat side by side on the sofa, their arms around one -another, their hands linked, exchanging kisses every few minutes in -accepted newly-wed fashion, what she had ever seen in him that had made -her own senses swim and her heart pound. He was just a sweet, amiable -boy to her now, with a fresh, eager manner, and rather an attractive -face. She still liked his quaint mouth, his whimsical smile, his quick -flashing blue eyes, but they no longer stirred her. She could kiss him -in affectionate sisterly fashion without a tremor. - -Jeannette and Mrs. Sturgis took great delight in observing the young -couple together, in watching them in their diminutive but pretty home, -and in discussing them afterwards. They were ideally happy,--laughing, -romping, playing little jokes upon one another, deriving vast amusement -from words, signs and phrases, the meaning of which were known to them -alone. Both were affectionately demonstrative, forever holding hands, -caressing one another and kissing. Jeannette said it made her sick, was -disgusting, but her mother scolded when she betrayed her distaste, and -reminded her it was “only right and proper.” - -Roy, against the prospect of his marriage to Jeannette, had saved -money; Mrs. Sturgis, urged by her older daughter, had once again placed -a loan of five hundred dollars upon the nest-egg in the savings bank; -Jeannette had contributed another hundred, and Roy’s father had shipped -from San Francisco a half car-load of family furniture which had been -in storage for many years. The wedding had awaited the arrival of -this freight, and as soon as it came the stuff had been uncrated, and -installed in the little Bronx apartment. The ceremony then followed and -Roy took his blushing, laughing, excited bride from her mother’s arms, -from the old-fashioned apartment where she had lived almost since she -could remember, and from the wedding supper, direct to the new home in -the Bronx which together they had furnished with such joy and hours of -planning and discussion. - -They had nearly a thousand dollars to spend, but Alice wisely -decided, so her mother thought, that only half of it should go into -house-furnishing. The furniture shipped by the Reverend Dwight -Beardsley was designed in the style of an earlier day and much of it -was too large for the snug little rooms of the Bronx flat. A large -sideboard with a marble slab top and huge mirror could not be brought -into the apartment at all, and was sold to a second-hand furniture -dealer on Third Avenue for fifteen dollars. But most of the furniture -from California was usable, and all of it good and substantial. Alice -made the curtains for the dining and living rooms herself; she and Roy, -on their hands and knees, painted the floors a warm walnut tone. They -bought three or four rugs, a fine second-hand sofa with a rich but not -too gaudy brocaded cover, bed and table linen, and everything needed -for the kitchen. Horatio Stephens and his family sent them a colored -glass art lamp, and Mr. Corey, consulting Jeannette, presented a -beautiful clock with silvery chimes. - -No young husband and wife ever took greater delight in their first -home. They were always “fixing” things, arranging and rearranging them, -cleaning and dusting. Roy bought a Boston fern during an early week of -the marriage, paid three dollars for a brass jardiniere at a Turkish -vendor’s to hold it, and the plant flourished on a small taboret in the -front windows. They took the most assiduous care of this, watering it -several times a day and digging about its roots with an old table knife -whenever either of them had an idle moment. When one of the curling -fronds began to turn brown, they had long discussions as to whether -it should be trimmed off or not. They acquired a canary, too, which -shared with the fern the young couple’s devotion. Alice had bought the -bird because she was so “miserably lonely” without Roy all day long -that she would “go out of her senses wanting him” unless there was -something alive ’round the house to keep her company. The fact that -the canary never opened his throat to make a sound,--although Alice -had been assured by the man in the bird-store that he would “sing his -head off”--did not in any wise detract from her love for the little -feathered creature that hopped about in his cage and made a great fuss -over giving himself a bath in the mornings. They called him “Sonny-boy” -and took turns at the pleasure of feeding him. - -Alice was a good cook. She had a gift for the kitchen, and Jeannette -and her mother would exclaim in admiration over the delicious meals -she prepared when they came to dinner. Roy would glance from mother -to sister-in-law when the roast appeared or when a particularly -appetizing-looking pudding was brought in, and at their exclamations of -delight, he would say: - -“Guess I’ve got a pretty smart wife,--hey? Guess I know a good cook -when I see one, huh? Why, Alice’s got most women I know skinned a mile! -She’s just a wonder; she can do anything. I only wish I was good enough -for her. She’s a wonder, all right--all right.” - -Jeannette was deeply moved when her sister told her she was going to -have a baby. It tore at her heart to think of little Alice, to herself -so young, so immature, so tender and weak and inexperienced, bringing -a child into the world. She worried about it, wondered if Alice would -die, felt with terrifying conviction that that would be the way of it. -Her mother’s pleasure and complacency about the matter reassured her -but little. Alice was having a child much too soon after her wedding; -she ought to have waited for a year or so at least. - -She watched the changes in her sister’s face and figure with growing -wonder. Child-bearing was a mystery. Jeannette had never known a woman -intimately who had had a baby; now she was both curious and concerned. -After the early months of discomfort had passed, a benign gentleness -settled upon Alice; her expression became placid, serene, beautiful. A -quality of goodness transfigured her. She moved through the days toward -her appointed time with supreme tranquillity. Whenever Alice spoke of -“my baby,” Jeannette winced, while her mother maddened her each time -with the remark that it was “only right and proper.” - -One morning early in March, shortly after Jeannette had reached the -office, her mother telephoned her in a great state of excitement. She -had just heard from Roy; Alice’s baby would arrive that day; they were -taking her right away to the hospital; she wasn’t in any pain yet, but -the doctor thought it would be best to have her there; he didn’t say -when the child was likely to be born. - -There was no more news. The morning stretched itself out endlessly. -Jeannette worried and suffered in silence; at noon she telephoned the -hospital and got Roy; there was little change; Alice was miserable, -but there was no talk about when the baby would be born; the doctor -had promised to be in at three; Roy would let her know if anything -happened. All afternoon there was a meeting of the members of the firm -in Corey’s office; the question of the move to the new building was -being discussed; it lasted until four, until five, until quarter to -six. Jeannette was beside herself. Alice was dead and they were afraid -to let her know! - -At six o’clock her mother telephoned again. Alice was having her pains -with some regularity now; the baby ought to be there about eight or -nine o’clock, the doctor said. - -As soon as she was at liberty Jeannette left the office. She did not -want to eat, but took the elevated direct to the hospital. Her mother -and Roy met her and they kissed one another again and again. Alice -was “upstairs” now. They sat with their elbows touching on a hard -leather-covered seat in the reception-room. Jeannette’s head began -to ache; she counted the sixty-three squares in the rug on the floor -twenty-two times; the black on the Welsbach burner in the lamp looked -exactly like two people kissing. - -Towards midnight the baby was born. - -When Jeannette first saw her niece, the upper part of the little head -and forehead were carefully bandaged. Her mother whispered that it had -been an “instrument case”; Roy was not to know for a while at any rate. -The baby was perfect,--a fine, healthy, eight-pound girl, and Alice was -doing nicely. - -But Alice did not leave the hospital for six weeks and was six months -in recovering her old strength and buoyancy. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -§ 1 - -It was some three months after the publishing house had been -established in its new offices, that Jeannette had the card of Martin -Devlin brought to her. It was embossed and heavily engraved, with -a small outline of the earth’s two hemispheres in one corner and -bisecting these, in tiny capitals, the words: THE GIBBS ENGRAVING -COMPANY. Mr. Corey was out; Jeannette told the boy to inform the -caller. In a minute or two the messenger returned to say that the -gentleman would like to speak to Mr. Corey’s secretary, but Jeannette -had no time to waste on solicitors of engraving work, and sent word -that she was occupied. The boy reappeared presently with another of Mr. -Devlin’s cards, on the back of which was pencilled: - - “Dear Miss Sturgis,--I’d be grateful for two minutes’ interview. Have - a message from an old friend of yours. - - M. Devlin.” - - -Jeannette frowned in distaste, and looked up at the boy, annoyed. She -was extremely busy, typing a speech for Mr. Corey which he was to read -that night at a Publishers’ Banquet at the Waldorf. It was twenty -minutes past four; she expected him to return at any minute. - -“Tell the gentleman to come again, will you, Jimmy? I’m really too busy -to see him to-day.” - -The boy went out and she returned to her work, her fingers flying. - -“The responsibility of molding public opinion,” went her notes, “rests -perhaps with our press, but to whom do the discriminating readers of -the nation in confidence turn for the formation of their taste in -literature, their acquaintance with the Arts, the dissemination of -those inspiring idealistic thoughts and precepts of the fathers of our -great----” - -She estimated there were another three pages of it. - -The door of her office opened and a young man of square build, with -broad shoulders, and a grin on his face, filled the aperture. - -“Beg pardon, Miss Sturgis,” he began. “I hope you won’t think I’m -butting-in.” - -He had a strong handsome face, big flashing teeth, black hair and black -eyebrows. - -Jeannette looked at him, bewildered. She had never seen this man -before; she did not know what he was doing in her office, nor what he -wanted. - -“I’m Martin Devlin,” he announced, advancing into the room. - -At once she froze; her breast rose on a quick angry intake, and her -eyes assumed a cold level stare. - -“I hope you’re not going to be sore at me.” He smiled down at her in -easy good humor. - -“Mr. Corey’s not in,” said the girl. She was staggered by this -individual’s effrontery. - -“Well, that’s too bad, but I really called to have a few minutes’ chat -with you,” he returned nonchalantly. “We have a friend of yours down at -our office: Miss Alexander, Beatrice Alexander. ’Member her? She says -a lot of nice things about you.” - -“Oh!” Jeannette elevated her eyebrows and surveyed the speaker’s head -and feet. - -“I’m afraid you’re sore at me,” he said. He laughed straight into her -cold eyes, showing his big teeth. - -Jeannette straightened herself and frowned. She felt her anger rising. - -“Er--you--a----” she began, deliberately clearing her throat with a -little annoyed cough. “I think you’ve made a mistake. Mr. Corey is not -in. As you see, I am busy. Good-day.” - -She looked down at her notes and swung her chair around to her machine. - -“Whew!” whistled Mr. Devlin. He took a step nearer, put his hand on -her desk, bent down to catch a glimpse of her face, and said with a -pleading note in his voice and with that same flashing smile: - -“Aw--please don’t be sore at me, Miss Sturgis!” - -The man’s sudden nearness brought Jeannette up rigidly in her seat. Her -eyes blazed a moment, but there was something in this person’s manner -and in the ingratiating quality of his smile that made her hesitate. -Her first thought had been to call the porter or one of the men -outside, and have him summarily put out. Instead she said in her most -frigid tone: - -“Really, Mr. Devlin, you presume too far. You see that I am busy and -I’ve told you that Mr. Corey is not in.” - -“Well that’s all right, but what do you want me to tell Miss Alexander? -She’ll be wanting to know if I delivered her message.” - -“Miss Alexander, as I remember her, is a very lovely girl. You can -tell her that I’ve not forgotten her, and that I am sorry that ... that -in her office there are not more mannerly gentlemen.” - -Devlin threw back his head and roared. His laugh was extraordinary. - -“Say, Miss Sturgis,” he began, “please don’t be sore at me. I didn’t -know I’d find a girl like you in here. Miss Alexander said you were -awfully nice and I thought maybe you’d be doing me a favor one of these -days. I took a chance on getting in to see you the way I did. Don’t -blame the kid.” - -“What kid?” - -“The office boy. I slipped him a quarter and told him to tell you I was -an old friend of yours and wanted to give you a surprise.” - -“Upon my word!” - -“Well, you see,--we’ve all got to make our living; you, me and the -office boy.” - -“There are ways of doing it,” said Jeannette acidly. - -“I think they’re all legitimate.” - -“What,--bribing office boys?” - -“Well, I didn’t bribe him exactly. I deceived him.” He laughed again. -He was Irish, the girl noted, and presumably considered he had a great -deal of Irish charm. - -“At any rate, I got in to see you.” - -“Much good it’s done you.” - -“I have hopes for the future.” - -“I wouldn’t cherish them.” - -“Ah, well now, Miss Sturgis, don’t be cruel!” - -“I’m not in the least interested.” - -“Won’t you tell me who’s doing Corey’s engraving?” - -“I will not.” - -“I can find out easily enough, and I think I can interest him.” - -“I think you can’t.” - -“Won’t you make an appointment for me to see him?” - -“Certainly not!” - -“There’s other ways I can meet him.” - -“You’re at liberty to find them.” - -“Aw ... you’re awfully mean. Why don’t you give a fellow a chance for -his living?” - -“You don’t deserve it.” - -“Because I gave the boy a quarter to show me which was your office?” - -“Yes, and because you’re so ... so....” - -“Fresh,--go on; you were going to say it!” - -“Evidently you are aware of it.” - -“A fellow hasn’t a chance to think anything else.” - -“Well,--you’ll have to excuse me. I’m really very busy.” - -“Can I come again when you’ve a little more time to spare?” - -“I am always busy.” - -“Can I ’phone?” - -“I can’t bother with ’phone messages.” - -Mr. Devlin for a moment was routed. - -“Oh, _gosh_!” he said in disgust. - -Jeannette was not to be won. She nodded to him, and began to type -briskly, the keys of her machine humming. The man stood uncertainly a -moment more, shifting from one foot to the other; then he swung himself -disconsolately toward the door, and closed it slowly after him. Almost -immediately he opened it again and thrust in his head. - -“I’m coming back again,--just the same!” he bawled. Jeannette did not -look around, and the door clicked shut. - - -§ 2 - -The next time he called she was taking dictation from Mr. Corey and -was unaware he had come. When she finished with her employer, and -picked up the sheaf of letters he had given her, she passed through the -connecting door between the two offices, and found Devlin waiting in -her room. - -“_Really!_” She stopped short and frowned in quick annoyance. - -“Well, here I am again!” he said blandly. - -“And here’s where you go out!” She walked towards the door that led to -the outer office and flung it open. - -Devlin’s face altered, and a slow color began to mount his dark cheeks. - -“Aw--say----” he said in hurt tones. The smile was gone; for the moment -his face was as serious as her own. - -Jeannette did not move. Devlin picked up his hat and gloves. - -“My God!” he exclaimed fervently, “you’re hard as nails!” - -As he went out she suddenly felt sorry for him. - -But that was not the last of him. His card appeared the next afternoon. -Mr. Corey was again away from the office. - -“I’m not in to this person,” she said to Jimmy, “and if he bribes you -to show him in here, I’ll go straight to Mr. Kipps and have you fired.” - -The next day he telephoned. She hung up the receiver, and told the girl -at the switch-board to find out who wanted her before she put through -any more calls. The day following brought a letter from him, but as -soon as she discovered his signature, she tore it up and threw it in -the waste-paper basket. Two minutes later, she carefully recovered its -ragged squares and pieced them together. - -“My dear Miss Sturgis,” it read, “you must overlook my boorish methods. -I’ll not bother you again, but I beg you will not hold it against me, -if I try to make your acquaintance in some more acceptable manner. -Yours with good wishes, Martin Devlin.” - -He wrote a vigorous hand,--strong, distinct, individual. - -Jeannette considered the letter a moment, then uttered a contemptuous -“Puh!” scooped the fragments into her palm, and returned them to the -receptacle for trash. - - -§ 3 - -Toward the end of the week, she had a telephone call from Beatrice -Alexander. She had not seen the girl for nearly four years but -remembered how exceptionally kind she had been to her that first day -she went to work, and thought it would be pleasant to meet her again, -and talk over old times. They arranged to have luncheon together. - -They met at the Hotel St. Denis. Jeannette always went there whenever -there was sufficient excuse; she loved the atmosphere of the old -place. Her luncheon was invariably the same: hot chocolate with whipped -cream, and a club sandwich. It cost just fifty cents. - -Beatrice Alexander had changed but little during the years Jeannette -had not seen her, except that now she wore glasses. A little gold chain -dangled from the tip of one lens, and hooked itself by means of a gold -loop, over an ear. It made her look schoolmarmy, but she had the same -sweet face, the same soft dovelike eyes, and the whispering voice. - -“And you _never_ married Mr. Beardsley,” she commented. “I heard you -were engaged and he certainly was awfully in love with you.” - -Jeannette explained about her sister, and how happy the two were in -their little Bronx flat. Her companion exclaimed about the baby. - -She had had two or three places since the old publishing house -suspended its selling campaign of the History. She had been in the -business office of the Fifth Avenue Hotel Company until it closed its -doors. Now The Gibbs Engraving Company employed her; she’d been there -about a year, and liked it all right, but the constant smell of the -strong acids made her a little sick sometimes. She and Jeannette fell -presently to discussing Martin Devlin. - -“Oh, he’s all right,” Beatrice Alexander said. “He came there about the -same time I did. He’s an awful flirt, I guess, and he gets round a good -deal. I don’t know much about him, except that he’s always pleasant and -agreeable, never, anything but terribly nice to me. Everybody likes -him. He’s one of our best solicitors. I heard from one of the men in -your composing room, who’s a kind of cousin of mine, that you were -with the Corey Company and were Mr. Corey’s private secretary, and one -day I happened to hear Mr. Devlin talking to Mr. Gibbs,--Mr. Gibbs and -his brother own The Gibbs Engraving Company,--and he said something -about how he wished he could land your account but he didn’t know a -soul he could approach. And then I mentioned I knew you. That was all -there was to it, only he said you treated him something awful.” - -Jeannette rehearsed the interview. - -“He struck me as a very fresh young man,” she concluded. - -“Oh, Mr. Devlin’s all right,” Beatrice Alexander said again. “He -doesn’t mean any harm. He’s Irish, you know,--he was born here and all -that,--and he just wants to be friendly with everyone. I suppose he was -kind of hurt because you were so short with him.” - -“I most certainly was,” Jeannette said, grimly. - -“Well, he’s been begging and begging me to call you up. He wanted to -take us both out to lunch, but I wouldn’t agree to that. I told him I’d -see you about it first.” - -“I wouldn’t consider it,” Jeannette said, indignantly. “The idea! -What’s the matter with him?” - -“I imagine,” Beatrice Alexander said shyly, “he likes your style.” - -“Well, I don’t like _his_! ... The impertinence!” - -They finished their lunch and wandered into Broadway. It was Easter -week, and the chimes of Grace Church were ringing out a hymn. - -“Let’s not lose touch with each other again,” said Beatrice Alexander -at parting. “I’ll ’phone you soon, and next time you’ll have to have -luncheon with _me_. I always go to Wanamaker’s; they have such lovely -music up there, and the food’s splendid.” - - -§ 4 - -Jeannette had forgotten Mr. Devlin’s existence until one day as she was -typing busily at her desk she suddenly recognized his loud, infectious -and unmistakable laugh in the adjoining office. Mr. Corey had come in -from lunch some ten minutes before, and had brought a man with him. She -had heard their feet, their voices, and the clap of the closing door -as they entered. Now the laugh startled her. She paused, her fingers -suspended above the keys of her typewriter, and listened. It was Mr. -Devlin; there was no mistaking him. She twisted her lips in a wry -smile. He and Mr. Corey were evidently getting on. - -She knew she would be called. When the buzzer summoned her, she -picked up her note-book and pencils, straightened her shoulders in -characteristic fashion, and went in. - -Devlin rose to his feet as she entered, but she did not glance at him. -Her attention was Mr. Corey’s. - -“How do you do? How’s Miss Sturgis?” Devlin was all good-natured -friendliness, showing his big teeth as he grinned at her. - -She turned her eyes toward him gravely, gazed at him with calm -deliberation, and briefly inclined her head. - -“Oh, you two know each other? Friends, hey?” asked Mr. Corey, looking -up. - -“Well, we’re trying to be,” laughed Devlin. - -Jeannette made no comment. She gazed expectantly at her chief. - -“The Gibbs Engraving Company,” said Mr. Corey in his brusque -businesslike voice, “wants to do our engraving. I’m going to give them -a three months’ trial. I’d like to have you take a memorandum of what -they’ve quoted us. Mr. Gibbs is to confirm this by letter. Now you -said five cents per square inch on line cuts with a minimum of fifty -cents....” - -Jeannette scribbled down the figures. - -“Three-color work a dollar a square inch,” supplied Devlin. - -“Oh, I thought you said you’d give us a flat rate on our color work.” - -“On the magazine covers, yes, but I can’t do that on general color -work.” - -“Well, that’s all right.” The discussion continued. Presently the girl -had all the details. - -“Give me a memorandum of that,” Corey said, “and send a carbon to Mr. -Kipps.” He turned to the young man. “We’ll talk it over, and let you -know just as soon as we hear from you.” Devlin rose. The men shook -hands as Jeannette passed into her own room. She heard them saying -good-bye. Their voices continued murmuring, but she did not listen. -Suddenly Mr. Corey opened her door. - -“Mr. Devlin wants to speak to you a minute, Miss Sturgis.” He nodded to -his companion, said “Well, good-bye; hope we can get together on this,” -and shook hands once more, and left Devlin confronting her. - -“Please let me say just one word,” he said quickly. “I met Mr. Corey -at the Quoin Club the other day and made a date for lunch. I’m after -his business all right, and think I’ve got it cinched. I don’t want -you to continue to be sore at me, if my outfit and yours are going to -do business together. I’m sorry if I got off on the wrong foot. Please -accept my apology and let’s be friends.” - -“I don’t think there is any occasion----” began Jeannette icily. - -“Aw shucks!” he said interrupting her, “I’m doing the best I can to -square myself. I didn’t mean to annoy you. I didn’t care at first what -you thought of me as long as I got in to see Mr. Corey. I confess I -thought maybe I could jolly you into arranging a date for me to see -him. No,--wait a minute,” he urged as the girl frowned, “hear me out. -You see I’m being honest about it. I’m telling you frankly what I -thought at first, but that was before I even saw you. I had no idea you -were the kind of girl you are. It isn’t usual to find a person like you -in an office. Oh, you think I’m jollying you! I swear I’m not. I just -want to ask you to forgive me if I offended you, and be friends.” - -There was something unusually ingratiating about this man. Jeannette -hesitated, and Devlin continued. He pleaded very earnestly; it was -impossible not to believe his sincerity. - -Jeannette shrugged her shoulders when he paused for a moment. Her hands -were automatically arranging the articles on her desk. - -“Well,” she conceded slowly, “what do you want?” - -“For you to say you’ll forgive a blundering Irish boobie, and shake -hands with him.” - -He wrung a dry smile from her at that. She held out her hand. - -“Oh, very well. It’s easier to be friends with you than have you here -interfering with my getting at my work.” - -“That’s fine, now.” He held her fingers a moment, his whole face -beaming. “You’ve a kind heart, Miss Sturgis, and I sha’n’t forget it.” - -He took himself away with a radiant smile upon his face. - - -§ 5 - -It was evident Martin Devlin proposed to be a factor in her life. -When he came to the office to see Mr. Kipps or Miss Holland about the -engraving,--and the work brought him, or he pretended it brought him, -two or three times a week--he never failed to step to Jeannette’s door, -open it, and give her the benefit of his flashing teeth and handsome -eyes as he wished her good-day or asked her how she was. He did not -intrude further. His visits were only for a minute or two. Only once -when she was looking for a letter in the filing cabinet, he came in and -lingered for a chat. He saw she was not typing, therefore ready to talk -to him since he was not interrupting her. When she went to lunch with -Beatrice Alexander a week or two later at Wanamaker’s he joined the two -girls by the elevators as they were leaving the lunch-room, pretending, -Jeannette noticed, with a great air of surprise, that the meeting was -merely a fortuitous circumstance. The subway had a few days before -begun to operate. Jeannette had never ridden upon it, so Martin piloted -her down the stone steps, boarded the train, and rode with her until -they reached Thirty-fourth Street. Beatrice Alexander had said good-bye -as they left Wanamaker’s. - -Devlin had a confident, self-assured way with him. It could not be said -he swaggered, but the word suggested him. He was easy, good-natured, -laughing, cajoling, irresistibly merry. His good humor was contagious. -Men smiled back at him; women looked at him twice. To the subway -guard, to the sour-faced little Jew at the newsstand, to the burly -cop with whom they collided as they climbed the stairs to the street, -he was familiar, patronizing, jocular. He called the Italian subway -guard “Garibaldi,” the Jewish newsdealer “Isaac,” the burly policeman -“Sergeant.” One glance at him and each was won; it was impossible to -resent his familiarity. Everybody liked him; he could say the most -outrageous things and give no offense. It was that Irish charm of his, -Jeannette decided, back once more at her desk and clicking away at her -machine, that made people so lenient with him. - -She began to speculate about him a good deal. It was clear he was in -hot pursuit of her, and that he intended to give her no peace. He -commenced to bring little boxes of candy which he slid on to her desk -with a long arm when he opened her office door to say “Hello!” Then -flowers put in their appearance: sweet bunches of violets, swathed -in oiled paper, their stems wrapped in purple tinfoil, the fragrant -ball glistening with brilliant drops of water; there were bunches of -baby roses, too, and lilies-of-the-valley, and daffodils. One day she -happened to mention she had never read “The Taming of the Shrew,” and -the following morning there was delivered at her home a complete -set of the Temple edition of Shakespeare’s plays. She protested, she -threatened to throw the flowers out of the window, she begged him with -her most earnest smile not to send her anything more. She was talking -into deaf ears. The very next day she found on her desk two seats for -a Saturday matinée with a note scribbled on the envelope: “For you and -your mother next Saturday. Have a good time and think of Martin.” - -In deep distress she told her mother about him, but Mrs. Sturgis shared -none of her concern. - -“Well, perhaps the young man is trying to be friends with you in the -only way he knows how. I wouldn’t be too hasty with him, dearie. You -say he’s with an engraving company? Is that a good line of work? Does -he seem well-off,--plenty of money and all that?” - -“Oh, _Mama_!” cried Jeannette, in mild annoyance. - -“There’s no harm, my dear, in a nice rich young fellow admiring a -pretty girl like my daughter. If the young man’s well brought up and -means what’s perfectly right and proper, I don’t see what you can -object to. You’ve got to marry one of these days, lovie; you must -remember that. There isn’t any sense in tying yourself down to a desk -for the rest of your life! You’ve _got_ to think about a husband!” - -“Well, I don’t want _him_!” - -“Perhaps not. I’m not saying anything about him. But there’s plenty of -nice young men in the world, and you mustn’t shut your eyes to them. A -girl should marry and have a home of her own; that’s what God intended. -Doctor Fitzgibbons was saying exactly that same thing to me only -yesterday. Now this Mr. Devlin,--it’s an Irish name, isn’t it?----” - -“Oh, hush,--for goodness’ sakes, Mama! Don’t let’s talk any more about -him.... What did Alice have to say to-day?” - -“She’s really gaining very rapidly now,” Mrs. Sturgis said instantly -diverted. “She says she’s going to let that woman go. She comes every -day and does all the dishes and cleans up and it only costs Alice three -dollars a week.” - -“Why, she’s crazy,” cried Jeannette. “She isn’t half strong enough to -do her own work, yet. You tell her I’ll pay the three dollars till -she’s all right again. I can’t imagine what Roy Beardsley’s thinking -about!” - - -§ 6 - -Martin Devlin begged her to allow him to take her mother and herself to -dinner, and “perhaps we’ll have time to drop in at a show afterwards,” -he added. Jeannette declined. She had no wish to become on more -intimate terms with him, but he would not take “No” for an answer. He -persisted; she grew angry; he persisted just the same. She considered -going to Mr. Corey and informing him that this representative of The -Gibbs Engraving Company was annoying her, and yet it hardly seemed the -thing to do. She spoke of it again to her mother, and Mrs. Sturgis -at once was in a flutter of excitement at the prospect of a dinner -downtown. - -“But why not, dearie?” she argued. “I could wear my lavender velvet, -and you’ve got your new taffeta.... I’d like to meet the young man.” - -After all there were thousands of girls, reflected Jeannette, who were -accepting anything and everything from men, wheedling gifts out of -them, sometimes even taking their money. Her mother would get much -pleasure out of the event. - -When Devlin urged his invitation again, she drew a long breath, and -consented. There seemed no reason why she should not accept; there was -nothing wrong with him; she liked him; he was agreeable and devoted; -her mother would be delighted. - -He called for them on the night of the party in a taxi. It was an -unexpected luxury. He won Mrs. Sturgis at once. Why, he was perfectly -charming, a delightful young man! What in the world was Jeannette -thinking about? She laughed violently at everything he said, rocking -back and forth on the hard leather seat in the stuffy interior of the -cab, convulsed with mirth, her round little cheeks shaking. He was the -most comical young man she’d ever known! - -The taxi took them to a brilliant restaurant, gay with lights, music -and hilarity. Jeannette’s blue, high-necked taffeta and her mother’s -lavender velvet were sober costumes amidst the vivid apparel and -low-cut toilettes of the women. But the girl was aware that no matter -what her dress might be, she, herself, was beautiful. She saw the -turning heads, and the eyes that trailed her as the little group -followed the head-waiter to their table. The table had been reserved, -the dinner ordered. Cocktails appeared, and she sipped the first she -had ever tasted. Her mother was in gay spirits, and preened herself -in these surroundings like a bird. Devlin seemed to know how to do -everything. He was startlingly handsome in his evening clothes; the -white expanse of shirt was immaculate; there were two tiny gold studs -in front, and a black bow tie tied very snugly at the opening of his -collar. It was no more than conventional semi-formal evening dress, -and yet somehow it impressed Jeannette as magnificent. She had never -noticed how becoming the costume was to a man before. She realized, -as she glanced at him, he was the first young man she had ever known, -who had taken her out in the evening and worn evening dress. Roy had -been too poor; the tuxedo he had had at college was shabby; she had -never seen him wear it. She studied Devlin now critically. His hair was -coal black, coarse, a trifle wavy; he wet it, when he combed it, and -it caught a high light now and then. His eyebrows were heavy and bushy -like his hair, the eyes, themselves, deep-set but alive with twinkles -and laughter. They were expressive eyes, she thought, capable of -subtlest meanings. His nose was straight, his mouth large and red, and -his big even teeth glistened between the vivid lips with the glitter of -fine wet porcelain. He had an oval-shaped face and a vigorous pointed -chin. His skin was unblemished, but the jaw, chin, and cheeks were dark -blue from his close-shaven beard. It was his expression, she decided, -more than the regularity of his features, that made him so handsome. In -his evening dress he was extraordinarily good-looking. She judged him -to be twenty-six or seven. - -The dinner progressed smoothly. Devlin had evidently taken pains in -ordering it, and he gave a pleased smile when Mrs. Sturgis waxed -enthusiastic over some particular feature, and Jeannette echoed her -praise. There was, as a matter of fact, nothing spectacular about -it: oysters, chicken _sauté sec_,--a specialty of the restaurant,--a -vegetable or two, salad with a red sauce--Mrs. Sturgis thought it -most curious and pronounced it delicious--an ice. To his guests, it -seemed the most wonderful dinner they had ever eaten. The girl was -impressed; her mother flatteringly excited. - -“It’s all so _good_!” Mrs. Sturgis kept repeating as if she had made a -surprising discovery. - -Devlin called for the check, glanced at it, dropped a large bill on -the silver tray, and when the change was brought, amounting to two -dollars and some cents,--as both Jeannette and her mother noted,--waved -it away to the waiter with a negligent gesture. It was lordly; it was -magnificent! - -Jeannette loved such ways of doing things, she loved the lights and -music, the excellent food, the deferential service, the gorgeous -restaurant, the beautifully gowned women. She would like to own one -rich and sumptuous evening dress like theirs, and to be able to wear it -to such a magnificent place as this, and queen it over them all. She -knew she could do it; she could dazzle the entire room. - -Devlin guided his guests through the revolving glass doors to the -street, the taxi-cab starter blew his whistle shrilly, a car rolled up, -the door was held open for them to enter, and banged shut. The starter -in his gold-braided uniform and shining brass buttons, touched his -cap respectfully, and the taxi rolled out into the traffic. Jeannette -thrilled to the luxuriousness and extravagance of it all. - -It was the same at the theatre. They had aisle seats in the sixth row; -the musical comedy was delightful, spectacular, magnificent, in tune -with everything else that evening. After the theatre, their escort -insisted upon their going to a brilliant café where the music was -glorious, and where Jeannette and her mother sipped ginger-ale and -Devlin drank beer. Mrs. Sturgis commented half-a-dozen times upon the -peel of a lemon, deftly cut into cork-screw shape, and twisted into -her glass, which gave the ginger-ale quite a delightful flavor. It was -Devlin’s idea; she had heard him suggest it to the waiter. He was a -very remarkable young man,--very! - -They were swept home in another taxi-cab, and he refused to let them -thank him for the glorious evening. He hinted he would like to call, -and perhaps be asked to dinner. But of course, that was not to be -thought of! A grand person like him coming to one of their simple -little meals, with Mrs. Sturgis or Jeannette jumping up to wait on the -table? That would be perfectly ridiculous! But he might call some time, -or perhaps go with them to a Sunday concert. He would be delighted, of -course. He held his hat high above his head as he said good-night, and -stood at the foot of the steps until they were safely inside. - -It had been a memorable evening; they really had had a most wonderful -time; Mr. Devlin certainly knew how to do things! Mrs. Sturgis, -carefully pinning a sheet about her lavender velvet preparatory to -hanging it in the closet, began planning how they could entertain him. - -“Is he fond of music, do you know, dearie? I think we could get seats -for some Sunday afternoon concert, and then bring him home to tea. It -would be much better to ask him here than to go to any of those little -tea-places; we could get some crumpets and toast them ourselves, and -might buy a few little French pastries. You could see he was dying to -be asked.” - -Jeannette felt vaguely irritated. - -“Oh, let’s not rush him, Mama.” - -“Rush him? Who’s talking of rushing him, I’d like to know? The young -man is a very delightful, presentable gentleman, and he’s evidently -taken a great fancy to you, and he’s even been nice to your poor old -mother. I declare, Janny, I can’t sometimes make you out! I just -was proposing we extend him a little hospitality in return for his -extremely lavish entertainment. He’s been most kind and considerate, -and the least we can do....” - -Jeannette’s mind wandered. It certainly would be wonderful, went her -roving thoughts, to have money, and dress gorgeously, and go about -to such magnificent restaurants, and then taxi off to the theatre, -whenever one wanted to! It would be wonderful, too, to have somebody -strong and resourceful always looking out for one’s comfort and -enjoyment, paying all the bills, never bothering one about money, -consulting and gratifying one’s slightest whim! - -She went to sleep in a haze of golden imaginings. Her mother’s voice in -the next room planning various schemes, commenting upon Mr. Devlin’s -attractiveness, grew fainter and fainter, and finally dwindled silent. - - -§ 7 - -But the next morning Jeannette vigorously attacked the subject. There -had been nothing extraordinary about the past evening. A man in -conventional evening dress had taken her mother and herself to dine in -a restaurant, and afterwards had driven them in a taxi to the theatre. -What was there so remarkable in that? It was being done all the time; -the restaurants were packed full of such parties night after night. It -had merely _seemed_ wonderful to a girl and her mother unused to such -entertainment. - -Jeannette kept reminding herself of this throughout the ensuing day. -She did not propose to have her head turned, as her mother’s evidently -was, by a little splurge of money. She was not in love with Martin -Devlin, she did not care a snap of her finger for him, she would not -marry him if he had a million! There was no sense in letting him think -she would even consider such an idea. She couldn’t help it, if he was -in love with her. She had done nothing to encourage him, and she didn’t -propose to begin. No, the whole thing had better come to an end; it -had gone quite far enough; she’d have to call off any silly plans her -mother might be making.... What! Marry Martin Devlin and give up her -job? _Never in the world!_ - -But Jeannette found she was dealing with a personality very different -from that of Roy Beardsley. Mr. Devlin had one idea, one object: -the idea was Jeannette, the object matrimony. He besieged her with -attentions, he gave her no peace, he hounded her footsteps. Mrs. -Sturgis threw herself whole-heartedly upon his side. She was deaf to -her daughter’s remonstrances; she refused to be discourteous, as she -described it, to a young man so attentive and considerate. Mother and -daughter actually quarrelled about the matter, refused to speak to -each other for a whole day, made up with tears and kisses, but this in -no jot altered Mrs. Sturgis’ purpose of being Mr. Devlin’s friend and -advocate. - -Jeannette was not to be shaken. She did not desire Mr. Devlin, she did -not want to marry anyone, she had no intention of abandoning her work. - -“You _got_ to marry me, Jeannette,” this purposeful young man said to -her one day. - -“Never,” said Jeannette resolutely. - -“Oh, yes, you will,” he told her with equal confidence. - -“Well, we’ll see about that. I don’t care for you; I wouldn’t marry you -if I did; you are only annoying me with your attentions. I would really -like you much better if you’d leave me alone.” - -The very evening this conversation took place she found a beautiful -little scarab pin waiting for her when she got home. She mailed it -back to him at The Gibbs Engraving Company. The next day came perfume, -and a day or two later a large roll of new magazines; he sent her -candy, flowers, theatre tickets. She gave the candy away, threw the -flowers out of the window, tore up the theatre tickets and sent the -torn paste-boards back to him in a letter in which she told him further -gifts would only anger her. They kept on coming with undiminished -regularity. She wept; her mother scolded her; Devlin called. There was -no evading him; he was everywhere. - -One day, he grabbed her, took her in his arms, beat down her -resistance, strained her to him, and kissed her savagely, hungrily on -the mouth. In that instant she capitulated; something broke within her; -an overwhelming force rose like a great tide, welled up over her head -and submerged her. She wilted in his embrace, succumbed like a crushed -lily and longed for him to trample on her. - -Love, glorious, intoxicating, passionate, had sprung to life -in her. She resented it; she was helpless against it. She -fought--fought--fought to no purpose. It rode her, rowelled her, -harried her. Martin Devlin had conquered her heart, but her will was -another matter. - - -§ 8 - -Jeannette became miserably unhappy. She imagined she had experienced -all love’s emotions when Roy Beardsley possessed her thoughts. She -laughed now when she thought of them. She had been little more than a -school girl then, with a school girl’s capacity for love,--a maiden’s -love, virginal, immature. It was not to be compared with this flame -that seethed within her now. Oh, God! Her love for Martin Devlin was -an agony! For the first time in her life she knew the full meaning -of fear. She feared this man with a fear like terror. Ruthlessly he -obtruded himself into her life, ruthlessly he assaulted the securest -fastnesses of it, ruthlessly, she dreaded, he would strike them down -and subdue her will as easily as he had won her love. He was in her -thoughts all day and all night; she trembled when he was near her; it -was torment when they were apart. Again and again, she returned to -her determination to put him out of her life; he would only cause her -trouble; there was only unhappiness in store for them both. It was -useless. Neither her thoughts nor Devlin had any mercy upon her. She -knew at last what love, real love, was like; it was a raging fire, -white-hot, scorifying, consuming. - -His lips never again found hers after that first terrible moment of -weakness. Sometimes he caught her to him and strained her in his -arms, but her cheek or hair or neck received his eager kiss. She -resisted these embraces with all her strength, struggled in his grasp. -She was mortally afraid of him; mortally afraid of herself. Desire -throbbed in all her veins. She clung desperately to the last redoubt -in her defenses behind which every instinct told her safety lay. She -would allow him no avenue of approach; she would tolerate no moment’s -weakness in her fortitude. - -“Janny, you love me, and, by God, I love you. You’re the finest woman -I’ve ever known, Janny. When are you going to marry me?” Martin had his -arms about her, but both her hands were pressed against his breast. -He seemed so big and powerful as he stood holding her; she knew his -clean shaven chin was rough with his beard, firm and cold; he smelled -fragrantly of cigars. - -Ah, love! That was one thing,--she had no control over her heart,--but -marriage was another. That was very different indeed. - -“Martin dear,--I _do_ love you,--I’m proud I love you. But I don’t want -to get married!” - -“Why not?” - -Jeannette sighed wearily. - -“I don’t suppose I can ever make you understand. I like to live my -own life; I like to come and go as I please; I like to have the money -I earn myself to spend the way I like. And besides that, I love my -work, I love being at the office. I’ve been part of this business now -for three years; I’ve helped to build it up, I know every detail; it -belongs to me in a way. Does that sound unreasonable to you?” - -“No, not unreasonable exactly. But I don’t think you see it right; -you attach too much importance to it. You’ll be just as free and -independent as my wife as you are now.” - -Would she? She wondered. It was of that, that she had her gravest -misgivings. - -“And then there’s Mr. Corey. I wouldn’t feel right about leaving him; -he depends on me so much.” - -“Well, for God’s sake!” exclaimed Martin. “Do you mean to tell me you -would let _that_ stand in the way?” - -“It’s a consideration,” said Jeannette honestly. Martin’s face settled -grimly. - -“And then there’s Mama,” went on the girl. “She’s so happy now, living -with me. She doesn’t have to work so hard any more, and she goes to -concerts and visits Alice and does as she pleases. You see, if I -married, that would have to come to an end. I don’t know what she would -do.” - -“Why, she could do a lot of things,” argued Martin. “She might go and -live with your sister, for instance, or come with us; she could divide -her time between the two of you.” - -“Alice would love to have her,” admitted Jeannette. “Mama’s crazy about -Etta, and of course it would make it easier for Allie. But I don’t -think Mama would consent to live with either of her children.” - -“I’ve always been a fan for your ma,” said Martin, “and that just shows -how dead sensible she is. Your sister’s husband and I could each send -her twenty-five dollars a month, and she could find some place to board -easily for that.” - -“Roy hasn’t got any twenty-five dollars.” - -“We can fix up some arrangement that will be satisfactory all ’round.” - -“Mama would never consent to give up her teaching. It really means too -much to her.” - -“Well, there you are! You haven’t got a real reason on earth for not -marrying me to-morrow.” - -But Jeannette felt she had, though she could find no one to agree with -her. - -“You’re just playing with your happiness, dearie,” her mother said to -her. “Martin Devlin’s a fine young man. You could go a long way before -you’d find a better husband. I want to see my dearie-girl in a little -home of her own like her sister’s.” - -“Oh, Janny,” said Alice, “you don’t know what fun, being married is! -Why, after you’ve become a wife, you feel differently about the whole -world. Why, I’d marry _anybody_ rather than not be married at all! ... -And then, Janny, you haven’t got the faintest idea how sweet it is to -have a baby of your own. Etta is just the joy of our lives. You ought -to see Roy playing with her when he comes home from the office and I am -getting her bath ready!” - -Jeannette studied her sister’s radiant face curiously. There was a -mystery here; something she did not understand. This was the girl who -had borne her child in agony, who had endured nearly fifteen hours of -labor, who had been torn and ripped, and had lain helpless on her back -for six long months, fighting her way back to strength and normality, -despairing and weakly crying! Yet here she was talking of the joy of -having a baby, urging her sister to a like experience! - -It was puzzling. How soon mothers forgot! Six months of helplessness -already unremembered! It had not passed from Jeannette’s recollection. -It had been terrible--terrible! ... And yet she would like to have a -baby of her own,--a baby without that fearful ordeal,--a little Martin -Devlin. She kissed Etta on the back of her wrinkled fat neck where it -was sweetly perspiry and fuzzy with the lint from her blankets. - - -§ 9 - -Jeannette was equally sure of two things: she loved Martin with all her -soul; she would never consent to give up her position with Mr. Corey -and marry him. Martin, her mother, Alice, even Mr. Corey, who soon -learned of the situation, could not persuade her. - -Corey had a long talk with her about the matter. - -“I don’t know very much about your young man; Gibbs speaks well of him. -He tells me he’s been with them a little more than a year, and is their -star salesman. I think he has more possibilities in him than that. Of -course you never can tell. I confess I was impressed when I first met -him. Somebody at the Quoin Club had him there as a guest and introduced -us, and he talked good business from the start. I don’t think much of -Gibbs’ engraving, but that’s no reflection on Devlin. Personally I -think you ought to marry. I advised you the same way before. Perhaps -you were right in not being too hasty in that instance. I can’t know, -of course, whether you’re seriously interested or not. Your heart has -got to tell you that. If you love Devlin well enough and think you’ll -be happy with him, you ought to marry him. I hate to see you wasting -your life down here in this office. You’re deserving a better chance. -Business is no place for a girl. You ought to be building a home and -rearing children of your own. If you make as good a wife as you have a -secretary,” he ended with a smile, “your husband will have no occasion -to find fault with you.” - -But she could not bring herself to give up her independence. That was -what stuck in her throat. She came back to it repeatedly. A little -apartment like Alice’s to share with Martin, to fix and furnish,--it -appealed to her imagination, it had its attractions,--but it would be -such a leap in the dark! She was so sure of her happiness living the -way she was--why alter it? Yet was there any happiness for her without -Martin? She tried to picture it, and her heart misgave her. - -Some of the glamor that surrounded him at first had now disappeared. -He no longer seemed a scion of wealth, a prince, a lordling, to -whistle menials to his beck and call, and to swagger his way in and -out of restaurants, leaving a trail of scattered largess in his wake. -Familiarity had stripped him of the cloak of splendor with which he -first had dazzled her. She liked him all the better without it, for it -had only been bluff with him, his way of trying to impress her. She -knew him now for an ever merry soul, an amused and amusing companion, -possessing rare thoughtfulness, a little vain, a little opinionated, -vigorous, direct, domineering, who could, if he so desired, charm an -angel Gabriel to softness. He had his faults; she thought she knew them -all. He was happy-go-lucky, had small regard for time, appointments, -or others’ feelings; he was extravagant in all his tastes; and loved -pleasure inordinately. But there was a charm about him that made up -to her a thousandfold for these trifling short-comings. He was the -handsomest of men, generous and invariably kind-hearted, he could win a -smile from an image, or accomplish the impossible, once his mind was -made up. - -It was a satisfaction to learn that he earned only fifty dollars a -week. She had thought him a millionaire at first. He threw money about -with a prodigality that distressed her. His theatre tickets, his gifts, -his unceasing attentions cost money,--a great deal of money. She -knew his salary did not warrant it. She was glad he got but fifty a -week,--only fifteen more than she did, herself. Roy was getting forty. -Martin seemed more human to her after she knew the size of his salary; -he was more comprehensible. - -And here, once more, was confronting her the matter of finances were -she to marry. She and her mother together enjoyed an income that was -never less than two hundred dollars a month. She contributed eighty, as -her share towards rent and food, and had still sixty dollars a month -left to spend as she chose, for clothes, for a gift to Alice, or for -delightful adventures with her mother, lunches and theatres on Saturday -afternoons, and the little surprises that were so delightful. Would she -have anything like as much out of the two hundred dollars Martin earned -if she married him? What part of his weekly pay envelope was he likely -to give her to run their house, and to spend on herself? - -It was only fair, since he pressed his suit so vigorously, that this -all-important matter should be brought up and discussed. She did not -consider herself mercenary. The question of the wife’s allowance in -marriage seemed a vital one to her. She had tasted independence, and -did not consider she should be expected to relinquish it in marriage. -Alice and Roy got along in amiable fashion on this point. Roy kept -five dollars a week for himself and gave his wife the rest of his -pay envelope. Sometimes toward the end of the week he would ask her -for fifty cents or a dollar to tide him over until Saturday. That -arrangement seemed to Jeannette eminently fair. Roy gave all he could -be reasonably expected to, she thought; five dollars a week was about -as little as he could get along on for carfare, lunches and tobacco. -Of course, his clothing and the pleasures he and his wife shared, came -out of what Alice was able to save from week to week,--and she did -manage to save a little. But, as Jeannette had often remarked, Alice -was different from her. She, Jeannette, had won for herself an economic -value to be measured in dollars and cents, and it was not fair to -expect her to forego this for a hazy, uncertain condition in which her -wishes and wants were only to be gratified at her husband’s whim. It -was better to have a frank discussion and settle the matter. - -Martin shouted a delighted laugh when she expounded this thought. - -“Why, my darling,” he said, “don’t bother your head about it. You can -have every cent I make and if that isn’t enough, I’ll go out and steal -for you.” - -“But seriously, Martin, what do you think a wife should have out of her -husband’s income? Now, I’m not saying I’ll marry you----” - -“You darling!” - -“No--no,--be sensible, Martin. I want to thresh this out. If I _should_ -consent to marry you, what would you think would be a fair proportion -of what you earn that I could count on as my own?” - -“What would you be wanting money for?” Martin asked, amused by her -earnestness. - -“What would I be wanting money for?” she repeated. “Why, what do you -think? ... For clothes, for pleasures, to throw away if I liked!” - -“Aw, hear her!” he laughed. “Why, my darling, I’ll buy you your clothes -and everything your little heart desires if only you’ll say ‘yes’ to -me.” - -“Martin, I’ll never say ‘yes’ until this is settled,” she said -spiritedly, her eyes with a queer light in them. - -Martin was serious for a moment. - -“Sweet woman,” he said earnestly, “you can have it all. Divide it any -way you like. I don’t care in the least. There’s plenty for the two of -us.” - -But Jeannette would consider nothing so indefinite. She did not want -a great deal, but she wanted to feel sure of something that would be -regarded as entirely her own. With difficulty she persuaded him to -talk about the matter in earnest. They agreed that if his salary were -equally divided, and Jeannette paid all the table expenses out of her -half while he paid the rent and everything else out of his, that would -be an equitable arrangement. That satisfied Jeannette; it gave her -something to think about when she considered marrying him. - -But even with this much settled, she was no nearer making up her -mind than she had ever been. Marriage meant giving up the office, -the close affiliations she had formed there. Propinquity had made -her fellow-workers her friends; she knew them all intimately, knew -something of their private lives, rejoiced or sorrowed with them at the -inevitable changes of fortune. When an eminent surgeon from Germany -performed a miraculous operation on Mr. Featherstone’s little son and -gave him the use of his legs on which he had never walked, she shared -his father’s joy; when Mr. Cavendish married a charming Vassar girl who -was the daughter of a wealthy Wall Street banker, she congratulated -him with a real pleasure; when Miss Holland’s seventeen-year-old -nephew secured an appointment at Annapolis and successfully passed -the entrance examination, she took keen satisfaction in her friend’s -delight. She was shocked and saddened when Sandy MacGregor’s wife died, -and when Mr. Allister was taken ill with pneumonia no one inquired more -frequently about him while he struggled desperately to live, or felt -more pleasure when it was announced he had turned the corner and would -before long be back again at his desk. She was glad when Francis Holme, -Walt Chase and Sandy MacGregor each received a substantial gift of -the company’s common stock at Christmas-time, and was correspondingly -sorry that Horatio Stephens and Willis Corey shared equally in the -honorarium. When Miss Peckenbaugh asked for a raise in salary, and her -request was endorsed by Mr. Allister, she took it upon herself to tell -Mr. Corey certain facts about the young lady that had become known to -her, and when as a result, the request was refused and Miss Peckenbaugh -in anger resigned, she was amused and delighted. At the same time she -urged and secured a five-dollar raise per week for old Major Ticknor -who had a little blind grandchild he was helping to maintain in a -private sanitarium. Young Tommy Livingston in the bindery had impressed -her upon a certain occasion with his brightness and ability, and she -recommended him warmly to Mr. Corey, and had the satisfaction of seeing -him promoted to a desk in Mr. Kipps’ department. At her suggestion, -window-boxes filled with flowers were put along the windows of the -press-room that faced the street; she persuaded the firm to install a -lunch-room for the women employees on the eighth floor, and it was her -idea that a regular trained nurse be engaged and established in a small -but complete infirmary within the building. She induced Mr. Corey to -offer a certain rising young author, whose work had been her discovery -and who was showing steady improvement, an increase in royalty -percentage, and she prevented the publication of a certain piece of -fiction, which Corey had given her to read, because she considered it -vicious, despite Mr. Allister’s strong recommendation. She advised her -chief to instruct Horatio Stephens to order a series of articles from a -woman writer whose work in another magazine had interested her, and she -urged him not to engage a certain Madame Desseau of Paris, a designer -of women’s clothes, as the fashion editor of _The Ladies’ Fortune_. -Jeannette had a hand in almost every important step that was taken. Mr. -Corey respected her judgment, frequently consulted her, and sometimes -followed her advice even when contrary to his inclinations. He often -told her that he believed her intuition was unerring and the greatest -possible help to him. - - -§ 10 - -That particular winter proved an exceptionally strenuous and exacting -one for Mr. Corey. He was worn out with work and with the ever -increasing demands upon him, demands that came more and more from the -outside. - -The P. P. Prescott Publishing Company, a house with a reputation of -half a century of high literary output, through mismanagement was in -danger of bankruptcy. While the “P P P” books were famous the world -over, the bank that had financed the concern for years was tired -of the arrangement; the tottering house owed the Chandler B. Corey -Company nearly a hundred thousand dollars for subscription premiums -Francis Holme had sold it, and it was a foregone conclusion that if -the Prescott Company failed, there would be no way of collecting the -debt. Mr. Corey wanted to take over the Prescott Company entirely,--it -could have been bought at the time for practically nothing by assuming -its obligations,--but this was one of their chief’s bold and brilliant -ideas that Mr. Kipps and Mr. Featherstone opposed and, to Jeannette’s -intense regret, persuaded him against. The result was that instead of -absorbing the Prescott Company, and letting the Corey organization -administer its various activities, Mr. Corey was forced to become -chairman of the board which undertook to put the older publishing house -on its feet again, and to do most of the work himself. - -In addition to this he was compelled to accept the leadership of a -committee appointed by the Publishers’ Association to confer with the -postal authorities in Washington regarding the rates on second class -mail matter which were in danger of being raised. He had been obliged -to make several trips to the capital. He was one of the directors of -a large paper mill which, in conjunction with some other publishers, -he had purchased. He had shown an interest in local politics and had -been put on the Republican State Central Committee; he was one of -the governors of the Swanee Valley Golf Club, and executor of the -estate of Julius Zachariah Rosenbaum, a wealthy Jewish capitalist, -whose autobiography he had published during the old Hebrew’s life. No -one outside the immediate members of the firm, with the exception of -Jeannette, knew that Rosenbaum had taken sixty thousand subscriptions -to _Corey’s Commentary_ when the story of his life was appearing in -serial form in that magazine, and when the book was published he -ordered twenty-five thousand copies, presumably to distribute among his -friends. Poor Rosenbaum! It was doubtful if he had a score, and when -he died there was universal rejoicing throughout the country that the -most grasping of moneyed barons, who had consistently obstructed the -wheels of progress, was gone. But he left a large slice of his wealth -in charitable endowments, and named Chandler B. Corey as one of the -executors of his will. - -These responsibilities weighed heavily upon Mr. Corey’s health and -strength. He had been troubled with indigestion for several months and -his general condition was not good. In addition there were domestic -cares. With the increase of their fortunes, Mrs. Corey had moved -herself and her family into a stone front house on Riverside Drive -where she proceeded to maintain an expensive order of existence. She -had begged hard for this new home, and her husband weakly had given -way. He never seemed able to refuse his wife anything, Jeannette -thought. He could be strong about other matters, but where Mrs. Corey -and his son, Willis, were concerned he was foolishly irresolute. Mrs. -Corey established herself in great feather in the new house, hired -four servants in addition to a liveried chauffeur, who drove her -Pope-Toledo, and began to entertain lavishly. Her special victims -were authors, particularly visiting ones from England, and if any -of them happened to be titled, it was always the occasion for an -elaborate affair. Mr. Corey hated these entertainments, and to avoid -them frequently went to Washington on the plea of pressing business -connected with the postal rates. The new order was exceedingly -expensive. Jeannette could not understand why Mr. Corey put up with it. - -But his wife’s reckless expenditure was a matter of small concern in -comparison with his anxiety for his daughter. The unfortunate girl -had fallen during a sudden epileptic seizure, and struck her head -upon a brass fender at the hearth. She had lain for three months in a -semi-conscious condition, and though treatments had partially restored -her mind, she was not wholly competent and would never again be able to -go about without an attendant. It was a great grief to her father. His -troubles had been further augmented at this particular time by Willis, -who had been paying marked attention to a married society woman with an -unenviable reputation for many affairs with young men. Mr. Corey solved -this particular problem by sending Willis on a hunting expedition to -South Africa with Eric Ericsson, the Norwegian explorer. Ostensibly -the young man went to write articles about the trip for _Corey’s -Commentary_. It was announced he was to be gone for a year. Jeannette -was aware that Mr. Corey had paid Ericsson five thousand dollars to -take his son with him; the money had been given, of course, in the form -of a contribution to scientific research. - -It was small wonder that Corey’s physician ordered a complete rest -for him in the early spring of the year. The man was threatened with a -nervous breakdown, his doctor told him; the matter of his indigestion -must have his serious attention; he must take a vacation, and he must -take it immediately. Affairs at the office made it impossible, at the -moment, for this vacation to be of any length; even Jeannette realized -that it would be hazardous for the company to be left without Mr. -Corey’s guiding hand on the helm. It was decided that he should go to -White Sulphur Springs, play golf as much as he was able, give especial -attention to his diet, and keep in touch with the office by mail and -telegraph. He would be able, it was hoped, to get a complete change of -climate and a proper rest by this arrangement. - -“Of course, you’ll have to go with me, Miss Sturgis,” he said, wheeling -round upon her when this conclusion had been reached. “I couldn’t do a -thing down there without you.” - -“Why, certainly,” the girl answered. As their eyes met a moment, the -same thought passed through both minds. - -“We’ll take your mother along,” said Corey in his brisk, direct fashion. - -Mrs. Sturgis at once was in a great state of agitation. - -“But my pupils, dearie,--my little pupils!” she cried. “What will the -darlings do without their lessons?” - -“Well, the little darlings can get along without them,” Jeannette -told her. “When their parents want to take them off to the mountains -or the seashore, they just take them, and there’s never any question -about paying for cancelled lessons. I guess you can do the same for -once in your life.... Anyhow, there’s no use arguing about it, Mama. -Mr. Corey needs me, and if you don’t go with me, I’ll go without you. -It’s perfectly ridiculous that we have to be chaperoned! He’s like my -father! ... But I thought you’d enjoy the trip. You know it isn’t going -to cost either of us a penny!” - -“Why, of course, dearie,--but you kind of spring this on me. I haven’t -had a chance to think it over.... Of course, I’d love it.” - - -§ 11 - -White Sulphur Springs was beautiful, the weather perfection; Jeannette -enjoyed every hour of her stay. She had wanted to get off by herself -for some time, to think calmly over what she must do about Martin -Devlin. He had given her one of his hungry kisses when he said -good-bye, and she felt at the moment he was dearer to her than life -itself. He was urging her with voice, eyes and lips to be his wife. A -realization had come to her that she could temporize with the situation -no longer; she must either agree to marry him, or in some way bring the -intimacy to an end. - -Corey played golf mornings and afternoons. Jeannette watched his mail, -and answered most of it herself, only consulting him when necessary. -She would give him brief memorandums of what his mail contained, and -show him the carbons of the letters she had dispatched, signed with his -name, “per J. S.” He did not have to give more than an hour a day to -his affairs. - -The doctor had warned him about his diet, and had directed him to take -a hydrochloric acid prescription three times a day. Jeannette watched -his food as well as his mail; she studied the menus in the dining-room -and ordered his meals in advance, so that he would be sure to eat the -proper food; she made him take his medicine, and persuaded him to try -some electric baths that were operated in connection with the hotel. -She kept a chart of his weight, and when they met at the breakfast -table she would inquire about his night. She saw with satisfaction that -he was improving steadily; his face, neck and hands were turning a -healthy bronze color, his appetite was excellent, his sleep undisturbed. - -At first a problem presented itself in Mrs. Sturgis. The little woman -was intensely excited at being so closely associated with Mr. Corey. -His presence agitated her; she felt it was her duty to entertain him, -to evince an interest in his comings and goings, to maintain a pleasant -and polite ripple of conversation at the table or whenever they were -together. She believed it was expected of her to show an interest equal -to her daughter’s in the state of his health, and that she must always -inquire how he felt and how he had passed the night. Jeannette knew Mr. -Corey hated this kind of fussy solicitude; it annoyed and irritated -him. The girl suffered acutely whenever her mother commenced to ply him -with her prim inquiries, or when she pretended to be interested in his -golf game about which she knew, and her daughter and Mr. Corey knew she -knew, not one thing. Jeannette suspected there were moments when Mr. -Corey could have strangled her with delight. - -There came a distressing hour eventually to mother and daughter. -Jeannette had to tell her that Mr. Corey did not like her concern as to -his welfare, that he had come down to White Sulphur Springs to rest, -and that he must be spared all possible conversation. Mrs. Sturgis -wept. She declared she had never been so “insulted” in her life, that -she was going to pack her trunk and go home at once. - -It was in the midst of this scene that a bell-boy of the hotel brought -Jeannette a telegram addressed to Mr. Corey. She tore it open. It was -from his wife. - - “Dear Chandler, am lonesome without you. Wish to join you for rest of - your stay. Wire me if I may come. Can leave at once. Love. - - Rachael.” - - -Jeannette shut her teeth slowly as she read the words. It was most -unfortunate. Mrs. Corey would upset her husband, would interfere with -his daily routine, clash with him at once over his golf, object to -the time he gave to it, find fault with Jeannette’s presence, angrily -resent her supervision of his health and meals, so that little of the -hoped-for good would result from these weeks of rest and recreation. -And Mr. Corey would amiably agree to letting her join him! - -Jeannette’s distress soon persuaded Mrs. Sturgis to forget her own -grievances. Once her sympathy for her daughter was aroused, she waxed -indignant over Mrs. Corey’s selfishness and lack of consideration. - -“Why, the woman must be crazy,” she said warmly. “He came down here -just to get away from her!” - -“Oh, I know,” murmured Jeannette, “and as sure as I show him her -telegram he will tell me to wire her to come at once.” - -“Well, I wouldn’t tell him anything about it,” declared Mrs. Sturgis. - -They fell to discussing the situation. After long consultation and -several efforts at drafting it, they concocted the following answer: - - “Mr. Corey is not well. I think it would be unwise for you to join - him just now. He is getting a maximum amount of rest and sleep - and anything tending to interfere with these I believe would be - unfortunate. Will keep you advised of his condition. - - Jeannette Sturgis.” - - -In the middle of the night that followed, Jeannette awoke, and -considered what she had done. As she lay awake reviewing the matter, -the conviction slowly came to her that she had committed a dreadful -blunder. Her mouth grew dry; a cold sweat broke out on her. She got up, -went to the window and gazed out upon the flat moonlight that filled -the hotel garden below with evil shadows. - -Mrs. Corey was certain to be wild! She would be insane with anger! -Jeannette could follow the workings of her mind: Was her husband’s -secretary to presume to tell her what she should do where his welfare -was concerned? Was this stenographer at so much a week to take it upon -herself to tell her employer’s wife she did not think her presence at -her husband’s side a good thing for him? Was she implying that it would -be harmful, distressful for him? Did she have such entire confidence -in herself and her judgment that she could send a telegram like that -without even consulting him? ... - -Oh, the heavens were about to fall! It was an irreparable mistake! Mr. -Corey, himself, would be furious with her! The mental distress she had -been anxious to save him, she had, with her own hand, brought ten -times more heavily upon him! She was a fool,--an utter, inexcusable -fool! She was--was--was---- - -She did not sleep the rest of the night. She rolled and tossed in her -bed, and walked the floor. - -In the morning she went straight to Mr. Corey and told him what she -had done. His seriousness as he frowned, and pulled at his moustache -confirmed her worst fears. He made no comment; asked a few questions; -there was nothing more. Jeannette went on talking volubly, at times -incoherently, for the first time in all the years she had been his -secretary, trying to justify herself. Suddenly a rush of tears blinded -her; she tried to check them; it was useless. - -“Well, well, well, Miss Sturgis,” Corey said consolingly patting her -folded hands. “You mustn’t take it so hard. It’s not such a serious -matter. You’re making too much of it. I guess I can square it for both -of us.” - -He drew a sheet of hotel paper toward him and scribbled a couple of -lines with his fountain pen. - -“Here,” he said, shoving it towards her. “Send her this telegram and -see how it works.” - -Jeannette read what he had written through blurred vision. - - “Dear Rachael, Miss Sturgis has shown me your wire of yesterday. I - agree with her that it would be a mistake for you to join me just at - present. Am writing you. Much love. - - Chandler.” - -The girl looked up at him with swimming eyes. Impulsively she caught -his hand; his generosity overwhelmed her; in a moment she had pressed -the hand to her lips. - - -§ 12 - -They returned to New York the end of March. Mrs. Sturgis had been in a -flutter of excitement during the last ten days of their stay; she was -madly anxious to get home to see Alice, who had written she was going -to have another baby. Both her mother and sister were distressed at the -news; they felt it was unfortunate she was going to have one so soon -after her first. Little Etta was not a year old yet. - -On Washington’s Birthday, which fell on a Friday that year, Martin -Devlin had come all the way from New York to see Jeannette. He had -brought with him in his pocket a flawless, claw-set diamond solitaire -in a little plush jeweller’s box and had begged Jeannette to allow him -to slip it on her finger. She had found herself missing him during -the weeks of separation more than she had believed it possible she -could miss anyone; she missed his big hands and his big voice, his -indefatigable solicitude, his joyous laugh, his unwavering love for -her. In the months,--it was close to a year,--that she had known him, -she had grown dependent upon these; Martin was part of her life now; -she could not imagine it without him; love had enriched the existence -of both. But she was no nearer marrying him than she had ever been. -During the weeks of sunshine, the hours of solitude and thinking -she had enjoyed, it seemed to her that marriage would be a terrible -mistake; she believed she saw her destiny lying straight ahead; she -had chosen a vocation, and like a nun, who renounces marriage, she -too must give up all thought of being a wife. She must pursue her life -work unhampered by domesticity. Not forever would she be Mr. Corey’s -secretary; there were heights beyond she planned to attain. She told -herself she had the capacity of being a successful executive; some day -she would hold a position like Miss Holland’s, have a department of her -own. Walt Chase had charge of the Mail Order business; one of these -days he would be promoted to something more responsible, and Jeannette -intended then to ask Mr. Corey to give her his place. She knew she -could do the work,--perhaps even better than Walt Chase. She had plans -already to make it larger and to get out special literature designed to -arouse women’s interest. Walt Chase was getting seventy-five dollars -a week now. She would like to be earning that much. She knew what -she would do with it: she’d begin to put by a hundred a month, and -invest it in good securities; when she grew old or wanted to take a -vacation, she would have something saved up. She had only commenced -to think of these matters recently, but now the idea fired her. It -would be wonderful to have a private income of one’s own. And perhaps -she might take her mother with her on a little jaunt to Europe! ... -But matrimony? No, marriage was too great a risk, too much of an -experiment. She acknowledged she loved Martin Devlin as much as she -could ever love any man. Of that she was sure. She was not equally sure -she would always be happy with him, that she would like married life -itself. Why risk something that might bring her untold sadness? - -So Jeannette had argued before Martin arrived to see her and so she -had planned to tell him. It was a familiar conclusion with her, but -this time she determined that he should have the truth and she would -convince him that she could never marry him. But when Martin put his -big fingers around her arm and drew her strongly to him, crushing her -in his embrace while he forced his lips against hers, she wanted to -swoon in his arms and so die. The weakness was but momentary; she fled -from him, won control of herself again, and the bars were up once more -between them. But she had not been able to bring herself to enunciate -her high resolve; she had refused the ring, yet Martin had returned to -New York with the confident feeling that some day she would wear it. - -Mr. Corey had entirely regained his old buoyancy during the six weeks’ -rest. He came back to his desk with all the dynamic energy which had -so impressed Jeannette when she first became his secretary. She, too, -was glad to be home again, back in her own office, resuming her daily -routine, gathering up the threads of activity and influence she loved -to have within her grasp, and seeing Martin every day. Alice, with her -round eyes reflecting in their depths that same curious light Jeannette -had noticed when the first baby was coming, welcomed her mother and -sister in the gayest of spirits. She was having not nearly the same -degree of discomfort, she told them, that she had had while carrying -Etta. She made them come to dinner the night they arrived in New York; -she wanted them to see the baby, and to show them the sewing machine -Roy was buying for her on the installment plan. Martin was included in -the party. This troubled Jeannette a little, for it seemed to establish -him in the family circle. - -She had returned from White Sulphur Springs on Sunday. On Tuesday, Mr. -Corey did not come to the office all day. Jeannette had expected him; -he had said nothing to her about being absent; she had no idea where -he was. On Wednesday, when he came in, in the middle of the morning, a -strained white look upon his face told her at once that something had -gone wrong. He rang for her almost immediately, and indicated a chair -for her, while he instructed the operator at the telephone switch-board -he was not to be disturbed. - -“Miss Sturgis,” he began, working a troubled thumb and forefinger at -the ends of his moustache, “I have some unhappy, news for you; it has -been unhappy for me, and I fear it will be equally so for you. Mrs. -Corey as you know is a high-strung, temperamental woman. You’ve no -doubt observed she had a decidedly suspicious nature....” - -Jeannette’s heart stood still. In a flash she saw what was coming. A -gathering roar began mounting in her ears, every muscle grew tense. -She could see Mr. Corey’s mouth moving, his lips forming words and she -heard his voice, but what he was saying, was meaningless to her; she -could get no sense out of it. Suddenly he came to the word “divorce.” -Her whole nature seemed to have been waiting for him to say it; as he -pronounced it, she sat bolt upright, and a quick convulsion passed -through her. At once her mind was clear and she was able to follow -everything he was saying. - -“... wrote her a long letter from the hotel. I was loving and -affectionate in it--as affectionate as I knew how to be, for I feared -the unfortunate matter of the telegrams would anger her. I think -I wrote some eight or nine pages, and I tried to explain that you -had been merely actuated by your solicitude for me. In my anxiety -to placate her, I spoke very harshly of you, told her that you -realised you had overstepped your province, that I had given you a -severe reprimand and that you were much chagrined. I explained to her -carefully your mother was with us, but she knew that was to be before -we left. I assured her of my devotion. I got no answer. I suspected -before we reached New York that she was at outs with me, but there -have been other occasions when this was so, and I had no doubt that I -could soothe her injured feelings. She had always resented your being -my secretary; of course, you’ve known that. I did not dream, however, -that she was as angry with me as she evidently is. She has shut herself -into her own apartment at home and declines to see me; she is preparing -to file against me a suit for absolute divorce, accusing me of improper -conduct with you at White Sulphur Springs, claiming that your mother -was bribed into conniving----” - -“_Oh!_” gasped Jeannette. - -“I am telling you these unpleasant details, so that you can fully grasp -the situation. You will have to know in any case, and I think it is -only fair to you to give you the whole truth from the start. She has -gone to Leonard and Harvester and persuaded them to represent her. I -don’t know what Dick Leonard is thinking about; he has known me for -twenty years. Winchell, whom I saw yesterday, has been to interview -Leonard, and he informs me that a detective agency was employed to -watch us while we were at the hotel, and that affidavits have been -obtained from some of the hotel employees which substantiate Mrs. -Corey’s allegations.” - -Mr. Corey smiled wryly. - -“I don’t want to go on shocking you in this fashion. I just wish to -say that Winchell showed me a copy of the plea, and the statements -contained in it are as odious as they are false. You and I have been -spared nothing.” - -Again Mr. Corey paused, and a savage frown gathered on his brow. -Jeannette was trembling; she wet her lips and swallowed convulsively. - -“The brunt of the attack,” he resumed after a moment, “seems to be -levelled against you. Leonard told Winchell that Mrs. Corey had no -desire to expose me,--that was the word used; she wishes to bring to -an immediate termination a relationship which she cannot tolerate; she -declines,--so Leonard states,--to remain my wife as long as you are -my secretary. As Winchell points out we have no way of determining -whether or not she is in earnest. Of course she cannot prove her suit; -she can prove nothing; but she sees quite clearly she can blacken your -reputation before the world and force you out of this office by the -very publicity which is bound to be attached to the case.... It makes -me angry; it makes me _very_ angry. I have been thinking over the -situation from every angle, and I would willingly, and, I confess, with -a good deal of relish, contest her suit, force her to retract every -word she has said against either of us, and assist you in every way I -could in suing her for libel. All my life my guiding principle has been -justice. I believe in justice; I believe in a square deal, and this is -foul, rank and outrageously unfair. If there was any possible way of -obtaining justice for you I wouldn’t care anything for myself. I would -welcome the publicity; certainly I have no cause to dread it. But it -would serve you hard.... Take our own office here,--how many of those -people outside there would believe in your or my innocence, no matter -how completely we were vindicated? - -“But far more important that the opinion of any one of those out -there,--or that of all of them together,--is the effect this unpleasant -story would have upon your young man. No doubt he has the same -confidence in you that I have, but you will appreciate that no man -likes to have for a wife a girl who has been mixed up in a scandal.... -You see, how it would be? ... Devlin is a fine fellow; I like him; he -will make his mark. You have confided in me that you care for him.... -Well, Miss Sturgis, I advise you to marry him!--marry him before this -ugly story gets bruited abroad. I am convinced it will never be told. -I know Mrs. Corey and I know how she will act. As soon as she hears -you are married and no longer here, she will withdraw her suit and be -anxious to make amends. I have no desire for a divorce. I understand -all too well that it will be Mrs. Corey who will suffer if we are -separated, not I, and I have the wish to protect her against herself. -There are the children to think of, too. This is merely the act of an -insane woman,--a woman blinded by jealousy. Outrageously unfair as it -is to you, and much as I shall hate to part with you, it seems to be -the wisest thing to do. Winchell advises it, and I confess when I think -of your own interests and everything that is involved, I agree with -him. What do you think?” - -Jeannette sat staring at her folded hands. Slowly the tears welled -themselves up over her lashes and splashed upon the crisp linen of her -shirtwaist. She was not sorrowful; she was only hurt,--hurt and cruelly -shocked that anyone could believe the things Mrs. Corey had said of -her and this man who was father, friend, and counsellor to her, whom -she loved and respected and who, she knew, loved and respected her in -return. Their relationship during the four and a half years they had -been so intimately associated had been above criticism; it had been -perfect, irreproachable. Jeannette felt foully smirched by the base -imputation. - -“_Gracious--goodness!_” she said at last upon a quivering breath, her -breast rising. Tears trembled on her lashes, but for the instant her -eyes blazed. - -“Well,” Mr. Corey said wearily after a pause, “it’s too bad,--isn’t it?” - -Too bad? Too bad? Ah, yes, it was indeed too bad! Silence filled the -book-lined room, the very room she had taken such pains and such -delight in furnishing so tastefully. She recalled Mrs. Corey had -resented that! She had put some fresh pine boughs in the earthenware -pot in the corner yesterday, and the office smelled fragrantly of -balsam. The rumble of the presses below sent a fine tremor through the -building. Both man and girl stared at the floor. They were thinking the -same things; there was no need to voice them; both understood; it was -all clear now to each. - -He was right. The best thing,--the only thing for her to do was to -resign. That would immediately pacify his wife; it would avert the -breach and save Corey from an ugly scandal which could only hurt him. -And then there was herself to consider, her own good name, her mother -and Alice, and there was Martin! Nothing stood in the way now of her -giving him the answer for which he eagerly waited. Martin! Ah, there -was a refuge for her, there was a haven ready to welcome her! He would -take her to himself, protect her, shield her against these slandering -tongues! - -Suddenly at the thought of him, so merry and strong and confident, of -his joy at the promise she was now free to make, the floodgates of her -heart opened and, bowing her head upon her fiercely clasped hands, she -burst into convulsive sobbing. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -§ 1 - -June sunshine streamed in through the open windows in an avalanche of -golden light and lay in bright parallelograms on the floor. Jeannette -was making the bed. She was in the gayest of spirits and sang as -she punched the pillows to rid them of lumpiness, and smoothed them -flat. She spread the brilliant cretonne cover, with its gaudy design -of pheasants, over the bed, turned it neatly back two feet from the -head-board, laid the pillows in place, and folded the cretonne over -them, tucking it in gently at the top. The bed-cover was not as long -as it should have been, and it required nice adjustment to make it lap -over the pillows. It was the Wanamaker man’s fault, Jeannette always -thought, when she reached this point in her morning’s housework; she -had told him with the utmost pains how she wished the cretonne to go, -and it was his mistake that it was not long enough. Short as it was, -it could be made to reach by allowing only a scant inch or two at the -bottom. She had put the same material at the windows in narrow strips -of outside curtaining, and there was a gathered valance across the top. -The bedroom was “sweet,”--charming and beautifully appointed like the -rest of her domain. Her mother and Alice had “raved” about everything. -Martin liked it, too, though his wife wished he could find the same -amount of pleasure in their little home that she did. Martin was like -most men: he did not notice things, never commented upon her ideas and -clever arrangements. - -To her the apartment was perfection. It was situated in a building that -had just been erected in the West Eighties, halfway between Broadway -and the Drive. It had five rooms and the rent was fifty dollars a -month, more perhaps than they ought to be paying, but Martin had -argued that ten dollars one way or another did not make any particular -difference and if it suited Jeannette, he was for signing the lease. So -he had put his name to the formidable-looking legal document, and the -young Devlins had agreed to pay the big rent and to live there for a -year. They could remain in it for life, Jeannette declared, as far as -she was concerned; she could not imagine ever wanting a more beautiful -or a more satisfactory home. - -The apartment contained all the latest improvements: electric lights, -steam heat, a house telephone. The woodwork was chastely white -throughout; the electrolier in the dining-room a plain dull brass; -the fixtures in all the rooms were of the same lusterless metal; -between dining-and living-rooms were glass doors, the panes set in -squares; the bathroom floor was solid marquetry of small octagonal -tiles embedded in cement, and glossy tiling rose about the walls to -the height of the shoulder; the room glistened with shining nickel -and flawless porcelain; the bathtub was sumptuous and had a shower -arrangement with a rubber sheeting on rings to envelop the bather. -Martin had grinned when his eye took in these details. He swore in -his enthusiasm: by God, he certainly would enjoy a bathroom like that; -it certainly would be great. But Jeannette was more intrigued with the -kitchen. Here were white-painted cupboards, fragrantly smelling of -new wood, and a marvellous pantry full of neat contrivances, drawers, -bins and lockers. In one of them Jeannette discovered a little sawdust -and a few carpenter’s shavings; they spoke eloquently of the newness -and cleanliness of everything. There was a shining gas-stove, too, -with a roomy oven that had an enamelled door and a bright nickel knob -to it. There was even a gas heater connected with the boiler; all -one had to do was to touch a match to the burner,--the renting agent -explained,--and presto! the flame came up, heated the coil of copper -pipe and in a moment,--oh, yes, indeed, much less than a minute!--there -was the hot water! - -It had seemed so miraculous to Jeannette that she had not believed -it would work, but it did, perfectly. No fault was to be found with -anything connected with the wonderful establishment. - -There had been plenty of money with which to furnish it just as -Jeannette pleased. The publishing company had presented her with -a check for two hundred and fifty dollars as a wedding gift in -appreciation of her faithful services, and Mr. Corey had supplemented -this with one of his own for a like amount. - -“No,--no,--don’t thank me,--please, Miss Sturgis,” he had said almost -impatiently as he handed it to her. “I feel so badly about your going, -and I can never pay you for all you’ve done for me. This is a poor -evidence of my gratitude and esteem. I wish I might make it thousands -instead of hundreds.” - -In addition, he had sent her on the day she was married a tall silver -flower vase that must have cost, Jeannette and Martin decided, almost -as much as the amount of his check. - -Her mother had borrowed five hundred upon the old paid-up policy, -asserting that she had done so for Alice, and the older daughter was -entitled to a like amount upon getting married. And besides all this, -Martin had turned over to his wife on the day the lease had been -signed, several hundreds more. - -It appeared that a year before, about the very time he had met -Jeannette, his mother died. She had lived in Watertown, New York, where -Martin was born, and where she had an interest in a small grocery -business. Martin’s father,--dead for sixteen years,--had been a grocer -and had run a “back-room” in connection with his store, where Milwaukee -beer had been dispensed but never “hard” liquor. Jeannette did not give -her mother these facts when she learned them; it was nobody’s business, -she contended; everybody when he came to America was a pioneer and -began in a humble way. Paul Devlin’s old partner, Con Donovan, who -had come over from Ballaghaderreen with him in ’73, had carried on -the business after his demise, and there had been money enough to -send Martin to school and to support the boy and Paul’s widow. But -when his mother had followed his father to the grave, Martin had no -longer any interest in groceries, and he gladly accepted the three -thousand dollars Con Donovan offered him for his inherited share of the -business. It hadn’t been enough to do anything with, Martin explained -to his wife; so he had just “blown” it. It accounted for the theatre -tickets, the presents, the entertainments with which he had backed his -wooing. There was nearly a thousand dollars left after the honeymoon -to Atlantic City, and Martin had gone to his bank and transferred the -whole account to his wife’s name upon their return, telling her to go -ahead and furnish the new home in any way she fancied. - -Jeannette had nearly seventeen hundred dollars in the bank when she -began. She had no thought of spending so much, but it melted away -in the most surprising fashion. Martin, in a way, was responsible -for this: whenever she consulted him, he was always in favor of the -more expensive course. She would have been quite satisfied with a -two-hundred-and-twenty-dollar dining-room set, but he decided in favor -of the one that cost three hundred and fifty. When she said she would -be contented with the simple white-painted wooden bed, he had chosen a -brass one and ordered the box-spring mattress that had cost nearly a -hundred dollars more. He had also persuaded her against her judgment in -the matter of the big davenport and the upholstered chairs that went -with it for the living-room. Then there had been the matter of the two -oil paintings in ornate gold frames upon which they had chanced in -Macy’s while on a shopping tour. Jeannette had grave doubts about the -oils; she did not know whether they were good or bad. Her misgivings in -regard to them may have sprung from the fact that they hung in Macy’s -art gallery; but there could be no questioning the handsomeness and -impressiveness of the gold frames. - -“Why sure, let’s have ’em,” Martin said, eyeing them judicially as he -and his wife stood together considering the purchase; “they look like -a million dollars, and anything I hate are bare walls! You want to have -the place lookin’--oh, you know--artistic and classy.” - -“The autumn coloring in this one is most lifelike,” the eager young -salesman ventured. “It seems to me they both have a great deal of depth -and quality,--don’t you think?--and while, of course, the size has -nothing to do with the art, still I really think you ought to take into -consideration the fact that this canvas is thirty-six by twenty-seven, -and the other one is nearly as large. Now for twenty-five and thirty -dollars....” - -“Sure, let’s have ’em,” Martin decided in his lordly, arbitrary way, -“and if I find out they’re no good,” he added to the beaming salesman, -“I’ll come back here and slap Mrs. Macy on the wrist!” - -This last was most appreciated, and the very next day, in much -excelsior and paper wrappings, the two heavily framed paintings arrived -and now hung facing one another in the front room. Jeannette used to -study them, finger on lip, wondering if they had merit or were nothing -but daubs. They appeared all right; there was nothing to criticize -about them as far as she could see, but she knew they would never mean -anything to her as long as she remembered they had been bought at -Macy’s. Her mother warmly shared her husband’s enthusiasm. - -“Why, dearie, they look perfectly beautiful,” she told her daughter, -“and they give your home such an air of distinction. I wouldn’t worry -my head about where they came from, as long as they give you pleasure.” - -But if Jeannette had misgivings about the pictures, she had no doubts -about anything else her perfect little home contained. It was complete -as far as she could make it, from the service of plated flat silver her -old associates at the office had clubbed together and given her, to the -carpet sweeper that had a little closet of its own to stand in along -with the extra leaves of the dining-room table. There were towels, -sheets, table linen, chairs, pictures and rugs. She had indulged -her fancy somewhat in curtaining, had decided on plain net at the -windows with narrow strips of some brightly colored material on either -side. She had picked out a salmon-tinted, satin-finished drapery at -Wanamaker’s for the living-room, and gay cretonne for her bedroom, and -she had had these curtains made at the store. - -“I’d be forever doing the work,” she had said in justifying this -extravagance to Martin, “and we want to get settled some time!” - -“Sure,--have ’em made,” he had agreed genially. - -The dining-room had puzzled Jeannette for a long time, but after the -dark blue carpet had been selected and made into a rug to fit the room, -she had found a blue madras that just matched its tone. It cost a great -deal more than she felt she ought to pay, but she had bought the twelve -yards she needed, nevertheless, and had determined she could save -something by cutting and hemming the curtains herself; she could take -them out to Alice’s and use her sewing-machine. - -It was all finished now, Jeannette reflected, pushing the big brass bed -into place against the wall. They had been a little reckless perhaps, -but now they were ready to settle down, begin to live quietly and to -save. They owed about two hundred dollars at Wanamaker’s but would -soon manage to pay that off. - -She went on calculating expenses as she ran the carpet sweeper about -the room. Martin liked a good deal of meat, so she doubted if she could -manage the table on less than twelve or maybe, thirteen dollars a week; -that would take half of what he gave her on Saturdays. She needed so -much for this, so much for that, and she would have to get herself some -kind of a silk dress for the hot weather; still she thought she could -save five or six dollars a week and Martin ought to be able to do the -same; they would have the Wanamaker bill paid in a few months. As she -went on running the sweeper under the bed and pushing it gingerly into -corners so as not to mar the paint of the baseboards, she reflected -that, as a matter of fact, Martin had really no right to expect her -to pay anything out of her weekly money on what they owed Wanamaker; -every cent of that bill had been for house furnishing, and it had been -clearly understood between them that her money was for the table and -herself. Still it had been she who had wanted the curtains; she ought -to help pay for them. - - -§ 2 - -When the bathroom was cleaned, Martin’s bath towel spread along the -rim of the tub to dry, his dirty shirt and collar put into the laundry -basket, his shoes set neatly on the floor of the closet, the ash -receiver in the living-room emptied and the cushions on the davenport -straightened, Jeannette settled herself in a rocking-chair at the -window, her basket of sewing in her lap. She hated sewing; the basket -was in tangled confusion, but it was always that way. Spools and yarn, -papers of needles, pins, buttons, threads, tape, and scraps of material -were all mixed up together in a fine snarl. She found a certain degree -of satisfaction in its confusion. To-day she had a run in one of her -silk stockings to draw together, and a button to sew on Martin’s coat. - -She caught the coat up first and as she held it in her hands, the song -that she had been humming all morning died upon her lips. She looked -at the garment with softening eyes; then she raised its rough texture -to her cheek and kissed it. It smelled of its owner,--a smell that was -fragrance to her,--an odor scented faintly with cigars but even more -redolent of the man, himself; it was strong, it was masculine, it was -Martin. There was no smell like it in the world or one half so sweet. - -She mused as she searched for a black silk thread, needle and thimble. -When Alice had extolled to her the wonderful happiness of marriage, how -right she had been! Jeannette pitied all unmarried women now. There -was a Freemasonry among wives, and all spinsters, old and young, were -debarred from the mystic circle. She wondered what made the difference. -Unmarried women were all buds that had never opened to the full beauty -of the mature flower. They were of the uninitiated and as long as they -remained so would never attain their full powers. Miss Holland, now, -was a fine woman, efficient, capable, executive, but how much more able -and efficient and remarkable if she had married! She might be divorced, -she might be a widow. That did not make a difference, it seemed to -Jeannette in the full bloom of her own wifehood; it was marrying -that counted; it was that “Mrs.” before a woman’s name, that gave her -standing, poise, position in the world, broadened her sympathies, -increased her capabilities. - -She thought her own marriage perfection; she considered herself the -happiest, most fortunate of wives; her pretty home enchanted her, -and Martin was the most satisfactory of adoring husbands. He had his -faults, she presumed, and she, no doubt, had hers, but there were never -woman and man so happy together, so ideally congenial. She thought of -her honeymoon,--the few days at Atlantic City. She had never learned -to swim, but Martin was an expert. He had looked stunning in his -bathing-suit,--straight, clean-limbed, with his big chest and shoulders -and his slim waist,--the figure of an athlete, as she indeed discovered -him to be when he struck out into the sea with the freedom of a seal, -flinging the water from his black mop of hair with a quick head-toss -now and then, his arms working like flails. They had plunged through -the breakers together, and Martin had held her high up as the curling -water crashed down upon them. It had been cold but exhilarating, and -a group had gathered on the boardwalk and down on the beach to watch -the two battling with the waves. Then there had been the quiet rolling -up and down the boardwalk in the big chair while the tide of Easter -visitors sauntered past them in all their gay clothing. The weather -had been warm, the sunshine glorious. She thought of their room at the -hotel and the intimate times of dressing and undressing in each other’s -presence. It had been emotional, exciting, a little frightening, but -there had been the discovery of perfect comradeship, and all the other -phases of marriage,--pleasant and unpleasant,--had been forgotten. -Companionship,--wholehearted, unreserved, constant,--that was the -outstanding feature of marriage for Jeannette. - -Her mind carried her on to contemplate the future and what it held -in store for them. Her marriage with Martin must be a success. There -must be no quarrelling, no disagreements, no bickerings. There must -never, never be any talk of divorce between them.... Ah, how she hated -the word divorce now! She had never given the subject any particular -consideration heretofore; it was merely an accepted proceeding by which -unhappily married people won back their freedom. But how differently -she felt about it to-day! She would die rather than ever consent to -a divorce from Martin! She’d forgive him anything! He was a little -spoiled, perhaps; he liked to have his own way, and he hated anything -unpleasant. It must be her duty to humor and educate him; she must give -a little, exact a little. A successful marriage, she believed, depended -upon that. A husband and wife must become adjusted to one another. If -necessary, she resolved, she would give more than she received. Oh, -yes, she would give and give and _give_! - -Martin had only one serious fault, and that was he too much liked -having a good time. It seemed to her he was never satisfied with -anything less than an epicure’s dinner; he must have the best all -the time. He loved cocktails and wine and good cigars, a “snappy” -show, a little bite of something afterwards, a gay place to dine, -lively music, lights, color. He wanted “to go places where there was -something doing,” and he didn’t want “to go places where there was -nothing doing.” These were familiar expressions on his lips. His wife -told herself she liked a good time, too; she loved the theatre and to -dress well, and she liked a gay restaurant, good food and music, but -she didn’t want them all the time; she wasn’t as dependent upon them -as Martin was. A husband and wife, she considered, should not indulge -in too much of that kind of frivolous living, and no later than last -evening she had had a talk with Martin about it. - -“Aw,--sure my dear,--you’re dead right,” he had assured her. “I know. -We must settle down, and stay at home nights, but we’re still having -our honeymoon, and I can’t get used to the idea that you’re my wife. It -just seems to me we ought to celebrate all the time.” - -Martin was always so reasonable, thought Jeannette, recalling his -words. She decided she would have a specially nice dinner for him that -night to show him how much she appreciated his sweetness. She paused -a moment over the decision, as she recalled that something vague had -been said to her mother about coming to dine with them. She knew Martin -would prefer to be alone and she wanted to encourage the idea of his -spending the evenings quietly with her. She would go to see her mother -and explain matters; she would have lunch with her; at Kratzmer’s she -would stop and get some salad, and she’d buy some crumpets at Henri’s -and take them along with her. - -Abruptly, she determined to let the run in her stocking wait. She wound -the silk several times about the button on Martin’s coat, pushed the -needle through the fabric twice, and snapped the thread close to the -cloth with an incisive bite of her teeth. Then she carried the work to -her room, hanging Martin’s coat on a hanger in the closet. - -As she proceeded to dress carefully, she considered each detail of her -costume. Her wardrobe was delightfully complete; she had plenty of -clothes, a suitable garment for any demand. While an office worker, she -had always dressed with certain soberness, an eye to business decorum. -But as a married woman, a young matron who lived at the Dexter Court -Apartments, she felt she could allow herself more latitude. She ran -her eye appraisingly over the file of dresses that hung neatly in her -closet; their number gratified her; she was even satisfied with her -hats. Now she lifted down her blue broadcloth tailor suit, covered -handsomely with braid, and selected a soft white silk shirtwaist that -had a V-neck and a pleated ruffled collar; she drew on fine brown silk -stockings and fitted her feet into tan Oxfords. Her ankles were trim -and shapely. She never had appeared so smartly dressed; her appearance -delighted her. But she was in doubt about the hat for the day, and -finally selected the Lichtenberg model: a silvered straw, with a -flaring brim, trimmed in gray velvet and a curling gray cock’s feather. -As she pulled her hands into tan gloves and gave a final glance at -herself in the long mirror of the bathroom door she decided that was -the costume she would wear when she went to the offices of the Chandler -B. Corey Company to pay her old friends a visit. - - -§ 3 - -Mrs. Sturgis had declared after Jeannette’s marriage she preferred to -remain in the old apartment where she had been comfortable for so -many years. To be sure the rent was thirty dollars a month, but she -said she could manage that. She had her music lessons,--four or five -hours a day,--and there were other pupils to be had if she needed the -income. But it did not appear necessary. Elsa Newman’s cousin, Cora -Newman, who had been studying with Bellini for two years, had developed -a truly remarkable mezzo, and she preferred Mrs. Sturgis to any other -accompanist. The very week Jeannette was married Cora Newman had given -her first public recital, and Mrs. Sturgis had been at the piano. She -had had a very beautiful black dress _made_ for the occasion and the -affair had been a great success. The critics had praised Miss Newman’s -voice and the _Tribune_ had given a special line to the player: “The -singer was sympathetically accompanied at the piano by Mrs. Henrietta -Spaulding Sturgis.” Now both Elsa and Cora wanted her whenever either -of them sang, and there were plans ahead for a concert tour to Quebec -and Montreal. If that turned out successfully, they were talking of -an up-state trip in the fall through Rochester, Syracuse, as far as -Buffalo. - -“You know what _I_ eat, lovies,” Mrs. Sturgis had explained to her -daughters when keeping the apartment was being discussed among them, -“is microscopic, and it won’t cost me five a week. I can always get -whatever I need at Kratzmer’s and a little tea and toast is often all I -want.” - -“But that’s just _it_!” Jeannette had expostulated. “You don’t eat -enough to keep a bird alive, anyhow, and if you live by yourself, you -won’t eat _that_!” - -Mrs. Sturgis had assured them she would take good care of herself. - -“You can’t imagine me happy in a boarding-house,” she had challenged, -“and I wouldn’t be able to have a piano there or give lessons!” There -had been no answer to this; boarding in one place and renting a studio -in another would be even more expensive than keeping the apartment. - - -§ 4 - -To-day Jeannette heard the familiar finger exercises as she -neared the top of the long stair-flight of her old home: -ta-ta-ta-ta-_de_-da-da-da-da--ta-ta-ta-ta-_de_-da-da-da-da, and as she -noiselessly opened the back door kitchenward, her mother’s voice from -the studio: “_One_-and-two-and-three-and-four-and....” - -She took off her hat and gloves, laid them on her mother’s bed and went -to peek in the cupboard; there was a piece of bakery pie and a few -eggs. She decided to make an omelette and with the toasted crumpets and -tea, a little jar of marmalade and the potato salad she had brought -with her, she and her mother would lunch royally. It was ten minutes to -twelve; the lesson would soon be over. - -They lingered over their repast until nearly two. Mrs. Sturgis had -lessons from four to six,--the after-school hours,--but until then -she was free. She had had half a notion, she confessed, of going down -to Union Square that afternoon to look at some new piano pieces for -beginners at Schirmer’s. Jeannette told her she would go with her,--she -wanted to get an alligator pear for Martin’s dinner,--but neither of -them appeared inclined to terminate the little luncheon at the kitchen -table. They had finished the crumpets, but there was still marmalade -left, and Mrs. Sturgis produced some pieces of cold left-over toast -with which to finish it. - -She was full of news and her affairs. In the first place, Alice and -Roy were going to Freeport on Long Island for the summer. They had -found a very nice place where they could board for eighteen dollars -a week,--oh, yes, both of them and the baby, too,--Roy was going to -commute every day, and the Bronx flat was to be closed,--just turn the -key in the door and leave it until they were ready to come back. Then -there was great talk about the concert tour. Bellini, who had sailed -only the day before yesterday for Italy, had thought Miss Elsa and Miss -Cora had better study another winter before attempting it, but a most -encouraging letter had been received from Montreal, and both the girls -were eager to try the experiment. They were in doubt as to whether -they should take a violinist with them or not; of course a violinist -would be a drawing-card, but they would have his salary and all his -expenses to pay, which would cut down the profits--if there were any! -Jeannette’s mother did not think it was in the least necessary, but if -they didn’t take one, Miss Elsa had said Mrs. Sturgis had better be -prepared to do some solo numbers, and that meant she’d have to do some -real hard practising as she hadn’t done anything like that for years! -She did not know whether to work up the Mendelssohn _Capricioso_ or the -Chopin _Fantaisie Impromptu_; what did Jeannette think? Of course there -was that _Meditation_.... - -But as her mother rambled on, Jeannette’s mind wandered. Her thoughts -were with Martin. She wondered what he was doing at that moment; with -whom he had lunched; how she could entertain him in the evenings and -keep him from wanting to go out. He must have some friends whom she -could invite to dinner. There was Beatrice Alexander, of course, and -she had heard him speak pleasantly of Herbert Gibbs,--the younger of -the two Gibbs brothers. He was married, she remembered; his wife had a -baby and they lived somewhere down on Long Island. She herself would -have liked to have asked Miss Holland, but she was hardly the type -that would interest Martin. There was Tommy Livingston,--but Tommy -was really too young. Her mind rested on Sandy MacGregor! He was a -widower,--his wife had been dead for over a year,--she knew he would -love to come to them, and Martin was sure to like him. The thought -elated her: Sandy and Beatrice Alexander would make an excellent -combination. - -She accompanied her mother downtown in gay spirits, full of -determination to put this plan immediately into effect. - - -§ 5 - -The dinner-party, when it took place, was not altogether a success; -still it was far from being a failure. Sandy unquestionably had a good -time, for he and Martin took a great liking to each other. Beatrice -had proven the unfortunate element. She had always been diffident and -the eye-glasses hopelessly disfigured her. Martin liked her because he -knew her so well,--one had to know Beatrice to appreciate her,--but -Sandy had been merely polite and amiable. He enjoyed Martin and -Martin’s cocktails, however,--they had one or two before dinner,--and -each time they raised their glasses, Sandy said: “Saloon!” which had -amused Martin vastly. The dinner itself was delicious,--even Jeannette -felt satisfied. The baked onions stuffed with minced ham,--Alice had -suggested that and shown her how to do them,--had been enthusiastically -praised, the chicken had been tender and the iced pudding, ordered at -Henri’s, could not have been more delicious. - -After dinner they played auction bridge; Martin loved cards in any form -and he undertook to teach Jeannette; Sandy was an old hand at the game, -but Beatrice Alexander was but a timid player. After three or four -rubbers, the men abandoned the cards, which, Jeannette could see, bored -them with such partners, and began matching quarters, and Martin had -won eighteen dollars. The last match had been for “double or nothing” -and Jeannette was hardly able to stifle the quick breath of relief that -came to her lips when Martin won. She had always known Sandy to be -liberal-handed and he paid his losses good-humoredly, telling Jeannette -in a way that made her believe he meant what he said, that he had had -a wonderful evening, and would telephone shortly to ask the Devlins to -dinner with him. He generously offered to take Beatrice Alexander home, -and Jeannette returned from the elevator, where she and Martin had -bidden good-night to their departing guests, to the disorder and smoky -atmosphere of their little home with the feeling that it had all been -worth while. - -“My Lord!” Martin said that night as he lay in bed waiting for her to -wind the clock, open the window, snap out the lights and join him, “I -wish you had a girl out there in the kitchen to help you with all -that mess. Damned if I like the idea of my wife doing all those dirty -dishes, and having to clean up everything to-morrow. It will take you -all day.” - -“Well,” Jeannette answered, “I’ll hate it to-morrow myself. But I -really don’t mind very much. I love the idea of entertaining our -friends. But we can’t have a girl yet. I’ve got to do my own work for -awhile at any rate. You see, Martin, I was figuring it out....” - -She had crawled in beside him and at once his arms were about her and -she had nestled close to him, her head on his hard shoulder. - -“Your friend Sandy’s a corker,” he said, kissing her hair and ignoring -her plan of figures and economy. “I like that guy fine. You can have -all that eighteen dollars I won from him.” - -“Oh, Martin!” - -“Sure,--of course.” - -“I’ll put it in the till.” - -The till was a small round canister intended for tea but converted into -a savings bank. - -“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” Martin told her. “You blow it in on -yourself, or for something nice for the house.” - -“But, Mart,” she remonstrated, “I want to pay off that Wanamaker’s -bill! We can’t have a girl in the kitchen until we don’t owe a cent.” - -“Aw, don’t worry so, Jan. You’re always scared we’re going to go bust -or something. I’ll get a raise as soon as summer’s over. Gibbs is bound -to come through ’cause he knows I’ll quit if he don’t. I bring in a -lot of fine business to that outfit, and all my customers are dandy -friends of mine. I’ll not be working for him at fifty per much longer.” - -“Mart,” Jeannette said suddenly, “wouldn’t it be a good plan to have -Herbert Gibbs and his wife to dinner some night and show them how nice -we are and how nice we live and what a good dinner we can give them? -You know it might help; he tells his brother everything, Beatrice says.” - -“Great! Say, that’s a bully idea!” Martin was at once enthusiastic. -“Herb would like it fine and so would Mrs. Herb. I’ll get some good -old Burgundy and pour it into him and feed him some Corona-Coronas and -he’ll just expand like a night-blooming cereus.” - -And on this happy plan, still with an arm about her, her head pillowed -on his shoulder, they drifted off to sleep. - - -§ 6 - -Some six weeks after her return to New York from Atlantic City, -Jeannette arrayed herself in her braided broadcloth tailor suit, -drew on her tan silk stockings and tan shoes, set the gray hat at a -smart angle upon her head, added the touch of a fine meshed veil that -brought the curling gray cock’s feather close to her hair, and paid her -long-deferred visit to the office. - -As she turned in at the familiar portals she was astonished at the -difference between her present feelings and those of old. A year before -she had entered the building with a hurried step, a preoccupied manner, -her mind busy as she hastened to her work with ways of attacking -and dispatching it. She had been conscious then that she was the -“president’s secretary,” and had borne herself accordingly as she -made her way through the groups of gossiping girls, aware they thought -her haughty and unapproachable. To-day, she was Mrs. Martin Devlin,--a -matron, smartly dressed,--come to pay a visit to the publishing house -with the air of a lady who had perhaps arrived to select a book in -the retail department or to enter a subscription. The dusty office -atmosphere was alien to her now; the bustling, eager clerks, intent -upon their affairs, seemed pettily employed; there was something -ridiculous about it all to her. Yet less than three months ago this had -been her world; all the vital interests of her life had been centered -within these square walls. She still loved it, loved the building, -the cold cement floors, the bare ceilings studded with sprinkler -valves, loved what evidences of her own handiwork she recognized: the -window-boxes, and the miniature close-clipped trees that stood in the -entrance, the name of the house in neat gold lettering on the street -windows. - -Ellis, the colored elevator man, was the first to recognize her; he -grinned, flashing his white teeth out of his black face, chuckling -largely. - -“Well, it certainly is good to see you; it certainly is like old times -to see you ’round,” he said, rolling back the clanging door. - -She stepped out upon the familiar fourth floor. It was the same--no -different: the old racket, the old hum and confusion. A minute or -two passed before she was seen; then there was a general whispering, -machines stopped clicking, heads turned; there were smiles and nods -from all parts of the big room. Mrs. O’Brien, Mr. Kipps’ stenographer, -rose and came to greet her; Miss Sylvester and Miss Kate Smith -followed suit. Presently there was a small crowd around her with -questions, laughter, little cooing cries of pleasure, a feminine -chatter. She caught Mr. Allister’s eye as he was leaving Mr. Corey’s -office. - -“’Pon my word!” She could not hear him say it, but she saw his lips -form the phrase and noted his pleased surprise. He came forward at -once, smiling broadly, pushing his way through the women who gave place -to him. - -“Glad to see you, Miss Sturgis,” he said beaming. “Only, by Jove, -you’re not ‘Miss Sturgis’ any more! ... ‘Devlin,’ isn’t it? ... Does -Mr. Corey know you’re here? He’ll be delighted, I know. Wants to see -you badly. Two or three matters have come up he’d like to ask you -about; nobody ’round here seems to know a thing about them.... Come in; -he’ll be mighty glad to see you.” - -He pulled back the swing gate in the counter and walked with her -towards Mr. Corey’s office. - -As Jeannette passed within a few feet of Miss Holland’s desk and as -their eyes met she mouthed: - -“See you in just a minute.” - -“Here’s an old friend of ours,” said Mr. Allister, opening Mr. Corey’s -door. - -The white head came up, and immediately a pleased flush spread over the -face of the man at the desk. - -“Well--well--well,” he said, getting to his feet and coming to take -both her hands. “Miss Sturgis! It’s good to see you again.” - -“She’s not Miss Sturgis any more,” laughed Mr. Allister. - -“That’s so--that’s so; it’s ‘Devlin’ of course. Well, Mrs. Devlin, you -surely look as though marriage agreed with you.” - -They were all laughing in good spirits. A few moments of -inconsequential remarks, and then Allister withdrew while Mr. Corey -made Jeannette sit down. - -“Oh, I must have a talk,” he insisted, “and hear all about you.” - -The door opened, and young Tommy Livingston came in with a question on -his lips. His eyes lighted as he recognized the caller. - -“My new secretary,” said Corey smiling. - -“Oh, is that _so_?” Jeannette was pleased; the boy had always been a -protégé of hers. “Well, Tommy, this _is_ a step up for you!” - -“Yes, indeed,” he said grinning. “I’m doing the best I know how....” - -“Tommy does very well,” approved Mr. Corey. - -“I didn’t know you understood dictation,” said Jeannette. - -“I don’t very well. I’ve got a stenographer in my office,--’member Miss -Bates?--and I’m going to night school and learning shorthand; I can run -a machine fairly decently now.” - -“Well, isn’t that splendid!” - -Presently she was alone with Mr. Corey again. He asked about her, about -Martin, about her married life. She was frank with her answers. - -“I shall never thank you enough,” she said, “for persuading me to -accept Mr. Devlin. I never would have married if you hadn’t made me, -and I never would have known what I missed. I guess I’d’ve been here -for the rest of my days.” - -She was eager for his news, too. - -Yes, he and Mrs. Corey were quite reconciled. She was very sorry she -had maligned Jeannette. He was going to England in ten days and was -taking her with him. Babs was about the same; she would never be any -better; they had an excellent trained nurse for her and she was to -spend the rest of the summer at a camp in the Adirondacks. Willis had -written a most interesting letter from Johannesburg; he and Ericsson -were trekking north through Matabeleland and Bulawayo; Mr. Corey did -not expect to hear from him again for three months. Affairs at the -office were about as usual; they expected to publish a big novel in the -fall by Hobart Haüser; Garritt Farrington Trent had left his former -publishers and come over to them; advertising was bad; there was some -talk of a printers’ strike; _The Ladies’ Fortune_ had been selling -excellently on the stands; the pattern business was booming. - -There were one or two matters he wanted to ask her about: What was -the arrangement with Hardy as to the dramatic rights of _Harnessed_? -No record could be found of the agreement. And did she recall from -what concern they had bought that last stock of special kraft wrapper? -And the folder containing all the correspondence with the Electrical -Manufacturing Company had disappeared. What could have become of it? -She answered as best she could. When she got up to go, he accompanied -her to the door of his office. - -“I can’t begin to tell you how we all miss you here,” he said gravely, -“and how much _I_ do especially. It’s been hard sledding without you. -I’ve thought a hundred times,--oh, a _thousand_ times!--of how much -you did for me to make the work easier and how much you lifted from -my shoulders. I got used to it, I’m afraid, and took a good deal for -granted.... But I’m glad you’re married; that’s where you belong: -making a home for yourself and leading your own life.” - -There was moisture in Jeannette’s eyes as she turned away. She loved -Chandler Corey, she said to herself; he was a wonderful man; she knew -she was the only person in the world who truly appreciated him; and she -knew he loved her, too. It was this glimpse of his affection for her -that moved her. Theirs had been a rare comradeship, a fine communion, a -beautiful relationship. It was ended; it was past and done; they could -no longer be together or even find an excuse to see one another without -having their actions misinterpreted. It had been the business, the -common interest, that had wrought the tie between them, and now that -there was no longer any office, the intimacy and companionship was at -an end, the bond sundered,--soon they would have but a casual interest -in one another!--and she had been closer to him than anyone else in the -world, like a daughter, and he a father to her. It was sad; a matter -to be mourned; each going a different way, only memories of a splendid -coöperation and friendship remaining to remind them of happy years -together. - - -§ 7 - -Jeannette stopped at Miss Holland’s desk and made her promise to take -lunch with her at the noon hour when they could have a good talk. - -As she left the scene of her former activities, her progress through -the aisles between the desks was once again a succession of -hand-clasps, congratulations, well-wishes, nods and smiles. It touched -her deeply; she had no idea she had been so well liked: everyone there -seemed to be her friend. - -Miss Holland joined her at half past twelve in the lobby of the Park -Avenue Hotel, and they had a delightful luncheon together at one of the -little tables edging the balcony about the court. News was exchanged -eagerly. Jeannette’s was scant, but her companion had endless gossip -to retail. Miss Holland’s nephew, Jerry Sedgwick, was a midshipman -now, and on his summer cruise in Cuban waters aboard a big battleship. -She and Mrs. O’Brien had a little apartment down on Waverly Place and -managed quite comfortably. The office was getting dreadfully on Miss -Holland’s nerves; it was so different from what it used to be; in the -old days everyone had done the best that was in him or her to make -the business a success; no one had cared what the returns were to be; -the idea of doing more and better work had been the thought actuating -all. Now that the Corey Company had become one of the largest and most -prosperous publishing houses in the country, the spirit had changed; -everyone thought about “profits.” They had conferences of all the heads -of departments each week and no one was interested in learning what -was going on in the different branches of the business; what commanded -their attention was how much “profit” was to be shown. It disgusted -Miss Holland; there was no “Get Together Club” any more. Mr. Kipps was -becoming more and more critical and fault-finding; he had headaches all -the time; Miss Holland believed he was a sick man; he never took any -exercise. The pattern business had grown enormously; Mr. Cruikshanks -had done wonders with it; they had had to lease a whole big building -over on Tenth Avenue to take care of it; _The Ladies’ Fortune_ had a -circulation of nearly half a million; Horatio Stephens had had a very -substantial raise, and had grown awfully opinionated and disagreeable. - -There was more gossip of lesser significance. Miss Hoggenheimer of -the mailing department had gone on the stage, and had a part now in -_It Happened in Nordland_, while Miss Gleason had married that big -George Robinson of the Press Room, and Tommy Livingston would soon -be engaged,--if he wasn’t already,--to Mrs. O’Brien’s little sister, -Agnes, who worked in the Mail Order Department.... Oh, yes! and had -Jeannette heard what had happened to Van Alstyne? It was terrible! He -was in the penitentiary at Atlanta for using the United States mail -for fraudulent purposes; he had become involved with some unscrupulous -men who advertised worthless stock and the Federal authorities had put -them all in jail.... And poor Mrs. Inness was dead; she died at her -brother’s house in Weehawken. - -Jeannette devoured these details. She sat absorbed, fascinated, -listening to every word that came from her companion’s lips; she could -not get enough of this chatter about her old associates; she was hungry -for every scrap of information, fearful that Miss Holland might neglect -to tell her everything. - -She walked back with her friend to the office and would not let her -go for another ten minutes until she had heard the final details of a -violent quarrel between Miss Reubens and Mr. Cavendish. - -Miss Holland promised to dine with her and Martin soon, and Jeannette -promised in return to come with her husband to dinner with Miss Holland -and Mrs. O’Brien in the Waverly Place apartment. They parted with many -such assurances. - -Jeannette walked all the way home in a daze of memories, thoughts of -the old times crowding upon her brain, her interest in business affairs -and personal happenings in the Chandler B. Corey Company awake again, -stirring with all its former keenness. - - -§ 8 - -The dinner to which Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Gibbs were invited and to -which after various postponements they ultimately came was a dismal -failure from Jeannette’s point of view. First of all, she was late -with the meal itself, and in hurrying, spattered grease on her -gown; the yeast powder biscuits would not rise, and the leg of lamb -was underdone, the meat pink when Martin carved it. Then Martin, -himself, was nervous and excited, and the cocktails he had with his -guest before they sat down went to his head and made him talk and -act sillily. Lastly, and most important, the Gibbses were hopeless! -Herbert Gibbs was flat-headed and there was no curve at the back of -his neck, while the hair grew down under his collar sparse and short; -he had an expressionless, stupid face and it was impossible to tell -whether he was being bored or amused at the attempt of young Mr. and -Mrs. Devlin to entertain him and his wife. Mrs. Gibbs was even less -prepossessing. She was a plump German girl, with thin yellow hair done -up in a knob on top of her head which frankly showed her white scalp -through wide gaps. She was irritatingly voluble, had a piercing sharp -nervous laugh, and exclaimed shrilly about whatever Jeannette said or -did. She chatted unceasingly about her child, little “Herbie,” who, -it seemed, was only ten months old but could already both walk and -talk, and she embarrassed Jeannette by asking in a whisper how soon -there was going to be a little Devlin. There was nothing spontaneous -in the conversation during the whole evening, neither while they sat -at table nor later in the living-room, where Mr. Gibbs sat stolidly -puffing at cigars, sipping the red Burgundy with which Martin kept his -glass filled, and Mrs. Gibbs rattled on about how they had found their -home at Cohasset Beach on Long Island, and the involved circumstances -connected with its eventual purchase. Mercifully they were obliged to -take an early train home on account of “Herbie,” but did not depart -until they had warned their young hosts they would soon be expected to -spend a Sunday with them in the country. - -That night, going to bed, Martin and Jeannette had their first quarrel. -It left her shaken and unhappy all the next day. She ridiculed their -guests and Martin defended them; she declared they were stupid -and common; he, that she didn’t know them, that they were a very -good-hearted sort, that she had been cold and patronizing with Mrs. -Gibbs, that her husband had noticed it, and become awfully “sore”; it -would have been a “damn sight better,” Martin concluded stormily, if -they had never been asked. - -“And after all the trouble I went to!” raged Jeannette to herself, -hugging her side of the bed, rebellion strong within her, “cooking all -day long, planning everything out, going over to Columbus Avenue twice, -getting flowers for the table, working myself dizzy and ruining my -organdie, just so he could make a good impression on them and perhaps -help himself a little at the office!” - -A tear trickled down her nose, and she wiped it off with a finger-tip. -She would never give in to him,--never! She would make him beg and -beg and beg for her forgiveness! It would be a long, long time.... -With head aching and trying to choke down a sniffle that threatened to -betray her, she fell asleep. - -There was an eager reconciliation the next night; promises, vows, -assurances, harsh self-accusations, and Martin carried her off after -dinner to two dollar seats at the _Broadway_, where Jeannette whispered -penitently, hugging his arm in the dark of the theatre, that if the -Gibbses _did_ ask them to visit them some Sunday, she would go and be -her nicest to both. - - -§ 9 - -The occasion when Sandy MacGregor had the young Devlins to dine with -him in style on the roof garden of the new Astor Hotel was another -affair that turned out unfortunately. The lady whom Sandy asked to be -fourth in the party,--a Mrs. Fontella,--was not the type with whom -Jeannette had been accustomed to associate. She was boldly handsome -with great round black eyes, masses of auburn hair, a cavernous -red mouth, and a large, prominent bust. She was noisy and coarse, -and when she laughed she showed a great deal of gum and rows of -glittering gold-filled teeth. Jeannette froze into her most rigid and -uncommunicative self. Just before dessert was served, Martin and Sandy -excused themselves from the table and disappeared, leaving her sitting -for almost half-an-hour alone with her noisy and conspicuous companion. -It was evident when the men returned they had been downstairs to the -bar where they had had drinks and had been shaking dice. Jeannette was -thoroughly incensed, and although Sandy had seats for the theatre, she -complained she was ill and insisted upon going home. - -There was another quarrel between her husband and herself that night, -but before they went to sleep he won her forgiveness, abused himself -for treating her shabbily, told her again and again he was sorry, and -promised never to be guilty of neglecting her again. - -He could be irresistibly winning when he wanted to be. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -§ 1 - -On the Fourth of July the Gibbses asked Martin and Jeannette to -spend the holiday and Sunday with them at Cohasset Beach. Jeannette -contemplated the visit in the gayest of spirits. She spent fully two -hours carefully packing her own and Martin’s suitcases. She had some -very smart clothes for such an outing which she had had no opportunity -of wearing since the happy honeymoon days at Atlantic City. The idea of -appearing in these again at such a well-known summer resort as Cohasset -Beach delighted her. She was anxious to be cordial to Mrs. Gibbs for -Martin’s sake, and meant to dispel any unpleasant impression of herself -that either Mr. Gibbs or his wife might have been harboring. To exert -herself particularly in her host’s direction, “draw him out of his -shell”--as Martin expressed it,--and make him like her, was part of her -resolution. - -Late Friday afternoon she manfully struggled with the two suitcases to -the Thirty-fourth Street ferry and met Martin as agreed at the entrance -of the waiting-room. They had been anxious to catch an early train from -Long Island City, and it had been arranged that Mr. Gibbs and Martin -should come to the station directly from the office and meet her at the -ferry station. - -“My God, Jan!” Martin exclaimed after he had swung himself off the -trolley-car and come running up to where she was waiting. “My God, you -look great! Say,--I never saw you look so--so swell!” Mr. Gibbs was -pleasantly cordial, though suffering much discomfort from the excessive -heat. Sweat trickled down his expressionless face, and continually he -removed his straw hat to mop his forehead with a drenched handkerchief. - -It was indeed hot, but the vistas up and down the river as the -ferry-boat blunted its way toward the Long Island shore were all of -cool pinks, palest greens and lavenders in the late summer afternoon, -while the sun, setting through a murky haze, cast an enchanted light -over the scene. In the train, Mr. Gibbs took himself off to the smoking -car, leaving Martin and Jeannette alone. They sat beside a raised -window, their hands linked under a fold of her silk dress, and the -air that reached them was rich with the scent of the open country. -The girl’s heart was overflowing with happiness as Martin whispered -endearments in her ear: she was a wonder, all right; she looked like a -million dollars; gosh! he was proud of her; there was no girl in the -world like his wife! The holiday that was beginning for them, and the -knowledge that they were not to be separated for two whole days--nearly -three!--filled both with great felicity. - -Cohasset Beach is a little village of two or three thousand inhabitants -on the Sound side of the Island, some twenty-five or thirty miles from -New York. The Gibbses lived in an unpretentious, white, peaked-roofed -house, with plenty of shade trees about it, and a rather patchy, -ill-kept lawn, bordered with straggling rosebeds. There was a -lattice-sided porch covered with a clambering vine. The place was -attractive though shabby; the house sorely in need of paint, the front -steps worn down to the natural color of the wood, the edges of the -treads frayed and splintery. A sagging hammock hung under scrawny -pepper trees, and a child’s toys were scattered about, while close -to the latticed porch was a pile of play sand hauled up from the -neighboring beach. - -Jeannette was disappointed. She had pictured the Gibbses’ house more of -an establishment. Cohasset Beach was a fashionable summer resort; the -Yacht Club there was famous; she had thought to find her hosts living -in some style. But she was not to be daunted; she had come prepared -to have a good time and to make these people like her; she reminded -herself of her determination not to spoil this visit for Martin. - -But on encountering Mrs. Gibbs she realized afresh how little in common -she had with her hostess. The woman was devoid of poise, restraint, or -dignity; Jeannette had forgotten her volubility and harsh, unpleasant -laugh. Mrs. Gibbs welcomed her guest eagerly, keeping up a running -fire of remarks, loosing her squeaks of mirth in nervous fashion. She -slipped her arm about Jeannette’s waist and before showing her to her -room or giving her a chance to remove her hat, led her to the nursery -to view little Herbie in his crib. Mr. Gibbs followed for a peep at his -son before the child went off to sleep and he brought Martin with him. -They all hung over the sides of the crib and exclaimed about the baby, -who rolled his solemn, perplexed eyes from face to face. Jeannette -noted he was exactly like his father: flat-headed, expressionless, -with no curve at the back of his neck, but Martin seemed quite taken -with him and when he tickled him with a finger, the baby opened wide -his little red mouth, displayed his toothless red gums and crowed -vigorously. Jeannette was sure she detected in the sound the shrillness -of his mother’s senseless laugh. - -The guest room was on the third floor in one gable of the roof, a big -room with sloping ceilings; it was equipped with a washstand on which -stood a basin and ewer; the bathroom was on the floor below. Hattie, -the colored cook, would bring up hot water, Mrs. Gibbs said in her -excited way as she left them, urging her guests to make themselves -comfortable. Jeannette had carefully packed Martin’s dinner clothes, -and her own prettiest dinner frock, but there would evidently be no -formal dressing in such a household. She stood at an open latticed -window that jutted out above the vine-covered porch and looked out over -a rippling billow of tree-tops, softly green now in the fading evening -light, that tumbled down to the water’s edge. The Sound was dotted -with little boats riding at anchor and there was one private yacht, -gay with lights and fluttering pennants. The lambent heavens in the -west touched the shimmering water delicately with pink. She pressed her -lips resolutely together, and stared out upon the scene unmoved by its -beauty. - -“Great,--isn’t it?” Martin said, coming to stand beside her and putting -his arm about her. “We’ll have a home like this of our own, some -day,--hey, old girl? And you’ll be the boss of the show and be cooking -me some of your fine dinners when I come home, and I’ll take you out -sailing in the yacht on Sundays.” He laughed his rich buoyant peal and -caught her in his arms. - -“Oh, Martin,” she breathed tremulously, sinking her face against his -shoulder, “I love you so,--I love you so!” - -As she had foreseen, there was no change of costume for dinner at the -Gibbses’ table. The meal itself had as little distinctiveness as the -host and hostess: soup and vegetables, a large steak followed by apple -pie and the usual accessories. Martin, Mr. Gibbs and his wife drank -beer; it appeared that it was imported, and Martin was eloquent in its -praise. There were cookies too, which made a special appeal to him; -_küchen_, Mrs. Gibbs called them, but Jeannette thought them hard and -tasteless. After dinner, the men walked down to the water and back, -smoking their cigars, while Jeannette sat and listened to a long tale -by Mrs. Gibbs of how she had happened to meet her Herbert, how her -parents had objected, how they had tried to separate them, and how love -had finally triumphed. - -But Jeannette went to sleep that night with a happy prospect for the -morrow awaiting her: they were to have lunch at the fashionable yacht -club. - - -§ 2 - -Disappointment lay in store for her again. At noon, the next day, -perplexed by the picnic baskets and shoe-boxes of lunch with which they -were laden as they left the house, she learned it was the Family Yacht -Club and not the imposing Cohasset Beach Yacht Club for which they were -headed. Oh, no, Mr. Gibbs explained, only the swell New Yorkers and -the rich nabobs who lived down on the “Point” patronized the Cohasset -Beach Yacht Club; the dues there were fifty dollars a month; the nice -folk in Cohasset all belonged to the Family Yacht Club; she would see -herself how pleasant it was there; the steward served hot coffee and -everybody brought their own lunches. Jeannette looked straight ahead of -her to hide the blur of disappointed tears that for a moment blinded -her. Martin was behind with Mrs. Gibbs carrying Herbie in his arms. -The resolve to try and be pleasant and make these people like her died -hopelessly in the girl’s heart. Oh, it was no use! It had been dreadful -from the moment they arrived; it would remain dreadful till the end! - -The club-house of the Family Yacht Club was a low spreading, -wind-blown, sand-battered, gray building that squatted along the shore, -separated from the lisping wavelets of the Sound by a strip of white, -sandy beach; a long pier ran out into the water and a number of small -sail-boats and row-boats were tied to the float at its further end. The -pier, the beach, the wide veranda of the club-house were all crowded -to-day; flags flew or were draped everywhere, and bathers ran up and -down along the wet sand or congregated on the raft anchored a hundred -yards from shore. - -“Whew!” exclaimed Martin when he viewed the scene, “isn’t this great!” - -His wife threw him a look; it did not seem possible he was serious, but -a glimpse of his delighted face showed her he was indeed. - -There were no chairs nor benches on which to sit, but the newcomers -found a clean space on the sandy shore and prepared to establish -themselves there. Jeannette thought of her spotless new white -fibre-silk skirt, and in sad resignation sank into place. About them -were a dozen or so of similar groups, preparing for the midday meal or -already enjoying it. They were all neighbors of the Gibbses, residents -of Cohasset Beach, who knew one another intimately, and hailed each new -arrival, bandying Christian names. A man some distance away shouted in -the direction of the Gibbs party, brandishing a bottle of beer. - -“Hey, Gibbsey,” he yelled, “hey there! How’s the old stick-in-the-mud?” - -Mrs. Gibbs shrieked across the stretch of sand at the woman beside him. - -“How’s the baby?” - -“Fine,” came the answer. “Mama’s got him.” - -“That’s Zeb Kline over there,” Mrs. Gibbs informed her husband; “it’s -the first time he’s been out since he was sick.... And those folks with -Doc French certainly look like his sister-in-law and that cousin of -hers, Mrs. Prentiss.” - -A burst of music and the report of a cannon came distinctly from -farther down the shore. Jeannette, craning her neck, could see a large, -glistening white building with a red roof, gaily decorated with flags; -there were loops of bunting about the railings of its porches. - -“That’s the Cohasset Beach Yacht Club,” said Mr. Gibbs; “the -Commodore’s just come to anchor; that’s his yacht out there; there’ll -be some fine racing this aft; the Stars are going out.” - -“Ham or cheese?” Mrs. Gibbs inquired, proffering sandwiches. She was -busy with the lunch, snapping strings, opening boxes, squeezing wrapped -tissue-paper packages with her fingers, shaking them, hazarding guesses -as to their contents. - -“I wonder what Hattie’s got in here,” she kept saying. - -“Do have some sauerkraut; I made it myself. I thought maybe you’d -like it. Don’t you fancy mustard dressing? ... Well, try the stuffed -eggs. Hope you think they’re good. The cake’s Hattie’s; I think her -chocolate’s splendid.... Mr. Devlin, some mustard pickles? Some eggs? -... Goodness gracious, papa! Look out for Herbie! He’ll get himself all -sopping!” - -“Say, Mr. Gibbs, this beer is great! How do you manage to have it so -cold?” Martin asked. - -“I bring it down a day or two ahead of time and the steward puts it on -the ice for me; just half a dozen bottles, you know; doesn’t put him to -too much trouble.” - -“Well, this is a great little Club all right.” - -“_We_ think it’s nice. Just a few of us that have children got together -and organized it. The Cohasset Beach has a big bar, and there always is -a good deal of drinking going on down there. The New Yorkers, you know, -come down for a good time. No place for young folk.” - -“No, you bet your life.” - -Jeannette, in spite of herself, found she was hungry. The fried chicken -in the oiled tissue paper was delicious, and she loved the liverwurst -sandwiches. Mrs. Sturgis and her girls had always been extremely fond -of liverwurst; Kratzmer kept it, and many a luncheon Jeannette, her -mother and sister had made with little else. The hot cup of coffee, -that Mrs. Gibbs poured from the tin pot the Club steward brought and -set down in the sand, put life into her. The pleasant heat of the -day, the sunshine, the life and frolicking in sand and water, forced -enjoyment upon her. But she would not go in swimming when Martin -urged her. One glance at the crude bath-house with its gray boards -and canvas roof was sufficient to decide her on this point. She sat -stiffly beside Mrs. Gibbs, who had rocked Herbie to sleep in her arms, -and now moved so her shadow would keep the sun off the child’s face, -while she watched Mr. Gibbs and her husband disport themselves in the -water. Martin’s swimming always attracted attention and when he made -a beautiful swan dive from the end of the pier, there was a ripple of -applause. She felt proud of him, proud of his fine figure, the beauty -of his young body, his prowess, his unaffectedness. - -“Who’s that young fellow doing all the fancy diving out there?” a man -sauntering up asked Mrs. Gibbs. - -“S-ssh,” breathed that lady, indicating her sleeping child. “His name’s -Martin Devlin,” she whispered; “he works for Herbert in the city.” - -Works for Herbert in the city! Jeannette felt the blood rush to her -face. Works for Herbert! Indeed! Well, he wouldn’t be _working_ for -Herbert much longer. She’d have something to say about _that_. The -idea! The impertinence! Giving the impression that her wonderful Martin -was merely an employee of Herbert Gibbs! - -Her husband, wet and dripping, came up to her and flung himself down -panting upon the sand. - -“Gee,” he said boyishly, “that water’s great! Never had a better swim -in my life. It’s a shame you didn’t go in, Jan.” - -He looked at her, sensing something was amiss, but she smiled at him -and pressed his wet, sandy hand. - -Late in the afternoon they prepared to go home. As they were about to -leave the Club, a man climbing into his automobile offered a lift. -Martin and Jeannette begged to be allowed to walk and persuaded their -hosts on account of the baby to take advantage of the car. Left to -themselves, they commenced a leisurely return. - -Along the tree-bordered roads that fringed the shore, other groups in -white skirts and flannels were wending their way homeward; flags flew -from poles or were draped over doorways; the strains of a waltz drifted -seductively from the Cohasset Beach Yacht Club; the blue water of the -Sound was dotted with glistening triangles of sails, heeled over and -headed in one direction. - -“Those are the Stars,” Martin exclaimed; “the race is finishing; number -seven seems to have it cinched. That steam yacht over there with all -the flags is the judges’ boat.” - -They watched for a moment longer. Far out in midstream, one of the -Sound steamers was passing; already lights were beginning to twinkle in -her cabins. - -“Wonderful day,” commented Martin, giving his wife’s hand, as it rested -in the crook of his elbow, a squeeze with his arm. They wandered -onward. “I’d love to have a home with you in a place like this, with -the sailing and swimming and tennis and all this outdoor fun. It’s my -idea of living. A fellow Mr. Gibbs introduced me to out on the raft -belongs to the Cohasset Beach Club, too. He told me they’ve got some -swell tennis courts over there and he was after me to play with him -to-morrow.” - -“And will you?” Jeannette asked, listlessly. - -“Well, I guess I can’t. Mr. Gibbs said something about some friends of -theirs asking us all to go sailing to-morrow.” - -“That will be nice,” said his wife, still in a lifeless tone, but -Martin did not notice. - -“By George, I think this is a great place. I was asking Mr. Gibbs about -rents, and he tells me we could get a fine little eight-room house for -forty a month, and it’s only three-quarters of an hour from town.” - -“And what would you do without your theatres and your shows and your -little dinners downtown?” smiled Jeannette. - -“Oh--they could go hang!” - -The smile upon his wife’s face twisted skeptically. She knew Martin -better than he knew himself. - -“And don’t you think the Gibbses ’re awful nice folks? They don’t put -on any airs but ’re friendly and simple. They’d take us under their -wing and ’d be darned nice neighbors.” - -Jeannette shut her mouth. It was not the time to shatter his -enthusiasm; he was having a good time, imagined these people wonderful; -it wouldn’t be kind of her to show him now how vulgar and cheap and -horrid they and their friends and their little ridiculous Club were. -No,--it would only hurt him, and under the influence of the day and the -good time, it would lead to a quarrel,--and she was sick of quarrels. -She reminded herself she was out of sorts from the long day of boredom -and disappointment; it would be madness to say a word now. The time -when she could make him see the Gibbses, their house, their friends, -their tiresome pleasures and cheap environment as she saw them would -come, and she must bide her time. - -“... not so particularly interesting,” Martin was saying, “but a darned -good sort, and he’s got a shrewd business head. I think he likes me -first-rate, and I was mighty glad to see you and Mrs. Gibbs pulling -together. She told me she thought you were great, said all manner of -nice things about how swell you looked. She’s not much of a looker, -herself, but she certainly has got the right feeling of hospitality. -Know what I mean, Jan? She gives you the best she’s got, and makes you -feel at home and that she’s glad you’re in her house. I think that’s -bully.... And isn’t that kid a corker? Golly, I think he’s slick! You -know, I carried him all the way down from the house to the Club and he -had his arms round my neck the whole way. He made funny little sounds -in my ear, you know, as though he was kind of enjoying himself! ... -Gee, he’s a great baby!” - -That flat-headed, vacant-faced child? ... Well, Martin was _hopeless_! -He must be crazy; there was no use talking to him! - - -§ 3 - -In the morning Jeannette vigorously renewed her resolution not to mar -her husband’s pleasure. For the first time, since her marriage, she -felt oddly estranged from him. There was a rent somewhere in the veil -through which he had hitherto appeared so handsome, so considerate, -so wonderfully perfect, and the glimpse she had of him now through -the rift was disconcerting and a little shocking. While they were -dressing, he smoked a cigarette although he well knew the fumes of it -before breakfast made her giddy; at the table he was unnecessarily -noisy, laughed too loudly, with his mouth wide open and full of -muffin, and after breakfast on the ill-kept lawn, he rolled about with -the Gibbs baby, making a buffoon of himself and streaking his white -trousers with grass green and dirt. They were to go sailing at ten -o’clock,--the Websters were to call for them,--and it was thoughtless -of Martin, and indicated all too clearly his utter indifference to -her feelings. He looked a sight in his dirtied flannels! ... But -she _would_ be sweet! She _would_ be amiable! She would _not_ undo -whatever good had been accomplished. At four o’clock they would take -the train back to the city; there remained less than seven hours more -of this dreadful visit! Martin had completely captivated Mrs. Gibbs; -his enthusiasm for the baby had been the last compelling touch; she -shrieked at everything he said, thought him “perfectly killing.” Both -she and Mr. Gibbs had been cordial to Jeannette. Grimly, the girl -determined she would hold herself in leash for the few short hours that -remained, would smile and smirk and simper and do whatever they wanted! - -But it was the ten-forty train that night which she and Martin were -able to catch back to town. The Websters’ yacht had been becalmed, and -all day the boat had rocked upon the slow oily swells of the Sound, the -sail flapping dismally, the ropes creaking and straining in the blocks. -The women had huddled together in the scant shade of the sail, while -the men sprawled helplessly in the flagellating sun. Herbie had wailed -and whimpered for hours before his mother had been able to quiet him -off to sleep. She had kept repeating in a sort of justification for -his ill temper: “Why, he wants his bottle; the poor darling wants his -bottle; ’course he’s cross, he wants his bottle.” - -At four in the afternoon a motor-boat had come within hailing distance -and generously offered a tow. Fifteen minutes later they were underway -in its wake, when something suddenly went wrong with the motor-boat’s -engine, and both vessels slowly heaved from side to side on the oily -swells. Mrs. Webster frankly became seasick. The men shouted to one -another across the strip of water between the boats, but none of the -suggestions of either party brought results. The motor-boat being -equipped with oars, it was decided to row for assistance,--a matter of -two miles’ steady pull. Martin had wanted to go along and lend a hand, -but Jeannette tugged at his arm and sternly forbade him to leave her. - -Effective aid finally appeared towards eight o’clock in the evening -when the gathering darkness had begun to make their position really -perilous, and an hour later the party clambered out on the float -in front of the Family Yacht Club, cramped, hungry, but profoundly -thankful. By the time Martin and Jeannette had reached the Gibbses’ -house and made ready for their return to town, the ten-forty had been -the earliest train they could catch back to the city. Their hosts -begged them to remain for the night, but Jeannette was inflexible -in insisting upon returning home. She feared another hour spent at -Cohasset Beach would drive her stark, raving mad. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -§ 1 - -When Martin went on his honeymoon to Atlantic City, he had taken -his annual two weeks’ vacation. During the hot weather of summer, -therefore, he and Jeannette were obliged to remain in the sweltering -city. But Jeannette did not mind the heat. Adventuring in married -life was too utterly absorbing; she loved her new home, and each day -found new delight in managing it. She and her husband considered -themselves deliriously happy. Nights on which they did not go to the -theatre, they roamed the bright upper stretches of Broadway, sauntered -along Riverside Drive as far as Grant’s Tomb, or meandered into the -Park, where electric lights cast a theatrical radiance on trees and -shrubbery. On Sundays they made excursions to the beaches, and one -week-end they went to Coney Island on Saturday afternoon and stayed -the night at the Manhattan Beach Hotel. Jeannette long remembered -the glorious planked steak they enjoyed for dinner on that occasion, -sitting at a little table by the porch railing, listening to the big -military band, while all about them a gay throng chatted and laughed -at other tables, and crowds surged up and down the boardwalk as the -Atlantic thundered a dull rhythmical bourdon to the stirring music of -trumpet and drum. - -Her mother departed the first of August for Canada. The concert tour -having been finally decided upon,--without the violinist,--every day or -so cards arrived from Mrs. Sturgis post-marked “Montreal,” “Quebec,” -“Toronto.” The venture could hardly be considered a financial success, -she wrote, but she and the girls were having just too wonderful a time! -The Canadians were extraordinarily hospitable! - -Alice, Roy, and the baby returned from Freeport the last of September; -she expected to be confined early in November. The Devlins visited -them one Sunday during the last weeks of their stay on Long Island, -and Jeannette wondered how her sister could be happy in such an -environment. The room the Beardsleys occupied was under the roof and, -during the day, like an oven. Etta, Alice told her, woke up sometimes -as early as five or five-thirty, and nothing would persuade the child -to go to sleep again. As soon as she was awake, she began to fret, and -her wails disturbed the other boarders at that hour. Either father -or mother would find it necessary to get up, dress, and wheel the -child out in her carriage, pushing her around and around the block -until she could be brought safely back to the house. On Sundays when -breakfast was not until nine o’clock, these hours of the early silent -mornings were a long, wearisome, hungry trial. Jeannette thought the -food at the boarding-house was markedly meager, and Alice had to admit -that as the season was drawing to a close, there were evidences of -retrenchment on the part of the landlady, but at first, she assured her -sister, the table had been plentiful and good. The effect of all this -upon Jeannette had been a determination to order her own life along -safer lines. Two or three times Alice had come up to the city during -the summer to spend the night. On these occasions Roy slept at his -own flat in the Bronx, as there was only a narrow couch available at -the Devlins’. To this Martin had been relegated, and the two sisters -occupied the bed together. Alice was very large. It worried Jeannette; -she was once more full of apprehensions. She made up her mind that for -herself she did not want a baby for a long time, not until she and -Martin were out of debt, and had saved something so that she could be -sure of a certain amount of comfort and care. - -Martin’s attitude about money distressed her. He did not seem to take -the matter of their finances with sufficient seriousness. He was ever -urging her to engage a maid to attend to the dish-washing and clean -up after dinner. He hated kitchen work, himself, and equally hated to -have his wife do it. When he finished his dinner and rose from the -table, rolling a cigar about between his teeth and filling his mouth -with good, strong inhalations of satisfying tobacco smoke, he felt -contented, replete, ready for talk and relaxation. To have Jeannette -disappear into the kitchen and begin banging around out there with -pans and rattling dishes annoyed him. He could not bring himself to -help her; something in him rebelled at such work. His wife readily -understood how he felt; she sympathized with him, and did not want him -to help her, but she had her own aversion to letting the dishes stand -over night and having them to do after breakfast the following day. -It took the best part of her morning, and meant she could never get -downtown until afternoon. But Martin was willing to concede nothing; he -answered her arguments by reiterating his advice to her to hire a girl. - -“Good God, Jan,” he would say in characteristic vigorous fashion, “she -would cost you fifteen or twenty dollars a month, and then you could -get out as early as you wanted to in the mornings and we could have our -evenings together.” - -It was just that fifteen or twenty dollars a month which Jeannette -wanted to save to pay on her bills. She had inherited a sense of -frugality; it worried her to be in debt. Martin, on the other hand, -was blandly indifferent. He was willing to deny himself very little, -his wife often felt, to help her contribute to the “till.” They had -many arguments about the matter but never reached a conclusion. Their -creditors,--they owed a little less than three hundred dollars,--were -kept satisfied by a small remittance each month but something more -always had to be charged. Jeannette was baffled. She talked it over -with Alice. The Beardsleys lived more simply than the Devlins; they did -not entertain nor go out to dinner so often nor to the theatre, and -they paid only half as much rent. Their whole scale of expenditure was -more economical. That was the answer, of course. When Jeannette told -Martin they were living beyond their means, he grew angry. - -“Damn it,” he answered her, “if there is one thing I hate more than -another, it’s a piker! What do you want to crab about the bills for? -Haven’t we got everything we want? Aren’t we getting along all right? -Who’s kicking?” - -Jeannette heaved a sigh of weariness. Some day before long she would -have to persuade him to her way of thinking. - - -§ 2 - -Alice’s boy was born in October and was christened Ralph Sturgis -Beardsley by the Reverend Doctor Fitzgibbons, much to Mrs. Sturgis’ -tearful satisfaction. Alice had a comparatively easy time with the -birth of her second child, but again there was an aftermath which kept -her weak and anæmic and necessitated an operation just before Christmas. - -It was just before Christmas that Jeannette urged Martin to ask for a -raise. Several circumstances encouraged her: she had learned through -Miss Holland that Walt Chase was getting eighty-five dollars a week,--a -big mail order concern out in Chicago had made him an offer and Mr. -Corey had been obliged to raise his salary in order to keep him; Martin -had met John Archibald of the Archibald Engraving Company, the largest -color engravers in the city, and Mr. Archibald had bought Martin a -drink at the bar in the Waldorf and presented him with a cigar; lastly, -her husband had landed a new engraving account a few weeks before and -had brought in considerable holiday business. Martin heeded her advice -and had a talk with Herbert Gibbs, who promised to take the matter up -with his brother, Joe, and seemed disposed to recommend the increase. -In the wildest of spirits, Martin came home, waltzed his wife around -the apartment, kissed her a dozen times, told her again and again -she was a wonder, insisted she stop her preparations for dinner, and -carried her off to a café downtown where he ordered a pint of champagne -and toasted her. - -His elation, however, was not fully justified. Martin had asked for -a substantial increase and a commission on all new accounts. It was -evident that in discussing the matter, the brothers had decided this -was too much. They agreed to give him three thousand a year on a twelve -months’ contract. - -“I always detested that flat-headed pig,” Jeannette exclaimed -inelegantly when Martin brought home the news. “Think of how we tried -to entertain him and that stupid wife of his, and how we went down to -visit them and let them bore us to death! I knew he was that kind of a -creature!” - -“Aw, come, come, Jan,” Martin remonstrated; “you want to be fair. Herb -did the best he could; it was old Joe who kicked. Three thousand a year -isn’t so bad; that’s two hundred and fifty a month. Not so rotten for a -fellow twenty-seven.... Now I hope to God you’ll get a girl in here to -help run the kitchen.” - -“Well,--all right,” Jeannette conceded, “only you’ve got to go on -helping me save. I want to pay off every cent we owe.... I suppose I -get my half as usual.” - -“Sure. I’ll be paid now twice a month: first and fifteenth.” - -“Let’s see; ... that’s a hundred and twenty-five. I get sixty-two -fifty; that’s really five dollars more a week, isn’t it?” - -“You’re a little tight-wad,--do you know that, darling?” - -“No, I’m not,” Jeannette defended herself. “I’m only trying to run -things economically and systematically, and to do that you’ve _got_ to -plan ahead. The trouble with you, Mart, is that you never do!” - -The raise led to the appearance of Hilda in the kitchen. Hilda was -a big-boned, good-natured Swedish girl, willing, but a careless -cook, often exasperatingly stupid. Jeannette paid her fifteen dollars -a month, and established her in the vacant bedroom not hitherto -furnished, which involved an outlay of nearly a hundred dollars. - -In spite of the additional income, money continued to be a problem. -Jeannette still felt that she and Martin were living too extravagantly, -and that her husband did not do his share in helping to retrench. She -had been entirely satisfied in the old days before she married to go to -the theatre in gallery or rear balcony seats, but Martin scorned these -locations. When he went to a show, he said, he wanted to enjoy himself, -and sitting in the cheap seats robbed him of any pleasure whatsoever. -It was the same whenever they went downtown to dinner; he preferred the -expensive hotels and restaurants; when he bought new clothes he went -to a tailor and had the suit made to order; he tipped everywhere he -went far too generously. If there was any economizing to be done, it -was always Jeannette who must do it, and what made it all the harder -was that he did not thank her for the self-denial. He spent,--his wife -had no way of knowing how much,--a great deal for drinks, and for the -gin and vermuth he brought home. Once a week, sometimes oftener, he -would arrive with a bottle of each, carefully wrapped up in newspaper, -under his arm. Every time they entertained, she knew it meant more gin -and more vermuth for cocktails. Martin was not a tippler. Frequently -several days or a week would go by without his even suggesting a -cocktail. He did not seem to want one, unless there was company, or -he happened to come home specially tired. Jeannette had never seen -him intoxicated, although on the last day of the year a number of the -men at his office had gathered in the late afternoon at a neighboring -bar, and wished each other “Happy New Year” over and over. Martin -arrived home, glassy-eyed and noisy, wanting her to kiss and love him. -She hated him when he had been drinking; she even loathed the odor -of liquor on his breath; it made it strong and hot like the breath -of a panther. Another expense was his cigars of which he consumed -half-a-dozen a day. She knew they cost money, and she knew Martin well -enough to feel sure that the kind he liked was not the inexpensive -variety. - -There was also his card playing to be taken into account. Sandy -MacGregor had a circle of friends who played poker together generally -once a week, on Friday nights. At first Jeannette had urged Martin to -go when Sandy had rung him up, asking if he would like to “sit in.” She -considered it part of a good wife’s rôle: a man should not be expected -to give up masculine society, or an occasional “good time with the -boys” merely because he was married. She did not entirely approve of -poker, but Martin loved it. Whenever he won, he woke her up when he -came home and announced it triumphantly; when he lost he said nothing -about it, and she felt she had no right to ask questions. She suspected -he did not tell her the truth about the size of the stakes for which -he played, realizing she would worry, so she never inquired, and if -Martin came home and put seven or eight dollars on her dressing-table, -exultingly telling her that it was half his winnings, she thanked him -with a bright smile and a kiss for his generous division, even though -she was confident he had won a great deal more. - -On the first and fifteenth of the month he gave her sixty-two dollars -and fifty cents. She had to apportion the money among the tradespeople, -the bills “downtown,” and keep enough for Hilda’s wages and incidental -table expenses for the ensuing fortnight. It left her very little to -spend on herself, for clothes and amusements,--far from enough. For -years she had been independent, her own mistress, with the disposal -of her entire earnings; it was hard for her now to have to economize -and compromise and resort to makeshifts because of her husband’s -indifference and improvidence. It brought back disturbing memories -of old days when she and Alice and their mother had had to skimp and -struggle in order to eke out the simplest order of existence. It was -just what she feared might happen when she had considered marrying. - -A month arrived when Jeannette found upon her grocer’s bill a charge -for gin and vermuth and for half a box of cigars: nine dollars and -twenty-five cents! It precipitated an angry quarrel between her husband -and herself. Martin had been encroaching in various ways upon her -half share of his salary, and she proposed now to put a stop to it. -He argued that the cocktails and cigars had been for her friends when -invited to dinner; she retorted that neither cocktails nor cigars had -had any share in the entertainment she provided, and if he chose to -have them on hand and offer them, it was his own affair. She taxed -him with the whole score of his extravagance, while Martin chafed and -twisted under her sharp criticisms, swore and grew sulky. He hated -unpleasantness and tried to evade the issue: he’d pay for the booze -and cigars and buy her a hat or anything else she fancied, if she’d -only “forget it” and quit “ragging” him. But Jeannette felt that the -question of an equal division of their financial responsibility was -vital to the success of their marriage, the happiness of both, and -she refused to be deflected. He finally stormed himself out of the -apartment, viciously banging the door shut behind him. Two days of -misery followed for them both, when they met with the exchange of -monosyllables only, though their thoughts pursued one another through -every hour. Their reconciliation was terrific, each willing to concede -everything, eager to make promises and to assure the other of utter -contriteness. - -From Jeannette’s point-of-view matters improved. Twice Martin gave her -an extra ten dollars out of his half of his salary. - - -§ 3 - -When the year’s lease on the apartment neared its end, Martin was not -for renewing it. Herbert Gibbs had been talking to him about Cohasset -Beach, urging him to move there. Summer was approaching, Gibbs pointed -out, with all its good times of swimming and boating, and even in -winter, he assured Martin, there was plenty of outdoor sport: skating, -tobogganing, even skiing. In particular, his employer counselled, there -was a remarkable little house,--a bungalow,--with floors, ceilings and -inside trim of oak that had just become vacant through the death of its -owner, which could be had for fifty dollars a month. It was a great -bargain for the money. Martin was enthusiastic. Gibbs had promised he -would be at once elected to the Family Yacht Club, and had described -the good times its members had: dances every Saturday night and in -summer, swimming, yachting, picnics. The “bunch,” he assured the young -man, was a “live” one,--the pick of “good fellows.” - -Jeannette listened to her husband’s glowing recital with a cold -tightening at her heart. - -“He says, Jan,” Martin told her eagerly, “that every once in awhile -they have masquerade parties down at the Club, and everybody goes all -dressed up, with masks on, you know, so nobody recognizes you, and they -just have a riot of fun. Then about a dozen or fifteen of the fellows -are going to get sail-boats this year. There’s a ship-yard near there, -and the ship-builder has designed the neatest little sail-boat you ever -saw in your life. He calls it the A-boat, and they are only going to -cost ninety dollars apiece. Just think of that, Jan: ninety dollars -apiece! A sail-boat,--a little yacht,--for that sum! Gee whillikens! -Can you imagine the fun we’ll have? Everybody, you know, starts the -same with a new boat. Gibbs was crazy to have me order one,--the Club -is anxious to give the ship-builder as big an order as possible so’s to -get the price down,--so I fell for it and told him to put me down. I -thought maybe I’d call her the _Albatross_?” - -“You--_what_?” asked Jeannette blankly. - -“Sure, I told him to put me down. You know, it made a hit with him; -he’d’ve been awfully sore if I hadn’t; and it’s up to me to keep in -with old Gibbsey. I can sell it if we don’t like it. Gibbs put my name -up for membership in the Yacht Club.” - -“He _did_?” Jeannette said blankly again. - -“Well, darling, it’s only thirty dollars a year and I guess that’s not -going to break us; the initiation fee is twenty-five,--something like -that. Why the Club is just intended for young married folks like us; -there’re the dances for the ladies, and the card parties and picnics, -and there’re the sports for the men. Gee,--I think it will be great! -And Gibbsey tells me that by special arrangement this year the Cohasset -Beach Yacht Club is going to let us use its tennis courts!” - -Jeannette looked into his excited eyes, and a dull exasperation came -over her. - -“The poor, poor simpleton,” she thought. “He thinks he’ll like it; -Gibbs has filled him full. He’ll hate it as I hate it now inside of -a fortnight. He never would be contented in such a place; what would -he do without his theatres and the gay night life he loves? It’s hard -enough for us to live as we are,--we have to struggle and struggle -to make ends meet,--and here he is mad to try an even more expensive -method of living, involving clubs and club dues, yachts and commutation -fares! ... And in such a community with such people! The flat-headed -Gibbses and their awful friends picnicking there on the sand that -terrible Fourth of July! And Martin proposes I exchange them and their -vulgar dreadful society, their masquerades and card parties, for my -beautiful little apartment which I’ve tried to make perfect, which -everyone admires, and which is my joy and delight!” - -There was a dangerous, fixed smile on her face as she rose from the -dinner table where they had been lingering over their black coffee, and -rang the little brass bell for Hilda to clear away. - -“Well, what do you think, Jan? Don’t you believe we’d both come to love -the country? Don’t you think we’d have a pack of fun down there?” - -She eyed him with a cold stare a moment before she answered slowly: - -“I won’t consider it.” - -His face fell. - -“What’s more,” she added briefly, “I think you’re a fool.” - -His expression darkened; he glowered at her, hurt to the quick. She -ignored him and went about the living-room straightening objects, -lowering shades, adjusting lights. All the time she was steeling -herself to the wrangle she knew was coming. She would be equal to -it; she would give him straight talk; she’d let him have a piece of -her mind and make him realize how absurd he was, how utterly insane. -Buying yachts and joining clubs! What did he think he was, anyway? A -millionaire? - -The storm when it broke was the most violent they had yet known; it was -even worse than she had anticipated. Martin, usually noisy, cursing, -was quick to recover, while she rarely lost control of speech or -action. But now the thought of giving up her little home, as he calmly -proposed, infuriated her. He had not the faintest conception of how she -loved it; he had never done one single thing to improve or beautify it -beyond buying those frightful Macy daubs! - -For the first time in their quarrels she could not control her tears. -Convulsed with sobbing, Martin thought she had capitulated. He waited -several minutes in distressed silence and then came to where she lay -upon the couch to put his arms about her and draw her to him, but she -turned on him with a fury that was shocking. Rebuffed, he stared at her -savagely, then snatched his hat and coat and left her with a violent -bang of the door. - -Jeannette never for one moment thought she could not swing Martin -to her wishes. She could not conceive of herself weakening; Martin -had always been easy-going, good-natured. But she had forgotten how -purposeful he could be when his intent was hot; she had forgotten his -perseverance, his patience, his indefatigability when he wooed her; she -had forgotten his winningness, his persuasiveness. He brought all these -qualities into play now; there was no side-tracking him, no gainsaying -him. His mind was locked against the renewal of their lease, and set -upon Cohasset Beach. He argued, he cajoled, he pleaded, he coaxed. -Never had she known him so irritating or so winning. If she grew cross, -he was amiable; if she grew sorrowful, he was consoling and tender; -if she advanced arguments that brooked no reply, he was loving and -answered her with kisses. But he was determined; nothing swerved him -from his purpose. - -Once again, Jeannette found no comforting support in anybody. Her -mother said she ought to give in to her husband if he was so set upon -the plan; it was the wife’s place to give way. Alice thought it would -be delightful to live in the country, and assured her sister she would -come to love it; she and Roy had been talking all winter about moving -to some place on Long Island or in New Jersey, but it was hard to find -anything really nice for twenty-five dollars a month within commuting -distance of the city; they were going to board at Freeport again for -the summer and they intended to look around and see what they could -find there. It would be ideal for the children.... Was there any hope -... any prospect ...? - -“No, thank Heaven,” Jeannette answered fervently. She had enough to -bother her without the complication of a baby just now. - -On the anniversary of her wedding day she surrendered. Martin had been -so sweet and gentle with her, so anxious to please, so considerate, -every impulse within her prompted her to do the thing he wanted. She -could see how eager he was for his sail-boat, his new club and the -country; he was mad to have them; her heart was full of love for him. -She reminded herself that when she had entered into this marriage -she had been determined to give more, if need be, than he did, to -make their union a success. Here was an opportunity. It meant a great -sacrifice for herself; she had no faith in the experiment, but felt -sure she would learn to hate all the people and the place, and Martin -would soon tire of it and them and share her feelings. But now it -was the thing above all else he wanted, and it was her chance to be -generous. - -She extracted from him two promises, however. It was a foregone -conclusion, she told him, that she would not be happy at Cohasset -Beach, but if she agreed to go and live there with him, it must be -understood between them that she was to be free to come into New York -as often as she pleased, to shop or to visit her mother and Alice, or -do anything she liked. He must also understand that he was to keep a -closer watch upon their finances. With commutation, railroad fares and -club dues added to their expenses they would have to practise a much -more rigid economy. She wanted to get the table expenditures down to -fifteen dollars a week, and that would be out of the question if he -expected her to entertain. As soon as they were out of debt and had a -little ahead, she would be more than willing to have him invite people -to visit them. - -He promised everything. He was only too anxious and willing, he said, -to agree to all she asked, to show his deep gratitude. - - -§ 4 - -The bungalow at Cohasset Beach, at first sight, consoled her in some -degree for giving up the apartment. The little house was charming, and -charmingly situated. It had been built a few years before by a rich -old lady, an invalid, who had been compelled to pass her days in a -wheel-chair which she operated herself. Because of the chair, the house -had been planned bungalow-fashion, though there was an upstairs of two -small bedrooms and an extra bath, and the doorways between rooms had -been made particularly wide to permit the easy passage of the chair. -Inside there were oak floors throughout, a spacious fireplace, and -an oak-timbered ceiling in a generous-sized living-room, off which -opened two bedrooms and, opposite, the dining-room. There was an acre -or so of unkempt ground about the house with some gnarled old apple -trees, in blossom when Jeannette first saw them, and at the rear -the ground sloped down to a rush-bordered pool in whose rippleless -surface all the colors of the sky, blossoming trees and bordering -reeds were intensified in glorious reflection. A white cow stood upon -her own inverted image at the farther side. There was no view of the -Sound,--the bungalow was a good mile from the water,--but it was -picturesquely set, and Jeannette felt, since she had been forced to -abandon the city, she could not have found a home in the country that -suited her better. - -The move from town was accomplished without a hitch; even Hilda was -successfully transplanted. Jeannette set herself determinedly to work -to fit herself and her furniture into the new environment, and was -surprised to discover how easily both were accomplished. Expenses alone -distressed her. The vans which brought down the household effects cost -more than she had expected, and she was obliged to order more furniture -and rugs to make the new home attractive. Unfortunately, the bungalow -had casement windows and this necessitated cutting and remaking all -her curtains. Some in addition, too, were needed for the living-room, -and Jeannette had decided that scrim would be both practical and -economical, but the clerk in the store had shown her a soft, lovely -material, stamped with a design of long green grasses and iris, which -he assured her was “sunfast.” The pale purple and green in the goods -had appealed to her as so unusually beautiful and effective that she -had not been able to resist getting it. She decided to plant iris about -the house in the long narrow strips of flower-beds, and to carry iris -as a _motif_ throughout the place. In a Fifth Avenue shop there was -some china that had a pattern of _fleur-de-lis_ in its center, and her -heart was set on some day acquiring it for her new home. - -Martin was immediately elected to the Family Yacht Club; the Gibbses -had him and his wife to dinner and invited the Websters and another -couple to make their acquaintance; Mrs. Rudolph Drigo and Mrs. Blum, -who were neighbors, called, also Doctor Vinegartner of the Episcopal -Church. Alice, Roy, and the children spent a Sunday with her sister and -Alice was enthusiastic about everything. She told Roy they would have -to find a house of their own at Cohasset Beach without delay. Summer -had arrived before Jeannette was half aware of its approach. - -The weather turned glorious; the dogwood came and went; the country -was full of sweet scents; robins and thrushes sang with open throbbing -throats in the apple trees and hopped about in the shade; the frogs -shrilled musically at evening in the pool, but Jeannette did not find -the happiness for which she hoped. She tried to be content; she sought -for joy in her new life and surroundings. She found none. Too many -things were wrong. Over and over again she decided it was hopeless. - -First of all, there was the Family Yacht Club which Martin loved and -she despised. She had known beforehand what it was going to be like, -and closer acquaintance proved her premise to have been correct. -All-year-round residents of Cohasset Beach made up its membership. -There were less than three thousand people in the Long Island village -during the winter; it was only in summer that the place became -fashionable. Among those who belonged to the little yacht club, -Jeannette soon discovered, were Tim Birdsell, the village plumber; Zeb -Kline, a contractor, hardly better than a carpenter; Fritz Wiggens, -who kept an electrical equipment store on Washington Street; Steve -Teschemacher and Adolph Kuntz, who were real estate agents and were -interested in a development known as “Cohasset Park”; then there were -the local dentist and his wife, the local attorney and his helpmate, -and the local doctor, who seemed to be of a better sort than the rest -and was fortunately unmarried. The ladies took an active part in the -social life of the yacht club and ’Stel Teschemacher, Chairwoman of -the Entertainment Committee, went early to call upon the new member’s -wife to invite her to come to the “Five Hundred Club” meeting on the -following Friday afternoon. There was a sprinkling of others who -boasted of a slightly more exalted social status: Mrs. Drigo’s husband -operated a large ice plant in New York City. Mrs. Blum was the wife of -the well-known confectioner, and Percy Webster was connected with an -advertising agency. If there were more interesting members they kept -themselves aloof,--at least Jeannette did not meet them. Once when -she was describing to her mother with a good deal of relish the type -of people who belonged to this club, and was referring to the list -of members in the club’s annual booklet, she was surprised to come -upon the name of Lester Short and that of a prominent magazine editor -well-known to her. - -She asked Herbert Gibbs about these people at an early opportunity but -elicited nothing more satisfactory from him than: “Oh, they come round -occasionally.” If such was the case, Jeannette was unable to identify -them. She was interested to learn later that Lester Short and his wife -had six children and lived about half-a-mile beyond the village in the -region known as the “Point.” - -Martin had no fault to find with his new friends. He was welcomed into -their hearts; he charmed them all; he was acclaimed immediately the -most popular member, and was appointed by the Commodore, old Jess -Higgenbothen, affable, decrepit and rich, and owner of most of the -acres Teschemacher and Kuntz were trying to sell as choice lots in -Cohasset Park, to serve on the entertainment committee with ’Stel -Teschemacher. Martin was enchanted with the cordiality with which he -was accepted; he thought Zeb Kline, Fritz Wiggens, young Doc French -“corking good scouts”; Zeb and Fritz were a little rough perhaps but -they were regular fellows; Steve Teschemacher was as “funny as a -crutch” and his partner, Adolph Kuntz, had about as sharp and shrewd a -mind as Martin had ever encountered. - -“Why, you ought to hear Adolph talk politics!” he told his wife -enthusiastically. “He knows more about what’s going on up in Albany -right this minute than all the newspapers in New York. You ought to -hear him tell some of his experiences in the Republican Party!” - -He might be interesting and clever, everything Martin said of him, but -to Jeannette he seemed uncouth, ill-bred, a spitter of tobacco juice. - - -§ 5 - -When the Yacht Club formally opened its summer season, Jeannette put -on her prettiest frock and went with her husband to the dance with -which it was inaugurated. It was one of the efforts she made to adapt -herself to the village life. She loved to dance. Swimming, sailing, -tennis did not appeal to her, but from the dances in the club-house she -hoped she might derive a certain amount of genuine pleasure. On the -night of the affair, after studying the reflection in her mirror she -had decided she had never looked so well; with truth she could say she -was a beautiful woman, and in this estimate of herself, she found ample -confirmation in Martin’s eyes. They hired a hack and drove over to the -club. - -But for the young wife it proved a dismal experience. The yokels,--the -plumber, the electrician, the carpenter, the dentist and real estate -agents,--were afraid to approach her,--not that she wanted them -to,--and she had been left to the favor of Herbert Gibbs, Doc French, -and the old Commodore. The women eyed her covertly, whispered about -her and her gown, and made no advances. Herbert Gibbs danced with her -once, twice; Martin was three times her partner; Commodore Higgenbothen -had passed his “gallivanting” days; Doc French, whom she liked and to -whom she would have been glad to be cordial, did not dance at all. The -floor was rough and uneven; the music lugubrious; three small boys -kept up a fearful racket playing with some folding chairs stacked in -a corner. She watched Martin whirling and wheeling about the floor, -his face a broad grin, his eyes and teeth flashing, talking, laughing, -exchanging an endless banter with other couples, answering here, there -and everywhere to calls of “Martin” and “Mart.” At half-past ten she -could stand no more of it. She knew she was dragging her husband away -from a hilarious good time, but she was bored, disgusted with the whole -evening and the hoidenish, loud-voiced village folk. She would never -make the mistake of going to another of their wretched dances. Martin -could go if he wanted to; if he liked to hobnob with such people, he -could do so to his heart’s content: she wouldn’t raise one word of -objection, but wild horses wouldn’t drag her there again! - -In a fortnight, there was another dance at the club, and this time -Martin took himself to the party alone, while Jeannette went to bed -with a magazine. He woke her up when he came home a little after -twelve, and told her he had had a wonderfully good time, and that -Lester Short, his wife and their two older children had been present. -But Jeannette had no regrets. The Shorts and her husband could enjoy -the society of the plumbers and carpenters and their wives if they -chose to do so; she felt satisfied that if she had gone she would have -been miserable. - - -§ 6 - -Besides the Yacht Club there were other things in the new order of -existence that proved annoying. Meat and vegetables cost considerably -more at Cohasset Beach than in the city, and everything else was -proportionally dearer. Jeannette had thought she might save a little -on her marketing in the country, and it was discouraging to discover -that this was quite impossible. She certainly had not expected to find -that prices were actually higher. Then there was not nearly the same -variety from which to choose in the stores here as there had been -in the groceries and particularly the meat markets of Amsterdam and -Columbus Avenues. She and Martin were especially fond of lamb kidneys -which she used to buy at the rate of three for five cents in New York. -Pulitzer’s at Cohasset Beach never seemed to have them. And even more -exasperating was the fact that fish could only be had on Thursdays -when the fish-man came around blowing his horn. - -The neighborhood, too, was a source of discomfort. Jeannette -discovered, within a few days after they had moved into the bungalow, -that the reason so attractive a house had been for rent at such a -figure, with its acre and more of ground, its apple trees and pond and -picturesque setting, was that it was situated on the wrong side of -town, beyond the railroad tracks, a mile from the water. The desirable, -residential section of Cohasset Beach was that in which the Herbert -Gibbses lived, on the hill overlooking the Sound. A block from the -bungalow, their rear yards abutting upon the railroad tracks, was a row -of shabby cottages occupied by laborers, Polacks mostly, who worked -in the quarries down on the “Point.” Here fences sagged and refuse -littered the roadway, dirty children scrambled about and screamed at -one another, drying laundry fluttered from clothes-lines, and fat -dark women in calicoes and shuffling shoes gossiped from doorstep -to doorstep. On Saturday nights there were invariably celebrations -among these people at which, from the singing and general racket, -it was evident that red wine flowed freely, and the doleful whine -of an accordion accompanying hoarse masculine voices rose dismally -from sundown until the early morning hours, interrupted by shouts -of rollicking laughter. Martin assured his wife that these people -were simple creatures, peasants transplanted but a few years from -their native soil, celebrating after a week of toil, in a harmless -jovial way after the fashion to which, in the old country, they had -been accustomed. But Jeannette found it disturbing, not a little -frightening, especially on those nights when Martin went off to the -Yacht Club and left her alone with only Hilda in the house. - -Lastly mosquitoes, germinated in the pond within a hundred yards of -her own door, made their appearance in hungry numbers early in July. -The pool was practically stagnant,--without visible outlet,--and the -neighbor who owned it and who operated a small dairy, refused to oil -it as his cows watered there. The bungalow windows were unscreened. -Jeannette did not understand how she had failed to notice the fact -when she first inspected the premises. The matter had to be remedied -immediately, or life would be insupportable. The landlord declined to -do anything; Martin thought perhaps they could endure the nuisance -until cold weather came, but his wife declared that unthinkable. If the -windows were shut with the lights on, the bungalow became insufferably -hot and stuffy; if left open, moths, winged bugs, every kind of flying -insect of the night together with the pests bred in the stagnant pool, -flew in to buzz about the globes and torment those beneath them. Zeb -Kline agreed to equip the bungalow with screens,--the frames would have -to be fitted to the insides of the windows on account of their being -casement,--for sixty-five dollars, and Jeannette, angered by Martin’s -complacent acceptance of the circumstances, and his indifferent -attitude towards that for which she felt him largely responsible, told -the carpenter to go ahead. - -There were days when in the seclusion of her own bedroom she gave -way freely to her tears. She wanted to be happy; she wanted to be -a good manager of her house, a good wife to Martin. Life often -seemed to demand more from her than she was capable of giving. -Concede--concede--concede! It was all concession for her; Martin gave -nothing. - - -§ 7 - -There came another Fourth of July, one year from the time of the visit -to the Gibbses. Doc French was a member of the Cohasset Beach Yacht -Club as well as of the Family Yacht Club. There was to be a wonderful -party at the former on the evening of the Fourth; it was the Club’s -annual show. A dinner was to be followed by a vaudeville entertainment -provided by a number of talented actors from the Lambs Club, and after -that a dance which would probably last all night. Doc French invited -Martin Devlin and his wife to be his guests; he was giving a little -dinner party for his sister-in-law, Lou, and her cousin, Mrs. Edith -Prentiss, who were spending the holiday with him. - -Jeannette was overjoyed at the prospect. She spent a day shopping in -New York, and bought herself silver satin slippers, a pair of gray silk -stockings to wear with a silver dress,--part of her trousseau,--which -she had had no occasion to put on since she moved to the country. It -promised to be a delightful affair and Martin shared her excitement. - -It turned out to be all she expected. The spacious dining-room, the -dancing floor, even the awninged porches were crowded with tables, -gay with flowers and patriotic decorations. There was a beguiling -atmosphere of soft lights, color and music, smart and lovely women, -elaborate costumes, attractive men. Jeannette felt that she herself -bloomed with beauty, that she appeared tall, statuesque, superb. -People at other tables threw appraising glances and occasionally she -saw a lorgnette levelled in her direction. Doc French was admiring and -attentive; she liked his sister-in-law and particularly Mrs. Prentiss; -the vaudeville show on an improvised stage at one end of the long room -was one of the best she had ever witnessed. Some of the actors were -head-liners in their profession; with songs and stories, they kept the -audience rocking with laughter and stirred it to roars of applause. One -of the entertainers particularly drew Jeannette’s interest,--a young -actor, named Michael Carr. An unusually attractive youth, renowned for -his good looks, a matinée idol, he had held the boards on Broadway all -winter as the leading attraction in a Viennese opera. Jeannette thought -he sang delightfully, and had a most charming personality. - -Towards midnight the chairs and tables were cleared away and the -dancing began. Doc French did not dance, himself, but he had no -difficulty in securing partners for his guests, and Jeannette floated -around the gaily decorated ball-room through the soft colors of calcium -lights thrown upon the dancers, in an intoxication of pleasure. Men, -young and old, seemed anxious to know her and ask her to dance; she -was in demand every moment, and in one of these dizzying whirls she -was interrupted by Doc French to introduce Michael Carr. The actor had -asked to be presented; could he have a dance? The next was promised, -but he could have it just the same, she said with shining eyes. She -drifted away in his arms presently, a sweet giddiness enveloping her -senses, rocking her in sensuous delight. They glided from the dance -and wandered out upon the long pier over the water. The lisping waves -lapped the piles and rhythmically beat upon the pebbled shore, the -music of the dance reached them plaintively, yachts white and ghostly -stood sentinels at their moorings, their cabins pin-pricked with -lights, their starboard lanterns glowing green. The night air was -caressing, gay voices floated toward them, there was smothered laughter -from hidden corners, the heavens were a myriad of golden stars. Quite -simply Michael Carr took the slim silver figure in his arms, she -melted into his embrace and their lips clung to one another’s long and -lovingly. It was a night of love, a night for lovers. - -The brilliantly lit ball-room, the music drew them back. Jeannette had -no sense of guilt; the mood of the hour still wrapped her; for the -moment she loved this man whole-heartedly; he was divine, a super-man, -a god. No thought of Martin came to distress her. She was supremely -content, supremely happy; it was rapture, bliss, enchantment. In her -ear he kept whispering: - -“You are wonderful, you are beautiful, you are adorable.” - -Doc French was beckoning to her, but she only smiled amiably at -him as she passed and floated on in Michael’s arms, bending and -undulating with him in perfect symmetry of motion. There was no -such thing as time or space; she shut her eyes, and seemed to be -floating--floating--floating---- Doc French stopped them with a hand on -the actor’s arm. - -“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but I fear I must. Your husband, Mrs. -Devlin.... May I speak to you a moment?” - -Carr said, “Oh, I beg pardon,” and stepped aside, but Jeannette’s -thoughts followed him. - -“What is it, Doc?” - -“Martin had better go home, Mrs. Devlin. He’s been downstairs at the -bar, and I guess he’s had a bit too much. I was going to take him home -myself but I didn’t know how to get into your house.” - -“Martin?” - -“He’s been downstairs at the bar, and I’m afraid the fellows there -wouldn’t let him get away.” - -“_Martin?_” - -Reality came blindingly upon her with a glare of hideous white light. -Her dream shattered. Ugliness obtruded,--things naked and angular, -harshness and cold cruelty! She felt as if she were being jerked from -enchanted slumber by a rude and horrid hand. - -She clutched at her heart as if to tear out the pain that had already -stabbed her there. - -“Martin!” she breathed again, gasping a little, the blood draining from -her face. - -“He’s all right, Mrs. Devlin,--quite all right, I assure you. Nothing’s -happened to him--nothing wrong. There’s been no accident.” - -“Accident?” Her eyes widened with sudden fear. - -“No--no; it’s all right. He’s just drunk a little too much, and I -thought he’d better go home.” - -“Oh, surely--right away. Where is he?” - -“Well, we’ve got him out in my car.” - -“Let’s go--let’s go then; let’s go quickly. I’ll get my wraps.” She -started for the dressing-room. - -“Good-night,” Michael’s voice called after her but she did not turn her -head. - -Doc French led her to the motor car. Martin lay huddled in the back, -insensate, a long string of saliva trailing from his under lip. A -strange man supported him. - -A trembling, whispered exclamation escaped Jeannette. Her companion -kept on reassuring her. - -“There’s nothing--nothing the matter,” he repeated. “He’s had too much -to drink, that’s all.... Get in the front seat with me and I’ll drive -you straight home and we’ll put him to bed.” - -They bumped over the car-tracks in Washington Street and the dusty -uneven ground in front of the station. The dawn was coming up angry and -on fire in the east. - -Before the bungalow, Jeannette jumped from the motor car and struggled -to insert the twisted latch-key in the lock, but her fingers shook so -much it took her some time to manage it. Behind her, Doc French and the -strange man were lifting Martin from the car. As they wrenched him free -he groaned painfully. - -Jeannette flew into the house, flung on lights, tore back the -gay-figured cretonne cover of the bed. Her underclothes lay upon the -chair where she had tossed them when she had been so happily dressing. -She gathered these with one swift reach and threw them to the floor of -a closet. The stumbling feet were coming; the men were carrying Martin -head and feet. With a concerted effort they heaved him upon the bed and -he lay there inertly, sprawling, just as he had fallen. - -“Can I help you, Mrs. Devlin?” asked the Doctor, dusting off his hands. - -“Oh, no,--thank you very much,” Jeannette answered in a strained voice. - -“Don’t you think we’d better undress him? He’s pretty heavy for you to -manage alone.” - -Jeannette looked at the helpless figure flung out across the bed, -ungainly postured like a child’s discarded doll, purple lips parting -with each breath, the hair damp and tousled. One of his garters -had loosened and dangled now from the wrinkled hose that covered a -patent-leather pump. - -“No,” she said again slowly, “thank you very much for all your -kindness, Doc,--but it’s my--my job; he belongs to me; I’ll take care -of him.” - - -§ 8 - -Three hours later she walked out on the back porch. The heat of the -Sunday morning was moist and tropical, giving promise of a scorching -day. The bells of the Catholic Church on the “Point” road were ringing -sweetly for the children’s mass. Her eyes felt burnt out from lack of -sleep: two black holes in her head. Hilda was making a small fuss in -the kitchen, rattling pans, droning hoarsely to herself. Jeannette -stood at the porch railing and looked off across the quiet country, -misty with the early heat. Emotions were at war in her heart, and there -was pain--pain--pain. - -She had not been to bed; she had not even lain down. The silver gown -had been put away, her finery discarded, and now she wore the striped -velveteen wrapper in which she usually did her morning’s work. She had -undressed her husband, removed his shoes, drawn off his dress suit, -tugging at its arms, rolling him from one side to another to free the -clothing. She had washed his face with a cold wet rag and brushed the -rumpled hair from his eyes. Then she had put the room in order, opened -the casement windows, drawn the shades, closed the door and left him -to peace and sleep. The house had needed straightening and to this she -had turned her attention, adjusting rugs, pushing chairs into position, -emptying ash receivers, carrying away newspapers, arranging magazines -and books in neat piles, using broom and dust-pan, wiping the furniture -with a dust cloth. Hilda had given her some coffee at eight o’clock -and she had drunk it black and crunched some thin slices of buttered -toast. Now nothing remained to be done and the thoughts to which she -had resolutely shut her mind clamored for admittance to her weary -brain. Remorse and reproach, censure and repugnance, disillusionment, -humiliation, grief and regret,--they swarmed upon her like so many -black flies. - -The hours of the morning ticked themselves away. She could not sleep; -she could not rest. Over and over her thoughts turned to the incidents -of the night, giving her no peace, no surcease. Every little while she -would go softly to Martin’s door and silently look in upon him; he lay -as she had left him. In spite of the opened windows the room reeked of -alcohol. - -Towards noon she fell asleep on the couch in the living-room, and the -afternoon light was waning when she opened her eyes. The sound of water -woke her; Martin was running a bath, and when presently she entered the -bedroom, she found him shaving. She was shocked at his appearance; his -face was dead white, the eyes bloodshot, and his hand trembled as he -held the razor, but it was Martin, restored to life and sanity. - -They avoided one another’s glance, and constraint held them silent. She -could see that physically he was weak, his nerves still shattered and -that his mind was sick with remorse, and fear of her displeasure. He -could not guess she wanted only to take him in her arms, to kiss and -comfort him, wanted only to be kind and good to him, to restore him to -health and strength again, wanted to utter no word of reproach but to -give him all the love she could and so ease the pain and shame within -herself. - - -§ 9 - -Three weeks later, Doc French drove up in front of the bungalow door in -his lumbering motor car. It was late in the afternoon. There had been a -heavy thunderstorm about two o’clock but now the sun was glittering on -all the dripping trees and drenched shrubbery and the air was fragrant -with sweet grassy and woodland smells. - -There was to be another dance at the Cohasset Beach Yacht Club the -following Saturday night. Doc’s sister-in-law and Mrs. Prentiss were -coming down for it and would stay with him over the week-end; it -happened to be Lou’s birthday and he wanted Martin and Jeannette to -help celebrate the event at a small dinner he was arranging at the -Cohasset Beach club-house before the dance. - -Jeannette thanked him and said that, no, she was sorry but she and -Martin had another engagement; Doc was very kind to think of them but -it would have to be another time. - -When her husband came home on the five-twenty, she told him about it. - -“Oh, you bet you,” he agreed. “No more of that kind of stuff for this -young fellow. We’re out of our class at that club, Jan.” - -“I thought,” suggested Jeannette, “we might go to the other club that -night. There’s always a dance there, and it would be our excuse to -Doc French. It occurred to me that perhaps after we got to know those -people a little better, we might like it.” - -Martin’s face beamed with pleasure. - -“Would you? Would you really go?” he asked eagerly. “Say, Jan, that’ll -be fine. Say, if you only wouldn’t be so standoffish and proud, you’d -learn to like that gang and they’d learn to like you. They’re awfully -good-hearted.” - -“Well, I’ll try,” said his wife. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -§ 1 - -It was quite an undertaking to go from Cohasset Beach to Freeport, on -the opposite side of Long Island. One had to take the steam train to -Jamaica and change cars there; the connections were bad; it took the -better part of two hours. But Alice had written her sister week after -week begging her and Martin to spend a Sunday with them and finally a -date had been set. It was the end of the Beardsleys’ stay at Freeport, -and the visit could not be further postponed if the Devlins were to -accomplish it at all. Jeannette was eager to go, but to Martin it meant -the loss of his one day in the week of yachting. There were races every -Sunday afternoon and since Martin had acquired his little A-boat, there -was no joy in life for him equal to the pleasure of sailing it. But -it held no joy for Jeannette; she resented the boat and everything -connected with it; to her it only meant ninety dollars’ worth of -extravagance and it took her husband away from her every week-end. He -spent Saturday afternoons “tuning up,” as he described it, for the race -on Sunday. She saw little of him on these days; he was always at the -yacht club and would often be half-an-hour to an hour late for dinner. -He never had had any sense of time. - -So she had patiently urged the expedition to Freeport and had made him -promise weeks in advance that this particular date should be dedicated -to the visit. - -The day was a glorious success. Martin was in his sweetest, merriest -mood and no regret over his lost sport lingered in his heart. There -was only a faint stirring of wind and little indication that it would -freshen, as previous days had been marked by calm; he was consoled, -therefore, in thinking that in all probability there would be no race -that afternoon. - -Alice, Roy, and the children met them at the Freeport Station. They -were all going on a picnic over to the beach it was announced; a launch -would take them to a sandy reef that was their own discovery; it left a -little after eleven; they just had time. - -The beach when they reached it was totally deserted. No one ever came -there, Alice explained; it was a narrow, hummocky strip of sand, a mile -or more in length with no habitation on it but a gray weather-beaten -shack falling into ruins. A rickety one-board pier jutted out into the -lagoon that separated this reef from the island shore and the launch -stopped there a moment to let the little party disembark before it went -chug-chugging on its way to Coral Beach farther along the coast, where -a small tent colony was springing into being. The launch would return -for them about five o’clock. - -A sandy tramp of a few hundred yards over the dunes and sparse gray -sea-scrub brought them to the lunching spot. Here, half covered over -with drifting sand, was a long padlocked pine box. Roy produced a key -and opened it. This was the cache, the Beardsleys explained; they and -the children came here every Sunday and they kept a few things stowed -away in the box. Nobody ever disturbed them. This was their own -little sandy domain, and they referred to it always as San Salvador. -The box disclosed a tall faded, beach umbrella which was immediately -unfurled and planted upright in the sand; then there was a piece of -clean canvas, some straw cushions, and an iron grill. The canvas was -spread under the umbrella; Roy made Jeannette seat herself on one of -the cushions, and he propped a board at an angle behind her so that -she might lean back against it and be comfortable; then she was given -Ralph to hold and to feed from his bottle. The others proceeded to busy -themselves with preparations for lunch. Etta was quite able to look out -for herself, Alice assured her sister, and the baby would be off in ten -minutes. - -An expedition for driftwood was inaugurated and presently a large pile -of smoothly rounded bleached sticks, branches and blocks of wood was -heaped near at hand. The lunch consisted of hot cocoa and chops which -were to be grilled, and some round flat bakery buns to be split in -half and toasted. In a few moments there was a brisk, snapping fire -leaping up through the bars of the grill; a large saucepan and the -milk appeared, the buns impaled on the points of sticks were set to -toasting; at the last moment the chops were to be put on to broil. - -A heavenly felicity stole over Jeannette as she sat in the shade of -the umbrella, the baby in her arms, watching the scene. The Atlantic -thundered in in great arcs of green water, foamed-crested, which -crashed magnificently in round curling splathers of spray, and slid -swiftly, smoothly, reachingly up the flat beach to slink back again -upon themselves as if deriding these harmless, picnicking people were -not the victims for which they sought. Seaweed littered the beach in -long whip lashes and bulbous bottles, and seabirds picked their way -about in it, and pecked at sand fleas; gulls soared in wide circles -above their heads, squawking ugly cries, or skimmed the wave-tops -hunting fish. Far out upon the bosom of the ocean a steamer left a long -scarf of smoke against an azure sky. The salt air from the sea was -scented with the fragrant odor of the beachwood fire. - -Little Ralph lay inertly in Jeannette’s arms sucking greedily at his -bottle until the last of it had to be tilted up against his mouth. -At this stage his eyelids began to drift shut and his head to hang -heavily in the crook of her elbow. He was a cunning child, his aunt -thought, critically studying him. He resembled his father with a -closeness that was ludicrous: a small replica, with the same small -mouth, the same whimsical smile and unruly, tawny hair. His skin was -like satin,--delicately tinted,--and against its faint pinkness his -long-fringed lashes lay like tiny feathery fans. His weight against -her breast felt pleasant to her; he seemed so trusting, so certain of -protection, as he lay sleeping thus, a scrap of humanity confident of -the world’s love. A sudden tenderness came to the woman; she bent down -and kissed the damp forehead at the edge of the child’s yellow hair. - -The entrancing smell of crisply broiling meat and toasting bread -assailed her. - -“Uuum--m,” she said hungrily, and raising her head she observed Martin -watching her. Puzzled a moment by the intentness of his gaze, her eyes -widened inquiringly, but he only shook his head at her pleasantly and -grinned. There was love in his look and it thrilled her as evidence of -any affection from him never failed to do. - -She gently laid the baby on the strip of canvas, arranged a rumpled -little pillow beneath his head, spread a square of netting over him to -keep flies from bothering him, weighing down its corners with a few -beach pebbles, and joined the others about the fire, where presently -they were all munching with gluttonous cries of delight. Never was -there better food! Never was there anything so delicious! A bite of -grilled chop and a bite of crisp buttery bun! Their appetites were -on edge; they grunted in satisfying them. Another cup of hot cocoa, -please,--and, yes,--another chop,--just one more,--but this must -positively be the last! - -As the fire died away, they lay back upon the sand, replete, heavy with -food, bathed in pleasant warmth. Etta, stripped of all clothing but a -diminutive under-shirt, played in the sand and squatted on her heels -on the edge of the wave-rips, uttering gurgling cries of fright when -her toes were wet. Drowsiness and bodily comfort wrapped the others’ -senses; a feeling of openness,--sky, land and ocean,--beguiled them; -the breakers pounded and swished musically up the beach; sea-birds -lifted plaintive cries; the faint breeze was redolent of salt and kelp; -the sun’s heat warm and caressing. - -Jeannette awoke deliciously; Martin was bending over her; he had kissed -her, and now he was smiling down at her. - -“Come on,” he said, “we’re all going swimming.” - -“Oh,” protested Jeannette, yawning, with a great stretch of limbs, -“must we?” - -“Oh, yes, Janny,” Alice urged, coming up, “we always go swimming; -that’s the best part of the fun.” - -“I didn’t bring a bathing suit,” objected Jeannette, sleepily. - -“I’ve got an old one of mine for you and Roy borrowed a suit at the -boarding-house for Martin.” - -They dragged her to her feet and as she looked at the emerald waves -curling toward her, they suddenly seemed inviting. - -In a few moments they were into their bathing suits and ran down to -the water together,--the four of them,--holding hands, laughing and -shouting. The rushing tide swirled about their knees and leaped up -against their thighs. - -“Come on!” urged the men, dragging their wives into the frightening -turmoil. - -A wave engulfed them, quickening their breath, sending their hearts -knocking against their throats with its cold sharpness. - -“Oh-h-h!” screamed Jeannette, “isn’t it _glorious_?” - -Martin caught her, lifted her high, as a comber crashed down upon them, -burying him in white foam. The water fled past. - -Jeannette caught him about the neck and they pressed their lips and wet -faces together. - -“Mart--Mart!” she cried. “It’s just like our honeymoon, isn’t it?” - -He strained her to him, kissing her dripping hair and cheeks, his -arms entwined about her, his face stretched wide with laughter and -excitement. - -“My God, Jan,” he said with almost a groan of feeling, “my God, I love -you when you’re this way! You’re just _wonderful_!” - -Her shining eyes were his answer, and he caught her to him again to -kiss her fiercely. - -A wave suddenly plunged over them. Jeannette felt herself wrenched -from his embrace, felt him stumbling on the sand in the big effort he -made to keep his footing. Even in that brief frightening moment, when -she was totally submerged and they were being dragged apart, she was -conscious of the great strength of the man, of arms suddenly taut as -steel cables, of fingers and hands that gripped her like grappling -hooks of iron and pitted their might against the might of the sea. The -tumultuous plunge of water rushed headlong on its course, but Martin -stood firm and pulled her to him. - -They clung together once more, and laughing like children faced another -menacing attack of the ocean. - - -§ 2 - -Later as she lay prone upon the hot, hard sand, baking in the sun’s -delicious heat, her hair spread out behind her on a towel to dry, -she watched her husband with Etta in his arms again encountering the -waves. The little girl’s arms were tight around his neck and she -screamed with excitement whenever the water foamed and welled up about -them. The child was not frightened; it was remarkable to observe the -unusual confidence the little girl had in her uncle. A fine figure of -a man, mused his wife; his limbs had the form of sculpture and his -body, shining now with the glitter of wet bronze, showed every muscle -rippling beneath the skin like writhing snakes. He was indeed a husband -to be proud of, a husband any woman might envy her. She must never let -his love for her grow less; he must always be _in_ love with her, not -merely have an affectionate regard for her as most men had for their -wives. He was lying on the beach, now, and Etta was covering him with -sand, screaming shrilly each time he stirred and cracked the mold she -was patting into shape about him. - -“You bad, Uncle Martin,” came the child’s piping voice; “you be a good -man and lie still.” - -He had the child on his back presently and on hands and knees crawled a -hundred yards down the beach, sniffing at whatever came into his path -and growling fiercely. Etta’s shrieks reached them above the roar of -the surf. She had a stick now and was belaboring her steed vigorously. - -“No, no, Etta, no--no!” called her mother. Martin waved a reassuring -hand and pretended to suffer death. “It’s wonderful the way Martin has -with children,” commented Alice; “they seem to take to him naturally.” - -Everyone did, thought his wife affectionately. He was truly -exceptional; children,--boys and girls,--men and women,--everybody felt -his irresistible attraction. - -A shrill tooting announced the arrival of the launch. There was a mad -scramble; no one was dressed. Roy went off to tell the boat to wait -while the others hurried into their clothes, gathered plates, forks -and other accessories of the lunch into baskets, and flung umbrella, -canvas, grill and cushions back into their keeping-place. Everyone was -laughing helplessly when Roy came springing back to tell them to take -their time as the old captain had admitted he was half-an-hour early. - -Fifteen minutes later they clambered aboard the puffing motor-boat, -and Martin and Jeannette found themselves sitting side by side in the -stern. His hand found hers as it lay upon the seat between them and -their fingers linked themselves together; their eyes shone as they -looked at one another. - -“Wonderful day, Jan.” - -“Ah, wonderful indeed,” she answered. - - -§ 3 - -It was late that night after they were in bed that Martin said to her: - -“Jan, old girl, wouldn’t you like to have a baby? You looked so sweet -to-day sitting there under the umbrella with little Ralph in your -arms,--really you made a beautiful picture: mother and child, you know; -I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind since.... I think it would -be a lot of fun to have a kid.” - -Jeannette was silent. She had often thought about having a child. -Martin continued: - -“Seems to me, Jan, you’d love a baby after it came. I know it’s a -pretty tough experience, and you don’t want one so awfully badly, but -Gee Christopher! _I_ think a baby would be swell; one of our own, you -know, one that belonged to us, that was ours,--and you would, too. I -often look at Herbert Gibbs’ kid and wish to goodness he was mine. -Herb’s always talking about him and I know damn well I’d be just as -looney about a son of my own.... Now take Roy and Alice, for example: -see what fun they get out of their children, and that Etta sure’s a -heart-breaker! And she’s so jolly, too! Did you ever see a pluckier kid -than that? You’d like a little daughter like her, wouldn’t you, Jan? I -think a baby would be a lot of fun, don’t you?” - -Still she said nothing and he asked his question again, giving her a -little squeeze in the circle of his arm. - -“I was just thinking about it,” she said vaguely. “It means a good deal -for a woman.” - -“That’s right, of course. I know it does,--but you wouldn’t be scared, -would you, Jan?” - -“Oh, no, that wouldn’t bother me--much,” she said slowly. “It’s the -ties that bind one afterwards that I was thinking of.” - -“Well-l, you want a baby some time, don’t you? You don’t want to grow -old and be childless, do you?” - -“No; certainly not.” - -“Then what’s the good of waiting?” - -“A baby’s an expense, and we’re terribly behind. I think we ought to be -out of debt first, don’t you?” - -“Yes-s,--I guess so.” - -They went off to sleep at this point, but Martin brought the subject -up again a few days later. During the interval, however, Jeannette -had made up her mind: they were over five hundred dollars in debt and -until that was cleaned up or at least very materially reduced, it would -be very foolish indeed for them to consider having a child. If Martin -wanted a baby, he must do his share in getting out of debt. - -“But Jan, don’t you think that a baby would help us save? I mean if -there was one in the house, I don’t believe you and I would want to gad -so much.” - -His wife eyed him with a twisted smile and an elevated brow. - -“Oh--hell,” he said, disgustedly, and went to find a cigar. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -§ 1 - -September brought an end to the yacht-racing and a few weeks later -Martin’s beloved A-boat was towed with a number of others a mile or two -down the Sound to be housed in winter quarters. Jeannette earnestly -hoped that this would mean her husband would spend more time with her -at week-ends. He was gone from Monday till Friday all day, and she felt -that at least part of his Saturday afternoons and Sundays should be -hers. But Martin always wanted to _do_ things on these days; he wanted -some active form of amusement, some excitement, a “party,” as he called -it; he was never content to sit at home and read or go for a walk with -his wife. He asserted he needed the exercise, and if he missed it -between Saturday noon and Sunday night, he was “stale” for the rest -of the week. Sometimes Jeannette came into the city by train on a -Saturday, met him after the office closed at noon, and together they -went to lunch and later to a matinée. Then the alternative presented -itself of either remaining in town for dinner and going to another show -or of taking a late afternoon train back to Cohasset Beach. Such a -program, of course, cost money, but unless Jeannette did this, Martin -would go off to the Yacht Club Saturday afternoon, and return there in -the evening after dinner to play poker. The Saturday night dances gave -place at the close of the yachting season to “smokers” which only the -men attended. A certain group called itself “the gang,” and prominent -in it were such club lights as Herbert Gibbs, Zeb Kline, Fritz Wiggens, -Steve Teschemacher and Doc French. Martin Devlin was warmly hailed as -one of them. They played poker every Saturday night and the “session” -lasted until an early hour Sunday morning. - -Jeannette came to hate these men; she resented their taking her husband -from her; she begrudged his gambling when he could not afford to lose. -When she protested, the only answer from him was a testy: “Quit your -crabbing.” He almost invariably won and divided his winnings with -her, or at least divided what purported to be his winnings. His wife -despised herself for taking the money; it made her want him to win, -though she wished to be indifferent to his card-playing, since she did -not approve of it. She tried to justify her acceptance of the money on -the ground that it went to pay off some of their bills. But sometimes -she bought a small piece of finery for herself with it. She was -becoming very shabby in appearance. She reminded herself almost daily -that she had not bought any new clothes since she was married, and the -bride’s wardrobe, though ample, was now worn and much depleted. - - -§ 2 - -It was towards the end of summer, when already there was a brisk touch -of fall in the air, that Roy Beardsley fell ill with typhoid and for -three weeks was a desperately sick man. Martin, who had various talks -with the physician, told Jeannette that there was small hope of his -recovery; certain phases of the case made it appear very grave. - -Jeannette took Etta and Ralph to stay with her in the country and -Mrs. Sturgis moved out to the flat in the Bronx to help Alice fight -for Roy’s life. Jeannette, from the first, believed he was going to -die; destiny, it seemed to her, had ordained it. For the first time in -many years she got down on her knees in her bedroom and prayed. She -realized more clearly than anyone else in the family what a tragedy -Roy’s death would be to them all,--to helpless Alice and his helpless -children, to her little mother, to Martin, to herself. She did not -know what would become of Alice and her babies! How would they live? -She and Martin would have to shoulder the responsibility, and they had -difficulty in making ends meet as it was! Where would Martin get fifty -or even twenty-five dollars a month to send Alice? And how could Alice -and the children manage on so small a sum? Roy, she knew, had a three -thousand dollar life insurance policy,--hardly more than enough to bury -him decently! Alice could not go to work; she had not the faintest -notion of how to earn a living. She was clever with her needle, but -that was all. It was impossible to imagine her a seamstress! But -she would either have to go into that work and let Jeannette keep -the children, or she would have to live with her mother, while Mrs. -Sturgis and Martin,--between them,--would have to contribute what they -were able to their support! It was a terrible prospect in any case. -Jeannette was ridden with fear of the catastrophe. How different it -would be, she reminded herself, were she in Alice’s situation,--she -with her profession and her experience in business! She had nothing -to fear on that score; she could always take care of herself. Poor -Alice!--poor little brown bird!--there would be nothing for her to -do; she could not support _herself_, not to mention her two children! -Jeannette remembered that once she had begged to be allowed to follow -her sister’s example and go to work, and she recalled how she and her -mother had vigorously opposed her. She wondered now if that had been -right. Perhaps every woman ought to have a profession or at least a -recognized means of earning her livelihood. How secure Alice would -feel now in that case if Roy died! Grief-stricken, yes, but with -the comforting knowledge that neither she nor her children need be -dependent on anyone! - -All day long as Jeannette watched Etta and Ralph playing under the -apple trees, which had begun to shed their yellow leaves and the scant -weazened fruit from their scraggy branches, she thought of Roy’s -possible death and her sister’s plight. Any one of the family group -could be spared better than he! Yes, even Alice! ... Oh, it would be a -calamity,--a dreadful, horrible calamity if Roy died! ... Twenty times -a day she closed her eyes and thought a prayer. - -She enjoyed having the children with her. Etta was an affectionate, -ebullient child, always ready with hugs and kisses; little Ralph -placidly viewed the world with reposeful solemnity, made no demands, -was amiably satisfied with any arrangement his elders or even his -big sister thought wise, and in his gentleness was extraordinarily -appealing. - -Late in the afternoons, Jeannette would dress them in clean rompers, -pull on their sweaters and set them out on the lower step of the front -stoop to wait for Martin. There they would sit for sometimes an hour, -or even longer, watching for him and at the first glimpse, Etta would -run screaming to meet him with arms flung wide, Ralph following as -best he could. Martin was particularly in love with the boy, and he -would hold the baby in his lap for long periods, neither of them making -a sound; or the child would grasp his finger and toddle beside him, -see-sawing from one slightly bowed leg to another, to inspect the pool -and perhaps capture a frog. - -Only a miracle would stay Death’s hand, the doctor had said, but the -miracle happened; very slowly the tide began to turn and inch by inch -the flood of life came back to the wasted body of Roy Beardsley. -Jeannette shed tears of gratitude when it was definitely asserted he -would get well. She left the children in Hilda’s care and went to -the city to rejoice with her mother and sister. They clung together -the way they used to do before either of the girls was married, wept -and sniffled and kissed one another again and again. Roy’s blue eyes -seemed enormously large and dark when his sister-in-law saw him; his -lip was drawn tight across his teeth and these protruded like the fangs -of a famished dog. His cheeks were sunk in great hollows beneath his -cheek-bones, and his hands were the hands of the starved. He was a -living skeleton, but his great eyes acknowledged her presence and her -smile, and there was a faint twitching of the tight-drawn lip. Although -she had been prepared, she could not keep from betraying the shock his -altered appearance gave her; he was indeed ghastly. - -The averted tragedy sobered them all. Roy would be many weeks getting -back his health and he must take particular care of himself during -the approaching winter, the doctor cautioned. No one ever whispered -the word “tuberculosis” but each knew it was that which Roy must -guard against. If it could be managed, he ought to be taken to a -warmer climate, the physician advised, and he must make no effort, but -rest, drink milk and eat nourishing food for a long time until he had -entirely regained his strength. His father eagerly wrote him to come to -California; Jeannette and Martin asked to keep the children; everyone -urged Alice to take her husband to the Golden State. So just before the -first snow of the year, she and Roy departed westward, waving good-bye -through the iron grill at the station to the little group behind it, -who waved vigorously in return until “All aboard” was shouted, the -porter helped Alice up into the vestibule and the train began slowly to -move. - - -§ 3 - -The winter was hard. It was unusually cold and snow lay heavy in great -mounds along the edges of the village streets, and beaten trails of it -meandered through the frozen fields. Soot from the trains blackened the -white drifts and the road-beds were rutted in sharp ridges, and gray -ice, that crackled and shivered like glass underfoot, formed in the -hollows. The leafless trees spread their branches in black nakedness -against the bleak sky and the wind blew chilly across the bare -countryside from the icy waters of the Sound. - -Yet Jeannette knew her first happiness at Cohasset Beach. Her days -were full of the care of her small niece and nephew. They were -endearing mites, exacting, but warmly affectionate. She had had no -experience in bringing up children but her mother came down to stay -with her for a while, and Mrs. Drigo, who lived a hundred yards or -so down the street, and had four healthy youngsters of her own, -gave counsel in emergencies. Jeannette devoted herself to her task. -She attacked the problem much as she would have met some untoward -circumstance in business. She considered herself efficient, set great -store by efficiency, and proposed to apply it to the care of her -sister’s children. She devised a system and adhered to it. - -In the cold mornings when the children woke, they might look at their -picture-books until she came in to dress them. They must not make any -noise and Martin must not go in to play with them or even open their -door to say “Hello” when he got up early to fix the furnace. They had -their “poggy” and milk at eight and immediately thereafter were bundled -into their woolly leggings, sweaters, hooded caps and mittens and sent -out to play in the snow. They were to amuse themselves until eleven, -when, furred and properly shod, their aunt appeared to take them with -her to market, wheeling Ralph in his go-cart, while Etta trailed along -beside them. Upon returning, the children had their luncheon, always -a good full meal of baked potato, cut-up meat and vegetables, and a -little dessert. Jeannette believed small children should have light -suppers, and that their “dinner” should come at midday. After they had -eaten, it was nap-time, and this was the blessed interval of relaxation -for herself. Her charges must stay in bed until three o’clock, when -they were re-dressed in their woolly leggings, sweaters and caps, and -permitted to go out again to play in the snow. For the rest of her -life, bits of watery ice stuck to the fine hairs of woollen garments -always brought back to Jeannette with poignant emotion the memory of -these days. When the children stamped into the house at the end of -their play, their skins hard and coldly fresh, their breaths puffs of -vapor, their cheeks crimson, the little sweaters and leggings would -be encrusted with hard, icy snow. Jeannette would have a log fire -going, and she would undress them before its crackling blaze and hang -their damp outer garments on the fire screen to dry. The little naked -figures dancing in the warm room in the flickering firelight was always -a delightful sight to her. They were their merriest at this hour and -said their cutest things with which she remembered later to regale -Martin. Upstairs the oil heater would be warming the bathroom which -Hilda had made ready and presently there would come a mad dash into -the dining-room and up the cold stairway to the grateful temperature -of the little room. And here began a great splashing with shrieks and -admonitions, and here Jeannette dried their sweet little bodies and -slipped them into their cotton flannel double-gowns. Then downstairs -once more before the replenished log fire to sit on either side of her -and empty their warmed bowls of crackers and milk and listen to the -story she either read or told them until Martin came in to find them -so. Then followed kisses and hugs all round and immediately thereafter -the children were dispatched to bed with a final warning from their -aunt that there must positively be no talking. - -Thus it was day after day, always the same, relentlessly the same, -undeviating monotony. Martin always praised Jeannette, her mother -praised her, even the neighbors praised her. Alice wrote loving -messages of deep gratitude. She responded to the general approval, -delighted in the applause. The thought that she was proving herself -equal to this unfamiliar rôle, that she was doing her job efficiently, -comforted and inspired her. Revelling in her righteous duty, she threw -herself passionately into its perfect execution. She gave it all her -energy, thought and time. She told her husband and mother with much -emphasis that Etta and Ralph were far better behaved now than they ever -had been with their own father and mother. - -“It’s routine, I tell you,” she would say. “Children respond to routine -and this business of deviating from a strict schedule is demoralizing. -A little firmness is all that is necessary in making children good. -They really are very adaptable. I confess I was surprised. They learn -so quickly! The minute Etta and Ralph saw when they first came that I -wouldn’t stand for any foolishness, they were as meek as lambs.... I -declare! Alice is so soft and easy-going with them, I hate to think of -their being spoilt when they go back.” - -It was another surprise to Jeannette to discover how little the -presence of the children in the house disturbed Martin. She had thought -he would grow restless after a time and that they would be certain to -annoy him. She had been sure he would soon object to ties which would -chain her to the house. Martin loved children--loved them particularly -well for a man, perhaps--but he was often unreasonable where her time -and movements were concerned, and had always rebelled at restraint. -Now he mildly accepted the new element in their lives without protest -and as time passed continued amiable. If she could not go out with him -or accept an invitation, he did not reproach or even urge her, but -praised her for her devotion, and often stayed at home to keep her -company. Saturday nights, however, when the “gang” gathered at the -Yacht Club, he went off to join them, but since the children were with -her, Jeannette did not mind being alone in the house. - -“Come home early,” she would say to him. “It’s such fun to have you in -the house on Sundays and the children love it. I hate to have you wake -up tired and hollow-eyed, and you know, Martin, when you get only two -or three hours’ sleep you are sometimes a little cross and the children -notice it.” - -“You’re dead right,” he would agree with her readily. “I’ll tell the -boys I’ve got to quit at midnight. They can begin the rounds then; -there’s no sense in our sitting up until three or four o’clock in the -morning.” - -And often he kept his word. - - -§ 4 - -Alice and Roy had planned to stay six months in California, but in -April Jeannette received a letter from her sister with the news that -they had decided to return the first of May; Roy was in fine shape,--he -was even fat!--they both were mad to see their children. - -The letter left Jeannette feeling strangely blank. What was she to do -without Etta and Ralph? She had talked a great deal about the fearful -responsibility, the exacting care these youngsters involved and what -a relief it would be to her when their mother came home to take them -off her hands. She had aired these views to her own mother and to Mrs. -Drigo, Mrs. Gibbs, and particularly to Martin. Yet now that Alice was -coming a month, even six weeks sooner than she intended, she had none -of the expected elation. A sadness settled upon her. She wondered how -she would occupy herself when the babies were gone. - -“What do you suppose Roy intends to do?” she asked Martin one day. “He -hasn’t got a job. I don’t see how he’s going to manage for Alice and -the children.... He might leave them with us for awhile.... No,--I -suppose Alice will want them back immediately! ... It will be some time -before he gets settled.” - -“Oh, he’ll find something to do, right away,” Martin answered her -cheerfully. - -That was one of Martin’s irritating qualities, reflected his wife. He -was always so optimistic, so confident, never appreciating how serious -things sometimes were. Roy and Alice were facing a grave situation; it -might be desperate. Martin refused to regard it as important. - -“I wonder if Mr. Corey would take him back at the office?” Jeannette -hazarded. Very probably he would. It was a brilliant idea and, acting -upon it at once, she went the following day to see her old employer. - -The visit to the publishing house was strangely disquieting. She was -struck by the number of new faces, the many changes. The counter which -formerly defined the waiting-room on the fourth floor had been removed -and now the space, walled in by partitions, was converted into a retail -book store with shelves lined with new books and display tables. A -gray-haired woman inquired her name with a polite, indifferent smile, -and when she brought back word that Mr. Corey would see Mrs. Devlin, -undertook to show Jeannette the way to his office! - -There were changes behind the partitions as well. It was amazing the -differences two years had wrought. There was none of the flutter of -interest her appearance had caused at her previous visit. One or two of -her old friends came up to shake her hand and to ask about her, while -a few others nodded and smiled. She did not see Miss Holland anywhere, -and Mr. Allister of whom she caught a glimpse in a distant corner -accorded her a casual wave of the hand. She was forgotten already, she, -who had once enjoyed so much respect, even affection, who had been the -president’s secretary, had been known to have his ear and often to -have been his adviser! Miss Whaley, whom she remembered as having been -connected with the Mailing Department, she met face to face on her way -to Mr. Corey’s office, but the girl had even forgotten her name! - -But there was nothing wanting in her old chief’s reception. Mr. Corey -rose from his desk the instant she entered his room, and reached -for both her hands. He was the same warm, cordial friend, eager to -hear everything about her. How was she getting on? How was that -good-looking husband of hers? Where were they living? He reproached her -for not having been in to see him, appeared genuinely hurt that she -had neglected him so long. He had changed, too, Jeannette noticed; -his face sagged a little and he no longer bore himself with his old -erectness. She observed he still dyed his mustache; a little of the -dyestuff was smeared upon his cheek. - -News of himself and his family was not particularly cheerful. Babs -was in a private sanitarium at Nyack; Mrs. Corey was badly crippled -with rheumatism,--a virulent arthritis,--and, in the care of a -trained nurse, had gone to Germany to try to get rid of it; Willis -had picked up an African malarial fever while he had been exploring, -and although he was home again, recurrent attacks of it kept him in -poor health. Jeannette noted a gentleness in Mr. Corey’s voice as -he spoke of his son; he blamed himself for Willis’ condition; that -African trip on which he had sent him was responsible for the boy’s -broken constitution. As for business, things were in bad shape, too. -The public did not seem to be buying books any more; they weren’t -interested; _The Ladies’ Fortune_ was doing pretty well, but the -increased cost of production knocked the profits out of everything; the -office was demoralized, the “folks” did not seem to coöperate as they -had done in the old days; he, himself, found daily reasons to regret -the hour when Jeannette had ceased to be his secretary; he hadn’t had -any sort of efficient help since she left; recent secretaries all had -proven a constant source of annoyance to him. Tommy Livingston had -got married and asked for one raise after another until Mr. Corey was -obliged to let him go; he believed he was doing very well for himself -in the news photograph business; Mr. Corey finally had had to take Mrs. -O’Brien away from Mr. Kipps, but even she was far from competent. There -were other details about the business that awoke the old interest -in Jeannette. Something in this office atmosphere fired the girl; it -brought buoyancy to her pulse, it stimulated her, it put life into her -veins. How happy she had been here! Never so contented, she said to -herself. - -She hastened to tell Mr. Corey the object of her visit, and he promised -to find a place somewhere in the organization for Roy. - -“I have only a hazy recollection of the young man,” he said, “but I’ll -do whatever you want me to, on your account, Miss Sturgis.” - -Jeannette smiled. She would always be “Miss Sturgis” to Mr. Corey. She -liked it that way; her married name meant nothing to him, never would. -She thanked him warmly and promised to come to see him again. - -As she made her way out through the crowded aisles of the general -office, amid the familiar rattle of typewriters and hum of work, past -old faces and new, her heart tugged in her breast. She was still part -of it; some of herself was implanted eternally here in this tide of -work, in the busy, preoccupied clerks, in the hustle and bustle, in -the smell of ink and paste and pencil dust, in the very walls of the -building. - - -§ 5 - -The good news she had to tell Roy of the job she had secured for him -warmed her heart. There was no time to write, but she treasured it to -herself and imagined a dozen times a day, as he and Alice were speeding -homeward, how she would break it to him. - -Martin was unable to be present when they arrived at the Grand Central -Station, but Mrs. Sturgis, Jeannette and the two children were there -waiting for them to emerge from the long column of passengers that -streamed in a hurrying throng from the Chicago train. There were -screams of joy and wet lashes as the parents’ arms caught, hugged and -kissed the children again and again. Mrs. Sturgis had a cold luncheon -prepared at home, and with bags and children, the four adults bundled -themselves into a taxi and drove to Ninety-second Street, laughing -excitedly, interrupting one another with inconsequences after the -manner of all arriving travellers. - -Roy indeed had put on weight; the emaciated look had entirely -disappeared. His plumpness altered his expression materially and his -sister-in-law was not quite sure she liked it. There could be no -question about his splendid health. His face was round and there were -actually folds in his neck where it bulged a trifle above his collar. -Alice looked prettier than ever and as Jeannette studied her, she -realized how much she had missed her sister during the past few months -and how much she loved her. Yet when the children climbed into their -mother’s lap and tried awkwardly to twine their short arms about her -neck, Etta announcing shrilly that she loved her “bestest in all the -world,” Jeannette experienced a cruel pang of jealousy. Now Alice would -immediately begin to spoil them and undo all her good work! ... It was -going to be very hard,--very hard, indeed. - -She was anxious to tell her good news. Roy must be worrying about -the future and it was not fair to keep him in the dark. But when she -told him triumphantly, he and his wife only looked at one another -with a significant smile. They had good news of their own: they were -going back to California and meant to take the children with them; -they intended to live out there for a year or two in a place called -“Mill Valley,” just across the bay from San Francisco, with Roy’s -father. Dr. Beardsley was a dear old white-headed man,--the dearest on -earth, Alice declared,--and he was rector of a little church in Mill -Valley and lived in the most adorable redwood shake house up on the -side of a mountain just above the village. The house was a roomy old -place and Dr. Beardsley had talked and talked to them about coming to -California and making their home with him for two or three years until -Roy had gained a start, for it appeared that Roy wanted to write,--he -had always wanted to write,--and while he had been convalescing out -in California under the big redwoods, he had written a book,--not a -big one,--but a story about an old family dog the Beardsleys had once -owned, and he had sent it to a magazine and they had paid three hundred -dollars for the serial rights and there was a very good chance that -some publisher would bring it out in book form! The money was not very -much of course, but it was unquestionably encouraging and Dr. Beardsley -felt that he and Alice ought to combine forces and give Roy a chance at -the profession he hungered to follow. He had never had an opportunity -to show what he could do with his pen, and it was not fair to have him -give up this ambition merely because he had a wife and two children on -his hands. Dr. Beardsley had three or four thousand dollars in the bank -and he declared he had no particular need of the money and was ready -to invest it in his son’s career as a promising speculation in which -he, himself, had faith. He believed, he had said, he would get a good -return on his money! He had urged Alice and Roy to come with their two -children and make their home with him for a while, live the simplest -kind of life,--living was extraordinarily cheap in Mill Valley; Mama -wouldn’t believe how cheap after New York!--and wait until Roy was on -his feet with a well-established market for his work. - -“So we talked it over and said we would,” concluded Alice with her soft -brown eyes shining confidently at her husband, “only it’s going to be -awful hard to leave you Mama, and Sis.” - -Mrs. Sturgis promptly grew tearful. - -“No--no, dearie,” she said between watery sniffles and efforts to check -herself, “I don’t know _why_ I’m crying! It’s quite right and proper -for you and Roy to accept his father’s kind offer. There’s no question -in my mind he’ll be a great writer, and I think you’re very wise, and -it will be lovely and healthy for the children and I approve of the -whole idea thoroughly, only--only California seems so terribly far -away!” A burst of tears accompanied the last. Jeannette felt irritated. -Her mother would soon be reconciled to Alice and the children being in -California,--but in her own heart there was already an ache she knew -would not leave it for many months. - - -§ 6 - -The end of May, when the dogwood was again powdering the new-leafed -woods with its white featheriness, when the Yacht Club had formally -opened its season, and Martin had towed his adored A-boat out of -winter storage, had pulled it with a row-boat the two-and-a-half miles -to its summer moorings, Alice, Roy and the children departed, and -Jeannette faced an empty home with what seemed to her an empty life. - -It was inevitable she should reach out for distraction. During the -spring, Doc French had married Mrs. Edith Prentiss, a rich widow, whom -Jeannette had liked from their first meeting. The new Mrs. French was -her senior by only a year or two, and much the same type: tall and dark -with beautiful brows and skin and masses of glistening black hair. She -had a great deal of poise, and dash, and dressed handsomely. At the -opening of the season for the Cohasset Beach Yacht Club, when there was -a dinner and dance, the Devlins were Doctor and Mrs. French’s guests -and had a particularly good time. Jeannette bought herself a new dress -for the occasion. She would not have been able to go otherwise, she -told Martin, as she had absolutely nothing to wear! All the pretty -clothes that had formed her trousseau were completely gone now; she did -not have a single decent evening frock left! - -The affair led to the young Devlins being asked to a Sunday luncheon -on board the new Commodore’s sumptuous yacht and this had been another -happy event. Martin had been in high feather, and had proven himself -unusually amusing and entertaining. The Commodore’s wife had singled -him out for attention; the Commodore, himself, and Doc French had urged -him to allow his name to be put up for membership in the Yacht Club. - -It was a great temptation for both the young husband and wife, but it -was out of the question for them to belong to two yacht clubs, and -Martin resolutely refused to resign from the Family. No, he said, there -were too many “good scouts” in the little club, and he wouldn’t and -couldn’t “throw them down.” Jeannette did not urge it, although it was -hard to decline the invitation to join the Cohasset Beach Club. Yet -she felt that membership in it was beyond their means and would lead -to other extravagances, while specially was she afraid of the free -drinking that went on there. Martin had a mercurial temperament; one -drink excited him; more made him noisy and silly; he was not the type -that could stand it. Better the Family Yacht Club as the lesser of the -two evils. She would have been satisfied if he never entered either. - -She voiced her complaint to her mother, with a good deal of vexation: - -“It makes me so mad! Martin _won’t_ economize, _won’t_ help me save and -insists upon being a member of that cheap little one-horse organization -with its cheap common members, spending his time and money in a place -he knows I detest and where I never set my feet that I don’t regret it. -And if he would only help me get out of debt and would behave himself -when there was liquor around, we might be able to join the Cohasset -Beach and associate with nice, decent people of our own class and enjoy -some kind of social life. It’s unfair--rottenly unfair! I’ve been -struggling all winter taking care of my sister’s babies, and of course -it’s been expensive and we haven’t been able to put by a cent. I’ve -done my level best to economize; I haven’t bought myself so much as a -pair of shoes since last year, ... and look at me!” - -She held out her foot and showed her mother where the stitching along -the sole had parted. Mrs. Sturgis shook her head distressfully, and -made “tut-tutting” noises with her tongue. - -“And what does he expect me to do?” Jeannette went on, her voice rising -as her sense of injustice grew upon her. “Here’s Doc French and his -wife, Edith,--she’s really a stunning girl, Mama, and I like her so -much!--anxious to be nice to me, wanting me to go with them to the -smart Yacht Club all the time, asking me to their house for dinner and -cards, or to go motoring with them in their beautiful new car, and -Commodore and Mrs. Adams inviting me to luncheon on _The Sea Gull_, -and I haven’t a decent stitch to my back! If I complain to Martin, he -says I’m ‘crabbing’ or tells me to get what I need and charge it! And -that’s just madness, Mama,--you know that. He denies himself nothing -and expects me to do all the self-sacrificing. I declare I’m sorely -tempted sometimes to take him at his word, to go ahead just as I like, -get whatever I need and let him meet the bills as best he can. That’s -what most wives would do! I’ve never known such humiliation since I -went to that Armenian dance with Dikron Najarian. In all the time I -was supporting myself, I was never so shabbily dressed as I am right -this minute! It does seem to me that Martin could manage better. I -know _I_ did when I was earning my own money and financing my own -problems. Martin makes just about what you and I used to have when we -were living together, and you know perfectly well, Mama, we had money -to _throw away_ then. Why we used to go to the theatre and everything! -I haven’t been inside a theatre in--in--well, since last September and -that’s nearly a year! _I_ don’t know what he does with his money! He -swears he doesn’t gamble any more, but he’s always broke and I have the -hardest time getting my sixty-two fifty out of him on the first and the -fifteenth. He tried to borrow some of it back from me last month! I -tell you, he didn’t get it! He never takes me into his confidence about -money matters and he never comes and gives what’s coming to me out of -his pay envelope of his own accord! I always have to _ask_ him for it! -Think of it, Mama, having to _ask_ him to give me what’s my right! I -never had to go to Mr. Corey and _ask_ him for my salary on Saturday -mornings, and I work ten thousand times harder for Martin Devlin than -I ever did for Mr. Corey! ... I was no shrinking violet when Martin -married me! I was a self-supporting, self-respecting business woman -and when we married we made a bargain, and I intend he shall live up -to it. I don’t propose he’s going to welch on me merely because I’m a -woman. He’s got to give me just as much consideration as he would a man -with whom he’s made a contract. Our marriage was an honorable agreement -with certain specified provisions, and if he doesn’t live up to them, -neither shall I!” - -“Oh, Janny, Janny!” cried her mother in alarm; “don’t talk so reckless, -dearie! What on earth do you mean?” - -“Walk out on him!” flashed Jeannette. “I’ll go back to my job and run -my own life the way it suits me!” - - -§ 7 - -Martin spent every Saturday afternoon at the Family Yacht Club, “tuning -up” his boat. He loved to tinker about her, adjusting this, tightening -that; he was never finished with her; there was always something still -remaining to be done. He and Zeb Kline sailed the _Albatross_ together -in the races; they constituted her crew. - -As soon as Martin reached Cohasset Beach from the city on the last day -of the week, he hurried directly from the station to the yacht club. -He kept his outing clothes,--they consisted of little more than a -shirt, a pair of duck pants and “sneakers,”--in a locker at the club. -By two o’clock he was squatting in the cockpit of the teetering little -boat, busy with wrench, knife, or rag, thoroughly happy. If there was -sufficient wind later in the afternoon, he and Zeb might take a short -sail up the Sound, round the red buoy, and home again, or over two legs -of the course. The afternoon was all too short; it was six,--seven, -before a realization of the passing time came to him. He wanted a quick -swim then before re-dressing himself, and if someone did not give him a -lift, there was the long hike homeward. - -He would be sure to find one of three situations when he opened the -door of the bungalow upon reaching home: Jeannette would be there, -coldly unresponsive, resentful of his tardiness; she would be dressing -for a dance at the Cohasset Beach Yacht Club in frivolous mood, or she -would have already departed to dine with Doc and Edith French, having -left word with Hilda for him to follow if he cared to. He came to -accept these circumstances. He did not particularly like them but he -did not know how to go about changing them. To dress and join his wife -was generally too much effort after his long afternoon on the water. He -either found his own amusements or else, thoroughly weary, went to bed. - -At an early hour on Sunday he was usually astir and often left the -house while Jeannette was still asleep, or else they breakfasted -together about nine o’clock and made polite inquiries as to one -another’s plans for the day. Every Sunday afternoon during the -summer there was a race and Martin would not have missed one for any -consideration. As soon as he could leave the house, he was off to the -club and Jeannette did not see him again until he came stumbling home -late in the evening, sunburnt and thoroughly exhausted. - -One Saturday night it was nearly eight o’clock when the flickering -acetylene lamps of Steve Teschemacher’s big brass-fitted motor car -swept into the circular driveway before the Devlins’ home, and Martin -got out, called “Good-night and many thanks!” and opened the door of -his house. Dishevelled, his hair blown, his shirt open at the throat, -carrying his cravat and collar, he walked in upon a dinner party his -wife was giving. The four people at his table were all in immaculate -evening dress. He recognized Doc French and Edith, but the remaining -person in the quartette was a man he had never seen before. - -“Mr. Kenyon, my dear,” said Jeannette, introducing him. “Our little -party was quite impromptu. I didn’t know how to get you. I telephoned -the club twice but Wilbur said you were out on the water.” - -Doc French welcomed him, clapping him on the back. - -“Get a move on, Mart,” he said, jovially, “your cocktail’s getting -cold.” - -Martin hurried. The blankness passed that had come to him as, -unprepared, he arrived upon the scene. His good-nature asserted -itself; he was always ready for a good time. In fifteen minutes he -was entertaining his wife’s guests with an Irish story, told with -inimitable brogue, and had them all roaring with laughter. - -Kenyon he did not fancy. The man was too perfectly dressed, his white -silk vest had a double row of gold buttons and fitted his slim waist -too snugly; the movements of his hands were too graceful, too studied; -his heavily lashed eyes squinted shut when he laughed, and the eyes, -themselves, were glittering and glassy. - -Martin went with the party to the Cohasset Beach Yacht Club for the -dance to which they were bound. Since he had declined to become a -member he felt he ought not to go at all to the club, but Doc French on -this particular night would not listen to him, and carried him off with -the others. There were the usual drinks, the usual gay crowd, the usual -music and the usual dance; Martin, pleasantly exhilarated, had his -usual good time. He saw his wife here and there upon the dancing floor -during the evening, and thought her unusually vivacious and pretty, -but it was not until three or four days later that a casual happening -brought back to him a disquieting recollection that each time he had -caught a glimpse of her that night, her partner had been Kenyon. - -The incident that stirred this memory was the chance discovery of -two cigarette stubs in a little glass ash tray on the mantel above -the fireplace. Jeannette did not smoke. She explained readily that -Gerald Kenyon had been to tea the previous afternoon. But Martin -was not satisfied. Kenyon was a type of rich man’s son,--idler and -trifler,--whom Martin thought he recognized; Jeannette had said -nothing about having had him to tea and the circumstance was too -unusual for her to have forgotten to mention it; now he recalled the -matter of the dance. - -One of their old angry quarrels followed. It left both shaken and -repentant, and in the reconciliation that followed, much of their early -warm love and confidence in one another returned. Many differences were -settled, many concessions and promises were made, and better harmony -existed between them thereafter than they had known for a long time. - - -§ 8 - -It was then that Jeannette seriously considered having a baby. Martin -was anxious for a child, and she knew how happy one would make him, how -grateful and tender he was sure to be to her. She dreaded the ordeal -more than most women; she was fearful of the agony that awaited her -at the end of the long, dreary, helpless nine months; Alice’s hard -labor, and the following weakness from complications that had kept her -practically bedridden for half-a-year, had made a grave impression on -Jeannette’s mind. She shuddered at the idea of being torn, at being -manhandled by doctors, at being pulled and mauled and treated like -an animal. It represented degradation to her, but she was prepared -to go through with it. She wanted a child; she wanted one as much as -Martin did; she wanted more than one. Her husband had accused her once -of not loving children, but after the devotion she had lavished upon -Etta and Ralph during the long months of the past winter, she felt she -had convinced him that such a reproach was wholly unjustified. Far -more than the agony of childbirth, Jeannette apprehended the fetters -that maternity would forge about her feet. Once a mother she knew her -liberty was over. She would be bound then by the infant at her breast, -by ties of duty and maternal instinct, and above all by love. She hated -the thought of restriction; she hated the thought of giving up her -independence; she rebelled at inhibitions which would prevent her from -going her own way, living her own life, being her own mistress. - -Once again the question of money obtruded itself. What did the years -ahead hold in store for her as Martin’s wife? How would she fare at her -husband’s hands when she was thirty, forty, fifty? The infatuation of -the bride for the man she had married, was gone now; she saw him in a -cold, critical light. She loved him; she loved him truly and honestly; -she loved him more than she had ever thought to love any man. Never was -she so happy as when they two were alone together and in sympathy. She -liked often to recall the happy day they had spent with Alice and Roy -on the sand reefs off Freeport. Martin had been so sweet, and splendid -and dear that day! No woman could love a man more than she did, then; -he had been everything that stirred her admiration. But that was a -year ago and he wasn’t the same; he and she had drifted apart. Perhaps -it was as much her fault as his; perhaps their grievances against one -another were no more than those of any average couple. She realized -that both were strong-willed and opinionated; it was inevitable that -they should sometimes clash. But if Martin differed with her, he -could pursue his own way independent of his wife, while she must wait -upon his pleasure. She did not--could not trust Martin with the old -confidence he had once inspired. Perhaps that was the experience of all -wives. Most women put up with it, _had_ to put up with it, made the -best of conditions, lay with what equanimity they could in the bed they -had chosen in the first flush of love. But with her,--and always with -this thought ever since she had been a wife, Jeannette had breathed a -prayer of gratitude,--there was a way out! The girls that had married -blindly out of their father’s and mother’s house had no alternative -if their marriages proved unsatisfactory but to endure them or seek -divorce. But she and all other women who had achieved a livelihood -of their own in the world of business, who had won for themselves an -economic value that could be measured in dollars and cents, could go -back to work! They did not have to appeal to the law, the disreputable -divorce courts, to free them from an intolerable alliance, or compel a -reluctant man to support them with alimony gouged from his unwilling -pocketbook! - -Ever since she had become Martin’s bride, Jeannette realized she had -hugged this thought to herself and always found consolation in it. It -had even been in her mind when she considered marriage; she had said to -herself in those uncertain days, that if the experiment did not prove -satisfactory, there was a stenographer’s job waiting for her somewhere -in the world. Now this knowledge that she could be independent again if -she chose had a vital bearing on the question of her having a child. -Once a mother, the door of escape from a situation which might some day -become intolerable would be forever closed. She could not leave a baby -as she could leave a husband. - -Should she risk it? Should she take the plunge, leave the safe return -to shore behind her and strike out into unknown waters, placing faith -in her husband’s devotion and his ability to take care of her? Ah, if -she could only be sure! If she could only be convinced of Martin’s -dependability! She did not care a snap of her finger for Gerald -Kenyon, Edith French or the Cohasset Beach Yacht Club or anything! -All she wanted was that Martin should be good to her, should protect -and provide for her with as much thought and care as she had given -herself when she had been a wage-earner and her own mistress! If Martin -would stand back of her, she would welcome a baby, she would bear him -half-a-dozen,--all that her strength was equal to! She would banish her -fear of the ordeal! - -She told him so passionately. She showed him the reasonableness and -righteousness of her stand, and he admitted the truth of what she said. -He promised to do anything she wanted. - -“You’re dead right, Jan,” he said with a gravity that went straight to -her heart, “I see your point. I’ll do the best I can. And golly! won’t -it be great when there’s a kid in the family,--you know,--a kid that’s -our own? Why, you were never so happy or so pretty, and you never were -so good to me and I never loved you more than when Etta and Ralph were -toddling round here.” - -But she would agree to nothing until he had demonstrated to her that he -had changed and was as much in earnest about the matter as she proposed -to be. - -“Mart, you’ve got to show me; you’ve got to convince me you’ve turned -over a new leaf. I want to be satisfied that I am always going to be -glad I’m your wife before I anchor myself to you for the rest of my -life. Now we’re in debt. While I’ve been out of sympathy with you, I’ve -done some charging in town,--new clothes I had to have in order to go -about with Edith French. If we have a baby it’s going to cost money, -and we’ve _got_ to be out of debt first,--don’t you think so? You can -reëstablish my faith in you by showing me now how you can help me save. -If we cut down and put our minds to it, we can save a thousand dollars -by the first of the year. Now I’ll let Hilda go and do my own work, if -you’ll resign from the Family Yacht Club!” - -It was a challenge and Martin’s startled eyes found hers. - -“And sell my A-boat?” he asked blankly. - -“And sell your A-boat,” Jeannette repeated firmly. - -“Well-l, my God,--that’s kind of tough,” he said slowly. “But all -right,--if you say so, I’ll get out, I’ll sell it and quit.” - -“Do you really mean it, Mart?” - -“Yes, I’ll--I’ll resign.... Only, Jan, can’t I finish the season? Zeb -and I’ve got a swell chance for the cup and all the A-boats have been -invited over to Larchmont for their annual regatta, and Zeb knows that -course, and we’re all going to be towed over the day before....” - -He was like a little boy pleading for a toy. She could not find it in -her heart to refuse him. - -“Very well,” she conceded slowly, “only as soon as the season’s over -you’ll positively resign?” - -“Sure. I’ll tell the fellows to-morrow that it’s my last year, and I’ll -quit after the final race.” - - -§ 9 - -June, July and August passed, Labor Day came and went, the yachting -season closed with gala festivities, special boat races, a big dance at -each of the clubs, and one day Martin announced that Zeb had paid him -sixty dollars for the _Albatross_, and that he had sent in his letter -of resignation to the board of directors. It was then that Jeannette -told Hilda she would be obliged to let her go. She had grown fond of -the girl and was sorry to lose her, but in the face of this evidence of -her husband’s good faith, she felt she must begin to carry out her part -of their bargain. - -Apart from this, there were other considerations which made her welcome -this new régime of curtailment and self-denial. She was not satisfied -with the recent order of her life; her conscience troubled her; there -had been certain evenings during the past summer, memories of which -were not altogether pleasant. - -Hardly a week had gone by without Doc and Edith French inviting her -to go with them to a dance at the Cohasset Beach Yacht Club or on a -jaunt to some road-house on Long Island, and Gerald Kenyon invariably -had been along. He had made love to her, flattering love to her, and -she had been diverted. She liked him; he danced well, he was rich and -a prodigal host, he was agreeably attentive. She would have early sent -him to the right-about had it not been he proved a convenient escort. -Martin was rarely on hand to accompany her; Gerald was eager to go -with her anywhere she wished. She suffered his attentions, reminding -herself that it was only for a few weeks,--just until the end of the -summer,--and it was her last fling at gaiety. She would rid herself of -him by September and prepare her household and her life for the time -of retrenchment. Nothing of serious significance had happened on any -of these merry evenings; Martin could not have found fault with her; -Gerald had never so much as kissed her cheek, but the atmosphere that -had prevailed was disturbing to Jeannette. Gerald often imbibed too -freely, but he was never offensive. He and the Frenches sometimes grew -noisy and there was a good deal of loose talk. A drink or two had a -marked effect on Edith, and Jeannette wondered sometimes at the things -she said and did. Not that her words and actions were in themselves -particularly shocking, but coming from a woman of her graciousness and -refinement they sounded rough. Jeannette was ready, now, to be quit of -these intimates. Their society was not healthy, and in her soul she was -conscious she did not belong in it. Her innate sense of rectitude took -offense at such behavior. - -Thus it was that she turned to the period of self-denial with -willingness, even zeal. She threw herself whole-heartedly into the -program of her new existence. She wanted to clean her soul as well as -her life. - -She was happy in the changed order of her days; she liked doing her own -work since it meant penance for her as well as saving; she liked to -think she was preparing herself for her child. She figured out how long -it would take them to be out of debt: less than a year if they saved -only fifty dollars a month. - -“Now, Martin,” she reminded her husband, “I’m not going through with -this unless you stand back of me. You’ve got to save penny for penny -with me, and you’ve got to show me you’re deadly in earnest.” - -She said this because he did not seem as enthusiastic, now, as he had -been when the plan was first discussed. The eagerness was missing, and -he was rather sour about it. She knew he grieved over the sale of his -boat, and it was bitter hard for him to give up his club. But this time -she was determined. She had renounced her frivolous, expensive friends; -he must renounce his; she proposed to get along without the luxury of a -servant, he must deny himself, too. - -“Well, damn it!” he growled at her implied reproach, “ain’t I doing -everything you want? The boat’s gone, and I’ve sent my letter in to the -club! What more do you want me to do?” - -“Martin! that’s no way to speak to your wife! You’re not doing it for -_me_!” - -She sighed in discouragement. He had a long way to go. - -His efforts to divert himself about the house on Saturday afternoons -and Sundays were pathetic. He started vigorously to spade up a bit of -ground which he declared would make an admirable vegetable bed in the -spring. The spading lasted half a day and all winter Jeannette saw -the snow-covered shovel sticking upright in the ground where he had -left it. He was bored by inactivity. Books did not interest him; he -scorned the solitaire she suggested and in which she herself could find -amusement; likewise he grew impatient at walks in the woods now full of -autumn tints. Jeannette tried her best to entertain him. Several times -she asked the Drigos over for auction bridge but Mrs. Drigo and her -husband quarrelled so much when the cards ran against them, that Martin -declared he did not care to play with them. Jeannette tried “Rum” but -that, too, bored him; there was no pleasure in the game, he told her, -without stakes and one couldn’t gamble with one’s wife. At the end of -her resources, she shrugged her shoulders and let him seek out his own -amusements as best he could. His attitude nettled her. He ought to face -the new life, she felt, with the same fortitude, conscientiousness and -willingness that she displayed. She told him so with a good deal of -rancor one day: he was acting like a spoiled boy; he wasn’t being a -good sport about it. He only glowered at her in reply and stalked out -of the house. - -She had her own suspicions where he went, but she did not reproach -him. In her heart she was sorry for him; his empty evenings and his -week-ends hung heavy on his hands. She hoped he would get used to the -idea and by and by be moved to follow her example. - -But as the weeks and then the months began to go by, and she saw that -it was only she who was making the sacrifices,--cleaning, cooking, -washing dishes, denying herself clothes and even trips to the city -to see her mother,--a dull anger kindled within her. This burst into -flame when she learned by chance that Martin was still a member of the -Yacht Club. ’Stel Teschemacher telephoned her one day to remind her -to be sure and come to a bridge tournament the ladies of the club had -arranged for the following Wednesday afternoon. Jeannette explained -with some relish that she feared she was not eligible to participate -since her husband was no longer a member of the club, but ’Stel -Teschemacher assured her that such was not the case. - -“Oh, no, you’re mistaken, Mrs. Devlin. He’s still a member and a very -valued one. The Directors refused absolutely to accept your husband’s -resignation; they just positively made him reconsider it.... Why, we -couldn’t get along without Mr. Devlin! He’s just the life of the club!” - -Jeannette said nothing to Martin. She was bitter, feeling he had -tricked her, was not playing fair. She decided she would go to New York -and pour out her grievance in a stormy recital to her mother. It would -relieve her mind. On the train she met Edith French and when the city -was reached, her friend triumphantly carried her off to lunch at the -Waldorf. - - -§ 10 - -Not very long after this, she learned that Martin had been playing -poker, and had lost. He had had a bad streak of luck and was obliged -to confess to her he did not have enough money to pay the rent without -making a levy upon her share of his salary; she must count on only -forty dollars when his next pay-day fell due. - -At that her resentment burst forth. She had denied herself consistently -since the first of September. With her own hands she had made the -little Christmas presents she had sent Alice and the children, and even -what she had given her mother, in order to save a few dollars, and here -was Martin gambling away at the card table money that was hers! - -“You’re no more fit to be a father than a husband,” she told him, her -anger blazing. “You expect me to bear a child to a man like you! You’re -no better than a common thief!” - -“Aw, cut that out, Jan,” he answered, a dull crimson reddening his -neck; “I’ll admit I’m in wrong and that you’ve got every right to be -sore at me, but what’s the use in accusing me of being dishonest?” - -“Dishonest?--dishonest?” she repeated furiously, her hands clenched. -“Half of every dollar you earn belongs to me,--and don’t you forget -it! It’s mine by right of being your wife; it’s mine by right of your -definite promise when I married you that we should share and share -alike. I made a financial sacrifice then because I thought you and I -were going to build a house and rear a family. I used to earn a hundred -and forty dollars a month,--let me tell you,--and every cent of it I -spent as I chose and for what I chose. I’ve never seen that much or -anything like that much, since I married you. Don’t fool yourself you -_give_ me a penny! You work in your office and I work here and we both -earn your salary. When you take my money and gamble with it and lose -it, you’re doing exactly the same as if you put your hand in Herbert -Gibbs’s cash drawer and helped yourself! It’s just plain thievery!” - -Martin was on his feet, his face congested. - -“If you were a man, I’d knock your damned head off.” - -“If I were a man,” retorted his wife, “you’d be afraid to!” - - -§ 11 - -It was in this mood of fury, with her grievance seething within her, -that she gladly agreed to accompany Edith French on a day of shopping -in the city. Edith telephoned she had been invited by a certain famous -Fifth Avenue importer to witness, at a private showing, the opening of -some sealed trunks just received from Paris containing the new spring -models. She wanted Jeannette to go with her, and the two women arranged -to leave for town on an early morning train. - -It was a cold, glittering winter’s day when the crispness in the -air set the blood tingling; snow was piled in the street and there -was a general scraping of iron shovels on stone and cement. Edith -and Jeannette feasted their eyes on the new styles as they eagerly -discussed clothes and fashions. Edith, stimulated by her privileged -glimpses, bought herself a new hat, which Jeannette declared to be the -most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life! Edith, it seemed -to her companion, was free to purchase anything that took her fancy. -If a garment or bauble attracted her, she got it without hesitation. -Jeannette’s heart was sick with longing. She watched her companion -enviously. In a reckless moment, urged by her friend to whom she had -confided at luncheon the tale of Martin’s perfidy, and who had been -gratifyingly sympathetic, she selected and charged a long woolly, loose -tan coat that had a deep collar of skunk. The coat had been “on sale” -and Edith had been so full of admiration for the way Jeannette looked -in it, that she offered to buy it and give it to her as a present. -To this Jeannette would not agree, but later, wrapped in its soft -ampleness and with a glowing satisfaction that it was the most becoming -garment she had ever owned, she did not press an objection when Edith -proposed to telephone Gerald Kenyon and ask him to take them to tea. -At five o’clock sitting against the crimson upholstered wall-seats -of a glittering café, sipping her hot tea and nibbling her thin, -buttered toast, listening to the music and the pleasant chatter of -her companions, conscious of Gerald Kenyon’s admiring eyes, Jeannette -decided that it was the first happy moment she had known in months, and -that if Martin chose to go his way, she had ample justification to go -hers. - -A madness descended upon her. She was near to tears most of the time -but went dry-eyed upon her way, shutting her ears to the voice of -conscience, refusing to allow her better nature to assert itself. On -and on she stumbled into the forest of imprudence, allowing herself to -give no heed to the gathering shadows, taking no thought of how she -should ever find her way out of the gloom when the hour came for her to -turn back,--for, of course, she must some time turn back! - -Little by little she was beguiled into doing the things she had -foresworn. She allowed Edith to persuade her into going almost daily -with her to the city; she spent here and there the dollars she had -so hardly saved; she began heedlessly to charge again: shoes, silk -stockings, a smart French veil, gloves. The two friends fell into the -habit of lunching or taking tea with Gerald Kenyon and sometimes going -to a matinée with him, and the day came--as he had carefully planned -it should come,--when Jeannette lunched with him alone. And over the -small table at which they sat so intimately, still in the grip of -the insanity that fogged her sense of righteousness and values, she -confided to his eager, understanding ears the story of her husband’s -selfishness, and listened to his persuasive voice as he offered to help -her out of her difficulties. - -“Why, listen here, Jeannette,” he said, bending toward her earnestly -across the littered luncheon cloth, “I can make five thousand dollars -for you over night. There’s no sense in your troubling yourself about -money matters. If you’re in debt, I can show you a way that will pull -you out of the hole and give you all the spending money you need! The -old man, you know, is in steel. He’s on the inside and there’s nothing -that goes on down in Wall Street that he doesn’t know. He gave me a tip -the other day: a sure-fire tip. Did you ever hear of Colusium Copper? -Well, it’s one of the subsidiary companies of the United States Steel -Corporation, and its stock’s going right up. The old man telephoned me -to come down and see him, and he says to me: ‘Gerald, put what you can -lay your hands on on Colusium Copper; it’s due to go to seventy-five -and you want to get out about seventy-two or three.’ It was fifty-eight -then; it’s about sixty-six to-day. Why, look here,--it went up a couple -of points yesterday.” He showed her the figures convincingly in a -newspaper he drew from his pocket. “Now you just let me buy a few of -those shares for you this afternoon before the market closes, and I’ll -hand you a check for five hundred to-morrow when you meet me for lunch. -You don’t have to put up the money; I can fix that for you; I’ll just -telephone my brokers you want to buy a few shares and that I’ll O.K. -the deal. It’s a sure-fire proposition, Jeannette. You won’t be risking -a cent.” - -He was very earnest, very persuasive; his voice was gentle and so -kindly. Five hundred dollars! thought the girl; it would wipe out all -those little purchases here and there that she had had charged to her -account about which Martin knew nothing! - -Gerald was a _dear_! He was really a most generous, warm-hearted -friend! It was wonderful of him to take such an interest in her -trifling financial problems. - -And the next day he showed her the check: $515.60 beautifully made -out,--W. G. Guthrie & Company, Stock Brokers,--and it was drawn in her -name. Her fingers trembled a little as she took the stiff bank paper in -her hands. - -“You see what I told you!” Gerald said with a triumphant smile. “Why, -say, I could have made it five thousand just as easy if you had only -said the word. The old man knows when anything like this is coming off -in the Street. You have to laugh at the way the public runs in and lets -the big guns fleece them. The big fellows stick up the bait and the -poor fools rush after it and then chop--chop go the axes! ... Any time, -Jeannette, you want a bit of change just let me know and I can fix it -for you. I’ll just give the old man a ring and ask him what’s good.... -Now, for Heaven’s sake don’t get the idea that what I’m able to do for -you on a little flier down in Wall Street is anything in the nature of -a present or anything like that. I’m just slipping you a little piece -of inside information,--savvy, dearie?” - -The endearment was unfortunate. It suddenly reminded Jeannette of -her mother and she remembered she had not been to see her in weeks. -Besides, it was the first time Gerald had addressed her with any such -familiarity. - -“I don’t think I’d better take this,” she said abruptly, tossing the -folded check at him. She leaned back in her chair and drew her hands -close to her breast. - -He picked it up, tapped his fingers gently with it and began to argue. -He argued long and eloquently: the money did not belong to him, it was -hers, it represented the profits of her own little deal, he hadn’t a -right to a cent of it, it was impossible for him to touch it. But now -no word from him could reach Jeannette. Fear was awake in her; she -began to be very frightened; her panic grew. Suddenly she wanted to -get up from the table and run into the street. She wanted to go to her -mother; she wanted her mother badly. She felt she must get out of the -restaurant, must get into the air, must get away from that table and -this man at any price. She was like one who stands with her back to a -precipice and, turning around, finds herself within a few inches of its -edge, a chasm yawning at her feet. Fright made her giddy, her mouth was -dry, her throat closed convulsively. - -“If I can only stand it for ten minutes more,” she said to herself, -gripping tight her folded hands beneath the table, “and keep my head -and not let him suspect! ... I must go on and pretend.... Just ten -minutes more.” - -She managed it badly. The experienced eye of her companion guessed all -that was passing in her mind, and he cursed himself for having been too -precipitous. The wary hare that he had been at such pains to coax to -his side for so many months had taken flight at the first lift of his -finger. He would have to begin all over again, and this time proceed -more leisurely. For the present, he knew his cue was to withdraw. - -He let her make her escape without remonstrance. He asked if she would -not allow him as a friend to mail her the check, and when with more -vehemence than she meant to display, she refused, he tore the paper -neatly into bits and let the fragments flutter from his finger-tips to -the table. - -“Well,--it’s too bad,” he said with a shrug that eloquently expressed -his hurt. “Sorry. My only object was to try and help a bit.” - -He left her at the door of the restaurant with a graceful lift of -his hat, saying he hoped to see her soon again. It was lost upon the -girl. She hurried to a telephone booth in a drug store at hand and -tried to reach the apartment on Ninety-second Street, but there was -no answer. She thought of Martin but there was the uncomfortable -confession she would have to make to him of her recent extravagances. -Her recklessness, she realized, had robbed her of the righteousness of -her quarrel with him; reproach he could meet with reproach. - -She longed then for her sister,--her quiet, brown-eyed sister,--who -had never judged her harshly in her life, but Alice was in far-away -California. There was nobody, nobody in the world to whom she could -turn for comfort, for sympathy and counsel, and then coming toward her -with a pleased and smiling recognition in his face she saw Mr. Corey. -She fluttered to him with almost a sob, and put both her hands in his; -as he greeted her affectionately she wanted desperately to lay her head -against his shoulder and give way to the fury of tears that fought -now to find escape. In that moment, everyone seemed to have failed -her,--mother, sister, husband,--but this staunch, loyal, rock-solid -friend who believed in her, who knew only the best of her, whose faith -in her was unbounded, who knew her as she really was. - -He was talking but she listened not to his words but to her own heart -that told her here was the haven for which she sought, here was the -counsellor, the friend who would help her without cavil or reproach. - -“Tell me about yourself,” he was saying. “You promised you’d come in to -see me once in awhile,--and that brother-in-law of yours? I thought we -were going to find a job for him? What happened?” - -Jeannette attempted to explain: Roy was trying to become an author, his -first story was appearing as a serial and he and his wife and babies -were in California. As she spoke of Alice, her voice suddenly grew -husky and when she tried to clear her throat, the hot prick of tears -sprang to her eyes, and she was obliged to stop and press her lips -together. Mr. Corey’s brows met sharply. - -“What’s the matter? You’re in trouble?” He waited for her to speak but -she could only shake her head helplessly and blink her swimming eyes. - -“Come in here with me,” he said in the old authoritative voice she -still loved to obey. They turned from the crowded street where they -were being jostled, into the drug store she had just quitted. It was -crowded in here, too, with a swarm of elbowing people before the soda -fountain. Corey guided the girl to the rear and they stopped by a -deserted counter. - -“Now what is it? Tell me about it,” he said shortly. “Can I help you?” - -She tried again to answer him but she was still too shaken; at any -effort to speak her tears threatened. - -“Please,” she managed, gulping. - -He left her, went to the soda counter and returned with a glass of -water. She drank it gratefully; the cold drink steadied her. - -“I’ve just been acting foolishly,” she said at last, dabbing her eyes -with a corner of her handkerchief. “It’s all my fault, I guess.” - -By degrees he pried her story from her: Martin had been treating her -badly; he had been very unfair to her; their marriage was a hopeless -failure; she couldn’t make it a success alone; she had struggled and -struggled and she didn’t believe it was any use; he was fearfully -extravagant and she had to do all the saving to keep them out of debt; -she had done without a servant just so they could get a little ahead, -but try as she would, they kept falling behind, and Martin didn’t -care.... - -She had no intention of misrepresenting her case to Mr. Corey, but -hungered for his sympathy, for his justification and approval, for his -censure of her husband. - -He heard her with furrowed brows, his keen eyes watching her face, and -when she fell silent, he waited a long moment. - -“Life’s hard on young people,” he said at length with a deep breath -and a dubious shake of his head. “It’s hard enough for them to get -adjusted to one another without having to worry over money matters. I’m -sorry your marriage has not turned out well. I feel particularly badly -because I urged you into it. Devlin seemed a likely fellow to me.” - -They both considered the matter, studying the floor. Jeannette felt as -she stood there her life was breaking to pieces. - -“If you’re in debt,” said Mr. Corey at length, “and it’s merely a -question of money to tide you over present difficulties; you must let -me lend you what you need.” - -“Oh, no, thank you,” she said quickly. - -“Oh, yes, but you must,” he insisted. - -With firmness she declined. She wasn’t begging; she just had had one -man try to give her money; she couldn’t accept financial assistance -from anyone. No, it was her own problem,--she could work it out herself -without anyone’s help. - -“Very well, then,” he suggested, “come back and work for me awhile. -I’ve an abominable person as secretary now; I intended to fire her -anyhow, and it will give me tremendous satisfaction to do so at once, -for I never needed efficient help more desperately than now.” - -The words of polite thanks on Jeannette’s lips died. She raised her -eyes and fixed them on the face of the man before her, a light breaking -slowly in them. - -“You mean ...?” she began. Her face was like radiant dawn. - -“I mean exactly what I say: come back for as long as you wish. Stay -until you’ve earned what you need, and be free to go when you’re ready: -three months, six months, whenever you like.... It will be good to see -you back even for a short time at your old desk.” - -Her intent gaze leaped from pupil to pupil of his smiling, earnest -eyes. Her thoughts raced: there was Martin; he would say “No” of -course; he wouldn’t consider letting her do this; he’d be furious, but -Martin would have to be won over, and if not ... well then ... there -was her mother and her own old room waiting for her in the apartment on -Ninety-second Street! - -“Well?” said Mr. Corey amused, at the glowing color in her face. - -“Mrs. Corey?” Jeannette faltered. - -“She’s in Germany and a very sick woman. It’s rheumatism, you know, and -she’s been crippled a long time. I doubt anyhow if she’d care.” - -Somewhere up above like pigeons fluttering forth from heaven’s dome -came happiness winging down upon the girl. - -“Oh, yes,--if you’ll have me,--indeed I’ll come back.... I’ll be there -Monday morning! ... Oh, it will be _wonderful_!” - - -END OF BOOK II - - - - -BOOK III - - - - -BREAD - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -§ 1 - -The cat was crying to get in. Jeannette, deep in slumber, was irritated -by persistent mewings. Every once in awhile the outside screen door at -the back of the apartment shut with a small clap as the animal, sinking -its claws into the wire mesh, tried to pull it open. The noise awoke -Jeannette finally and she sat up with a start. - -It was morning. Gray light filled the room. She peered at the alarm -clock, blinking her eyes, and saw there were still twenty minutes before -she had to get up. In the next room, the sound of a closing window -announced that Beatrice Alexander was already astir. - -“She’s put Mitzi out,” thought Jeannette, drawing the bed clothes over -an exposed shoulder. “I wish she’d remember to leave the door ajar.” - -Presently Beatrice’s steps passed in the hall and in another moment -the annoyance ceased. Jeannette dropped gratefully back to sleep. But -it seemed she had hardly lost consciousness when the whirring clock -bell aroused her again. Though still drowsy, she immediately got up; -she never permitted herself to remain in bed after the moment arrived -for rising; indulgence of this kind was weakness of character, and she -despised weakness in herself or in others. As she dressed, she heard -Beatrice in the kitchen busy with breakfast preparations. From the -window a glimpse of the street showed the sun’s first rays striking -obliquely through the haze of early morning. - -The apartment in Waverly Place had now been her home for seven years; -she and Beatrice Alexander had taken it together a month after her -mother’s death, and life for the two women as time rolled on had become -undeviating in its routine. There was small variation in their days. - -It was Beatrice’s business to prepare breakfast. She rose at seven; -Jeannette half-an-hour later. The meal was always the same: fruit, -boiled eggs, four pieces of toast, and a substitute for coffee,--cubes -of a prepared vegetable material dissolved in hot water. Beatrice set -the table daintily, with a small Japanese lunch cloth and a yellow -bowl filled with bright red apples in its center. Knives, forks and -spoons were nicely arranged and she never neglected to put tumblers of -drinking water beside the triangularly folded, fringed napkins, and -finger-bowls at each place with a bit of peel sliced from the bottoms -of the grapefruits or oranges which began the breakfast. Beatrice was -a fastidious person, Jeannette often thought gratefully; she liked -“things nice.” - -While her friend was busy in kitchen and dining-room, Jeannette -dressed with her usual scrupulous carefulness. She gave but meager -attention to household affairs; these were Beatrice’s province; it -was Beatrice who did the ordering, paid the bills and managed the -small establishment. Jeannette’s companion was much like Alice and -these duties came naturally to her. Besides, during the years Mrs. -Sturgis and her daughter had lived together, it had been her mother who -attended to such matters; Jeannette had grown accustomed to leaving -household details to someone else. She took pains to explain this to -Beatrice when they discussed the project of an apartment together and -the latter had assured her it would be quite satisfactory. There had -never been the slightest friction between the two women; Beatrice -Alexander, with her soft, whispery voice and shy manner, was one of the -sweetest-tempered persons in the world. - -The years had dealt not unkindly with Jeannette. At forty-three, -she was still a handsome woman,--no longer graceful and willowy, -perhaps,--but erect, aggressive, substantial-looking. There was a -solidarity about her now; her arms were big and round, her shoulders -broad and plump, her bosom well-developed; she was thirty pounds -heavier, and walked with a sturdy tread. There was gray in her hair, -too, and a certain settled expression about her mouth that proclaimed -middle age, but she was a fine looking woman with clear eyes and -skin, an impressive carriage, and much that was commanding in poise. -She dressed smartly and was always meticulously neat. Every morning -she donned a fresh shirtwaist, crisply laundered. It was a matter of -concern to her that this should set so snugly and correctly where it -joined the plain dark tailored skirt that closely fitted her back, -the effect should be of the skirt holding the blouse trimly in place. -When she had completed her toilet, she was the embodiment of trigness -and trimness, from her dark lusterless hair with its streaks of gray, -which she now wore in a smooth sweep encircling her head like a bird’s -unruffled wing, to her tan-booted feet in sheer brown silk stockings. -She always had taken a great deal of pains in the matter of attire, and -her hats, shoes and garments were of the latest approved styles and the -best materials, and came from the most exclusive shops in New York. She -still observed the strictest simplicity in the matter of clothes when -she dressed for the office. - -She surveyed herself now in the mirror with approval, and as she -noted her fine tall figure, the breadth of her shoulders, the round, -neat, firm waist line, her calm, strong face,--shrewd, capable, -resourceful,--she could understand the awe and respect with which -the girls in her department regarded her. A hint of a smile touched -her resolute lips as she thought that to them she must appear a -super-woman, a sort of queen, the fount of all wisdom, justice and -power. She liked the idea. - -She flung back the covers to let her bed air during the day, and -righted the flagrant disorder in her room with a few effective -movements. As she opened her closet door or bureau drawers, the -scrupulous neatness of their contents pleased her; the row of dresses -in the closet suggested the orderliness of a company of soldiers; her -shoes and slippers, each pair equipped punctiliously with boot-trees, -ranged themselves on a shelf in effective array, her lingerie was -carefully be-ribboned, folded in piles, and a scent of sachet arose -from its lacy whiteness. - -As she busied herself she came upon a muss of face powder that had been -spilled upon the glass top of her bureau. A small sound of annoyance -escaped her. She crossed the hall to the bathroom, returned with the -moistened end of a soiled towel, resurrected from the laundry basket, -and wiped up the offending litter vigorously. - -About to quit the room she paused a moment with her hand on the -door-knob for a final inspection, and turned back to make sure the -lower bureau drawer was locked and that she had put the key in its -hiding place under the rug; she raised the window an inch higher; a -white thread on the floor attracted her eye and she picked it up with -thumb and finger to deposit in the waste-basket before she joined -Beatrice Alexander in the dining-room. A glance at her wrist watch -assured her she was on time to the minute. - -“Morning, Beat,” she said saluting her companion. “What was the matter -with Mitzi this morning?” - -“I let her out early; she was clawing the carpet and growling. She -wouldn’t stop, so I just had to get up and put her out.” - -“Strange,” commented Jeannette, eyeing the cat who blinked at her -comfortably from beside an empty soup plate that had held her bread and -milk. She began to talk baby talk to the pet: - -“Mitzi-witzi! Yes, oo was,--oo went out to see a feller,--ess oo -did....” - -The two women sat down to the breakfast table together. Jeannette -spread her _World_ out before her; Beatrice propped the _Times_ against -a water pitcher. They picked at their fruit, raised egg spoons to their -lips delicately, broke off bits of toast and inserted them in their -mouths, sipped their coffee with little fingers extended. Silence -reigned except for the small noises of cup and spoon, and the crackle -of newspapers. - -“I _do_ think France ought to be more lenient with Germany,” Beatrice -remarked at length, adjusting her eye-glasses. - -“I’d make her pay to the last mark she’s got,” asserted Jeannette. She -folded back her newspaper carefully to another page. - -“They had quite an accident in the subway,” Beatrice observed. - -“So I see.... Does seem to me the papers are awfully hard on the -Interborough. I should think they ought to be permitted to charge an -eight-cent fare; everything else is going up in price.” - -“Do you suppose that Hennessy woman will get off?” asked Beatrice after -an interval. - -“Well, I’d like to see her.” - -“Senator Knowles died, they think, from drinking whiskey that had wood -alcohol in it.” - -“Served him right. I wish they all would.” - - -§ 2 - -At twenty minutes past eight, Jeannette put on her hat carefully -before the mirror, drew about her shoulders her tipped fox scarf, -jerked her hands vigorously into stout tan gloves, and proceeded down -the two flights of stairs to the street. As she descended she noted -with customary pleasure the effect of the cream-painted woodwork -in the halls, the width of the stairs, and the flood of light from -the skylight above the stair-well which effectively illuminated the -interior of the house. She and Beatrice had indeed been fortunate in -finding a home in such a pleasant, well-arranged building. It was the -same apartment Miss Holland and Mrs. O’Brien had occupied for so many -years, until the latter married again, and the former went to live with -her nephew, Jerry,--who was a Commander now, had a wife and babies, -and was stationed at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. The trend of Jeannette’s -thoughts reminded her she had not been to see Miss Holland for nearly -two months; she resolved upon a visit in the immediate future. - -The street was filled with morning sunshine as Jeannette stepped out -upon the stone flagging of the lower hall, closed the inner door behind -her, and felt in her purse with gloved fingers for the key to the -mail-box. - -She found two letters for herself: one from Alice saying that Etta was -going to town on Saturday, would love to lunch with Aunt Jeannette and -be eternally grateful to her if she’d help her pick out the dress; -the other was a circular from Wanamaker’s. It was the latter rather -than the former communication that started the train of thought which -occupied Jeannette’s mind as she firmly stepped along the Avenue. -Her walk to the office took twenty-three minutes and as she passed -Fourteenth Street she noted by a clock in front of a jeweller’s store -that she was a minute ahead of time. The Wanamaker circular set -forth the advantages of a sale of women’s suits, yet it was not the -attractive prices nor the smart models that occasioned Jeannette’s -thoughts. The envelope containing the circular was addressed to “Mrs. -Martin Devlin.” No one called her by that name any more. When she -went back to work as Mr. Corey’s secretary, she had been welcomed as -“Miss Sturgis.” “Miss Sturgis” had meant something in the affairs of -the Chandler B. Corey Company; no significance was attached to “Mrs. -Devlin.” It seemed wiser to drop her married name,--and after the break -with Martin, she had no desire to keep it. - -Odd to have been a man’s wife, to have belonged to someone! It would -be hard to think of herself as a “Mrs.” again, to call herself “Mrs. -Martin Devlin.” How many years ago had it been? Fifteen? Sixteen? -Something like that. Had there really ever been an interval of four -years in her life when she had been a married woman? It seemed to her -she had always been part of the Chandler B. Corey Company,--or the -Corey Publishing Company as it now was called,--part of it without a -break since those days of long ago when it had occupied three floors in -a clumsy old office building and had looked out, with Schirmer’s Music -Store and Tiffany’s, upon Union Square. What a slim, tall, ignorant, -ill-equipped young thing she had been that day she went eagerly to meet -Roy at the office and had watched Miss Reubens looking at photographs -in the reception room! Jeannette smiled now at the memory of herself. -It strained the imagination to believe that the present Miss Sturgis of -the Mail Order Department had been that awkward girl so long ago. - -The years--the years! The changes they had wrought! Jeannette thought -of her last painful interview with Martin and the shadow of a frown -came to her brow. She had gone over every detail of it a million times. -It had indeed been harrowing. Poor Martin! He had pleaded so hard for -her to come back to him, he had offered to do anything she wanted, but -it was too late then; she couldn’t make him see it. She reminded him -again and again that he had talked just the same way when he begged -her to marry him; she had doubtfully agreed then, had consented to -give their union a trial, and it had turned out a failure,--a hopeless -failure. No, she didn’t blame him; she told him so over and over and -admitted it was as much her fault as his; she was no more fitted to be -a wife than he a husband; many people were constituted that way; they -weren’t suited to married life. She pointed out to him that unless a -marriage was happy, it was a mistake, and neither he nor she had been -happy as man and wife. Why, she had never been for one minute as happy -married to Martin Devlin as she had been since she became her own -mistress again! She loved her independence, she told him, too much to -surrender it to any man. And he? Well, it had been clearly demonstrated -that he liked the society of men and enjoyed outdoor sports more than -he did being a husband. She tried hard not to reproach him, had even -said she saw no reason why they, two, could not go on being friends, -occasionally seeing one another, but at that point Martin got angry,--a -sort of madness seemed to take hold of him and he had said all sorts of -terrible things to her, even called her names,--unforgettable ones. It -had ended in a dreadful scene, a terrible scene,--dreadful and terrible -because in spite of the fury and bitterness that gripped them, they -knew love still remained. Jeannette would never forget the storm of -tears, the abject grief that had come to her at their parting. Love -Martin though she did, she realized she loved her re-won independence -more, and she would not,--_could_ not return to him. Mr. Corey had -taken her in; she had promised to work for him for a while at least, -and it was utterly impossible for her to tell him, after he had -discharged his other secretary, that she was going back to her husband -again. If Martin had only given her a year or two she might have been -willing to be his wife once more, and she had told him as much, but -Martin refused to listen; he had thrown down his challenge and forced -her then and there to choose between her job and himself. There was -nothing else for her to do; she had made her decision, and Martin had -gone his way. She had never regretted it, she said to herself now; she -was far better off to-day, far happier and more contented than she ever -would have been as Mrs. Martin Devlin. As his wife she would have had -ties and known sickness; she and he would have quarrelled and there -would have been everlasting recriminations; she would have lost her -looks, and her clothes would have become shabby; she would have grown -familiar with poverty and have had to fight for herself and family the -way Alice did,--poor, deserving, hard-working Alice, with her five -children and unsuccessful husband! No doubt she, Jeannette, had missed -much in life, but hers had been the safe course, the prudent and sure -one. She was now in charge of the Mail Order Department of the Corey -Publishing Company, she was earning fifty dollars a week, had five -Liberty bonds all paid for, and was beholden to no one.... Of Martin -she had not heard for years. On a visit to Alice at Cohasset Beach, -she had one Sunday encountered ’Stel Teschemacher and that lady had -informed her that Zeb Kline, while on a brief visit to Philadelphia, -had seen Martin, and Martin had an agency for a motor-car there and -was doing quite well. Jeannette would have liked to hear more, but she -did not care to have ’Stel Teschemacher suspect she was interested. - -It was ’Stel’s husband who sold the Beardsleys their home at Cohasset -Beach. The purchase had followed the death of Roy’s father and the -return of Roy and his family to New York. Dr. Beardsley had not lived -long enough to make a writer’s career for his son possible. His death -had sadly broken up the small home in Mill Valley, and Roy and Alice -had deemed it wiser to put the little money the clergyman left them -into a home of their own than spend it in paying rent, butchers’ and -grocers’ bills on the chance that Roy’s pen might some day earn a -livelihood sufficient for their needs. He had been only moderately -successful as an author. His dog story had been published and he had -placed several short stories but these had been few and far between and -then little Frank had come to add his chubby countenance to the family -circle and his parents decided a writer’s career was too precarious for -a man with a family. A job on a newspaper or magazine would insure a -steady income. So with grief over their bereavement and disappointment -in their hearts for the abandoned profession, Roy and his wife returned -to New York and then in quick succession had come the finding of his -position on the _Quart-z-Arts Review_ which carried with it a moderate -salary, the purchase of the house at Cohasset Beach, and in time the -arrival of the small Jeannette,--’Nettie she was called to distinguish -her from her aunt,--and Baby Roy, who was seven years old now and had -recently asserted his manhood by resenting the identifying adjective by -which he had been known since birth. Jeannette paused a moment in her -retrospective thoughts to calculate: Twenty-two years! Yes,--Alice and -Roy had been married twenty-two years! They were an old married couple -now. - - -§ 3 - -She realized abruptly she had reached the office. Men and women, up -and down the street, were converging in their courses toward the doors -of the publishing company. The great concrete block of eight stories, -crowded now to the limit of its capacity, with the thundering presses -on the lower floors, had often seemed to her a monster that sucked in -through its tiny mouth each morning a small army of workers, mulled -them about all day between its ruminating jaws, fed on their juices and -spewed them forth at evening to go their ways and gather new strength -during the night to feed its hungry maw again upon the morrow. - -Though the picture was grim and repellent, she cherished no hostility -toward the institution that employed her. With the exception of the -four-year interlude of adventuring in matrimony, she had been an -employee of the self-same concern since she was eighteen; for nearly -twenty years her name had appeared upon its pay-roll; in November -she could make that very boast. More than any building in the world -this block of steel and concrete was bound up with her destiny; she -had spent most of the days of her life within it; she had seen its -beginnings, had watched it spring into being, had had a hand in -altering and adapting it to the needs of business, had observed its -almost barren floors slowly fill year after year with human activity -until now the use of every square foot of space was a matter of debate; -she was one of the half dozen still gleaning a livelihood within its -walls to-day who could speak of a time before its existence had even -been conceived. - -Most of those early associates on Union Square were gone now,--dead -or following other lines of endeavor. Old Kipps still pottered -about in the manufacturing department, Mr. Cavendish white-haired, -gray-moustached and rosy, still edited _Corey’s Commentary_; Miss -Travers, her merry face now lined with many criss-crossed wrinkles, had -succeeded Mr. Olmstead and while not accorded the title of Auditor, -which he had enjoyed, was known as the Cashier. Then there was Sidney -Frank Allister, who, while he did not date back to the Union Square -days, was still to be reckoned among those early associated with the -fortunes of the publishing company, and now very much identified with -them since he had become President and sat in the seat of Chandler B. -Corey. - -For Mr. Corey was dead. He had died the year Jeannette lost her mother -and had followed his son, Willis, to the grave after a few months. Mrs. -Corey had left him a widower many years before. There remained only his -daughter, Babs, in an Adirondack sanitarium for the insane, to inherit -his wealth and fifty-one per cent of the stock of the business he had -created. He died a rich man and his will provided that his worldly -possessions should be divided equally between his two children, their -heirs and assigns, and of these last there were none, for Willis had -never married and Babs could not. Jeannette often used to muse upon the -futility of human ambition when she thought of the man she had served -so long as secretary. She knew it had been the great desire of his life -to found a publishing house that should become identified with the -growth of American literature and pass on down the years in the hands -of the Corey family, father and son succeeding one another after the -fashion of some of the great English houses. - -One day while sitting in his office intent upon affairs of business, -his head dropped forward and banged on the hard surface of his desk -before him, and he was dead. His heart had suddenly grown tired of its -work. Even before he was laid away at Woodlawn, there had begun the -mad scramble for the control of stock which would elect his successor. -Jeannette never learned how Mr. Allister succeeded in obtaining it, but -Mr. Featherstone had shortly been eliminated entirely from the affairs -of the company and it was whispered that Mr. Kipps had played a double -game. However that may have been, Sidney Frank Allister was by far the -best man to fill Corey’s place, in Jeannette’s opinion. He was not so -shrewd nor so far-seeing, but he had certain literary qualifications -which fitted him for the position. Mr. Featherstone, Jeannette had -early come to regard as a blustering blow-hard, while Mr. Kipps was -hardly grammatical in speech or in letters, and had grown into a fussy -old man. Francis Holm or Walt Chase might have proven themselves even -better material, but three years prior to Mr. Corey’s death, both these -young men had broken away from the old organization; Holm had launched -forth into the publishing business for himself, and Walt Chase had gone -to Sears, Roebuck & Co. in Chicago at a salary, it was rumored, of ten -thousand a year, and Jeannette had succeeded him as head of the Mail -Order Department. - -Much as she had enjoyed being secretary to Mr. Corey, she was forced to -realize as the years rolled by, that the position held no future for -her. She would always be the president’s secretary as long as Mr. Corey -lived but against the congenial work and easy rôle her ambition had -protested. Recollections of early resolutions she had made on entering -the business world returned to disturb her complacency. She remembered -vowing then she would go to the very top and some day become herself an -executive instead of a secretary. She saw no reason why she should not -follow in Walt Chase’s footsteps and be worth ten thousand a year, if -not to the Corey Company then to some other. She had great confidence -in herself, felt especially qualified to do mail order work, and was -sure she could increase sales and manage the department better than -Walt Chase. It was a pet idea of hers that women, not men, bought books -by mail, and she was confident that attacks directed at women, written -from a feminine standpoint, would show results. When the offer from -Chicago came and Chase announced he was going, she determined suddenly -to seize the opportunity and asked Mr. Corey for Chase’s place; she had -played secretary long enough, she told him,--she wanted her chance at -bigger work. - -There had been a great deal of demurring and discussion before she was -allowed to try her hand. Mr. Kipps and Mr. Featherstone had vigorously -opposed the plan, arguing that while Miss Sturgis had proven herself an -incomparable secretary, there was no indication she would be equally -successful in charge of the Mail Order Department. Walt Chase had -built up a steady sale for the company’s publications, and had been, -doing many thousands of dollars’ worth of business a year. Mr. Kipps -and Mr. Featherstone shared the opinion that a woman was not competent -to manage affairs involving so much money,--they were too large for -the feminine mind to grasp. They contended, too, that she had had no -experience in mail order affairs, and that a young man, named Owens, -who had been Chase’s assistant for over a year, was his logical -successor, and had been led to expect the promotion; it was doubtful, -they said, whether he and Mr. Sparks, and old Mr. Harris and the one -or two other men who had been under Walt Chase would consent to remain -if a woman was placed in charge of them; this particular branch of the -business had become exceedingly profitable and it was pointed out to -Mr. Corey that he was in great danger of demoralizing it by permitting -a girl to assume its management. - -Jeannette had stood firm and resolutely pressed her request in the -face of opposition which she considered stupid and which angered her. -Mr. Corey finally agreed to give her a trial although it was clear he -had his misgivings. But during the nine years in which Jeannette had -filled the coveted position, she had amply demonstrated to everyone’s -satisfaction her faith in herself to be warranted, and this in spite -of the fact that Owens and Sparks had promptly resigned as predicted -by Mr. Featherstone and Mr. Kipps, and for a time the work had been -demoralized indeed. - -Yet she triumphed, as she knew she would, and the ideas she had long -cherished for conducting mail order campaigns had borne fruit. Last -year she had the satisfaction of stating in her annual report that -the business of her department had doubled in size since she had taken -it in charge. It had been a long struggle fraught with interference -and constant criticism of her methods. It had been particularly hard -at first when Mr. Kipps supervised everything she did and vetoed some -of her pet projects. He had hampered her in every way he could, not -because he had any personal feeling against her but because she was -a woman and he had no faith in a woman’s judgment. That was the way -he had always treated Miss Holland; but now since Miss Holland had -resigned and gone to live with her nephew in Brooklyn, he was willing -at any minute to wax eloquent in praise of her extraordinary ability: -ah, yes,--yes, indeed,--Miss Holland was a remarkable woman,--fitted -in every way for business,--brain like a man’s,--wonderfully -clear-sighted, excellent judgment; they didn’t “make” many women like -Miss Holland,--she was the exception, one in a million! - -Jeannette had to contend against such prejudice for the first year or -two, but eventually she overcame it. Mr. Corey helped her whenever -possible. She strove to keep the affairs of her department to herself -and when forced to seek higher authority, made a practice of going -directly to the President who had been the first to be convinced of -her ability. As time went on, Kipps and the other members of the -firm inclined to question her gradually allowed her to go her way. -It had taken nearly a decade to win their confidence but there was -satisfaction in the thought that at last it was hers, the victory was -complete. Of course old Mr. Kipps would always purse his lips and frown -dubiously about anything she proposed for he would never be completely -convinced of her ability until she followed in Miss Holland’s -footsteps, but Kipps was stooped and aged now and little attention was -paid to what he said or did. The Board of Directors was satisfied with -the generalship of Miss Sturgis whose monthly reports of sales and -profits confirmed their confidence. When some other department reported -a loss, or when business in general was poor, the Mail Order Department -could be depended upon to show a consoling profit. - - -§ 4 - -One section of the sixth floor was Jeannette’s domain. She had tried -for years to have her department walled off by partitions but the -best she had been able to obtain for herself and her girls was a line -of screens and bookcases. She had twenty-four clerks under her now, -although the number fluctuated, particularly during October when the -fall campaign was in progress. Then her force often swelled to over a -hundred and the extra help was quartered temporarily in neighboring -vacant lofts and offices, rented for a few weeks. She then had her -lieutenants to superintend the work, which for the most part consisted -merely of folding and inserting circulars in envelopes, sealing and -stamping. - -Her department was well organized; the work had been so systematized -that it now moved with perfect smoothness. Old Sam Harris,--who -represented all that was left of Walt Chase’s régime,--supervised -the card catalogues; Miss Stenicke was in charge of the girls; the -“inquiries” were checked and answered by Mrs. M’Ardle, while orders -were entered and forwarded to the stock room for filling by little -Miss Lacy. Jeannette devoted herself to the preparation of copy for -letters, circulars and advertisement. This was the most important part -of the work, and she believed her time and brains could not be better -employed. She kept huge scrap-books in which she pasted circulars and -letters issued by other mail order houses and spent hours poring over -them. - - -§ 5 - -Her desk stood on a low platform and from this vantage-point she could -overlook her department as a school teacher surveys her schoolroom. -She prided herself she could tell at a glance what any particular girl -ought to be doing; if ever in doubt she promptly summoned Mrs. M’Ardle -to her desk and inquired. All the girls respected and admired her; -they knew her to be fair-dealing and straightforward, though swift in -censure where merited. She liked to have them think of her in this way -and cultivated the idea. - -“You’re conscientious and you try hard,” she would say in admonishing -some unfortunate bungler. “I want to be just to you. In conducting the -affairs of this department, I want to be as lenient as I can. I strive -to forget personalities and think only of my assistants,--or perhaps I -had better say ‘associates,’--as co-helpers in a big machine, each one -functioning to the best of her ability at her particular piece of work. -I’ve explained my ideas to Mr. Allister repeatedly. I want the girls in -the Mail Order Department to be every one her own boss, to come and -go as she pleases, and feel responsible--not to me but to the work.... -I want to be a ‘big sister’ to every girl under me. I’m placed here -to help, advise and direct, not to scold. But if you fail to perform -properly the work assigned you, if you’re clumsy and careless and -haphazard in your methods, then it is my duty to call the fact to your -attention.... I want to be fair to everyone; I have no favorites....” - -The lecture might continue at some length particularly if Miss -Stenicke, Mrs. M’Ardle or little Miss Lacy was within earshot. - -For a long time this Mail Order branch of the business of which she was -the head had called forth Jeannette’s great pride. She had felt it was -all hers,--her work. But of late, she had been stirred less and less. -After all what had been accomplished? For nearly ten years she had -bent her energies to making this phase of the activities of the Corey -Publishing Company aboundingly successful. There no longer remained any -question as to whether or not she had achieved her purpose. A year or -two ago a recalcitrant spirit among her girls had immediately aroused -in her a determination to break it; the discovery of an error at once -had challenged her to trace it to its source; the questioning of her -authority or trespassing upon her prerogatives had stirred her upon the -instant to battle. One of the keenest pleasures of her days had been -to draft laws that should govern her girls and to see that these were -enforced. She had begun to detect in herself within the last year or -two an increasing indifference to all such things,--she did not care as -she once had cared. She was no longer hampered or troubled by those -“downstairs”; her assistants and her girls gave her small occasion -for supervision; the work of the department ran on well-oiled wheels. -With opposition eliminated, the task of organization perfected, the -maximum volume of business attained, there remained nothing to fire her -spirit or brain, to stimulate fresh effort. And she was distressed by -a suspicion that more and more persistently obtruded itself upon her -consciousness that perhaps she was getting old, that the indifference -to what went on about her and to her work was merely a sign of -approaching age! - -She rebelled at the idea; she put it from her vigorously; she refused -to entertain it. Why, she was only forty-three! She was in the heyday -of her powers. Her judgment, her mind, her capacities were never so -keen as now. She was equal to far more exacting, more difficult work. -Disturbed by this fear, she decided to look about her for fresh fields -of endeavor. There was no higher position in the Corey Publishing -Company open to her; more important places were all filled by members -of the firm, and it was not likely that any one of them would step -aside and give her a chance at his work. No,--though proud of her long -years of service and her record with the publishing company,--she -decided that neither was of sufficient importance to keep her -indefinitely on its pay-roll until she was ready to follow in Miss -Holland’s footsteps. She let it be known in mail order circles that she -was looking for a job. - -Of Walt Chase she continued to think enviously. She had heard he was -now one of the big men in Sears, Roebuck & Company, a fact -that exasperated her, because she felt herself to be cleverer than -he, more able in every respect. He was getting ten thousand--twelve -thousand--fifteen thousand,--whatever it was,--a year and climbing -the ladder of success rung after rung, while she was doing the work -he had left behind him at the Corey Publishing Company in a far more -efficient, economical, and profitable way and was being paid fifty -dollars a week! - -One day she learned of a vacancy in the American Suit & Cloak Company, -where they were looking for someone familiar with mail order work. -She wrote and applied for the position. A conference with the General -Manager followed. It developed he was in search of a man,--a woman, it -was feared, was not qualified to do the work,--but the Manager admitted -he knew Miss Sturgis by reputation and would be glad to make a place -for her in his organization if she was dissatisfied where she was,--and -he could promise her,--well, he could pay her thirty-five dollars a -week. Jeannette declined and eased her mind by writing a coldly worded -letter of thanks and regret; the General Manager of the American Suit -& Cloak Company must have a poor opinion of her sense of values, if -he expected her to resign from a position where she was the head of a -department and receiving fifty dollars a week to accept an underling’s -place at a smaller salary! But fifty dollars a week from the Corey -Publishing Company was far below what she was worth, Jeannette -considered. It infuriated her to think that while Mr. Allister and -those “downstairs” were glib with their commendation of her work, -there was never any talk of expressing this appreciation by a raise in -salary. - - -§ 6 - -Her first business in the mornings upon reaching her desk was to fasten -a sheet of paper about each of her wrists and pin another to the -front of her shirtwaist as a protection against dirt. It was almost -impossible to go through half a day and keep one’s linen clean without -these shields. Dust from the street filtered in through the windows, -that must be kept open at the top for ventilation and occasionally -little feathery balls of soot made their appearance. Contact with -office furniture always held the risk of a smudge. Jeannette had her -desk and chair thoroughly wiped off by one of her girls before she -reached the office in the morning and again when she went to lunch but -in an hour or two after these protective measures, she would begin to -feel grit under the tips of her fingers and observe a fine gray layer -on the surfaces of white paper. - -She usually arrived five or ten minutes before nine o’clock at which -hour the business of the day was supposed to begin. Never late herself, -she had trained her girls to be equally punctual. It was a matter of -pride with her that in the Mail Order Department work began promptly -on the stroke of the hour. There was no formality about the way it -commenced. Without sign or sound from Jeannette the girls set about -their various duties with simultaneous accord, the noise of chatter and -laughter died away, there was a general scraping of chair legs on the -cement floor, and the buzz of typewriters, like the chirping of marsh -frogs, began slowly to gather volume. - -First Jeannette turned her attention to her “Incoming” basket, neatly -stacked the clipped correspondence, memorandums and communications -before her, and, armed with a thick blue pencil, began their -disposal, marking certain letters and papers a vigorous “No” or -“O.K.-J.S.”--pinning a sheet of scratch pad to others and -scribbling thereon a brief direction or query. Most of the pile before -her disappeared into her “Outgoing” basket, but in an upper corner of -her desk was a folder inscribed: “Mr. Allister,” and into this she -would occasionally slip a letter or memorandum. Its contents would -go to him by boy later in the day; once in a while she carried some -important matter to him herself but she troubled him as little as -possible. She tried to keep the affairs of her department to herself; -the less she attracted the attention of the Directors, the less they -were likely to ask for reports or feel called upon to supervise or -investigate her work; she preferred to let the monthly statements of -sales speak for her. - -By ten o’clock the “Incoming” basket would be empty, and she could -begin the preparation of copy for an advertisement, a circular letter, -or the arrangement of a leaflet setting forth the features of a new -set of books. This was the work she loved best to do, knowing she was -unusually good at it; there were daily evidences her copy “pulled,” -that the touches she gave her advertisements were productive of sales. -No one “downstairs” appreciated how clever she was, though there were -the reports of sales to attest to her ability. - -She often wished there was more of this particular kind of ad-writing -and circular-preparing to be done, but the books of the Corey -Publishing Company sold by mail, year after year, varied little in -type: These were a standard dictionary, a Home Library of Living -Literature, a set of handbooks for Garden and Kitchen, and then there -were the dressmaking books issued in connection with the pattern -department: “How to Sew,” “How to Knit,” “How to Embroider.” In -addition to the circularizing for these was that for subscriptions to -the magazines, offered in conjunction with some particular premium. - -When a special letter had to be prepared, Jeannette preferred to write -it at home or come back to the office at night when she could be alone -and undisturbed. There was continual interruption during the day; she -rarely enjoyed five minutes of consecutive thought. One source of -distraction and a great annoyance was having personally to initial -every request for supplies, no matter how trifling. This was one of -Mr. Kipps’ schemes. He had made it a rule that heads of departments -must O.K. all such requisitions. A paper of pins, a pot of paste, a pad -of paper could not be issued by the stock clerk to any of her girls -without Jeannette’s initials being affixed to the request. All day long -she was interrupted by: “C’n I have a pencil, Miss Sturgis?” “Please -O.K. my slip for some paper, Miss Sturgis.” “’Xcuse me for interruptin’ -you, Miss Sturgis, but I need some pen points.” Mr. Kipps’ idea was to -prevent waste, but Jeannette frequently realized with exasperation that -her time was of a great deal more value to the company than pencils, -pens or paper, and there was a far greater waste in interrupting a line -of constructive thinking than in trying to conserve the supplies of the -stock room. - -The telephone at her desk was continually at her ear: the composing -room wanted the cut for Job 648; the engraver didn’t have the “Ben -Day” she had specified; Mr. Sanders, Mr. Kipps’ assistant, wished to -know if she could use a Five-and-a-quarter envelope just as well as -a Number Six; she had requisitioned five thousand two-cent stamps -and they had not been delivered; she needed a hundred thousand more -“Dictionary” circulars, and would like Stamper & Bachellor to submit -her some “m.f. laid, 24 by 36” in various tints; the stencil machine -was out of order and she wanted to borrow one from the mailing -department. - -One thing followed another all day long. - -“If we insert that return postal, we can’t mail this attack under -two-cent postage.” - -“Hello, Miss Sturgis,--say, _Events_ can only give us a half page; will -you prepare new copy for the smaller space? They’re waiting to go to -press.” - -“Miss Sturgis, we’re running short on ‘_How to Knit_.’” - -“Miss Sturgis, we’ll have to get in some extra girls if you want those -letters signed by hand.” - -“Miss Sturgis, do you want these mimeographed or printed?” - -“Miss Sturgis, Mr. Allister’d like to see you.” - -“Miss Sturgis, c’n I have some pins?” - -At a quarter past twelve she went to lunch. She made a point of going -promptly. There was a time, some years back, when she had fallen into -the habit of letting her lunch hour lapse over into the afternoon, -allowing the demands upon her further and further to postpone it, and -it had been two o’clock, sometimes three before she went out. As a -result, indigestion and headaches commenced seriously to trouble her, -and the doctor advised a regular hour for lunch. At twelve-fifteen, -therefore, she compelled herself to drop whatever she had in hand and -leave the office; one of the girls was instructed to call her attention -to the time. - -She always went to the Clover Tea Room for her luncheon. This was -a little basement restaurant operated by two elderly sisters. It -was prettily appointed with yellow lights, yellow candles, yellow -embroidered table doilies and yellow painted furniture. Jeannette had -her own special table daily reserved for her. Lunch cost sixty-five -cents and consisted generally of a small fruit cocktail, a chop, a -little fish, or an individual meat pie, with an accompanying dab of -vegetable, and a dessert. - -She was accustomed to enter the Tea Room at twelve-twenty almost to the -minute: a tall, fine-figured, handsome woman in her dark tailor-made, -her modish hat and fur scarf. She would proceed directly to her table, -exchanging a smile and a word of greeting with the elder Miss Hanlon as -she passed her desk. Unbuttoning her gloves and drawing them from her -hands, she would study the handwritten menu: - -Minnie would presently come for her order. - -“Morning, Miss Sturgis; what’s it to-day? Stew looks good.” - -“Good morning, Minnie. Well, if you say so, I’ll have the stew. And -don’t forget to bring lemon with my tea.” - -The Tea Room would be but partially filled when Jeannette entered, but -as she waited for her lunch other people began to arrive. Ah, here was -Miss Hogan of Lyman & Howell, and here was that pretty Miss Thompson of -Altman’s; Mr. Crothers of the Stationers’ Supply was late,--no, here -he was; Mrs. Diggs had that funny looking hat on again; this person -was a stranger and that couple, busily talking, were quite evidently -shoppers. A gray-haired woman in the corner appeared at the Tea Room -several times of late; Jeannette decided she must ask Miss Hanlon who -she was, and find out where she was employed. - -At quarter to one or perhaps ten minutes before the hour, Jeannette -would pour a little drinking water from her tumbler over her -finger-tips into her empty dessert saucer, moisten her lips, wipe them -on the little yellow napkin, and draw on her gloves nicely. She always -left ten cents for Minnie and paid her check at Miss Hanlon’s desk on -her way out. Usually she had the better part of half-an-hour before it -was time to return to the office. Between the Tea Room and the corner -of the Avenue, she almost invariably encountered Miss Travers, the -Cashier, who likewise patronized the little restaurant. They would nod -and smile at one another as they passed but neither had time to pause -for words. Jeannette frequently had a small errand to perform: gloves -to get at the cleaners’, her shoes polished, a bit of shopping, a book -to exchange at the library. When there was nothing specially pressing, -she would pay a visit to a bustling Fifth Avenue store, where she would -make her way through crowds of jostling women, and inspect counters, -examining, even pricing the merchandise that attracted her. In the long -years she had been an office-worker, she had spent many a luncheon -hour in this fashion; she never grew tried of such visits, nor of -acquainting herself with the new fads, novelties and latest styles in -feminine apparel. - -Just one hour after she had left it, she would be back at her desk, -readjusting her paper cuffs, and re-pinning the sheet at her breast. At -once the demands upon her would recommence: - -“Miss Sturgis, while you were out, engravers ’phoned and said they -can’t find that cut.” - -“Miss Sturgis, Mr. Kipps wants to know how many copies of _Garden and -Kitchen_ we sold up to November first last.” - -“Miss Sturgis, Miss Hilliker went home sick.” - -“Miss Sturgis, will you sign my requisition for a box of clips?” - -“Miss Sturgis, c’n I have a pencil?” - -Thus it would continue for the rest of the day. The afternoon light -would shine bleak and garish through the fireproofed windows with their -meshed wire embedded in the glass, the dust would settle on desks and -papers, the thundering presses on the lower floors would send fine -vibrations through the building, typewriters would maintain a clicking -droning, a buzz of small noises would harass the ear, there would be -a continual flash of paper and of white hands at the folders’ tables, -while pervading everything would be the thick sweet smell of ink -emanating from stacks of new print matter fresh from the press-room. - -Five o’clock always surprised Jeannette. Her work absorbed her; if -she threw a hasty glance at the neat small mahogany-cased clock on -her desk, it was to ascertain if there was time enough to complete -one more task that day, or to begin preparations for a new one. The -ringing gong that sounded “quitting time” invariably startled her into -a blank sensation of discouragement. She would wish at that moment for -another hour to finish the matter in hand,--just a little longer and -she would have it out of the way! The commotion among the girls which -instantly followed the gong never failed to annoy her. In less than -five minutes,--save for Mrs. M’Ardle, little Miss Lacy, Miss Stenicke, -and old man Harris,--her department would be empty. These assistants -remained a little later to clean up the day’s work and prepare for -the morrow’s. In another quarter of an hour, they too would begin to -bang desk drawers shut, and prepare to depart. Presently Jeannette -would be alone. She usually was the last to leave. It was then that -a feeling of fatigue, a weariness of soul, a distaste of life would -begin to assert themselves. Reaction from the racing events of morning -and afternoon would close down upon her and of a sudden her work, her -days, her whole life, would seem drab, colorless, profitless. What -did it matter if a few more copies of the Dictionary were sold, what -difference did it make if the new attack was a success, whether or -not little Miss Lacy was inclined to be careless, or that Mr. Kipps -had attempted to interfere with her again? Of what importance was the -Mail Order Department of the Corey Publishing Company anyway? Or the -concern itself? Mr. Corey had worked hard all his life and then had -died and left it behind him! What good had it ever done him? This -racketing building represented such trivial enterprise after all! It -seemed ridiculously trifling.... She would get to her feet with a great -sigh of apathy, disgust for her work and life rising strong within -her. Frequently with a sweep of an impatient hand she would scoop the -papers before her into the top drawer of her desk, or thrust them back -into her “Incoming” basket. They could wait until the morrow; to-night -they bored her; she wanted to get away; to shut them out of her mind! -... Ah, it was all so petty! No one would thank her for working after -hours! She was sick to death of it! - -She would adjust her hat with her usual care before the mirror in the -dressing-room, tucking her hair neatly beneath its brim, don fur and -gloves, and proceed to the elevator. - -On the way out she might encounter Mr. Kipps or Mr. Allister. - -“Good-evening, Miss Sturgis.” - -“Good-evening, Mr. Allister.” - -The street would be blue with gathering dusk, and crowded with dark -hurrying figures homeward bound. Lights here and there streamed from -office windows, dabs of brilliant yellow in the purple scene. Motor -trucks and delivery wagons backed to the curb were being piled with -crates and packages by hustling, calling men and boys. The tide of -workers let loose from desk and counter set strongly in conflicting -currents. Long lines of traffic filled the congested thoroughfare and -waited for the signal to move forward. A dull clamor, a pulsing bass -note, a sound of feet, voices, motor horns, a banging and bawling, a -thumping and hubbub, clatter and rumble, throbbed persistently. There -was a sense of hurry and dispatch in the air. No one had any time to -waste; it was the hour of home-going, the end of the day’s toil, the -feeding time of the great army of workers. - - -§ 7 - -Dinner had still to be prepared by the time Jeannette reached -the apartment in Waverly Place. Beatrice, who was employed by a -manufacturer of soaps and toilet waters a few blocks from where she -lived, was usually in the kitchen when her friend arrived. Beatrice -did the marketing at her lunch hour, or in going to and from her -office. Mrs. Welch, who lived downstairs, obligingly took in packages -and kept an eye on Mitzi, well qualified, however, to look after -herself. The cat mysteriously disappeared during the day to present -herself bright-eyed, hungry and affectionate the instant Jeannette’s or -Beatrice’s steps sounded in the hall. - -The dinners the two working women shared were usually simple. Very -seldom they ate meat. Eggs in any form were popular and the evening -meal,--nine times out of ten,--began with a canned soup served in -cups. From the delicatessen on Sixth Avenue a variety of canned food -was obtainable. Jeannette and Beatrice were particularly fond of -canned chicken _á la King_, which had merely to be heated, seasoned -and poured over toast. Sometimes they made their dinner of soup, a can -of asparagus tips, tea and crullers. The asparagus tips made frequent -appearances. Beatrice kept in the ice-box a little jar of mayonnaise, -which she usually whipped together on Sundays. Macaroni salad was -another prime favorite, and there were also tuna fish, creamed or made -into a salad, and fish balls whenever they could be obtained. - -Once in a while on a Sunday or on one of those rare occasions when -company was expected Beatrice struggled with meat and potatoes -for a three-course meal, but in these ventures she received small -encouragement from Jeannette. The latter was forever proclaiming she -“despised” to cook and was therefore averse to betraying any interest -in plans for an elaborate meal; the odor of meat cooking in the house -smelled the place up horribly, she declared. - -Punctiliously, however, she performed her share of the work in cleaning -up after dinner. She dried the dishes, gathered the small luncheon -cloth by its four corners and gave it a quick shake out of a rear -window, put away the silverware, and restored to the sideboard drawer -the two fringed napkins in their red lacquer rings, rearranged the -table and pushed back the chairs against the wall. Beatrice meanwhile -would be busy fussing in the kitchen, washing the one or two pans she -had used, the tea-pot and few dishes, feeding Mitzi the remnants of the -can of soup and perhaps a bit of fish or a little fried liver. By half -past seven dinner would be a thing of the past and the little home in -order again. - -Jeannette made it a practice to spend the ensuing hour or two in the -seclusion of her own room. In many ways, this was the happiest time -of the day for her. She was alone finally and could count upon being -unhurried and undisturbed. First she made her bed with care: the -undersheet must be stretched tight and tucked well under the mattress, -there must be no wrinkles and the covers must be folded in loosely -at the bottom; she affected a baby pillow which twice a week must be -slipped into a fresh embroidered case. Five minutes followed with the -carpet sweeper; the room was tidied,--everything put in its right -place. When all was done, she would feel free to turn her attention -to herself. If there was mending, she next disposed of it; distasteful -though sewing had always been to her, she had grown dexterous with her -needle. She spent fifteen minutes manicuring her nails, and an equal -time brushing her hair and rubbing a tonic into her scalp. The gray was -very thick over the right temple and Beatrice had urged her to have it -“touched up” but Jeannette rather liked it as it was; she considered -it added a distinguished touch. There were other intimate offices -she performed at this hour with great thoroughness, her vigorousness -increasing as time carried her into middle age. Twice a week, sometimes -oftener, she took a hot bath about nine o’clock. Great preparations -were attached to this performance, and she indulged herself in perfumed -bath salts, perfumed soap, and delicately scented powder. When -Mehitable brought home the “wash” on Friday nights, Jeannette devoted -half-an-hour to running pink satin ribbons through her chemises and -brassières. The ribbons she carefully steamed herself once a month and -pressed with the electric iron in the kitchen. But those nights on -which she did not bathe, when her room was in order and her toilette -completed, she would don a kimona, and, with hair hanging in pig-tails -down her back, her feet in Japanese wicker sandals, shuffle her way to -the front room, with a book under her arm, to join Beatrice for perhaps -an hour’s chat or reading before finally retiring. Neither she nor her -companion ever went to the movies, and seldom to the theatre. Saturday -afternoons Jeannette spent in tours of shrewd and calculated shopping, -and on Sundays she went to Cohasset Beach to spend the day with Alice -and the children. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -§ 1 - -Jeannette, on her way to Cohasset Beach, let her Sunday newspaper drift -indifferently into her lap, and turned her attention to the October -landscape through the car window. The train was filled with Sunday -visitors like herself, bound for friends and relatives in the suburbs. -They would enjoy a hearty meal around a crowded table at one o’clock, -would inspect the local country club for a view of the links or the -golfers in their “sports” clothes, indulge, perhaps, in a motor trip -to gain further aspects of the autumnal foliage, or, complaining of -having over-eaten and demurring at any effort, establish themselves at -the card table to while away the rest of the afternoon at bridge. At -five o’clock the swarm that had filtered into the country all morning -through the Pennsylvania Station would decide with one accord to return -to the city, the cars would be jammed and every seat taken long before -the westbound trains reached Cohasset Beach. It was always a noisy -crowd with crying, tired babies wriggling in parents’ laps, golfers -arguing about their scores and the adjustment of their bets, silly -girls convulsed at one another’s confidences or lifting shrill pipes -of mirth at the hoarse whispered comments from slouching male escorts, -returning ball teams of youthful enthusiasts who banged each other over -the head and vented their high spirits in rough jibes or horse-play. - -Sunday travel was a bore, thought Jeannette in mild vexation. Even -the outbound trains during the morning, which were never more than -comfortably filled, stopped at every station along the line, no matter -how insignificant. It took ten minutes longer to get to Cohasset Beach -on Sundays than on any other day of the week; the express trains that -left the city late in the afternoons from Monday to Saturday landed -Roy home in nineteen minutes. It used to take a weary forty-five, -Jeannette remembered, when the East River had first to be crossed by -ferry and the rest of the way travelled in the old racketing, shabby, -plush-seated, puffing steam trains from Long Island City. - -She fell to musing as she idly watched the country flying past. She -recalled the time when she and Martin had paid their first visit to -Cohasset Beach as guests of the Herbert Gibbses and had gone picnicking -on the shore at the Family Yacht Club. The Gibbses owned a handsome -home on the Point to-day, and the little Yacht Club had been merged -into the Cohasset Beach Yacht Club, which, since the fire that had laid -it in ashy ruins, was now housed in a large, imposing edifice of brick -and stone. The town itself,--then hardly more than a summer resort -for “rich New Yorkers,” a few hundred houses scattered carelessly -over some wooded hills,--had grown within the last dozen years into a -flourishing community with banks, brick business blocks, and fireproof -schools, with paved streets, and rows upon rows of white painted houses -with green shutters and fan-shaped transoms above panelled colonial -doorways. The woods were gone; the sycamores and gnarled old apple -trees had given place to spindling elms set at orderly intervals on -either side the carefully graded streets and to formal little gardens -and close-cropped patches of lawn. The dilapidated wooden station -had been supplanted by a substantial concrete affair, surrounded -with cement pavements, and provided with comfortable, steam-heated -waiting-rooms. The whirring electric trains swept on to other thriving -villages further down the Island, and paused, coming or going, but -a minute or two at the older town which had once been the terminal. -There were now blocks and blocks of these trimly-built, neatly-equipped -houses at Cohasset Beach, each with its garden, its curving cement -walks and contiguous garage, and Messrs. Adolph Kuntz and Stephen -Teschemacher had built stone mansions for themselves in the center of -Cohasset Beach Park, to-day the “court” end of town. - -Alice and Roy lived in humbler quarters: the old frame house Fritz -Wiggens and his paralytic mother had once occupied. It was yellow and -gabled, rusty and blistered, and spread itself out in ungainly fashion -over a none-too-large bit of ground. It had, by no means, been a poor -investment, although the building had needed a steady stream of repairs -since the Beardsleys acquired it. Roy had been offered three times -what he paid for it on account of its desirable location overlooking -the waters of the Sound. Every now and then he and Alice discussed -selling the place but invariably reached the same conclusion: Rents -were prohibitive and no other house half as satisfactory could be -purchased for the money without assuming a mortgage, an additional -financial burden not to be considered; their problem was to devise ways -of reducing expenses rather than increasing them. - - -§ 2 - -Jeannette had decided to walk to her sister’s house, but on the -platform as she descended from the train she unexpectedly encountered -Zeb Kline and his wife, awaiting the arrival of Sunday guests. Zeb had -married Nick Birdsell’s daughter and gone into partnership with his -father-in-law; Birdsell & Kline, General Contractors, had built most of -the new houses in Cohasset Beach, and now Zeb had a fine stucco one of -his own, and his wife drove about in her limousine and kept a chauffeur. - -At the time Jeannette and Martin separated, the former had been aware -that the sympathy of the community was with her genial, amusing, -good-looking husband. The townsfolk considered she had treated him -“shamefully”; only Edith French and the Doc were acquainted with the -true facts of the case and had defended her, but the Doc and his wife -had moved away within a year after Jeannette returned to work, and she -had lost touch with them. Word reached her that they had settled in St. -Louis, that the Doc had had his right hand amputated as the result of -an infection from an operation, and that he was running a drug store -there. Later Jeannette heard that Edith had left him and married an -actor. - -Suspecting a hostile attitude among these friends and acquaintances of -her married years, Jeannette had kept herself carefully aloof from all -of them when Roy and Alice selected Cohasset Beach for their home. She -would avert her eyes when passing any of them on the street, or would -bow with but a brief, unsmiling inclination of the head when forced to -acknowledge recognition. - -Now, as she came face to face with Zeb Kline and his wife, Zeb, -a trifle flustered, lifted his cap and greeted her by name, and -Jeannette, also taken unawares, responded with more cordiality than she -felt. She was somewhat perturbed by the incident and was conscious of -Kitty Birdsell Kline’s appraising eye following her as she made her way -across the station platform. - -It was this trifling occurrence that induced her to alter her intention -and ride to Alice’s. Mrs. Kline might be admiring her,--her clothes -and carriage,--or she might be sneering. In either case, the scrutiny -was unwelcome, and, straightening her shoulders, Jeannette directed -her steps toward one of the shabby, waiting Fords, and climbed in. She -had no intention of letting the Klines sweep by her in their limousine -while she trudged along the sidewalk. - -Established in her taxi and rattling over the familiar route to her -sister’s home, a pleasant thought of Zeb came to her. After all, he -was the best of that rough and common group; he had always been polite -to her, honest and straightforward; she remembered how kind he had -been about the construction of the screens for the bungalow’s windows, -hurrying their making and charging her practically no more than they -had cost. She wondered if he had been to Philadelphia recently or had -heard anything more of Martin. If she should chance to meet Zeb in the -street some day, she debated whether or not she should ask him for news. - -Baby Roy, clad in his Sunday corduroy “knickers” and a white shirt, -which Jeannette knew well had been put upon him clean that morning, -was sprawled on the cement steps of the Beardsleys’ home as her -vehicle stopped before it. The cleanly appearance had departed from -Baby Roy’s shirt, the trousers had become divorced from it, his collar -was rumpled, and the bow tie, which his aunt suspected Etta’s hurried -fingers had tied before church, was bedraggled and askew over one -shoulder. He lay on his back, his head upon the hard stone, his fair -hair in tousled confusion, gazing straight upward into the sky, his -arms waving aimlessly above him. He made no move at the sound of the -motor-car and only stirred when Jeannette reached the steps. - -“Hello, Aunt Jan,” he drawled in his curious, indolent voice. - -“Well, I declare,” said Jeannette, surveying him with puzzled -amusement, “will you kindly tell me what you’re doing there? What are -you looking at? What do you think you see?” - -Baby Roy smiled foolishly, and with open mouth, twisted his jaw slowly -from side to side. - -“Aw,--I was just thinking,” he answered in awkward embarrassment. He -got to his feet and put his arms around his aunt’s neck as she stooped -to kiss him. - -His cheek was soft and warm, and he smelled of dirt and sunburn. - -“You’re a sight,” she told him; “your mother will be wild. Why don’t -you try to keep yourself clean one day a week at least?” - -“Ma won’t care,” the youngster observed, “and Et won’t say nothin’.” - -“Pronounce your ‘g’s, Baby Roy,--say ‘noth-_ing_.’ Why will Etta say -nothing?” - -“’Cause she’s got her feller.” - -“Who? That pimply-faced Eckles boy?” - -The child nodded and then irrelevantly added: - -“Nettie’s got appendicitis.” - -“Good gracious!” exclaimed Jeannette. “Where did she get that?” - -Further information was not forthcoming. The woman’s mind flew to the -possible complications such a calamity would precipitate as she opened -her bag and felt among its contents for the nickel package of lemon -drops she had purchased at the Pennsylvania Station while waiting -for her train. She shook three of the candies out into Baby Roy’s -dirt-streaked palm, and was admonishing the recipient that they were -to be eaten one by one, when there was a clatter of hard shoes on the -porch and a boy of thirteen catapulted out of the house. - -“Dibs on the funny paper!” he yelled. - -Jeannette eyed him with assumed disapproval. - -“There’s no necessity for such a racket, Frank; it’s Sunday, remember, -and your sister’s sick and everything.” - -She proceeded at once, however, to unfold her newspaper and to hand him -the comic section. - -“I brought you one out of the _American_, too.” Frank seized the papers -and grunted his thanks. - -“How is Nettie?” inquired his aunt. - -She had to repeat her question for the boy’s attention was already -absorbed by the colored pictures. - -“Oh, she’s all right, I guess,” he answered carelessly. - -“Is she really sick?” - -“I dunno.” - -Reproof was on Jeannette’s lips but she checked herself. Frank was her -favorite among her sister’s children; he was the only one of them, she -was at pains to declare frequently, who had any “gumption.” The rest -were like their easy-going, amiable parents. Frank had some of her own -energy; he was like her in many ways. It was clear he was destined -to be the mainstay of his father’s and mother’s old age. He was sure -to get on, make money, be successful no matter in what direction he -turned his energies. A fine, clever boy, she considered him, with some -“get-up-and-get” in his composition. - -She left the two brothers seated side by side on the steps, poring over -the “comics.” Their voices followed her as she entered the house. - -“Go on, read it to me;--go on, read it to me. Don’t be a dirty stinker.” - -“Aw, shut up, can’t yer? Wait till I get through first.” - -Jeannette met Alice in the hallway and her first question was of the -sick child. Alice kissed her with affection and hugged her warmly. - -“I don’t think anything’s the matter,” she said reassuringly. -“Nothing in the world but an old-fashioned stomach-ache; something -she’s eaten,--that’s all. I thought it wiser to keep her in bed for -to-day,--give her insides a good rest.” - -“Why, Baby Roy said it was appendicitis!” - -“Oh, nonsense! The child isn’t any more sick than I am!” - -“Well, it gave me quite a turn.” - -“Of course!” agreed Alice. - -Jeannette eyed her sister a moment in suspicion. Allie’s vehement -rejection of the idea that anything might be seriously the matter -suggested Christian Science. Jeannette had heard Mrs. Eddy’s -teachings discussed more or less frequently of late by her sister and -brother-in-law. She suspected they both leaned toward that faith but -lacked courage to come out openly and declare themselves. She wondered -how far these idiotic principles had laid hold of them, and now, with a -searching glance, she asked: - -“Has error crept in?” - -Alice blushed readily and laughed. - -“I don’t know anything about that. If she’s any worse to-morrow, I’ll -send for the doctor. - -“I should hope so,” Jeannette approved warmly. - -“Etta’s delighted with her dress,” Alice said with an abruptness that -suggested a desire to change the subject. “You were a dear to help her -out.” - -“It was nothing at all,--less than five dollars. It seemed a shame not -to get something that was becoming, and there’s real value in that -garment.” - -“Oh, yes, indeed. I could see that.” - -Great thumping, banging and scraping were going on somewhere down below. - -“Roy and Ralph are cleaning the furnace,” explained Alice in answer to -her sister’s puzzled look. “It hasn’t been fired,--oh, I don’t think -since last March.... Come upstairs and lay your things on Etta’s bed. -I’ve got Nettie in mine; it’s so much pleasanter in our room.” - -The two women mounted the creaking stairs. In the front room a little -girl was propped up in bed with several pillows; she was cutting out -pictures from magazines and the bed clothes and carpet were littered -with scraps and slips of paper; a thin, plaid shawl was about her -shoulders, fastened clumsily across her chest with a large safety-pin. -She was not a particularly pretty child; her face was too long and too -pale, but her hair, soft and rippling, had the warm brown color that -had distinguished her mother’s, and her eyes were of the same hue. - -“Look, Moth’, I put a new hat on this lady and she looks a lot nicer.” -The child held up a wavering silhouette for inspection. “Oh, hello, -Aunt Janny,” she cried as her aunt appeared in her mother’s wake; “was -that you in the taxi?” - -There was a note of real pleasure, Jeannette felt, in the little girl’s -greeting, and she put some feeling into her kiss as she bent down to -embrace her. - -“I brought you some lemon drops, Nettie, but since you’re upset perhaps -you’d better not have them.” - -“Oh, I’m quite all right,” said the little girl brightly. “I’m not the -least bit sick.” - -Here was the cloven hoof of Christian Science again, thought her aunt -darkly; the child had been coached, no doubt! It was a great pity if -that rigmarole was going to be taken up by Alice and Roy to make them -all miserable! - -“Well, I think I wouldn’t eat candy till to-morrow,” advised Jeannette. -“What I think you need is a good dose of castor-oil,” she added firmly -with a glance at her sister. “But here,--I have something here, I -know you’ll like much better,” she went on, searching in her bag. She -brought to light a gold-colored, metal pencil about three inches long -with a tiny ring at one end, and gave it to the child. - -“Oh, thank you, Aunt Janny,--thank you awfully,” cried the invalid, -immediately beginning to experiment with the cap which, in turning, -shortened or lengthened the lead. - -“Where’s Etta?” - -“Gone to church,” Alice replied. - -“Heavens! ... What for?” Jeannette turned inquiring eyes upon the -girl’s mother. It was not that she lacked sympathy with any religious -observance on her niece’s part, but church-going for Etta was unusual. -The younger children were sent dutifully to Sunday school but the rest -of the family were rather casual about attending divine services. Alice -smiled significantly in answer to the query, elevated a shoulder, and -indulged in a slight head-shake. - -“I suppose that means a boy again,” Jeannette said, interpreting the -look and gesture. “Doesn’t she see enough of them afternoons and -evenings? I declare, Alice, I don’t know what you’re going to do with -that girl. Yesterday afternoon, all she could talk about was the -movies, and she even stopped me in front of a photographer’s show-case -to ask me if I didn’t think a man in it was perfectly stunning! ... He -was old enough to be her father!” - -“Well, all the girls are like that nowadays.” - -“It was decidedly different when we were that age.” - -“Oh, indeed it was,” agreed Etta’s mother. “I was thinking only -yesterday how we used----” - -“You made a great mistake,” interrupted Jeannette, “in letting her bob -her hair. It’s affected her whole character. She was never quite so -frivolous before.” - -“That was her father’s doing,” said Alice mildly. - -“Oh, well,--he’d let her do anything she wanted! She has but to ask! -... What do you intend to do with her? Let her run round this way -indefinitely? I’d make her take up sewing or cooking or learn some -language.” - -“Etta can sew quite nicely,” said her mother loyally, “and she’s a good -cook. She wants to go to work,--you know that. She thinks you’d have no -difficulty in getting her a position at the office.” - -“Well, perhaps I would, and perhaps I wouldn’t. But I don’t approve of -the idea! She’d much better go to Columbia or Hunter College.” - -“But, Janny dear, we’ve been all over that, time and time again. That -costs money. It would take several hundred a year to send Etta to -college, and we haven’t got it. Roy thinks it’s much more important -that Ralph should follow up his engineering at some university.” - -Jeannette tapped her pursed lips with a meditative finger. - -“When’s he ready?” - -“This is his last year in High School.” - -“It would be wiser to send him to business college.” - -“Roy’s heart is set on Princeton, but if we can’t afford that,--and I -don’t see how we possibly can!--then Columbia. He could commute, you -know.” - -Voices and the sound of feet on the porch announced arrivals. -Jeannette drew aside a limp window curtain and gazed down at the front -steps. - -“It’s that pimply Eckles youth,” she announced. - -“His dog has nine puppies and he’s promised one to me,” came from the -bed. - -“I hope Etta doesn’t ask him to stay to dinner,” Alice remarked, “it’ll -make Kate furious.” - -“No, he’s going.... I must take off my things.” - -Etta running upstairs a moment or two later found her aunt before the -mirror in her room, powdering her nose. - -“Oh, darling!” The girl rushed at her and flung her arms about her -enthusiastically. - -“Careful,--careful, dearie,--I’ve just fixed myself.” Jeannette held -Etta’s arms to the girl’s sides and implanted a brief kiss on her -forehead. The enthusiasm of her niece was in nowise crushed. - -“Didn’t we have fun yesterday, Aunt Jan? Oh, I just love going shopping -with you! You know _everything_!” - -Jeannette smiled complacently. She was a dear child, this! So -responsive and appreciative! - -Suddenly she glanced at her sharply, whipped a handkerchief from the -bureau, and before unsuspecting Etta could guess what she was about, -gave the girl’s lip a quick rub. There was a tell-tale smudge of red -on the white linen. Jeannette held forth the evidence accusingly and -her niece began to laugh, hanging her head like a little girl half her -years. - -“I tell you, Etta, it doesn’t become you! Your lips are red enough -without putting any of that Jap paste on them! When you rouge them, -it makes you look cheap and common.... I don’t care _what_ the other -girls do!” - -She surveyed the girl critically: a handsome child with a lovely mop -of dark brown hair that clung in rich clusters of natural curls about -her neck and ears; her eyes were unusually large and of a deep, velvety -duskiness, though there was a perpetual merry light in them, and her -mouth, too, had a ready smile; her teeth were glistening white, but her -complexion was bad, given to eruptions and blotches. - -“And I wish,” continued Jeannette, “you’d stop eating candy and -ice-cream sodas, and leave cake and pastry alone. Your skin would clear -out in no time. It’s a shame a girl as pretty as you has to spoil her -looks by injudicious eating.” - -“Isn’t it the limit?” agreed Etta. Her face clouded and she went close -to the mirror to study her reflection narrowly. - -“I never knew it to fail!” she said in disgust. “Wednesday night, -Marjorie Bowen’s giving a bridge party, and she’s invited a boy I’m -just dying to meet! And there’s a blossom coming right here on my chin! -I always break out if there’s anything special doing!” - -“Well, I tell you!” exclaimed her aunt. “You wouldn’t have those things -if you’d diet with a little care. Massaging won’t help a bit; you’ve -got to remember to stop eating sweets.... Who’s the new beau you’re -‘dying to meet’?” - -“Oh, he’s a high-roller,--lives down on the Point,--drives a Stutz and -everything! The girls are all mad about him. He’s been at Manlius for -the last two or three years, and now he’s freshman at Yale.... Name’s -Herbert Gibbs!” - -“Goodness gracious!” ejaculated her aunt. - -“What’s the matter?” - -“Well, ... nothing....” - -“Oh, tell me please, Aunt Jan!--Please tell me!” - -“Don’t be foolish! I knew his father, that’s all, and I once saw your -‘high-roller’ in his crib when he was less than a year old.... Isn’t he -rather expressionless and flat-headed?” - -“No; I think he’s perfectly stunning. He wears the best-looking clothes -and he’s an awful sport!” - -“Well, you’d never expect it, if you’d known his father,” her aunt said -dryly. - -There was an ascending tramp of feet on the stairs, and Roy with his -eldest son appeared, dishevelled and sooty. - -“That was a dirty job, all right,” declared Roy after he had greeted -his sister-in-law and kissed her with the tips of his lips for fear -of contaminating her. “I don’t think she’s been cleaned for years. We -shovelled out a ton of soot. Ralph did all the hard work.” - -He seemed a little ridiculous, a little pathetic to Jeannette, as he -stood before her with his smirched and blackened face, and his tight, -wan smile, the upper lip drawn taut across his row of even teeth. -His stuck-up hair was still unruly, and had begun to recede at the -temples and to thin on top; his face was lined with tiny wrinkles -and he wore spectacles with bifocal lenses and metal rims,--an -insignificant man, industrious, conscientious, weighed down with the -cares and responsibilities of a large family. Life had dealt harshly -with him, and somehow, remembering the boy with the whimsical smile -who had once made such earnest love to herself in the flush of youth, -Jeannette could not but regard the result as tragic. She was fond of -Roy, nevertheless; he was always amiable, always good-tempered and -cheerful, but she wondered at this moment as she took stock of him what -sort of a man he would have become if she, and not Alice, had married -him. Different, no doubt, for she would have pushed him into material -success; she would not have been as easy-going with him as Alice; he -had wanted to write; well, if she had been his wife, he would probably -have turned out to be a very successful author for he had ability. - -Roy’s oldest son, Ralph, was in many ways like his father. He had the -same sweet, obliging nature and was even gentler. His voice had the -quality of Baby Roy’s: indolent, drawling, dragging, and he spoke with -a leisureliness that was often irritating. He was slight of build, -narrow-chested and stoop-shouldered, a student by disposition, forever -burrowing into a book or frowning over a magazine article. Jeannette -would have considered this highly commendable had Ralph ever shown any -evidence of having gleaned something from his reading, or displayed any -knowledge as a result of it. What he read seemed to pass through his -mind like water through a sieve. - -She had brought down an advanced copy of the forthcoming issue of -_Corey’s Commentary_ for him, and he accepted this now, with an -appreciative word. - -She always made a point of bringing presents to her sister’s children -whenever she visited them; she liked the reputation of never coming -empty-handed. The gifts, themselves, might be trifling,--indeed she -thought it becoming that they should be,--but she strove to make them -sufficiently appropriate to indicate considerable thoughtfulness in -their selection. She regarded herself as very generous where her nieces -and nephews were concerned. Yesterday she had enabled Etta to buy a -more expensive dress than was possible with the money her mother had -given her, and last week she had sent Frank a fine sweater from a sale -of boys’ sweaters she happened upon in a department store. Of all her -sister’s children, Frank baffled her. He treated her casually, almost -with indifference. While the other children swarmed about her with -effusive gratitude and affection, whenever she gave them anything, -Frank either grunted his thanks or failed to express them at all. She -loved him by far the best, and was continually making him presents or -defending him from criticism. Her partiality was so noticeable she -was mildly teased about it by the rest of the family; but it drew no -recognition from the boy. His aunt, eyeing him with great yearning in -her heart, would often wonder how she could bribe him to put his stout, -rough arms about her neck and kiss her once with warmth and tenderness. -She was never able to stir him to the faintest betrayal of sentiment. - -Her benevolence toward her sister’s family frequently went further than -presents for the children. At Christmas-time she was munificent to them -all, and she never forgot one of their birthdays. Once a year she took -Nettie, Frank and Baby Roy to the Hippodrome, and on the occasional -Saturdays that Alice or Etta came to the city, she always had them -to lunch with her, accompanied them on their shopping trips, and -contributed, here and there, to their small purchases. Not infrequently -when she knew Alice was worrying unduly about some vexatious account, -she would press a neatly folded bill into her hand. She liked the -power that money gave her where they were concerned; she delighted in -their gratitude and deference to her opinions; she was an important -factor in their lives and she enjoyed the part. - - -§ 3 - -At one o’clock dinner was announced. There was little ceremony about -the Beardsleys’ meals; the important business was to be fed. Kate, -the cook and waitress,--a big-bosomed, wide-hipped Irish woman, with -the strength of a horse and the disposition of a bear,--had scant -regard for the preferences of any one member of the family she served. -Her attention was concentrated upon her work; indeed, it required a -considerable amount of clear-thinking and planning to dispatch it at -all, and she brooked no interference. Roy, Alice, and the children were -frankly afraid of her; even Jeannette admitted a wholesome respect. - -“Oh, Kate’s in an awful tantrum!” the whisper would go around the house -and the family would deport itself with due regard to Kate’s mood. - -She piled the food on the table, rattled the bell and departed -kitchenward, leaving the Beardsleys to assemble as promptly or as -tardily as they chose. There never were but two courses to a meal: meat -and dessert. Kate had no time to bother with soup or salad. Her cooking -was good, however, and there were always great dishes of potatoes and -other vegetables as well as a large plate of muffins or some other kind -of hot bread. Jeannette firmly asserted that Kate’s meat pie with its -brown crisp crust could not be surpassed in any kitchen. - -To-day there were but seven at table as Nettie remained upstairs in -bed. She would have crackers and milk later, her mother announced. - -“Milk toast,” Jeannette suggested. But Alice shook her head and made a -motion in the direction of the kitchen. - -“She doesn’t like anyone fussing out there,” she whispered, “and I -don’t like to ask her to do it herself; it’s extra work no matter how -trivial. The Graham crackers will do just as well; Nettie’s quite fond -of them.” - -It was a cheerful scene, this gathering at the table of Roy, his wife, -and their children. Tongues wagged constantly; there was happy laughter -and loud talk, much clatter of china and clinking of silverware. Roy -stood up to carve and he served generously; plates were passed from -hand to hand around the table to Alice who sat opposite him and she -added heaping spoonfuls of creamed cauliflower or string beans, and -mashed potatoes. The pile of food set down in front of each seemed, by -its quantity, unappetizing to Jeannette, but the others evidently did -not share her feeling, for they cleaned their plates, while Frank and -Baby Roy almost always asked for more. The remarks that flew about the -board had small relevancy, but she found them interesting, liked to -lean back in her chair, with wrists folded one across the other in her -lap, and listen comfortably. - -“Mr. Kuntz tells me he’s sold the Carleton place; the Hirshstines -bought it,” Roy might observe. - -“Oh, golly,--those kikes!” - -“Frank, you mustn’t speak that way; Mrs. Hirshstine’s a nice woman, and -Abe Hirshstine’s very public-spirited.” - -“They may be Jews all right, but I wouldn’t consider them ‘kikes’; -there’s a lot of difference.” Ralph’s drawl often had that irritating -quality his aunt disliked. - -“Well, _she’s_ certainly a dumb-bell, if there ever was one.” Jeannette -would infer this was of the daughter. - -“That’s because Buddy Eckles’s after her!” - -Etta with curling lip would dismiss this without comment. - -“He likes to drive her Marmon,--that’s what _he’s_ after.” - -“She spoke about taking us all over to Long Beach, Saturday, and -Buddy’s going to drive.” - -“Hot dog!” - -“You can’t go, smarty!” - -“_Why?_--Why can’t I go?” - -“’Cause you’ve got to go to the dentist’s.” - -“Aw,--cusses!” - -“Do you think I’d better have the storm windows put up to-morrow, Roy, -when that man comes to fix the radiators?” - -“I wouldn’t hurry about it; it isn’t November first yet.” - -“I know, but it keeps the house so much warmer, and I was thinking -about Nettie....” - -“Ralph and I can do it when you need them.” - -“We get Barthelmess at the Plaza Friday and Saturday!” - -“Oh, c’n I go, Moth’?” - -“We’ll see; perhaps your father will take you.” - -“Do you let the children go to the movies much, Alice?” - -“Depends on the picture. Barthelmess is always clean and good.” - -“Friday I’ll be late coming home, and Saturday night I’m afraid I’ll -have to go to the Civic Improvement meeting.” - -“Bet I’m gypped!” - -“Don’t worry, Baby Roy; I’ll let you go by yourself, Saturday -afternoon, if you’re a good boy.” - -“Pulitzer’s closing out his meat market; going to handle nothing but -groceries from now on.” - -“Well, I guess he’s made money. He’s a good citizen, all right. He -subscribed two hundred and fifty for the district nurse.” - -“Did you get on to my classy hair part, Aunt Jan? All the women-getters -at school do their hair this way now.” - -“Really, Frank! Your language ...! I don’t know where or how you pick -up such phrases.” - -“Don’t be too critical, Alice. He attaches no significance to them. You -know what boys are.” - -There was an endless stream of such talk, Roy and his wife frequently -maintaining one conversation between ends of the table, while their -children carried on another across it. - -Kate crammed the soiled dishes on the oval, black, tin tray, piled them -high, and grasping the tray with strong arms, bore it to the kitchen, -kicking the swing door violently open as she passed through. - -Dessert made its appearance, usually a deep apple pie, a chocolate -pudding or a mound of flavored jelly in which slices of banana careened -at various angles. Kate refused flatly to bother with ice-cream. Once -in a while she condescended to make a layer cake. - -During the meal it was customary for the telephone to ring several -times. Instantly at each summons, Etta would be upon her feet and make -a quick dash for the instrument. Long conversations would ensue in -which Etta’s voice would drift down to the dining-room. - -“Well, I didn’t.... Well, you tell him I didn’t.... Well, you tell -him I didn’t say anything of the kind.... I never did.... He’s just -crazy.... I never said anything of the kind.... Well, you tell him I -didn’t....” - -“Etta!” her father would call presently. The voice would continue -unfalteringly, and Roy at intervals would repeat her name until finally -the long-winded parley would be brought to an end. - -By two o’clock on this particular day the meal was over, and there was -a general breaking-up of the group. Alice went out into the kitchen to -prepare Nettie’s tray. Frank vanished in pursuit of his own affairs, -which usually took him to the house of “Chinee” Langlon, whose parents -were wealthy and had lavished everything they could think of on their -one son, including an elaborate wireless outfit. Buddy Eckles arrived -a few minutes past the hour, planting himself on the front steps, and -waited ostensibly for Etta to go walking with him. Jeannette had her -own ideas as to where they actually went. She suspected they made -their way without delay to the home of some girl friend, whose parents -were absent or had lax ideas about the Sabbath, and there, having -carefully pulled down the window-shades, out of deference to the -possible prejudices of passers-by, they rolled back the rugs, turned -on the Victrola, and with other couples as frivolous as themselves, -danced until within a minute or two of the time when it was necessary -to return to their respective families. Ralph disappeared up into his -den,--a wretched, ill-lighted, cramped chamber he had built himself in -the attic. He kept the door of this apartment carefully locked at all -times, and when within by the light of a kerosene lamp, read what his -aunt earnestly hoped was entirely edifying literature, and where, she -was thoroughly persuaded, he indulged secretly in cigarettes. Baby Roy -wandered amiably and uncomplainingly about, listening to his elders’ -conversation, or took himself off into the scraggy garden where he hid -in strange nooks and told himself stories in a droning voice which -always ended in frightening him. Jeannette regarded him the strangest -of her sister’s children; she frankly declared she did not understand -him and thought Alice outrageously lenient where he was concerned. - - -§ 4 - -To-day’s visit was an unusually happy one for Jeannette. Nettie drifted -off to sleep while her mother and aunt established themselves in shabby -grass-rockers on the side-porch and had a long, comfortable talk. The -day had turned unexpectedly warm and there was a reviving touch of dead -summer in the air. In a neighbor’s garden, chrysanthemums and cosmos -were still in bloom, and the brilliant colors made the Beardsleys’ -own unkempt little yard appear gay and luxuriant. A mechanical piano -tinkled pleasantly somewhere, and every now and then there came the -vibrant hum of a passing motor-car. Kate marched past her mistress and -her mistress’s sister presently, clad in sober town clothes and wearing -one of Jeannette’s discarded hats which the giver thought, at the -moment, became her nicely. Kate was off for the rest of the day, and -Alice with Etta’s help would manage the cold supper for the family at -half-past six. A stillness on this midafternoon settled about the house -usually teeming exuberantly with life. Through an open window near at -hand, the women on the porch could hear an occasional rustle of papers -as Roy, prone upon the leather-covered couch in the living-room, read -the Sunday news. - -Alice drew a deep sigh of weary comfort. - -“I ought to get at my sewing, I suppose, but I don’t like bringing it -out on the porch Sunday; people can see you from the street.... It’s so -pleasant out here, I hate to go in.” - -“Sit awhile,” encouraged Jeannette. “You’re always worrying yourself -about something, Alice.” - -“I have to. Frank’s stockings have _got_ to be darned or he can’t go to -school to-morrow; Baby Roy’s cap is torn and I noticed his school suit -needs cleaning.” - -“You ought to make Etta do these things.” - -“Etta does enough,” her mother defended her; “she’s only young once, -you know, and Sunday ought to be as much of a holiday for her as it -is for other young folks.... And there’re some letters I must write, -one to Nettie’s teacher for Frank to take to school with him in the -morning.... Mercy! there’s never any let-up to it. I’ve got to go over -this month’s bills with Roy some time to-day and decide what we’re -going to do about them. You know, I just _won’t_ bother him about money -matters when he comes home all tired out at night, and I have to wait -until Sunday.” - -“How are you off this month? Any worse than usual?” - -“Roy’s premium falls due. I’ve got the money all right, but some of the -monthly bills will have to wait.... You know, Jan, I’m sick to death -of this ever-constant worry about money; I’ve had it all my life, ever -since I was a little girl. I wish to goodness I could earn something on -the side. When the children were little, I couldn’t spare the time, but -that isn’t a consideration now. Etta could perfectly well take care of -the house, and I could devote several hours a day to some kind of work -that would bring in money. I thought I’d knit a few sweaters and see if -I could induce some shop in the city to handle them; it would only cost -me the wool. If I’d learned typing, I think I could get some copying -to do. You know it makes me ashamed to realize how little I could earn -if I was obliged to get out and seek my living. I’d be worth about ten -dollars a week. That would be what they’d call my ‘economic value.’ ...” - -“‘Economic value!’” cried Jeannette. “What do you mean? The mother of -five children has an economic value of ten dollars a week! Why, Alice, -you talk like a crazy woman!” - -“I may be worth a great deal more than that to the nation, but that’s -all I’d be worth to a business man.” - -“The Government ought to give you an annual income the rest of your -life for every child you bring into the world; that would represent -your economic value!” - -“Well, there’s no likelihood of their doing it,” laughed Alice. “I wish -I had a definite way of earning money,--I mean a profession like a -stenographer or a nurse. I’ve always claimed, Janny, that every woman, -married or single, ought to learn a trade or profession. You have no -idea how I envy you, sometimes. You’re independent, you’re beholden to -no one, you’re utterly free of all these cares and responsibilities -that harass me from morning to night.” - -Jeannette shook her head emphatically. - -“You don’t know, Alice,” she said. “If you envy me my life, I envy you -a hundred times more. I envy you these very cares and responsibilities -of which you complain; I envy you your husband and your children and -all those things that go to make a home.... Oh, I think sometimes, I -was a blithering _fool_ to have left Martin!” - -His name had not crossed her lips for months, and for a little time -there was silence on the porch. - -“Do you ever hear from him?” asked Alice in a lower key. - -“No. I understand he’s in Philadelphia in the automobile business. You -know as much about him as I do.” - -“And he’s never married?” - -“We’ve never been divorced.” - -Again there was an interval of silence. - -“Would you go back to him, Jan?” - -Jeannette stared out into the warm sunshine, and her rocker ceased its -slow movement. - -“I’ve thought about it,” she admitted. “I’d like a home. I’m so tired -of the office. There’s nothing to work for in the business any more. -I’ve got as far as they’ll let me go; there’s no future for me.” - -“Why don’t you write him?” Alice suggested, watching her sister’s -serious face. “He may be as lonely as you are.” - -“It’s fourteen years,” mused Jeannette. “We’ve both changed. He may be -very different.” - -“He may still be thinking of you and blaming himself for having treated -you so unkindly.... Why don’t you write him and just say you’d be glad -to know how he’s getting on?” - -“I don’t know his address.” - -“Well, that could be found out easily enough.” - -There was a sound within, and Roy came stumbling out on the porch to -stretch himself, luxuriously. - -“Whew!” he said, enjoying a great yawn. “I nearly went to sleep in -there.” - -“Why didn’t you? A nap would have done you good.” - -“I don’t like to miss a single minute of my one day at home. It’s too -pleasant out here.” - -Alice began to fidget, clearing her throat nervously. - -“Do you feel like going over some bills with me, Roy?” she ventured -with obvious reluctance. - -“Sure,” he agreed good-naturedly. - -He sat down on the steps, while his wife went indoors and presently -returned with a sheaf of bills, a pad and pencil. She established -herself next to him. - -“Now you see, Roy,” she began, “in the first place, there’s the two -hundred and forty that’s due on the fifth. I’ve got one hundred and -fifty saved up, and that means I must take ninety out of next week’s -salary. It’s going to leave me precious little, and there’s your -commutation for next month that’s got to come out right away. I figure -we owe about,--well, it’s not over six hundred; I’m not counting -Frank’s teeth nor Gimbel’s; they can wait. But here’s the first of the -month coming and Pulitzer, you know, won’t let you charge unless you -pay up by the tenth. Now I was thinking....” - -The voices went on murmuring, and Jeannette mused. Here it was again: -the eternal war against want, the fight for existence, the battle for -bread. There was never any end to it; it was perpetual, incessant, -unending. In all the houses within the range of her vision, in all -the trim, orderly, little dwellings that made up Cohasset Beach, in -all the thousands and thousands of homes that dotted Long Island, in -the millions that were scattered over the United States, and over the -world, this struggle was going on. It was easy in some; it was bitter -hard in others. Alice, who was among the most readily satisfied and -uncomplaining of women, had protested against the everlasting drudgery, -a moment ago! ... Well, she, Jeannette, had solved that particular -problem for herself pretty much to her satisfaction. It was many years -since she had had to worry about a bill; her income more than covered -her expenses; she had saved and was going on saving; she had nearly -enough money in the bank to buy another bond. In a few years she would -have ten thousand dollars securely invested. Then, she would resign -from the Corey Publishing Company,--they would pay her something, part -salary, as long as she lived, the way they did Miss Holland,--and -perhaps she would travel, or perhaps make her home with Roy and Alice. -They would not want her particularly, but theirs might be the only -place to which she could go; she knew their loyalty and affection would -make them urge her to come to them.... And there was Frank! She would -like to do something for that boy: pay his way through college or make -him some kind of a handsome present that would render him eternally -grateful to her. But she supposed he would be getting married as soon -as he was grown up and would have no eyes nor time for anybody except -the fluffy-haired doll he would select for a wife! ... Love was a -funny thing! ... Her mind drifted to Martin,--Martin, with his youth, -his charm, his good looks, his winning personality. Ah, he was a man -of whom any woman might be proud! Well, she _had_ been proud of him; -she had always admired him; he had always had a particular appeal for -her.... It was the selfsame thing that was agitating Roy and Alice -to-day, that had caused her disagreement with Martin,--this struggle -for money, for the means to pay bills, for the wherewithal to buy -bread! ... Ah,--and they had had enough, more than enough, if Martin -only had been reasonable! ... Undoubtedly he was very successful now; -an agency for a motor-car in Philadelphia indicated success; he was, in -all likelihood, a rich man. She wondered what would have happened to -him and to her if she had stuck to him! ... - -Her mind wandered into strange speculations. She had once viewed the -streets of Philadelphia from a car window on her way to Washington. She -thought of the city as blocks and blocks of small brick houses, with -pointed roofs, standing close together, row after row, each with a -little square bit of lawn beside brown stone front steps. She imagined -herself and Martin in one of these; she was keeping house again, and -she had a cook and perhaps a maid, and of course she would have an -automobile, since Martin had the agency for one. Her life was full of -friendships; she was able to dress beautifully; Martin’s associates -admired her, thought her handsome, regal; she took a keen interest in -her children’s schooling,--for, of course, there would be children,--a -twelve-year-old Frank, and perhaps a younger Frank, as well, and one -daughter, a girl different from either Etta or Nettie, a tall girl with -a fine carriage, gracious, dignified, beautiful. How she would enjoy -dressing her, and how proud Martin would be of his children, and of -herself,--her poise and beauty, her fine clothes and the way she wore -them, her graciousness to his friends and her capable management of his -home.... - -“No man ever had a better wife than I have; no man was ever prouder of -his wife and children; no man was ever more grateful. You’re a wonder, -dear,--have always been a wonder! Other men envy me,--envy me your -beauty and your goodness and your devotion. Everything I’ve amounted -to in this life I owe to you; you’ve made me what I am; you’ve made -our home what it is! My friends look at you and think how lucky I’ve -been. I look back on all the hard years we’ve been together, on all the -tough times we’ve had and somehow pulled through, and I know it’s to -you, and not to me, the credit belongs. Oh, yes, it does! You’ve made -my home for me, you’ve given me my children, you’ve taken the burden -of everything on your shoulders, you’ve carried us both along and -made our venture as man and wife, as father and mother, successful. I -owe everything in the world to you, and to me you’re the loveliest and -dearest woman in the world....” - -It was Roy’s voice that she heard in the hush of the warm Sunday -afternoon, and it blended with the queer thoughts of the woman who sat -so still in her rocker as to be thought asleep. - -“No--no, Roy,” Alice interrupted him. “We’ve done it together. Money -doesn’t count with me,--really it doesn’t. Sometimes I protest a bit -when I think of what the children have to do without, but there is -nothing that can take the place of the love we all share. We’re a -little group, a little clan that’s always clung together, and I’d -rather be cold and hungry and see the children shabby and needy than -have one less of them, or have discord amongst us. You and I have had -our trials and our disagreements, but we’ve always loved each other and -loved the children....” - -Alice was crying now, softly crying with her head against her husband’s -shoulder and his arm about her, and the hot prick of tears came to -Jeannette’s eyes and a burning trickle ran down the side of her nose. -She dropped her forehead into her hand and shielded her face with her -palm. - -“We’ll weather this difficulty as we’ve weathered many another,” -Roy said consolingly. “I’ll go into the insurance company’s office -to-morrow and fix it up with them; we’ll pay them half on the fifth, -and I’m sure they’ll give me thirty days on the balance. Then you can -settle what’s most pressing and give the others a little on account.... -Why say,--we’ve faced worse times than this! Do you remember that -Christmas when Ralph was only three and we’d been out trying to find -the kids some cheap presents and I lost that ten-dollar bill out of my -pocket? And do you remember when I was so rotten sick with pneumonia -and the doctor thought I was going to get T.B.? And do you remember -the time when Baby Roy was coming and you fell downstairs and broke -your collar-bone? ... I tell you, Alice, we’ve _lived_, you and I! We -haven’t had very much to do it on, but we’ve _lived_!” - -“You’re such a comfort, Roy. You’re always so sweet about everything -and you always put heart into me. You’re wonderful!” - -“It’s _you_ that are the wonder, Alice,--the most wonderful wife a man -ever had!” - -Their heads turned toward one another in mutual inclination and their -lips met lovingly. They sat on for awhile in silence, Alice’s head once -more against her husband’s shoulder, their hands linked, the man’s arm -about his wife. - -There came a faint sound from somewhere in the house. - -“That’s Nettie,” Alice said, immediately arousing herself and getting -to her feet. “I’ll go up. The child’s slept quite a while; it’s almost -four o’clock.” - -She crossed the porch with careful tread not to disturb her sister, and -in another minute her voice and her daughter’s, alternately, floated -down from an upstairs window. Roy produced a pipe from his coat pocket, -and proceeded to empty, fill and light it with attentive deliberation. -When he had it briskly going, he rose and leisurely crossed the strip -of lawn to his neighbor’s yard, vaulted the low wire fence, and was -lost in a moment beyond the cosmos and chrysanthemums. - -Jeannette remained as she was, head in hand, thinking, thinking. The -tears had dried upon her face, her eyes were staring, and there was an -empty hunger in her heart that she recognized at last had been there -for a long, long time. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -§ 1 - -“Etta! Is that you?” - -“Yes,--it’s me, Aunt Jan.” - -“Say ‘it’s I,’ dear. What brings you to the city, Sunday?” - -“I stayed in town last night. There was a dance at Marjorie Bowen’s -cousin’s house and Moth’ said I could go. We had a perfectly divine -time! Her aunt chaperoned us and I slept with Marj. I thought maybe -you’d be going down to Cohasset Beach this morning, and we’d go -together. So I got up, left the girls in bed, had my breakfast, and -took a ’bus to come down to see you. I want to talk to you about -something.” - -“But, dear,--I wasn’t going to the country to-day. I promised an old -friend of mine who lives at the Navy Yard in Brooklyn, I’d go to see -her this afternoon.” - -Etta’s face fell and she frowned disconsolately at the carpet. Her aunt -suspected something was troubling her. - -“Couldn’t you tell me what’s on your mind, now?” - -“Oh, it wasn’t anything particular; I wanted to ask your advice, and I -thought we’d have a talk as we went down in the train.” - -A bright light suddenly came into the girl’s face. - -“Is it Miss Holland you’re going to see, Aunt Janny? Won’t you let me -go with you? Remember I met her that day she was here to lunch? She’s -perfectly _sweet_! I’d just love to visit the Navy Yard!” - -“Well, I don’t think you’ll find many ensigns or lieutenants hanging -about on Sunday.” - -“Oh, but it would be lots of fun, just the same! I’ll ‘phone Moth’ -I’m with you and take a late train this aft! Please say yes, Aunt -Janny,--please say yes!” - -The girl was jumping up and down in eagerness. - -“Well-l,” her aunt said with an amused but doubtful smile, “I don’t see -what you’d get out of it, particularly.” - -“I’d just love the trip, and I’d like being with you, Aunt -Janny,--really I would!” - -Jeannette narrowed her lids and eyed her skeptically. She was pleased, -nevertheless. Her niece’s excessive ebullition and high spirits never -failed to divert her; she liked the child’s company; the girl had a -great respect for her worldly judgment, much more than she had for her -mother’s or father’s, and the older woman found it an engaging business -to expound her theories of life and her views of affairs to the younger -one. - -“I’m not going until after lunch,” she said, still with a vague -hesitancy in her manner. - -“I don’t mind waiting a bit.” - -“Can you amuse yourself until noon? I have some office work to do that -will take me about an hour. Miss Alexander’s gone to church but she’ll -be back directly.” - -“Could I make some egg muffins? We could have ’em for lunch, an’ -they’re awfully nice and I’m really good at them.” - -Jeannette noted the child’s palpitant eagerness again with mild -amusement. - -“I think that would be lovely,” she consented, her fine eyes twinkling. -“But don’t get things out there in a mess; Miss Alexander won’t like it -if she comes home and finds everything upset.” - -“I’ll be ever and ever so careful,” agreed Etta, already skipping -toward the kitchen. - -Jeannette took herself back to the cold front room, seldom used by -either herself or Beatrice, and brought her thoughts once more to the -construction of the half-finished circular letter which must be ready -for the composing room early Monday morning. - -She heard Beatrice come in presently, and an hour later, as she was -completing the last revision of her work, Etta appeared breathlessly to -announce lunch. - -The egg muffins were excellent and received enthusiastic praise. -Jeannette ate them with the heated canned tamales, and sipped her tea, -one eye on the clock, for she was anxious to make an early start if -Etta was to catch, at any seemly hour, a train back to Cohasset Beach. - -It was after two before she and her niece found themselves seated in -the thundering subway. - -“Well, now, tell me your troubles, my dear,” Jeannette began; “I want -to hear all about them.” - -But Etta had to be coaxed before she would become communicative. - -“Oh, it’s _this_!” she finally burst out, striking her skirt with -disdainful fingers. “It’s my clothes, Aunt Jan! I was horribly ashamed -last night. There wasn’t a girl there at Marjorie’s cousin’s party -who wasn’t a lot better dressed than I! I felt _awful_ and was so -embarrassed! One of the girls’ older sister was there and I saw her -taking an inventory of everything I had on! I just wanted to sink -through the floor! Moth’ does everything she possibly can to see -that I look decent, and I know better than anyone else what she does -without so that I can have things! But I don’t want that! I don’t want -Moth’ and Dad denying themselves on my account. I want to be able to -take care of myself and buy my own clothes, earn my own living and be -independent! ... Aunt Jan, won’t you get me a job at your office? Won’t -you back me up with Moth’ and Dad, and urge them to let me go to work? -I don’t want to stay at home and just help Moth’ here and there with -the housework and do nothing else but go to the movies and dance jazz! -They call me a ‘flapper,’ and I suppose I am one,--but what else is -there for me to be? I hate it, Aunt Jan,--I _hate being a flapper_! I -want to be something different and better; I want to make my own way -in the world and not be obliged to stick round home until a man with -enough money comes along and asks me to marry!” - -It was the old familiar cry, the cry of youth calling for -self-expression, the cry of budding life eager for experience, the cry -of young womanhood demanding independence, emancipation. - -The words rang familiarly in the older woman’s ears, and she smiled -sadly with a sorry head-shake. - -“Why, what’s the matter, Aunt Jan?” asked the girl after a troubled -scrutiny of her companion’s face. “Don’t you think I have a right to -earn my own living if I want to?” She renewed her arguments with -characteristic vehemence. There was nothing new in them for Jeannette; -she had voiced them all herself twenty-five years ago. A memory of her -patient, hard-working little mother came to her, and she saw her once -again with the comforter over her knees, the knitted red shawl pinned -across her shoulders, thin of hair, with trembling pendent cheeks, -bending over the canvas-covered ledger, figuring--figuring--figuring. -And she saw herself, the impatient eighteen-year-old, striking -her faded velvet dress with angry fingers, protesting against the -humiliation her shabby attire occasioned her, asking to be allowed to -work, to earn the money that would permit her to dress as other girls -dressed, and be her own mistress, self-supporting. How well, she, -Jeannette, could now sympathize with that earnest, tearful, little -mother! - -She looked at Etta and, in her mind, saw her anxiously taking dictation -from some frowning business man, saw her white flying fingers busy at -some switch-board disentangling telephone cords, pictured her perched -on a tall stool, bending over a great tome, making careful entries, saw -her folding circulars, writing cards, filing letters, giving her youth, -her eagerness and beauty to the grim treadmill of business life, and -her heart filled with pain. - -“... and there’s no reason on earth,” Etta was saying, “why I shouldn’t -help out at home. Dad and Moth’ have given all their lives to us -children; they’ve denied themselves and denied themselves just so we -can have clothes for our backs, enough to eat and go to school! It -isn’t fair. It’s time I helped. I could go to business college, take a -course, and in three months, I could learn to be a stenographer and -earn fifteen or twenty dollars a week....” - -“Hush, child,--hush! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” -Jeannette broke in, suddenly stirred to speech. “I threw away my life, -talking just that kind of nonsense. To learn to earn her own living is -a dangerous thing for a young girl.” - -“Why, how do you mean, Aunt Jan?” - -“Its effect is poison; it’s like a drug, a disease! I’ve paid bitterly -for my financial independence. I sacrificed everything that was -precious to me because I wanted to be self-supporting. Etta dear, life -is a hard game for women at best, but waiting within the shelter of her -own home for the man she’ll some day come to love and who will love her -is the best and wisest course for a girl to follow.” - -“But I hate the kind of life I’m living! There’s nothing ahead of -me but marriage, unless I go to work! You wouldn’t want me to marry -just because I was bored at home,--and I’ve known lots of girls to -do that! I never meet any attractive men,--only High School kids and -rah-rah boys out of college. Wouldn’t I have a much better chance -to meet a finer class of young men around business offices,--I mean -serious-minded, ambitious young men? It seems to me I’d have much more -opportunity to meet a man I’d admire, and who might want me to marry -him if I went to work than I ever will waiting stupidly at home.” - -“It doesn’t make any difference where you meet him, whether it is in -business or at a High School dance,” Jeannette answered. “He’s bound -to find you, and you him.... I hate to see you go to work. You pay a -fearful penalty in doing so. It makes you regard marriage lightly, and -prejudices you against having children----” - -“Oh, I shall want children!” exclaimed Etta, promptly. She proceeded -to outline just what were her requirements in a husband, and to give -her views on the subject of having children. Her aunt was somewhat -disconcerted to discover that she had these matters, as far as they -concerned herself, entirely settled in her own mind. “Oh, yes, indeed,” -Etta repeated, “I shall want children. Perhaps not such a lot of them -as Moth’ and Dad have. They would have had a much easier time of it, if -they’d had only one or two. Instead of always being poor and having to -struggle, they could have lived in considerable comfort, and now there -would be no question about their being able to send me to Bryn Mawr or -Vassar. I think two children are enough for any couple. Now, my idea, -Aunt Janny,----” - -“Oh, for Heaven’s sakes, Etta!” Jeannette interrupted with impatience; -“you don’t know what you’re talking about! What does your education -or Ralph’s education amount to in comparison with the lives of Frank, -Nettie, and Baby Roy? You’ll have a great deal more worth-while -education pounded into you by having brothers and sisters and by having -to help your mother take care of them, than you would ever get at Bryn -Mawr. More than that, just living in the same house with them, being -brought up with them and learning to deny yourself, now and then, for -their sake has taught you unselfishness, forbearance that will make you -a far better wife and mother than ten years’ of college education! ... -Your father and mother with you children about them, with the hard -problems you present, with the ever-pressing question of ways and means -before them, with the solving of these problems,--for there is always a -solution,--are among the most enviable people in the world. There was a -time when I used to feel sorry for your mother, but now I look at her -with only admiration and jealousy. You think of her as poor! Well, I -think of her as rich! And I attribute much of the happiness she has had -out of life to the fact that she never went into business.... Stay out -of it, Etta my dear, whatever you do! It’s an unnatural environment for -a girl, and in it her mind and soul as surely become contaminated as -if she deliberately went to live in a smallpox camp.... Look at me, my -dear! I’ve given twenty years of my life to business and what have I to -show for it? Nothing but a very lonely and selfish old age!” - -“Oh, Aunt Jan!” cried the girl, shocked into protesting. “How can you -say such things! Why I think you’re one of the handsomest, happiest, -most enviable, smartest-dressed women in the world!” - -Jeannette laughed. - -“Well, I didn’t mean to deliver a ‘curtain’ lecture! I just hated the -thought of your following in my footsteps. It makes me actually shudder -even to think of it. But I didn’t mean to get started the way I did---- - -“Here,” she suddenly cried, gathering her things together and hurriedly -getting to her feet, “this is the Bridge! We have to get off here and -change cars.” - - -§ 2 - -The house just inside the high iron fence of the Navy Yard in which -Commander Jerome Sedgwick lived was a three-story, square, dirty -cream-painted cement affair, which bore his name in a small, neat -sign on the third step of the front stairs. Across the street from -it, children racketed upon a city play-ground, and in its rear some -green-painted hot-houses leaned haphazardly against one another, their -backs turned upon a quadrangle where several orderly tennis courts were -located. Jeannette had visited Miss Holland here many times, and one -summer a few years ago, had spent her two weeks’ vacation keeping her -old friend company, while the nephew, Jerry, was enjoying a month’s -leave with his family, fishing among the Maine lakes. - -A little girl of five, just tall enough to reach the knob, opened the -door a few inches and stared up unsmilingly at the visitors. - -“How do you do, Sarah?” said Jeannette, recognizing the child. “Is your -mama at home?” - -Sarah continued to stare stolidly a moment, then turned and -disappeared, leaving the door hardly more than ajar. Jeannette and Etta -could hear the sound of her shrill, piping voice, and her small running -feet within. - -Mrs. Sedgwick came rustling to greet the callers promptly, and in her -wake limped Miss Holland. - -“Oh, you _dear_!” exclaimed the latter, catching sight of Jeannette. -“I’m so glad you came; I’ve been hungering for a sight of you for -weeks.” She kissed her friend warmly on both cheeks. Etta was presented. - -“The child begged to be allowed to come,” explained her aunt. “She -wanted a glimpse of the Yard.” - -“Why, certainly,” exclaimed Mrs. Sedgwick cordially. “I’m delighted you -brought her. Jerry unfortunately isn’t home but I have to take Sarah -and Junior out shortly, and I’ll be charmed to show your niece about, -and leave you two to gossip by yourselves.” - -Miss Holland, her thin, knuckly, white hand on Jeannette’s forearm, -drew her into the sitting-room. - -“Take off your things down here, my dear; I can’t climb stairs very -well on account of my knees, and no one’s coming in.” - -“How _is_ your rheumatism?” inquired Jeannette. - -“’Bout the same; it keeps me rather helpless, and the doctor is -actually starving me to death. What with the things he says I can’t eat -and the things I don’t like, my menus are rather limited.” - -The two women settled themselves before the small, glowing coal fire in -an old-fashioned grate, and began talking in low tones. Mrs. Sedgwick -excused herself to make the children ready to go out, while Etta stood -at the window, gazing with absorbed interest at any evidence of Navy -life that came within the range of her vision. - -“’Xcuse me, Miss Holland,” she interrupted presently with her usual -breathlessness, “do you happen to know, or did you ever hear Commander -Sedgwick mention a young ensign named White?” - -Miss Holland looked doubtful. - -“My friend, Marjorie Bowen, knew him, or knew his sister, I think, -while he was at Annapolis.” - -“Well, I’m afraid ...” began Miss Holland. - -Etta proceeded hastily to another observation. - -“There was a destroyer in Cohasset Bay last summer,--anchored right off -the Yacht Club,--and I saw two of the officers on shore one day.... I -don’t know what their names were, of course, but during the war I knew -several of the boys in the reserves. Asa Pulitzer was a boatswain’s -mate; ... I think that’s what he was.” - -Jeannette turned an indulgent smile upon Miss Holland. - -“Asa Pulitzer is the local grocer’s son.” - -“Well, I don’t care if he is!” protested Etta. “He made good----” - -Mrs. Sedgwick rustled downstairs at this moment, making a timely -entrance. She carried Etta off, with assurance of returning in time for -tea. - -“Well-l,” said Jeannette comfortably, as the pleasant hour of -companionship and confidences began. “You don’t _look_ as if you’d been -ill!” - -“Not ill exactly; it’s this wretched rheumatism that will not get -better.” - -Miss Holland’s tone was not complaining; indeed she always spoke -with remarkable placidity. Jeannette regarded her with all her old -admiration. There was an unusual aristocratic quality about Miss -Holland that never failed to stir her. She was white-haired, now, -fragile and thin looking, and there was an uncertainty about her -movements, but she still bore herself with distinction,--a gentlewoman -to her finger-tips. Even more than the air of gentility that surrounded -her, Jeannette esteemed the shrewd brain, nimble wit and judgment of -this woman. It seemed a sad and sorry thing to her that so splendid a -personality, so fine an intellect should have had so little opportunity -for self-expression in the world, and that at sixty, Miss Holland -should be no more than what she seemed: an old maid, growing yearly -more and more crippled, passing what days remained to her with her -nephew and her nephew’s family, somewhat of a problem, somewhat in the -way! Of course they loved her; Jeannette knew that Commander Sedgwick -was devoted to his aunt and treated her with as much respect and -affection as ever son did his mother, but, after all, on the brink of -old age, Miss Holland’s course was run, and how little she had to show -for all her years of toil and faithfulness! She had spent her life at -an underling’s desk and given her wisdom and her strength to a business -that had paid her barely enough to support herself and make it possible -for her to give her nephew his profession! - -“Miss Holland,” Jeannette asked impulsively, “what did the Corey -Company pay you towards the end of your employment there?” - -“Fifty dollars a week for the last five years I was with them.” - -“And altogether, you were there?” - -“Twenty-five years.... Why do you ask?” - -“I was thinking how little they appreciated you.” - -“Mr. Kipps told me,” Miss Holland said with a reminiscent smile, “that -it would never do to pay women employees more than fifty a week; they -wouldn’t know what to do with the money.” - -“He didn’t!” - -“Oh, yes! He claimed it would demoralize them. He used to say they -would be sure to throw it away on ‘fripperies.’ ‘Fripperies,’ you -remember, was a great word of his.” - -“It still is!” - -“Mr. Kipps’ attitude is typical, I think, of the average employer of -women. This is a man-made world, as perhaps you’ve noticed, my dear. -Did you ever stop to consider the injustice to which working women are -subjected? Do you realize there are about twelve million working women -on pay-rolls in the United States, that twenty dollars a week is a very -high wage for any one of them to receive, and six million of them, or -half of the entire number, earn between ten and twelve a week? ... -I happen to have the statistics issued by the woman’s bureau of the -Department of Labor.” - -Miss Holland pushed herself up erect from her chair, and her face -showed the pain the effort cost her. - -“Can’t I get it for you?” offered Jeannette hastily. - -“No--no; thanks very much; it’s right here. I can put my hand on it -in just a minute.” From a desk near at hand she produced a government -report. - -“I came across this the other day, and I saved it because it proves -what I have always felt about the unfairness with which women are -treated in business. They may perform equal work with men but very few -of them are paid as well. The average annual earning power of the male -industrial worker now is at the rate of a thousand dollars a year; -that of the woman industrial worker five to six hundred. Among office -workers the disparity is much greater. When I was getting fifty dollars -a week as Mr. Kipps’ chief assistant, there was a youth helping me who -was being paid sixty.” - -“I know,” agreed Jeannette. “When Tommy Livingston followed me as Mr. -Corey’s secretary, he did not do the work half as competently as I had -done,--Mr. Corey often told me so,--and yet he was paid more at the -very start, and asked for and received one raise after another, until -Mr. Corey was paying him nearly twice what he formerly had paid me; but -when I went back to work after I left Martin, Mr. Corey started me in -again at the old salary of thirty-five, and never suggested a higher -rate. Walt Chase was getting eighty-five dollars weekly as head of the -Mail Order Department, and when I took charge, I received only forty. -Although I have doubled the amount of business the Corey Publishing -Company does by mail, I am to-day being paid but fifty a week. Mr. -Allister told me when I asked for my last raise, that it was the last -he would ever give me.” - -“Almost all employers underpay their women workers,” affirmed Miss -Holland. “In general women are receiving to-day from a half to -two-thirds what men are who do identically the same kind of work. I was -discussing this question once with Mr. Kipps, and he defended himself -by stating that the majority of girls who fill office positions only -work for ‘pin money.’ ... ‘Pin money?’ What is ‘pin money’? Dollars and -cents, I take it, with which to buy clothes and some amusement. Don’t -men need ‘pin money,’ too? Doesn’t everyone? When the Corey Publishing -Company employs a young man,--a High School or College graduate,--what -he is paid per week is never spoken of as ‘pin money,’ yet he spends -it for exactly the same things as girls do.... I’ve often wondered if -Mr. Kipps considered the salaries he paid you and me, Mrs. O’Brien, and -Miss Travers, Miss Whaley, Miss Foster, Miss Bixby, Miss Kate Smith, -old Mrs. Jewitt, Mrs. M’Ardle, and Miss Stenicke as ‘pin money!’ Most -of those women not only supported themselves but their old mothers and -fathers, their younger brothers and sisters or some helpless relative. -Mrs. O’Brien had two daughters she kept at Ladycliff for nine years; -Miss Travers has a bed-ridden sister; Miss Whaley, her mother; Mrs. -Jewitt, a tubercular husband; and Kate Smith is putting her young -brother through dental college----” - -“Yes,” interrupted Jeannette, “Mrs. M’Ardle has two children of her own -she is taking care of, and one of her sister’s, and she’s getting only -forty dollars a week.” - -“How does she _do_ it!” exclaimed Miss Holland. - -“I’m sure I don’t know.... Beatrice Alexander has been sending thirty -dollars a month to her helpless old aunt in Albany for the past fifteen -years.” - -“That’s where the ‘pin money’ goes!” declared Miss Holland with a note -of scorn in her voice. “These silent, uncomplaining, hard-working women -who give their lives to the grind of business! I feel keenly the rank -injustice that is being done them!” - -There was a moment’s silence, and Miss Holland continued: - -“Mr. Kipps’ great argument was always that girls who came seeking -employment did so with the intention of working only a year or two, and -then getting married. He argued that a concern could not regard these -women as permanent employees to be trained to fill important positions; -they could not be depended upon to remain with a business and grow up -with it----” - -“I must say,” broke in Jeannette with fine sarcasm, “that great -inducements are offered them to do so! At the end of twenty and -twenty-five years’ faithful and efficient work in such positions as -you filled and as I fill to-day, they are paid fifty dollars a week!” - -“I answered him,” Miss Holland went on, after an appreciative nod, -“that neither could the men he employed be considered as fixtures. -I reminded him of Van Alstyne, Max Oppenheim, Humphrey Stubbs, Walt -Chase, Tommy Livingston and Francis Holm. There are a hundred others. -How many boys starting in to business, do you suppose, stick for the -balance of their lives with the concern for which they first began to -work?” - -“Not many.” - -“Few indeed! It’s to keep and hold these same boys and young men that -the large corporations to-day are offering to sell them stock at -advantageous rates.” - -“Of course, it is the girls living at home,” observed Jeannette, -“partially supported by their fathers and mothers or some relative, -willing to work for small salaries to buy themselves a few extra -clothes and a measure of amusement, that are keeping down the salaries -paid to women entirely dependent on their earnings.” - -“During the war,” observed Miss Holland, “a hundred thousand women were -employed by the railroads to perform the work which the men formerly -did before they went into the army. Women cleaned locomotives, tended -stock-rooms of repair shops, sold tickets, took charge of signal -stations, worked as carpenters, machinists, and electricians; women -took the places of men in the steel mills, in the munition plants, in -the foundries and even in coal mines. The National War Labor Board, -headed by William H. Taft, undertook to protect the women workers, and -laid down the principle that women doing the work formerly performed -by men should receive the same pay. In other words, the pay was to -be fixed by the job and not by the sex of the employee. Employers -throughout the nation followed the ruling of the Labor Board.” - -“But that was a war-time measure,” said Jeannette, “and we all did -things, then, that were altruistic and patriotic.” - -“If women had the physical strength of men,” Miss Holland asserted, -“and could defend their principles by force, there would be a speedy -end of injustices. Why do male waiters in our restaurants get higher -wages than waitresses? Certainly they don’t work any harder, or give -better service. Suppose all the women workers in New York City formed -unions, and struck for what they decided adequate pay, a uniform scale -of salaries, and could use the same methods that men would use in -preventing women who had not joined the ranks from taking their places! -Think what would happen! The work in every office, every bank, every -corporation in this city would come promptly to a standstill; the -strike would last forty-eight, seventy-two hours, and then the demands -of the women would be conceded.... You want to remember one thing, -my dear: _women never banded together since history began, and asked -anything that was unfair or unjust_!” - -“I was having a very interesting talk with my niece as we were coming -here,” broke in Jeannette; “Etta wants to go to work, wants a position -as stenographer in some office, not only to earn extra money with which -to help out at home, but to acquire an interest in life that will -fill her days. There are a hundred thousand young girls like her in -this city to-day. Consider what effect a job would have on an immature -character like Etta’s! I’ve been all through the bitter mill, and I -speak from experience. Financial independence is a dangerous thing for -such young girls. It makes them regard marriage with indifference. -There is many a girl who has declined to marry a young man to whom she -undoubtedly would have made a good wife merely because his income, -which would have to do for both of them, was no more, or perhaps only a -little more, than what she was earning herself.” - -Jeannette’s lips closed firmly a moment and she stared out of the -window at the bleak prospect of the Yard’s quadrangle bordered by -closed and silent brick warehouses. - -“But suppose the girl office-worker decides to give matrimony a trial,” -she continued, “as I did, her mind has been distorted by having known -what it means to be financially her own mistress. Instead of bringing -to her job of wifehood the resolute determination to make a success of -it, from the first she is critical, and on the constant lookout for -hardships in her new life, comparing them with the freedom of her old. -I should have made Martin a much better wife, Miss Holland, if I had -brought to my problem of being his partner the passionate determination -that was mine in wanting to make good as Mr. Corey’s secretary. I -always hugged to myself the thought that if the time came when I -wouldn’t like Martin any more or like being a wife, I could go back to -my job,--and that is exactly what this thought led me to do. Making any -marriage a success is the hardest work I know about both for men and -women, and there should be no avenue of easy escape from it for either -of them. I’d never have left Martin, I’d have endured his unkindness -and lack of consideration,--or at least what seemed his unkindness and -lack of consideration to me then,--if there hadn’t been an easy way out -for me, and we’d have gone on together and made a home for ourselves -and our children. All I had to do was to walk out of Martin’s house -and go back to my job. That’s what every wife who has once been a -self-supporting wage-earner says to herself from the day she marries. -She doesn’t even have the trouble of getting a divorce to deter her.... -It’s wrong, I tell you, Miss Holland! It’s all _wrong_! The more I -live, the more I am convinced that women have no place in business. -No,--please let me finish,” she said earnestly as her friend started -to interrupt. “There’s one other angle to this question: the girl who -has once tasted independence but who decides to give matrimony a trial -may go so far as to consent to be a wife, but she stops at becoming a -mother! She dreads children. And why? Because she realizes that once -a baby is at her breast, she’s bound hand and foot to her husband and -her home. She can’t leave her child with the nonchalance she can her -husband. In the homes of women who have achieved economic independence -before they marry, you will find few children, and in the majority of -cases, none at all. I know a score of girls, at one time in office -jobs, who quit them to be married, but have drawn the line at babies. - -“It seems to me this is of national significance. The country is being -deprived of homes and children because of this great invasion of women -into business during the last twenty or thirty years. When I went -to work twenty-four years ago, it was the exception for nice girls -to go into offices. I remember how my mother fretted over my wanting -to do it and how bitterly she opposed me. Now, every girl, rich or -poor, desires a year or two of business life. Women are devised by -Nature to be home-builders and mothers. Anything tending to deflect -them from fulfilling their destiny is contrary to Nature and is doomed -to failure or to have bound up in it its own punishment. When women -compete with men in fields in which they do not belong, they are -acting against Nature, and as surely as one gets hurt by leaning too -far out of a window, so surely do such women pay a penalty for their -deeds. Man was condemned in Genesis to ‘work by the sweat of his brow’; -there is nothing said about women having to work; she was given her -own punishment. And here is an obvious fact, Miss Holland: No man -likes to work under a woman boss. When I took charge of the Mail Order -Department, three men who had been with Walt Chase resigned rather than -work under me. I didn’t blame them. It was as repugnant to me to give -them orders as it was for them to take them. - -“Now that is a biological obstruction in the way of woman’s progress -in business that you cannot get away from, and which you cannot lay to -man’s door. Men don’t like to work for women, and women don’t like to -have men assistants, and since man is intended by God and Nature to be -the worker, and woman is ordained to bear children, I say again that -women have no place in business.” - -“But Miss Sturgis, Miss Sturgis!” cried Miss Holland. “Do you mean -to tell me that women have not the right to earn their own living? Do -you mean to tell me that you and I and all the women in the world must -always look to some man to support us? Do you mean to tell me that -widows with children to take care of, and women whose husbands are -incapacitated or who desert them or who turn out to be drunkards or -brutes, and women who are adrift in the world, and perhaps have never -married because they’ve never been wooed, haven’t a right to turn their -brains to account and earn their livelihoods?” - -“Well, it might be a good plan to limit the women workers to just the -classes you mention,” Jeannette answered. “Certainly I won’t concede -to you that every eighteen-year-old flapper like my niece or your -sweet young college-graduate has the right to plunge into business -and unfit herself for wifehood and motherhood, driving at the same -time some needy soul of her own sex out of employment. Comeliness, a -fair complexion have much to do with securing a job for a woman and -with helping her to retain it. The plain girl or, more particularly, -the middle-aged woman with two children to support, whose beauty has -long since deserted her, has small chance against the pink-skinned -eighteen-year-old with the bobbed hair and the roguish eye who may only -have one-tenth of her ability. No employer ever hires a good-looking -young man in preference to a homely one whose years of experience and -ability are known. The more faded a woman becomes, the less she is -wanted about an office. Looks play an important part in the rôle of the -business woman. She should be judged, I think, not by her appeal to the -eye, but by her industry. This is one more reason why I believe women -under thirty should be debarred from going to work. If women workers -were limited, confined to thousands, let us say, instead of millions, -then those privileged to work could earn a proper living wage, and -dictate the terms under which they should be employed. There are -certain professions and callings to which women are recognizably better -suited than men; nursing and dressmaking are but two of them. If the -supply of women for these vocations were limited, the demand would soon -fix an adequate wage. - -“It has occurred to me many times,” persevered Jeannette, “that it -would perhaps solve the problem,--or help solve it,--if certain -professions and certain kinds of work were restricted by law to women. -I’ve been told that in Japan only those who are blind may be embalmers -of the dead. It restricts this vocation to a class of unfortunates -which otherwise would have great difficulty in earning its living, -and as a consequence there are no blind mendicants in Japan. I would -advocate legislation in this country that would restrict certain -occupations solely to women, and then I would limit the women who were -eligible to fill them to widows or to those who could prove they must -support themselves.” - -“There is little doubt that becoming wage-earners tends to keep women -out of matrimony,” Miss Holland said thoughtfully. “I know it did with -me. There was a young professor of archæology from Wesleyan who wanted -me very earnestly to marry him, and I should have liked to have done -so, but I was working then, and had taken Jerry to live with me,--he -was only eight,--and the professor’s salary was not large enough for -the three of us.” - -“And think what a wonderful wife you would have made!” - -“I don’t know about that,” smiled Miss Holland, “but I was interested -in his work and I should have enjoyed helping him.” - -“Exactly!” cried Jeannette. “I have no doubt you would have helped him -very materially, whereas you gave your wits and your life in helping -Mr. Kipps over the rough parts of his business days for a consideration -of fifty dollars a week!” - -“He could have found somebody else who could have helped him just as -well.” - -“But that doesn’t make it any fairer,” insisted Jeannette. “What have -you got to show for your twenty-five years of helping Mr. Kipps? ... -This!” She spread out her hands significantly. - -“Well, I have my old age provided for,” said Miss Holland, with an -indulgent smile. “I get my check for half-salary from the office -regularly the first of every month. I suppose I’ll continue to get that -until my rheumatism or my heart carries me off.” - -“But is that any reward for twenty-five years of slavery and drudgery? -How many thousand and tens of thousands of dollars have your brains -saved the Corey Publishing Company?” - -“That isn’t all of it. You must remember I have Jerry.” - - -§ 3 - -Yes, she had Jerry, said Jeannette to herself, lying awake that night -for long aching hours of whirling thoughts after she was in bed. Miss -Holland’s old age was rich in the love this nephew, his wife and -children bore her. - -And it came to the sleepless woman in the bed that it was not the love -Miss Holland received that mattered; it was what she gave and had -given that made her life, in spite of old age, rheumatism and growing -helplessness, glorious with complete and satisfying happiness. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -§ 1 - -“Dent--Department--Derrick--Desmond--Deutsch--Deveraux--Deverley--De -Vinne--Devlin....” - -There it was: “Martin Devlin, Motor Cars,--North Broad Street.” -Jeannette’s polished finger-nail rested beneath the name and her -lips formed the words without a sound. She closed the Philadelphia -Directory, turned from the telephone desk in the big New York hotel, -and walked slowly out into the bright autumn glare of the street. - -Thanksgiving was next week; there would be no difficulty in securing -leave at the office to be absent from Wednesday night until Monday -morning. - -“I’d just like to see,” she kept repeating to herself. “There’d be no -harm in _seeing_ what kind of a place he has. I could learn so much -just walking by.” - -An odd excitement took possession of her. She saw herself in the train, -she saw herself in a large, comfortable room at the Bellevue-Stratford, -saw herself in her smartest costume, sauntering up Broad Street. - -“I’ve a good mind to do it,” she whispered. “It could do no possible -harm. I’d just like to see.” - -She was unable to reach any definite conclusion, but she inspected -her wardrobe carefully, deciding exactly what she would wear if she -went to Philadelphia, and then did a very reckless thing: she bought -herself a sumptuous garment, a short outer jacket of broadtail and -kolinsky, a regal mantle fit for a millionaire’s wife. A giddy madness -seemed to settle upon her after this; her savings in the bank,--the -savings which were to buy another bond,--were almost wiped out, and -she deliberately drew a check for what remained. Some power outside of -herself seemed to take charge of her actions; she moved from one step -to another as if hypnotized; she spoke to Mr. Allister about two extra -days at Thanksgiving, she bought her ticket and chair-car reservation -at the Pennsylvania Station, she wrote the Bellevue-Stratford to hold -one of their best outside rooms for her, she explained with simulated -carelessness to Beatrice Alexander that there was a Book-Dealers’ -Convention in Philadelphia which the firm had requested her to attend, -and the four o’clock train on the afternoon of the holiday found her -bound for the Quaker city. - -As she sat stiffly upright in her luxurious armchair, staring out upon -the dreary New Jersey marshes, panic suddenly came upon her. - -What was she doing? Was she _crazy_? Was Miss Sturgis of the Mail Order -Department this woman, so elegantly clad, speeding toward Philadelphia? -And on what mad errand? After years of careful living, after years -of prudent saving, was it actually she, Jeannette Sturgis, who had -recklessly flung to the four winds the bank account of which she had -been so proud? Oh, she must be mad, indeed! - -She grasped the arms of her chair and instinctively glanced from one -end to the other of the palatial car. She was seized with a violent -impulse to get off. There was Manhattan Transfer; she could take a -train back to the city from there. Determinedly, she gazed out upon the -empty, cold-looking platform when the train reached the station, but -she made no move, and as the wheels commenced to rumble beneath her -once more, she sank back resignedly into her seat, and a measure of -calmness returned. - -She was not committing herself merely by going to Philadelphia and -walking past Martin’s place of business! Suppose she _did_ meet him! -Suppose they actually encountered one another, face to face! What then? -There was nothing compromising in that! She could explain her presence -in Philadelphia in a thousand ways should he be interested. She blessed -the judgment that had prompted her to confide in no one; Beatrice -believed she was attending a Book-Dealers’ Convention, Alice that she -was having her Thanksgiving dinner with Miss Holland. - - -§ 2 - -As she left the overheated parlor car at Broad Street Station her -composure was thoroughly restored. There was a tingling nimbleness in -the air; the clear, November day was bright with metallic sunshine. -Jeannette tipped the “red-cap” for carrying her bags, climbed into a -taxi-cab and with a casual air that seemed to spring from familiarity -with such proceedings, directed to be driven to her hotel. - -The cold bare streets, deserted on account of the holiday, the -brilliant foyer of the Bellevue, the urbane room-clerk, the gilded -elevator cage, the large high-ceilinged bedroom with its trim, orderly -furniture, its double-bed, glistening with white linen, its discreet -engravings of Watteau ladies in the gardens of Versailles, followed -in quick succession. Then she was standing at the window looking down -into the wide, dismal gray street far below, and the departing bell-boy -softly closed the door behind him. - -She was here; she was in Philadelphia; she would have that to remember -always. If nothing else happened, she could never forget she had come -this far.... Somewhere in the city was Martin; he was preparing to eat -his Thanksgiving Dinner; it was a quarter past six, he was probably -dressing! ... Suppose he elected to eat the meal with friends in the -main dining-room of her hotel! Her throat tightened convulsively and -her fingers twitched. Well, she would be equal to facing him if he saw -her; she would not be frightened into abandoning the course that was -natural for her to follow. If it had been actually the case that she -was here in Philadelphia to attend a Book-Dealers’ Convention, she -would put on her black satin dinner frock and go down to dinner with -her book; she did not propose to allow herself to do differently.... -It would be ridiculous to eat her Thanksgiving dinner upstairs in her -rooms! - -She bathed, she did her hair with unusual success, she powdered her -neck and arms, she donned the black satin with the square neck and -jet trimming, and with her book beneath her arm, mesh bag in her -hand, descended to the dining-room at half past seven. There was -an instant’s terror as she stood in the curtained doorway of the -brilliantly-lit dining-room. There rushed upon her impressions of -flowers, music, the odor of food, a wave of heat, the flash of napery, -the gleam of cutlery, faces, faces everywhere,--heads turning,--eyes -following,--whispers,--a hush as she made her way in the wake of the -obsequious head-waiter. - -Steeling her nerves, measuring every movement, she seated herself with -deliberation, deliberately set her bag and book at her right hand, -deliberately turned her attention to the menu, deliberately raised her -eyes, and gazed about the room as she deliberately ordered. - -But there was nothing! There was nobody! No one was looking at her; no -one had noticed her entrance! The music was wailing in waltz measure, -the diners were talking and laughing, attendants hurrying to and fro. -He was not there; there was no one faintly resembling him in the room. - -She cleared her throat and raised a tumbler of water to her lips, but -as she did so, her teeth chattered an instant against the thin glass. - - -§ 3 - -Philadelphia awoke the next day with the bustle of business. Feet -clip-clipped on the pavements, taxies chugged and honked, trucks -bumped and rattled, street-cars rumbled and clanged their bells. Life, -teeming, bustling, rushing, burst from every corner and doorway. - -Mechanically Jeannette moved through her early morning routine; she -dressed, breakfasted, read her newspapers; she drew upon her shoulders -the handsome fur jacket, as, gloved, hatted and gaitered, she stepped -out on the street. - -“Taxi, lady?” No, she preferred to walk. Her number was only a few -squares away. - -An intent and hurrying tide of pedestrians set against her, congested -traffic choked the street. She was an interested observer, and made -but a leisurely progress, stopping at the shop windows, studying their -displays. Nothing unusual in any of them attracted her; New York -was more up-to-the minute in fads and fancies; the merchants there -were more enterprising; they knew what was what; these Philadelphia -shop-keepers merely aped their ways and followed their leads. There -was no city in the world, she thought with pride, where merchandising -was such a fine art and where novelties so quickly caught on as in -New York. She wondered why people lived in Philadelphia when they -could just as well live in New York. She passed a theatre and read -the announcement on the bill-board; the play had been in New York six -months ago! - -She captured her wandering thoughts and looked about her, wondering how -far she had walked. - -“Vine Garden?” - -“The next cross-street, Madam.” - -Her pulses stirred and unconsciously she quickened her pace. She was -presently in the neighborhood of the number she sought. It ought to be -right here.... She edged her way towards the curb and gazed up at the -façades of stores and buildings. Strange,--there was nothing here that -resembled an automobile agency! That building was a piano store, and in -the next sewing machines were sold.... Suddenly the name leaped at her -in a window’s reflection. It was across the street! She wheeled about -and there it was: Martin Devlin--Motor Cars. The name was in flowing -script, the letters rounded and bright with gold, and the sign tilted -out slightly over the sidewalk. Her heart plunged and stood still. That -was her husband’s place of business! There it was: Martin Devlin--Motor -Cars! - -The appearance of the agency impressed her. Across its front were four -large plate-glass windows, two on each side of the entrance. On these -also appeared Martin’s name in the same style of flowing script, and -beneath, in Roman type, the name of the automobile he handled. The -show-room was spacious and softly illuminated with reflected light -from alabaster bowls hung from the ceiling by brass chains. There were -a half dozen models of the motor car, ranged within, three on a side, -their noses pointing toward one another obliquely. The high polish -of nickel and varnish, here and there, reflected the bright electric -radiance above. The place had the air of elegance. - -Curious, but with galloping pulses, Jeannette picked her way across the -street, and slowly strolled past. Through the plate-glass windows she -could see two young men standing, their arms folded, talking. Neither -was Martin. She turned and retraced her steps, swiftly inspecting. -Every moment her confidence increased. She noted the walls of the -show-room were of cream-tinted terra-cotta brick, the floor of smooth -cement with rich rugs defining the aisles; in the rear was a balcony -where she could see yellow electric lights burning over desks, and make -out the faces and figures of two or three girls. That was where the -offices were located, no doubt, where Martin would have his desk. - -Was he in? Would she risk a meeting? Did she have nerve enough to go -inside and say: “Miss Sturgis would like to see Mr. Devlin!” ... It was -extraordinary, amazing! ... How utterly overcome he would be! ... To -have his wife, whom he hadn’t seen for fourteen years, walk in upon him -that way! ... It wasn’t fair to him, after all. She had better go back -to the hotel and write him,--or perhaps it would be better to telephone. - -Emotions, impulses, strange and contradictory, pulled her one way and -another. The apprehension, the misgivings of yesterday were absent -now. There was no longer any question in her mind as to whether or -not she wanted to see Martin; she knew she wanted to see him very -much; in fact, her mind was made up, she must see him. It would be -a thrilling experience, after so many years.... When they parted, -it had not been because they had ceased to be fond of one another. -They had liked,--yes, even loved each other, at the very moment of -separation.... How was it to be managed? How could she arrange to -meet him with propriety? Her appearance, she was aware, would make -an impression upon him; that effect would be lost in writing or -telephoning.... Perhaps she had better go back to the hotel and think -it over, but then she might never again find the courage which was hers -at that moment.... She must do something; she could not stand there -indefinitely gazing through the window at the motor cars inside! The -young men within, she observed, had noticed her. - -With heart that hammered at her throat, she stepped to the heavy door; -it swung back at her touch. There was a pleasant warmth within. One of -the young men came hurrying forward, rubbing his hands, one over the -other, bowing politely, a beaming smile upon his face. - -“Good morning, Madam. Interested in the _Parrott_?” - -Jeannette swept the show-room with a quick look before answering. There -was no one there remotely like Martin. - -“I was thinking about one,” she admitted. - -“Most happy to arrange a demonstration at any time.... What model did -you fancy?” - -Jeannette moved about the cars, peering into the interiors of their -tonneaus, commenting upon the upholstery and finish, pretending an -attention to the young salesman’s glib explanations. - -“Shift here is automatic ... cylinders ... compression ... -hundred-and-eighteen-inch wheel-base, ... equipment just as you see -it, ... rear tire extra, of course, ... lovely car for a lady to drive -... rides like a gazelle ... just like a gazelle ... you wouldn’t know -you were moving.... Lovely engine, isn’t it, Madam? ... A child could -easily take it apart.” - -Jeannette nodded and appeared interested. All the time she was -thinking: “I wonder if he’s up there--I wonder if he’s up there.” - -“Mr. Devlin ...?” she hazarded. - -“Oh, you know Mr. Devlin?” The possibility seemed to fill the salesman -with rare pleasure; it was a discovery, unexpected, delightful. - -“I--I used to know him years ago,” Jeannette faltered. - -“He’s a splendid man, isn’t he?” glowed the youth. “Wonderful -personality,--a regular ‘good fellow.’ He’s made quite a record with -the _Parrott_, you know. Unfortunately he’s out just now, but he’s -expected. I’m sure he’ll be glad to know you called, and I’ll be very -pleased to tell him. You didn’t mention.... May I ask the name?” - -Jeannette hesitated. This was not the way she would have him hear of -her. - -“No,--I’ll call again; I’ll come in later. I’m--- I’m stopping at the -Bellevue; it isn’t far.” - -“Couldn’t I arrange a demonstration for you this afternoon? At any hour -you say. I’d like to show you the way the _Parrott_ rides,--just like a -gazelle. I’ll have our driver come with the limousine, or perhaps you’d -prefer the landaulet model.... You might like to pay some calls this -afternoon; it would give you a chance to test the _Parrott_ and see how -you like it.... Ah, here’s Mr. Devlin!” - -The heavy glass front door opened. Jeannette felt the cold air from -the street. She gave a quick glance as she turned her back, her heart -plunging. It was Martin all right, but what a changed and different -Martin! So much older, so much larger than she remembered him! He wore -a Derby hat and had a cigar. - -The salesman had left her side and was communicating her presence to -his employer. Jeannette stood with both hands pressed tightly against -her heart and fought for self-possession. - -She heard Martin speak. That voice ...! That voice ...! It suffocated -her. An avalanche of memories and forgotten emotions swept down upon -her.... He was coming! She even recognized his step! - -“’Morning, Madam,”--there was the old briskness, and alertness in his -tone!--“what can I----” - -She straightened herself and turned regally. - -“Good morning, Martin,” she said smiling. Her color was high, she was -trembling, her pulses racing. - -There was a quick jerk of his head,--a well-remembered mannerism,--and -a lightning survey of her features. - -“Good God! ... _Jan!_” - -Emotions played in his face, his eyes darted about her, his color faded -and flamed darkly. His confusion gave her composure. He was handsome -still, smooth-shaven and clean; his cheeks were fuller, a trifle -florid, he had a well-defined double-chin, his black, thick hair was -streaked with wiry, white threads; he had grown stouter, had acquired -a girth, but his fatness was robust and healthy. He had gained in -presence, in firmness of feature, in polish,--a man of business and -affairs, energetic, a leader. - -“Are you surprised to see me, Martin?” - -“Well, of course, ... well, ... I should say!” - -She was conscious that her beauty and stateliness, her costume, her -fashionableness overwhelmed him. - -“I’ll be ... I’ll be damned!” he enunciated. “Excuse me, Jan,--but I’ll -be ... I’ll be damned!” - -An amused sound escaped Jeannette. She was smiling broadly; she felt -she had the situation well in hand. - -“I’m sorry I startled you, Martin. I happened to be passing and I saw -your name and thought I’d drop in.... How’ve you been after all these -years?” - -“Oh,--all right, I guess. Sure, I’ve been fine.... And you? I guess -there’s no need of asking.” - -“I’ve been quite well. I’m never sick. I came down to Philadelphia to -attend a Book-Dealers’ Convention.... I’m stopping at the Bellevue.” - -“Well--er, you going to be in town long?” - -“Oh,--two or three days. I’m going back to New York Sunday, I guess. I -think I can get away by that time.... This is a fine car you handle; -its lines are really very beautiful.” - -“It’s a good car, all right. I had a big year this year,--and last -year, too.” - -“Well, that’s good; I’m glad to hear it.... I never heard of the -_Parrott_ before.” - -“You _didn’t_? ... Well, we think we advertise a good deal. It ranks up -among the best.... Are you--are you married or anything like that?” - -Jeannette laughed richly. - -“Not since an experience I had some fourteen years ago that didn’t -take!” - -Martin echoed her amusement. He was regaining his ease; she could see -he was beginning to enjoy himself. - -“You know I took my maiden name when I went back to work; everybody -knew me there as ‘Miss Sturgis’; it seemed easier.” - -“Yes, I see,” Martin agreed. - -“I’m still with the old company.” - -“What,--the same old publishing outfit?” - -“Yes; I’m in charge of the Mail Order Department now.... We do quite a -business.” - -“Is that so? And how do you like it?” - -“Oh, I like it all right. They think a lot of me there, and I do about -as I please.... I’m thinking of resigning though; one of these days, -pretty soon, I’ll quit. It gets on your nerves after awhile, you know.” - -“Yes, I guess it does.” - -A momentary embarrassment came upon them. - -“Well, it was pleasant to catch a glimpse of you, again, Martin. If -you’re ever in New York, ring me up. You know the office----” - -“Well, say,--I don’t like to have you go away like this! I’d like to -see something of you while you’re in town,--and talk over old times. -There’s a lot of things I’ll bet we’d find interesting to tell one -another.” - -“I shouldn’t wonder,” she said lightly. - -“I got a business engagement for lunch unfortunately”; he scowled in -troubled fashion. “I can’t very well get out of it.... You’re at the -Bellevue? ... Well, how about dinner? Couldn’t we get together for -dinner?” - -“Why, I guess so. Yes,--that would be lovely,” said Jeannette with an -air of careful consideration. - -“I’ll bring my wife; Ruthie will be glad to meet you. You knew I -married again, didn’t you?” - -Jeannette’s expression did not alter by the quiver of an eyelash; she -continued to regard Martin with smiling eyes. - -“No, I hadn’t heard.... I didn’t suppose.... So you married, again?” - -“Yes, I married a widow,--a widow with two kids: girl and a -boy,--splendid youngsters.... Say, you _got_ to see those kids; they’re -Jim-dandies!” - -“That’s ... that’s fine.” - -“And I think you’ll like Ruthie, too, Jan. She isn’t your style -exactly, but she’s all right. There’s no side to Ruthie. I think you’ll -like her; she’s a fine little woman and a great little mother. You’ll -like her, I’ll bet a hat.” - -“I’m sure I shall.” - -“Then it’s all right for to-night? Ruthie’ll join me downtown and we’ll -come over to the hotel, and the three of us will have a great little -dinner together and chew the rag about old times.... Say, d’you ever -see that old ragamuffin, Zeb Kline?” - -“Oh, yes, indeed. I saw him two or three weeks ago. He’s quite -successful, now, you know; he’s made a great deal of money; married -Nick Birdsell’s daughter.” - -“Is _that_ so! Well, is _that_ so! He was a card all right, a great old -scout.... And d’you ever see any of the rest of the old gang: Adolph -Kuntz, an’ Fritz Wiggens, an’ Steve Teschemacher an’ old Gibbsy?” - -“Oh, yes, occasionally.” - -“Say, what’s old Gibbsy doing? He was a wormy little rat, all right, -wasn’t he?” - -“He’s got a very fine place, now, down on the Point,--quite an estate.” - -“Well, wouldn’t you know it! He’d be just the kind of a little tightwad -that would build himself a swell house! ... And what happened to old -Doc French?” - -Jeannette’s countenance changed and she shook her head. - -“Don’t bother to tell me now. Save it up for to-night. We’ll have a -great talk-fest.... Ruthie and I will show up at the hotel,--what time? -Let’s make it early so we can have all evening. Six-thirty? How’s -that?” - -Jeannette smiled assent. - -“We’ll be there at six-thirty, and say, Jan, you know this is going to -be my party all right--all right.” - -He accompanied her to the door, knocking the Derby hat nervously -against his knee, his cigar gone out. - -“Then we’ll see you to-night, Jan. Six-thirty, hey? ... Gee, I’m glad -you dropped in! We’ll have a great little old talk-fest.” - -“To-night, then.” - -“Sure. At the Bellevue. We’ll be there. Six-thirty.” - - -§ 4 - -Married? Married? It couldn’t be possible! Why, they had never been -divorced! ... How could he be married again? - -A great weariness came over Jeannette. It was disgusting! What had he -wanted to get married again for? Pugh! It was most disappointing.... -Another woman! ... She had never imagined anything like this.... Was -he living with her without a ceremony? Probably. She must be a cheap -sort of creature.... But it didn’t make any difference whether she was -legally his wife or not; it was the same thing. The fact remained he -had taken up with someone else. No doubt she was known as “Mrs. Devlin.” - -Jeannette went back to the hotel and upstairs to her room, laid aside -her beautiful fur jacket, her hat, took off her dress, put on her -kimona. Her mind, like a squirrel in a cage, went around and around -over the same ground. How _could_ he be married? Why, they had never -been divorced! - -The prospect of the evening suddenly palled upon her. Even though he -_had_ married, a dinner and chat alone with Martin would have had -some piquancy; it would have been quite exciting and amusing to have -recalled old friends, old memories. But there would be no spontaneity -in their talk with another woman beside them, a bored and critical -listener! It would be dreadful! An intolerable situation! ... She -thought of a hurried return to New York, a telephone to Martin that -she had been unexpectedly called home. Yet that seemed undignified; he -would be sure to guess her reason, or if he did not, “Ruthie” could be -depended upon to enlighten him. She shook her head in distaste. She was -committed to this unpalatable program, now; she would be obliged to see -it through,--but oh, how she was going to hate it! How she was going to -despise every moment of it! - -She considered the other woman, trying to imagine what she would be -like.... Well, Ruthie might be comfortably established in her place, -but she should have no ground for believing she was envied! - -A reflection of herself at this moment in the mirror forced a smile -from Jeannette’s lips as she detected upon her face a look of haughty -condescension. She had been fancying the encounter with Ruthie and had -unconsciously assumed the expression that would suit that moment.... -Well, Ruthie would have the benefit of that withering, imperious -glance; she would realize the minute she saw Jeannette Sturgis that -here was a woman that would brook no patronizing airs from her, and in -the course of the evening she would have it pointed out to her, in a -manner which would leave no room for misunderstanding, that it was she, -Jeannette, who had left Martin; hers had never been the rôle of the -deserted wife; as far as “leavings” were concerned, Ruthie had them and -welcome! ... Ah! She _hated_ her! - -The telephone trilled. Jeannette’s heart plunged as she heard Martin’s -voice. - -“Hello, Jan! Say,--I ’phoned Ruthie and she says for me to bring you -out to our house to-night; she says it will be much pleasanter there -and we can talk a whole lot better. I rang her up and explained about -our having dinner with you at the Bellevue, but she insists that you -come on out to our house. She said by all manner of means to bring you. -She said she’d ’phone you, herself, but I said I didn’t think that was -necessary.” - -“Why-y,--I’m afraid----” - -“You know we live out at Jenkintown; it’s an awful pretty suburb. I’d -like you to see it and I’m crazy to have you see the kids. They’ll -still be up by the time we get there. I’ll call for you a little after -six and drive you out.” - -Jeannette’s mind worked rapidly. There was nothing for her to do but to -accept, and to accept graciously. - -“That will be lovely, Mart. As you say it will be much nicer in the -country. I shall really like to see your home and to meet--” she -cleared her throat,--“Mrs. Devlin.” - -“Well, that’ll be fine, Jan,--that will be great. Say, you couldn’t -make that five-thirty just as well, could you? You see the office -closes at five, and I’ll just have to bum ’round here doing nothing -until it’s time to call for you,--and then besides you’ll have a little -light left so you c’n see something of the country, and I want to tell -you, Jan, Jenkintown’s a swell little suburb.” - -“Why, yes, Martin. Five-thirty will be perfectly all right for me.” - -“That’s fine then; I call for you at five-thirty.” - -She hung up the receiver and bent forward so that her brow rested -lightly against the mouthpiece of the instrument, her eyes closed, and -after a moment she squeezed them tight shut.... Ah, what pain! ... What -heart stabs! ... The prick of tears stung her eyeballs like needle -points. - - -§ 5 - -She powdered her shoulders and did her hair; she red-lipped her mouth; -she hooked the black satin dress about her; she hung her generous -string of artificial pearls around her neck and screwed the large -artificial pearl ear-rings upon her ears. At five o’clock she was -ready, and for the ensuing thirty minutes she studied her reflection in -the glass, turning first to one side, then to the other, noting various -effects. She wore no hat, but to-night her hair, with its distinguished -touch of white, was dressed high, and thrust into its thick coil at the -back of her head were three large brilliant, rhinestone combs. - -Promptly at the half-hour, Martin was announced, and slipping on the -marvellous jacket, rolling the fur luxuriously against her neck, -Jeannette descended in the elevator and met him in the foyer. The -glance he gave her satisfied her; she knew Martin; he had not changed. -There remained only Ruthie, and in that instant it came to Jeannette -a cold, disdainful manner would put herself, bound and helpless, at -Ruthie’s mercy. They were two shrewd and clever women,--she assumed -Ruthie would be shrewd and clever,--meeting one another under strange -and difficult circumstances; any hint of condescension, any suggestion -of a patronizing air, and Ruthie would be laughing at her. No, the part -for her to play was one of all sweetness and amiability; graciousness -was her only salvation. - -Martin guided her out of the hotel, his fingers at her elbow. A -limousine swept up to the door. It was a _Parrott_, and there was a -liveried chauffeur at the wheel. - -“Get right in, Jan.” - -He stooped through the doorway and sank heavily against the upholstered -cushions beside her. The “starter” touched his cap, and banged -the door. Memories swept back upon Jeannette, memories of another -motor-car, a taxi-cab, and another “starter” who had banged shut an -automobile door upon the two of them, and of a night pulsing with high -emotions, hopes and young love. Her little excited mother with her -pendent, trembling cheeks, dressed in her lavender velvet, had been -with them on that other night, and she had sat beside her daughter -where Martin now was sitting, and Martin had occupied the small -collapsible seat opposite, and had balanced himself there with his -knees uncomfortably hunched up, to keep his feet out of the way! - -“... what we call the _Parrott_ Convertible; it’s just out this year,” -Martin was explaining. “You see with a little manipulation of the glass -windows and seats you can turn it from a limousine into a Sedan and -drive it yourself.” - -“How clever!” she said. “You know, Martin, it delights me to think of -your being so successful. It was coming to you. You were born to be a -good salesman, and I’m glad you’ve gotten into a line of business where -your talents count for something. You were entirely out of your element -with that Engraving Company; they didn’t begin to appreciate you.” - -“They didn’t, did they? That younger Gibbs,--Herbert Gibbs,--he was -certainly a little rat, if there ever was one. You know I had a -terrible row with him after--after....” - -“And I’m glad, too,” proceeded Jeannette hastily, “that you’ve married -again and ’ve got your son and daughter. You were always crazy about -children. Remember how you used to rave about Alice’s Etta and Ralph -when they were babies?” - -“You bet you. How are----?” - -“And then you were much too fine and too good for that Cohasset Beach -crowd----” - -“They were a bunch of good scouts, all right.” - -“Weren’t they?” Jeannette said veering quickly. “Every one of them has -made good. Steve Teschemacher’s quite wealthy.” - -“Tell me about him,--tell me about ’em all. Say, do you ever go down to -Cohasset Beach any more?” - -“Oh, yes; frequently. Alice and Roy bought there, you know.” - -“The deuce they did! You don’t mean to say so? Well, say, Jan, who’s -living in the bungalow? ... Say, Janny, I often think....” - -They were busy in reminiscences, interrupting one another, laughing, -ejaculating, now and then arrested by a memory that was not altogether -mirth-provoking and unexpectedly stirred them. At times Martin swayed -in his seat and pounded his knee. - -“By God!” he would shout gleefully, “by God, I’d forgotten that!--by -God, that was a hot one, all right! Say,--that had gone completely out -of my mind. You’re a wonder for remembering little things, Jan! ... By -golly!” - -The car rolled smoothly out over the paved highway that circled through -the hills. Large, handsome houses with lights shining here and there -from windows, and surrounded by tall, gaunt, leafless trees, alternated -on either side of the road and fled past. Their own vehicle was but one -link in a long chain of nimble bugs with glowing antennæ which crawled -hard upon one another along the winding course. - -There came an abrupt turn, the motor car swung up a steep driveway, -slid on to crunching gravel, and stopped. - -“Here we are!” exclaimed Martin. The chauffeur leaped from his seat and -attentively opened the car door. - -A large frame house of gracious lines, with exterior stone chimneys, -many windows, and a precipitous lawn that swept down to the roadway a -hundred feet or more below. - -“We get a splendid view of the valley here,” said Martin, coming to -stand beside Jeannette as she looked out across the country. The -landscape was shrouded in dusk, pricked with a myriad of lights; -there was a jagged silhouette of distant tree-tops and beyond a pale, -mother-of-pearl sky touched faintly with dying pink. - -They turned to the house and as Martin stooped to insert his latch-key -there was the quick run of small feet within, the door was flung open -and a little girl hurled herself upon him with a violent silent hug. - -“Well, well,” said Martin, “how’s my darling?” He kissed her with equal -vigor, his hat knocked at an angle upon his head. - -“This is ‘Tinker,’” he said, smiling at Jeannette. “Everybody calls -her ‘Tinker,’ but her real name’s ‘Elizabeth.’ Where’s your brother, -Tinker?” - -An answering clatter and rush came from an interior region, and a small -boy flung himself upon the man. - -“And this is Joe, Janny. He has a nickname, too; sometimes we call him -‘Josephus,’--don’t we, old blunderbuss?” - -There was another vigorous embrace. - -The two children regarded Jeannette with shy but friendly glances. The -little girl was about nine, the boy two or three years younger. Tinker -was brown of skin and brown of eye; her hair was short and tawny and -swept off her face in an old-fashioned way, held back by an encircling -comb that reached from one temple to the other. She was freckled and -had an alert, engaging expression, while her brown eyes were sharp as -shoe buttons, and twinkled between long tawny eyelashes. Simply, she -approached Jeannette and held up her brown arms as she offered her -lips. The boy was diminutive and wiry with furtive glance and grinning -mouth that displayed a gaping hole left by two missing front teeth. -He hung his head as he held out his small hand, but as Jeannette took -it, he darted a quick upward look into her face and gave her a friendly -elfish grin. - -Jeannette was moved, captivated at once by the charm of both. - -“They’re darlings!” came involuntarily from her, and then there was the -sound of descending feet upon the stairs and Jeannette straightened -herself from the crouching position in which she had greeted the -children to face their mother. - -“A pretty woman--and sweet--younger than I expected,” went Jeannette’s -thoughts; “nothing to fear here.” - -Ruthie was in truth a pretty woman, pretty without being either -beautiful or handsome. Her expression was bright, alert, eager, her -manner friendly and effusive. She resembled her small son. - -“This is Ruthie, Jeannette----” began Martin. - -“How do you do?” said Ruthie, hurrying forward, leaving no doubt of her -cordiality. “It was very nice of you to come to us to-night.” - -“Not at all,” Jeannette responded with her best smile. “It was nice of -you to want me.” - -“I was anxious to know you,” said Ruthie. - -She could afford to be gracious thought Jeannette. She had everything: -the home, the children, money, position,--she had Martin! ... Was it -possible they were really married? Or did Ruthie merely _think_ she was -his wife? - -Jeannette was piloted upstairs to a large, pleasant bedroom. The -chairs, the tables, the bureau and chiffonier, the twin beds were all -of bright bird’s-eye maple; rose hangings were at the windows, rose -silk comforters were neatly folded at the foot of each bed, rose shades -on the wall lights diffused a soft rosy radiance. The dressing-table -glittered with silver toilet articles, and Jeannette noticed they -were all monogramed “R.T.D.” Flanking them were large silver-framed -photographs, one of Martin,--a handsome, fierce-looking Martin in -evening dress,--the other of the two children, Tinker with her arm -about her brother. Domesticity radiated everywhere. - -“I never looked better,” Jeannette thought consolingly as she caught a -full-length reflection of herself in the long mirror impanelled in the -bathroom door. Her hair pleased her; her high color was most becoming; -she knew herself to be beautiful. She went downstairs, serene and -confident, sure of being able to carry off the evening with lightness -and ease. - -“I thought it would be quieter and perhaps a little pleasanter without -the children at table,” said Ruthie brightly as Jeannette joined her, -“so I arranged to give them an early supper, and now Martin’s been -scolding me. He thinks you’ll be disappointed.” - -“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” Jeannette murmured. - -“Martin’s almost unreasonable about them; he wants them all the time,” -continued Ruthie. “I tell him if he had them on his hands all day, -perhaps he wouldn’t be quite so enthusiastic!” She laughed an amused -little laugh like the twittering of a bird. “He couldn’t be fonder of -them if they were his own,” she added. - -There was a moment’s pause. - -“You see, I’d lost my first husband before I met Martin,” Ruthie -continued thoughtfully. “My first marriage wasn’t very successful.” - -She _did_ think she was married then! - -“You were divorced?” asked Jeannette. If there was a barb to the -question it failed in effect. - -“No; Mr. Mason was killed. He was--was rather intemperate, and there -was an accident. I met Martin some time afterwards and he was wonderful -to me.” - -“You’ve known him long?” - -“Let me see. About seven years. Joe was only a baby, and we were living -in Scranton. Martin and I married about a year after my husband’s -death. I was having a very hard time of it; Mr. Mason carried but very -little life insurance and I took up manicuring; I had to; there was no -other way for us to get along.” - -She smiled at the last. - -He was sorry for her, thought Jeannette; that was the way of it. - -“That had been your--your profession formerly?” Jeannette asked with an -innocent air. - -“No, I had to learn it,” Ruthie said, unruffled. “I had to do -something. I only did private work, you know.” She cast a quick glance -at Jeannette’s face. “Martin and I didn’t meet in a barber shop!” she -added with a bright laugh. - -Jeannette could think of nothing to say to this, so she nodded, and -gazed into the red coals of the grate-fire before which the two women -were standing. - -“Here he is!” Ruthie said, suddenly. - -Martin’s step could be heard approaching and in a moment he entered the -living-room. Jeannette noticed he had changed into dinner clothes. - -“Well, Jan, it’s mighty darned nice to see you here,” he said -advancing, rubbing his hands. He appeared well-groomed, was freshly -shaved, his clothes fitted him to perfection, his thick neck and -swarthy skin seemed clean and wholesome. - -“Have a little cocktail?” he suggested. “I’ve got a cracker-jack -bootlegger that brings me the stuff direct from New York,--real old -Gordon! If this damned governor of ours has his way, we’re not likely -to get any more of it. This prohibition stuff makes me sick, doesn’t it -you?” - -“It doesn’t bother me, Martin,” Jeannette answered lightly. “I never -drink anything.” - -“Well, how about having a little cocktail to-night? Just by way of -celebration? Huh? What d’you say?” - -“No-o, thank you, Martin; not to-night. I really never touch it, but -don’t let me stop you two.” - -“Ruthie doesn’t drink either. She’s a plumb tee-totaler,--believes in -it! What do you know about that?” - -Martin laughed good-naturedly. His mirth had the old-time extraordinary -infectious quality. - -“Don’t bother about mixing a cocktail to-night, Martin dear,” Ruthie -said in a persuasive voice. “It takes you so long with the ice and -everything, and dinner’s late, now.” - -“I’ll have a little of the straight stuff, then,” he said, still -rubbing his hands in high good humor. - -They went together into the dining-room through the double glass doors, -curtained in shirred folds of pink silk. The table was glittering with -polished silverware and sparkling glass; in the center was a low fern -in a metal fern-dish. Martin unlocked a door in the sideboard, took -out a whisky bottle, held it up a moment to the light to inspect the -measure of its contents, and poured himself an inch into a tumbler. - -“D’you remember that guy who used always to say ‘Saloon’ when he was -taking a drink?” asked Martin, grinning at Jeannette. “He was a card -all right? ... Well, ‘saloon!’” - -He drained the drink in two gulps, followed it with a draught of water, -and sat down, smacking his lips. - -A maid appeared, bearing a tureen of soup, and presently passed cheese -straws. Jeannette observed her spotless white bibbed apron and black -dress, and she took note of the fine sprays of celery and olives in -side dishes on the table, twinkling with ice. The dinner proceeded -comfortably,--well-served, well-cooked, stereotyped: a roast of beef, -with potatoes browned in the pan, canned French peas, a salad of -chopped apples and nuts, a dessert of cake and ice-cream. She recalled -with a sharp twinge the “company” dinners she had struggled so hard -to prepare for Martin and his friends, and the effort she had made to -serve him things he liked so as to make him want to stay at home.... -Ah, she had tried, she reminded herself, she had really tried hard -to be a good wife to him! ... It was all so much easier for Ruthie; -she had her cook, her waitress, and there was even the chauffeur. So -easy to sit still and merely tell them what to do! ... And Martin? ... -Well, he had matured, he had settled down, was more seasoned, more -reasonable, more disciplined.... She noticed for the first time a -jagged white scar on his right temple; it had not been there when she -had known him! - -Throughout dinner he was in the gayest of spirits; Ruthie turned -bright alert eyes from one face to the other; Jeannette felt the last -vestige of constraint slip from her. The talk was all of Tinker and -Josephus, of the good schools of Jenkintown, of motor cars and the -future of the automobile industry, of traffic laws and Philadelphia and -things in general. Every once in awhile a chance remark would sound a -personal note, but the three with one accord would veer away from it -and pursue another topic. There was no telling where rocks of disaster -might be hidden. - -But after dinner, when Martin stood before the sucking coal fire in the -living-room, stirring his coffee, a fresh cigar tilted up in the corner -of his mouth, his head twisted to one side to avoid the smoke, it was -evident the moment had arrived when he wanted to hear news of his old -friends and start recalling old times. Tinker and her brother presented -themselves to say good-night and their mother made them an excuse for -leaving her husband and her guest together. - -“She’s far smarter than one would ever suspect from that affected -bright expression,” thought Jeannette smiling at the children as they -tumbled themselves out of the room. - -Ruthie did not reappear until nearly ten o’clock, and then came in with -many apologies for having been detained. Martin, by that time, had -heard all the news, had heard of Roy and Alice, of poor unfortunate Doc -French, of ’Dolph Kuntz, and Fritz and Steve, and even of some of the -changes in the publishing company which interested him. He was far from -satisfied, however, and wanted to go over it all once more. - -“Say, do you remember that night, Jan, you and I and that Scotch friend -of yours and that awful fright he took along with him had dinner up on -the Astor roof? What became of that guy?” - -And---- - -“D’you ’member that time we got stuck out in the Sound aboard the -Websters’ yacht? ... Say, do they have any more racing down there? ... -What’s become of all the little A-boats?” - -But Jeannette knew the time for leave-taking had come. She rose smiling. - -“I’m sorry, Martin; I shall have to say good-night. I really must be -going. My day’s very full to-morrow.” - -He was loud in protest, a little unnecessarily loud, Jeannette thought. -She tried to dissuade him from accompanying her back to the hotel, but -he insisted. - -“I wouldn’t _think_ of you riding back all by yourself, Jan! That -wouldn’t do at all. The car’s right here; the man’s waiting. He’ll run -me in and run me out again in less than an hour; I’ll be home again in -no time.” - -Ruthie urged, too. - -“Oh, yes,” she insisted brightly. “You must let Martin take you back to -town; it won’t hurt him a bit, and you two have such a lot to talk over -together about old times and everything.” - -The little woman’s face was wreathed with smiles; she was confident, -solicitous. She was sure of herself; sure of Martin; her concern had -every semblance of sincerity. Jeannette felt baffled, vaguely irritated. - -The two women said good-night to one another with appropriate phrases -and amiability. Ruthie stood in the shining arch of the doorway as the -motor car swept up to the steps, crunching on the fine gravel of the -drive, and Jeannette and Martin got in. She even managed a little wave -of the hand as its door slammed and the car started. - -Jeannette hated her. It was impossible to guess what thoughts were -behind that alert expression of innocent pleasure. - -“You’ve come on in the world, Martin,” she observed. - -“Yes, I’ve made a little money, but I’m going to make more,--a good -deal more. You know, I often think of the old man and the old woman up -there in Watertown settling down forty, or I guess it’s fifty, years -ago, to running that little grocery business of theirs, and I can’t -help wishing sometimes they were round to see how good I’ve made. -They’d get an eyefull, all right! But I’ve worked for my success, -Jan,--that is, I’ve worked hard the last five years. You know I was -down and out for awhile?” - -“Were you? I didn’t know that. How did that happen?” - -Martin cleared his throat and twisted a little in his seat so as to -talk more directly at her. - -“I was pretty badly cut-up, Jan, when you ran out on me!” - -“Were you?” - -“You bet I was, and I began hitting her up there for awhile; I let -things go to the devil and I was boozing a good deal. There were two or -three years there when I wasn’t much better than a bum.” - -“Martin!” - -“Well, I was sore at the world,--and sore, I guess, at you. Yes, pretty -damn sore. You know, Jan, I didn’t think you treated me quite right, -and then I blamed myself an awful lot for the way I treated you.” - -“It was too bad,” Jeannette said slowly. “I think maybe we were both -wrong. We were very young and inexperienced, Mart.” - -“Yes, that’s right. We pulled the wrong way.” - -“I’m sorry you took it so badly. I didn’t feel extra good about it -myself. I’ve often wished since....” - -“Oh, there’s no use going over the old ground now. It’s all over and -done with, but I was mighty fond of you, Janny.” - -“Don’t, Martin.” - -“You bet I was. I took it pretty hard when you left me; I didn’t care -what happened to me.” - -“I’m sorry. It wasn’t easy for me either. If you’d only come back,--or -sent word....” - -“You don’t understand, Jan. I was down and out then. I had nothing to -offer you. I’d punched Gibbsy’s face and I’d lost my job and I was -driving a truck,--that is, when I was working at all.” - -“Martin!” - -“Oh, what’s the use of going back over old times!” he said with sudden -harshness. “You’ve changed and I’ve changed. I’m married now,--got a -home and family,--and I’m happy, Jan. Ruthie’s a good little woman.” - -“When did you marry, Mart?” - -“In--let’s see!--in 1917; just before we got into the war. I got a -job as a salesman in an automobile agency in Scranton. Tinker and her -mother were living next door to my boarding-house; it was Tinker that -caught my eye first; she and I used to have great times together; I was -crazy about that kid, and then I met Ruthie.” - -“And after that you were married?” - -“Well, not right away. I had to get free first. You were awfully decent -about not contesting the suit, Jan, but then I was pretty sure you -wouldn’t.” - -“And was there a suit?” - -“Why, sure. I got a decree in New York. They gave it to me. You never -showed up.” - -“I don’t remember,” said Jeannette vaguely. - -“You were served with a summons; we had the testimony of the process -server! You let the case go by default.” - -“Did I? ... I can’t ... I don’t seem to remember. What were the -grounds? I thought in New York State you had to prove----” - -Martin leaned forward in his seat and stared at her through the dimness -in the car, trying to see her face. - -“Say, what is this?” he asked. “Are you trying to kid me,--rub it in, -or something like that?” - -“No, Martin,” she answered earnestly. “I don’t know what you’re talking -about. I never supposed we’d been divorced.” - -“Good God! Did you think we were still married?” - -“Why, certainly.” - -The man dropped back against the upholstery with a short explosion of -breath. - -“Tell me about it, Martin.” - -“You make it damned hard, Jan. If you’re trying to rub it in, you’re -certainly doing a nifty job.” - -“No, Martin, truly. I’m quite honest.” - -He was silent and Jeannette had to plead again for enlightenment. - -“I don’t understand this,” he said, troubled. - -“But tell me. I want to know.” - -“Well, you know I was damned sore at you,” he began at length. “I -wanted to get married; Ruthie, Tinker and the baby needed me. She was -up against it and was having a tough time trying to make ends meet. I -wanted to help out but she wouldn’t let me and the only thing for it -was to get married. So I went to a lawyer there in Scranton and asked -him if he’d fix it so I could get a divorce from you. He got in touch -with a firm in New York and they dug up all that rot about you and -Corey----” - -“Oh, my God!” gasped Jeannette in a whisper. - -“Oh, I knew it was the bunk; you’d told me the story and I knew you’d -given me the straight dope. But there was the evidence and the sworn -affidavits of the hotel employees that Corey’s wife had secured. It -made enough of a case. I’m damned ashamed of it now, Jan. I wish to -God, I’d never done it, but I was sore, remember, and I wanted to get -married to Ruthie.” - -There was painful silence in the swaying car. Jeannette sat very still, -two fingers of each hand pressed against either cheek. - -“I was pretty certain you’d let it go by default,” Martin went on after -awhile in a distressed voice. “It was no case you’d want to contest, -and I thought you probably wanted your freedom as much as I did.... I -thought surely you’d married long ago.” - -Silence reigned again, Jeannette struggling with herself, Martin -concerned at her voicelessness. - -“By God, Jan, I thought you knew all about it,--I swear to God I did! -The process server stated in court he’d handed you the summons, and -saw you pick it up; I heard him say it with my own ears. The referee -warned him about perjury, thought he smelled collusion, or something of -that sort; he ragged me something fierce.... It was rotten the way it -turned out, for the case came up right after your friend Corey died, -and I felt pretty mean blackening a man’s character when he wasn’t more -’an cold in his grave, ’specially as I knew it was a frame-up.” - -A pent-up breath escaped Jeannette like a moan. A scene flashed before -her mind: a dark street,--the street just in front of the office--it -was late and the crowd of clerks and workers was pouring out of the -doorway, hurrying homeward with gravity in their hearts and the news -on their lips that Chandler B. Corey, the president of the company, -had that day dropped dead at his desk. And among these sobered men -and women walked herself, shocked and shaken, trying to realize that -the best friend she had in the world was gone, and would never be at -hand again to advise her nor be interested in what befell her. As she -stepped into the street a man in a slouch hat confronted her, demanding -to know if she was Mrs. Martin Devlin, thrust a folded paper at her, -and disappeared. She remembered drawing back, frightened and affronted, -and after the man had made off, rescuing the paper from the sidewalk at -her feet where it had fallen. It was dark in the street,--too dark to -read. She recalled holding the paper up to decipher what was printed on -the first page, and then, indifferent, her heart and mind heavy with -the tragedy of the day, had thrust it into her muff and sorrowfully -made her way homeward. Days later, when she remembered the incident -and searched her muff, the paper had disappeared. It had fallen out; it -was gone; and she dismissed the matter from her mind. - -Now she realized the folded paper had been the summons bidding her come -to court to defend herself against calumny, and to show reason why -Martin Devlin should not be free to take unto himself another wife! - -Suddenly something very precious died within her dismally. The -excitement of the night dwindled and departed; the piquancy of her -adventure drooped and faded; her interest in a situation that had up to -that minute stirred pulse and imagination, shrivelled and evaporated. -She was weary and bored; she felt disgusted and sick; she wanted to -be quit of the whole affair, of smiling, alert, complacent Ruthie, of -the homely, clumsy children, of this sleek, fat, selfish man beside -her! ... Ah, she had been a fool ever to think ... ever to imagine.... -A woman of her position, sensible, capable, independent,--stout, -settled, middle-aged and gray! ... Oh, it was detestable,--it was -humiliating,--_insufferable_! - -They were at the hotel. - -“You don’t want to let what I told you bother you, Jan. I never stopped -to think how you’d feel about it. And you want to remember that those -things never get out; they’re all kept strictly Q.T. It happened six or -seven years ago and there isn’t a soul--Here, I’m coming in with you.” - -“You needn’t bother, Martin.” - -“That’s all right. I’ll see you inside.” - -They moved through the revolving glass doors and mounted the steps into -the brilliant lobby. - -“Well, it’s been great to see you, and I surely have enjoyed talking -over old times. By God, it’s been a great evening.” - -“Yes, indeed. It’s been very amusing.” - -“I’m awfully glad you looked me up.... And say, Jan, you like Ruthie, -don’t you? Don’t you think she’s a nice little woman? Not your style -exactly,--no side, or anything like that,--but she’s a damned agreeable -little person, hey? ... You’re not sore at me now, are you, for that -rotten trick I played on you? I’d never have done it if it had been -up to me. It was the lawyers, you know. They dug up the story and put -it over. I’d never have done it,--I swear to God, Jan, I wouldn’t! -I’m--I’m sorry as the devil, now; by God, I am!” - -“Let’s not talk about it, Martin; it’s all past and forgotten.” - -“Well, that’s damned white of you, Jan,--damned white! I always said -you were a sensible woman.” - -Jeannette turned and held out her hand. - -“Aw, say,” Martin protested, “aren’t you going in to the café with me -and have some ginger ale or something? I hate to say good-night so -soon. There’s a lot of things I want to ask you. I’d like to keep this -evening going forever.” - -But Jeannette’s one desire was to end it. She wanted her room, to have -the door shut and locked behind her, to be alone. - -“I’m sorry, Martin----” - -“Just a small glass of ginger ale?” he pleaded. - -“Thank you, no, Martin; I think I’d better go up.” - -“Well, am I not to see you again? You’re not going, until Sunday, are -you?” - -“I shall be busy to-morrow; I’m engaged all day.” - -“How about to-morrow night?” - -“I’m not free then either.” - -A frown settled on the man’s face. - -“Damn it ...” he began disgustedly. She continued to smile pleasantly -but offered no suggestion. - -“Well, I’ll see you in New York some time soon,” he asserted finally; -“I have to go up there once in awhile.” - -“Yes, do that,” Jeannette said without enthusiasm. - -“I’ll ’phone you? I’ll give you a ring at the office.” - -“Yes, do that,” she repeated. - -“Well, then, I guess I’d better say good-night.” - -“Good-night, Martin.” - -She turned toward the elevators, giving him a nod and a brief smile -over her shoulder. As the gate of the cage slid shut, she caught -another glimpse of him, standing where she had left him, perplexed, -frowning, disconsolate,--staring after her. - - -§ 6 - -The train was crowded. Jeannette had chosen one at midday, thinking -to have her lunch in the dining-car and so beguile away part of the -tedium of the trip. It was Saturday; she had decided to return home at -once rather than wait until Sunday; there was nothing to hold her in -Philadelphia and she was anxious to get back to the little apartment in -Waverly Place. Many other travellers had apparently conceived the same -idea of having the noon meal on the way, and Jeannette discovered there -were no seats left in the chair-car, so she was obliged to share one -in a day coach with a short, plump lady with a prominent bust and short -fat arms who sat up very straight beside her and wheezed audibly at -every breath. Jeannette’s heavy suit-case was stowed in front of her, -and pressed uncomfortably against her knees, while there was no place -for her hat-box except in the aisle where it was stumbled over and -cursed by every passing passenger. There were cinders embedded in the -plush covering of the seat, the car was badly ventilated and smelled -of warm, crowded humanity. At Trenton, feeling dirty and dishevelled, -she made a swaying progress toward the dining-car only to find twenty -people ahead of her. Disheartened, she returned to her seat, concluding -to wait until she reached the city before she lunched. Perhaps she -would go directly home and persuade Beatrice to make her some tea and -toast. - -The day was leaden, the country forlorn and dreary; the trees stood -bare and black upon bare and blackened ground; the houses seemed -cold, desolate and grimy. It began to rain as the train slowed down -through smoky Newark, and long diagonal streaks of water slashed the -dirty window-panes. Waiting travellers on platforms huddled under -station sheds or bent their heads and umbrellas against the sharp -wind and driving drops as they struggled toward the cars. The train -grew steadily more crowded; people stood in the aisles, swayed and -were pitched against those in the seats. Jeannette’s head began to -ache dully and at every knock or kick her offending hat-box received -she winced as though struck. In the tube beneath the Hudson River, -the train came to a standstill and there was a long wait; women grew -nervous, and a man said in a loud, laughing voice to a neighbor: - -“Say, Bill, it’d be some pickings, all right, if the river came in on -us while we were stuck here.” - -“Oh, Jesus Mary!” gasped the woman next to Jeannette, and for some -minutes the wheeze of her breathing rose to a higher key. - -Finally, with much whirring, jerking and dancing of lights, the train -rolled into the Pennsylvania Station. - -“I’ll go home and get into bed, and Beatrice will bring me some tea and -toast,” Jeannette whispered to herself, cramped and weary, fighting the -pain in her head that grew steadily worse. She stumbled into a taxi-cab -and went bumping and racketing down Seventh Avenue. The rain was now -coming down in a forest of lances, and was driven in through the -three-inch opening at the top of one of the windows. Jeannette tried -to close it; her attempt was pitiful. The taxi skidded violently into -Eighth Street and she was thrown to her knees, her hat jammed against -the opposite side of the car. - -“That’s all right, lady; nothin’ happened!” yelled the driver. - -“In five minutes!” breathed Jeannette, one hand pressed hard against -her breast. - -Ah, here she was! Here she was, at last! - -Her fingers shook as she fumbled with the key to the street door. - -“Thank you, so much,” she said to the taxi-driver who brought her bags -up to the landing. She handed him his fare. “Keep the change; I can -manage the rest.” - -Inside, she grasped her luggage with either hand, and resolutely -mounted the two long flights of stairs, forcing herself to go to the -top without pausing. She was panting, then, her head splitting. - -She tried the apartment door; it was locked. - -“Beatrice! Beatrice!” she called, rapping impatiently upon the panels. - -A faint mewing came to her ears. There was no other answer. - -“Oh, God,--she’s out!” Her cry was almost a sob. Of course! it was -still the Thanksgiving vacation; Beatrice would be with her cousins in -Plainfield; she wouldn’t be home until Sunday night! - -Jeannette fumbled for her door-key. There was little light and she was -obliged to kneel before she could find the hole in the lock. With a -gasp she finally threw open the door and stumbled into the flat. It was -cold, unaired, deserted. Mitzi, tail on end, welcomed her with shrill, -complaining cries. - -“Oh, you baby you,” Jeannette said aloud, blinking through her own -distress and eyeing the cat. “You’ve been shut up in here since the day -before yesterday and you’re just about starving.” - -Mitzi confirmed this with a wail. Jeannette scooped the animal up with -a long arm and carried her into the kitchen. It was cold and bleak in -here, too, smelling foully of Mitzi’s incarceration. - -A groan was wrung from Jeannette’s lips. - -In the ice-box she found only a bowl half full of pickled beets, a -plate of butter, two rather shrivelled bananas, and a few pieces of -dried toast. She clapped the kettle on the stove, lighted the gas, and -stood caressing the cat until the water had warmed; then she moistened -the toast and set it in a soup plate on the floor. - -“Here, you poor critter, eat that until I get you something decent.” -Mitzi leaped at the meal, jerking the food into her mouth, growling -gluttonously. - -Jeannette put her fingers to her head and watched the performance, -breathing hard. - -“I must,” she said aloud. “It won’t kill me.” - -She went into her own room, laid aside her fur coat, put on an old -mackintosh and felt hat, once more went out into the rain, and -presently dragged herself up the stairs again with a bottle of milk and -a bag of provisions. - -Her temples throbbing and little streaks of pain darting through her -eyeballs, she moved resolutely through the next few minutes. While the -kettle was heating, she got herself into her kimona, and braided her -hair. Then she returned to the kitchen, mixed a large bowl of bread -and milk for the cat, and dutifully made herself tea which she drank, -munching between sips some saltine crackers warmed in the oven. - -Peace gradually descended upon her. Mitzi, replete and satisfied, -licked milk-stained whiskers, and eyed her comfortably from the floor. -The pain in Jeannette’s head was less violent, but she was very cold. - -“I’ll get a hot-water bottle and go to bed,” she said. “I think I’ll go -crazy if I keep on this way.” - -She proceeded to her room, made her bed, then commenced to unpack her -bags and put away her things. When she was about finished, she came -upon the fur coat where she had left it on a chair. She picked it up -and stared at it, observing its brilliant silk lining, its smooth, -plushy surface, the soft texture of its fur collar. Suddenly she flung -it from her into a far corner on the floor, and for a moment stood a -tragic figure with clenched hands, flashing eyes and heaving breast. - -There was a diversion,--a sound close at hand that startled her. Mitzi -had jumped on the bed, and was gazing up at her with head twisted to -one side, glassy eyes fixed inquiringly upon her face, long tail alert, -the tip waving gently. The cat opened her mouth and mewed plaintively. -Jeannette relaxed, gathered the animal into her arms, and slowly sank -down upon the bed. Mitzi, nestling comfortably against her, began -to purr rhythmically. A slow trembling came to the woman, and her -fingers shook as they stroked Mitzi’s back. She fought desperately to -check the gathering tempest within her, and for a moment struggled -with firm pressed lips and shut teeth as the tears welled up into -her eyes, rolled down her cheeks, and splashed upon her hand. Then -suddenly the floodgates of her heart burst, grief overwhelmed her, and -she sank sideways on the bed, carrying the cat to her neck, cuddling -and stroking it, while burying her face against the soft fur, and -passionately sobbing: - -“Oh, Mitzi--Mitzi! I love you so--I love you so!” - - -THE END - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - - - A number of typographical errors have been corrected silently. - - Second section numbered 11 of Chapter II of Book II renumbered to - section 12. - - Table of Contents was augmented with chapter numbers. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BREAD *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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Norris</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Bread</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Charles G. Norris</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: July 28, 2021 [eBook #65944]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Tim Lindell, SF2001, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BREAD ***</div> - - <div class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_cover" style="max-width: 28em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Cover" /> - </div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> - -<h1>BREAD</h1> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span></p> -<div class="page-in-box"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="BY_THE_SAME_AUTHOR">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</h2> -</div> - -<div class="page-in-box"> -<p class="hanging2">SALT<br /> -<span class="smcap">or The Education of Griffith Adams</span> -</p> - -<p class="indent1">“Ye are the salt of the earth; but if the -salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it -be salted?”</p> - -<p class="right"> -—<i>Matthew</i> V:13<br /> -</p> - -<p class="hanging2">BRASS<br /> -<span class="smcap">A Novel of Marriage</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="indent1"> -“Annul a marriage? ’Tis impossible!<br /> -Though ring about your neck be brass not gold,<br /> -Needs must it clasp, gangrene you all the same!”<br /> -</p> - -<p class="right"> -—<i>Robert Browning</i><br /> -</p> -</div> - -<div class="page-in-box"> -<p>E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY</p> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="page-in-box"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span></p> - -<p class="center">BREAD</p> - -<p class="center">BY<br /> -CHARLES G. NORRIS<br /> -AUTHOR OF “BRASS,” “SALT,” ETC.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowe6" id="colophon"> - <img class="w100" src="images/colophon.jpg" alt="Decoration" /> -</div> - -<p class="center">NEW YORK<br /> -E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY<br /> -681 FIFTH AVENUE -</p> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span></p> - -<p class="center"><i>Copyright</i>, 1923,<br /> -BY CHARLES G. NORRIS</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p class="center"><i>All Rights Reserved, Including that of<br /> -Translation into Foreign Languages,<br /> -Including the Scandinavian</i></p> - -<p class="center">Printed in the United States of America -</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span></p> - -<p class="center">DEDICATED TO<br /> -<span class="smcap">The Working Women of America</span> -</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table class="autotable" summary=""> -<tr><td /><td class="tdr"><small>PAGE</small></td> - </tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#BOOK_I">Book I.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">1</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlc smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I_I">Chapter I.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">3</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlc smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I_II">Chapter II.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">34</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlc smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I_III">Chapter III.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">61</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlc smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I_IV">Chapter IV.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">89</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlc smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I_V">Chapter V.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">131</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlc smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I_VI">Chapter VI.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">152</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#BOOK_II">Book II.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">163</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlc smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II_I">Chapter I.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">165</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlc smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II_II">Chapter II.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">190</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlc smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II_III">Chapter III.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">242</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlc smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II_IV">Chapter IV.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">273</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlc smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II_V">Chapter V.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">287</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlc smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II_VI">Chapter VI.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">320</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlc smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II_VII">Chapter VII.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">331</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#BOOK_III">Book III.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">377</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlc smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III_I">Chapter I.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">379</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlc smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III_II">Chapter II.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">413</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlc smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III_III">Chapter III.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">446</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlc smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III_IV">Chapter IV.</a></td> -<td class="tdr">470</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_I">BOOK I</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_3">[Pg 3]</span></p> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="BREAD_I2">BREAD</h3> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I_I">CHAPTER I</h4> -</div> - -<h5>§ 1</h5> - -<p>“<i>One</i> and two and three and four and—<i>one</i> and -two and three and four and....”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis had a way of tapping the ivory keys -of the piano with her pencil when she was counting -the beat during a music lesson. It made her little -pupils nervous and sometimes upset them completely. -Now she abruptly interrupted herself and rapped the -keys sharply.</p> - -<p>“Mildred, dearie—it doesn’t go that way at all; the -quarter note is on ‘three.’ It’s one and two and <i>three</i> -and.... You see?”</p> - -<p>“Mama.” A tall dark girl stood in the doorway of -the room.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis affected not to hear and drew a firm -circle with her pencil about the troublesome quarter -note. There was another insistent demand from the -door. Mrs. Sturgis twisted about and leaned back -on the piano bench so that Mildred’s thin little figure -might not obstruct the view of her daughter. Her air -was one of martyred resignation but she smiled -indulgently. Very sweetly she said:</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_4">[Pg 4]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, dearie?” Jeannette recognized the tone as -one her mother used to disguise annoyance.</p> - -<p>“It’s quarter to six....” Jeannette left the sentence -unfinished. She hoped her mother would guess -the rest, but Mrs. Sturgis only smiled more sweetly -and looked expectant.</p> - -<p>“There’s no bread,” Jeannette then said bluntly.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis’ expression did not change nor did she -ease her constrained position.</p> - -<p>“Well, dearie ... the delicatessen shop is open. -Perhaps you or Alice can run down to Kratzmer’s and -get a loaf.”</p> - -<p>“But we can’t do that, Mama.” There was a note -of exasperation in the girl’s voice; she looked hard at -her mother and frowned.</p> - -<p>“Ah....” Mrs. Sturgis gave a short gasp of -understanding. Kratzmer had been owed a little -account for some time and the fat German had -suggested that his bills be settled more promptly.</p> - -<p>“My purse is there, dearie”; she indicated the -shabby imitation leather bag on the table. Then with -a renewal of her alert smile she returned to the lesson.</p> - -<p>“One and two and three and four and—<i>one</i> and -two and——”</p> - -<p>“Mama, I’m sorry to interrupt....”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis now turned a glassy eye upon her older -child, and the patient smile she tried to assume was -hardly more than a grimace. It was eloquent of -martyrdom.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry to have to interrupt,” Jeannette repeated, -“but there isn’t any money in your purse; -it’s empty.”</p> - -<p>The expression on her mother’s face did not alter -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_5">[Pg 5]</span> -but the light died in her eyes. Jeannette realized she -had grasped the situation at last.</p> - -<p>“Well ... dearie....” Mrs. Sturgis began.</p> - -<p>Jeannette stood uncompromisingly before her. She -had no suggestion to offer; her mother might have -foreseen they would need bread for dinner.</p> - -<p>The little music-teacher continued to study her -daughter, but presently her gaze drifted to Mildred -beside her perched on a pile of music albums.</p> - -<p>“You haven’t a dime or a nickel with you, dearie?” -she asked the child. “I could give you credit on your -bill and your papa, you see, could pay ten cents less -next time he sends me a check....”</p> - -<p>“I think I got thome money,” lisped Mildred, -wriggling down from her seat and investigating the -pocket of her jacket which lay near on a chair. -“Mother alwath givth me money when I goeth out.” -She drew forth a small plush purse and dumped the -contents into her hand. “I got twenty thenth,” she -announced.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll just help myself to ten of it,” said Mrs. -Sturgis, bending forward and lifting one of the small -coins with delicate finger-tips. “You tell your papa -I’ll give him credit on this bill.”</p> - -<p>She turned to Jeannette and held out the coin.</p> - -<p>“Here, lovie; get a little Graham, too.”</p> - -<p>There was color in the girl’s face as she accepted -the money; she drew up her shoulders slightly, but -without comment, turned upon her heel and left the -room.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis brought her attention once more cheerfully -back to the lesson.</p> - -<p>“Now then, Mildred dearie: <i>one</i> and two and three -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_6">[Pg 6]</span> -and four and—<i>one</i> and two and <i>three</i> and four and.... -Now you have it; see how easy that is?”</p> - -<h5>§ 2</h5> - -<p>Jeannette passed through the dark intervening -rooms of the apartment, catching up her shabby velvet -hat from her bed, and came upon her sister Alice in -the kitchen.</p> - -<p>There was a marked contrast between the two girls. -Jeannette, who was several months past her eighteenth -birthday, was a tall, willowy girl with a smooth olive-tinted -skin, dark eyes, brows and lashes, and straight, -lustreless braids of hair almost dead black. She gave -promise of beauty in a year or two,—of austere stateliness,—but -now she appeared rather angular and ungainly -with her thin shoulders and shapeless ankles. -She was too tall and too old to be still dressed like a -schoolgirl. Alice was only a year her junior, but Alice -looked younger. She was softer, rounder, gentler. -She had brown hair, brown eyes and a brown skin. -“My little brown bird,” her mother had called her as -a child. She was busy now at the stove, dumping and -scraping out a can of tomatoes into a saucepan. Dinner -was in process of preparation. Steam poured from -the nozzle of the kettle on the gas range and evaporated -in a thin cloud.</p> - -<p>“Mama makes me so mad!” Jeannette burst out -indignantly. “I <i>wish</i> she wouldn’t be borrowing money -from the pupils! She just got ten cents out of Mildred -Carpenter.”</p> - -<p>She displayed the diminutive coin in her palm. -Alice regarded it with a troubled frown.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_7">[Pg 7]</span></p> - -<p>“It makes me so sick,” went on Jeannette, “wheedling -a dime out of a baby like that! I don’t believe -it’s necessary, at least Mama ought to manage better. -Just think of it! Borrowing money to buy a loaf of -bread! ... We’ve come to a pretty state of things.”</p> - -<p>“Aw—don’t, Janny,” Alice remonstrated; “you -know how hard Mama tries and how people won’t pay -their bills.... The Cheneys have owed eighty-six -dollars for six months and it never occurs to them we -need it so badly.”</p> - -<p>“I’d go and get it, if I was Mama,” Jeannette said -with determination, putting on her hat and bending her -tall figure awkwardly to catch her reflection in a lower -pane of the kitchen door. “I wouldn’t stand it. I’d -call on old Paul G. Cheney at his office and tell him he’d -have to pay up or find someone else to teach his -children!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, you wouldn’t, Janny!—You know that’d -never do. Paul and Dorothy have been taking lessons -off Mama for nearly three years. Mama’d lose all her -pupils if she did things like that.”</p> - -<p>“Well—” Jeannette drawled, suddenly weary of the -discussion and opening the kitchen door into the hall, -“I’m going down to Kratzmer’s.”</p> - -<h5>§ 3</h5> - -<p>In the delicatessen store she was obliged to wait her -turn. The shop was well filled with late customers, -and the women especially seemed maddeningly dilatory -to the impatient girl.</p> - -<p>“An’ fifteen cents’ worth of ham ... an’ some of -that chow-chow ... and a box of crackers....”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_8">[Pg 8]</span></p> - -<p>Jeannette studied the rows of salads, pots of baked -beans, the pickled pig’s-feet, and sausages. Everything -looked appetizing to her, and the place smelled -fragrantly of fresh cold meat and creamy cheeses. -Most of the edibles Kratzmer offered so invitingly, she -had never tasted. She would have liked to begin at one -end of the marble counter and sample everything that -was on it. She looked curiously at the woman near her -who had just purchased some weird-looking, pickled -things called “mangoes,” and gone on selecting imported -cheeses and little oval round cans with French -and Italian labels upon them. Jeannette wondered if -she, herself, would ever come to know a time when she -could order of Kratzmer so prodigally. She was sick -of the everlasting struggle at home of what they should -get for lunch or dinner. It was always determined by -the number of cents involved.</p> - -<p>“Well, dearie,” her mother invariably remonstrated -at some suggestion of her own, “that would cost thirty -cents and perhaps it would be wiser to wait until next -week.”</p> - -<p>A swift, vague vision arose of the vital years that -were close at hand,—the vital years in which she must -marry and decide the course of her whole future life. -Was her preparation for this all-important time ever -to be beset by a consideration of pennies and makeshifts?</p> - -<p>“Vell, Miss Sturgis, vat iss it to-night?”</p> - -<p>Fat Mrs. Kratzmer smiled blandly at her over the -glass shelf above the marble counter. Jeannette -watched her as she deftly crackled thin paper about the -two loaves, tied and snapped the pink string. Kratzmer -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_9">[Pg 9]</span> -and his wife were fat with big stomachs and round, -double chins; even Elsa Kratzmer, their daughter, who -went to the High School with Jeannette and Alice, was -fat and had a double chin. The family had probably -all they wanted to eat and a great deal more; there -must be an enormous amount of food left on the platters -and dishes and in the pans at the end of each day -that would spoil before morning. Kratzmer, his wife -and daughter must gormandize, stuff themselves night -after night, Jeannette reflected as she began to climb -the four long flights of stairs to her own apartment. -It was disgusting, of course, to think of eating that -way,—but oh, what a feast she and Alice would have -if they might change places with the trio for a night -or two!</p> - -<p>As she reached the second landing, a thick smell of -highly seasoned frying food assailed her. This was -the floor on which the Armenians lived, and a pungent -odor from their cooking frequently permeated the -entire building. The front door of their apartment -was open and as Jeannette was passing it, Dikron -Najarian came out. He was a tall young man of -twenty-three or-four, of extraordinary swarthy -beauty, with black wavy masses of hair, and enormous -dark eyes. He and his sister, Rosa,—she was a few -years older and equally handsome,—often met the -young Sturgis girls on the stairs or fumbling with the -key to the mail-box in the entrance-way below. Jeannette -and Alice used to giggle sillily after they had -encountered Dikron, and would exchange ridiculous -confidences concerning him. They regarded the young -man as far too old to be interested in either of themselves -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_10">[Pg 10]</span> -and therefore took his unusual beauty and odd, -foreign manner as proper targets for their laughter.</p> - -<p>Jeannette now instinctively straightened herself as -she encountered her neighbor. Upon the instant a -feminine challenge emanated from her.</p> - -<p>“Hello,” Dikron said, taken unawares and obviously -embarrassed. “Been out?”</p> - -<p>For some obscure reason Jeannette did not understand, -she elected at that moment to coquet. She had -never given the young Armenian a serious thought -before, but now she became aware of the effect their -sudden encounter had had upon him. She paused -on the lower step of the next flight and hung for a -moment over the balustrade. Airily, she explained -her errand to Kratzmer’s.</p> - -<p>“What smells so good?” she asked presently.</p> - -<p>She thought the odor abominable, but it did not -suit her mood to say so.</p> - -<p>“Mother’s cooking mussels to-night; they’re wonderful, -stuffed with rice and peppers.... Have you -ever tasted them? Could I send some upstairs?”</p> - -<p>Jeannette laughed hastily, and shook her head.</p> - -<p>“No—no,—thanks very much.... I’m afraid we -wouldn’t....” She was going to say “appreciate -them” but left the sentence unfinished. “I must go -on up; Mother’s waiting for the bread.”</p> - -<p>But she made no immediate move, and the young -man continued to lean against the wall below her. -Their conversation, however, died dismally at this -point, and after a moment’s uncomfortable silence, -the girl began nimbly to mount the stairs, flinging over -her shoulder a somewhat abrupt “Good-night.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_11">[Pg 11]</span></p> - -<h5>§ 4</h5> - -<p>“Get your bread, dearie?” Mrs. Sturgis asked cheerfully -as Jeannette came panting into the kitchen and -flung her package down upon the table. Her daughter -did not answer but dropped into a chair to catch her -breath.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis was bustling about, pottering over the -gas stove, stirring a saucepan of stewing kidneys, -banging shut the oven door after a brief inspection of -a browning custard. Alice had just finished setting -the table in the dining-room, and now came in, to -break the string about the bread and begin to slice it -vigorously. Jeannette interestedly observed what they -were to have for dinner. It was one of the same -old combinations with which she was familiar, and a -feeling of weary distaste welled up within her, but a -glimpse of her mother’s face checked it.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis invariably wore lace jabots during the -day. These were high-collared affairs, reinforced with -wires or whalebones, and they fastened firmly around -the throat, the lace falling in rich, frothy cascades at -the front. They were the only extravagance the hard-working -little woman allowed herself, and she justified -them on the ground that they were becoming and she -must be presentable at the fashionable girls’ school -where she was a teacher, and also at Signor Bellini’s -studio where she was the paid accompanist. Jeannette -and Alice were always mending or ironing these frills, -and had become extremely expert at the work. There -was a drawer in their mother’s bureau devoted exclusively -to her jabots, and her daughters made it their -business to see that one of these lacy adornments was -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_12">[Pg 12]</span> -always there, dainty and fresh, ready to be put on. -Beneath the brave show of lace about her neck and -over the round swell of her small compact bosom, there -was only her “little old black” or “the Macy blue.” -Mrs. Sturgis had no other garments and these two -dresses were unrelievedly plain affairs with plain -V-shaped necks and plain, untrimmed skirts. The -jabots gave the effect of elegance she loved, and she -had a habit of flicking the lacy ruffles as she talked, -straightening them or tossing them with a careless -finger. The final touch of adornment she allowed -herself was two fine gold chains about her neck. From -the longer was suspended her watch which she carried -tucked into the waist-band of her skirt; while the other -held her eye-glasses which, when not in use, hung on a -hook at her shoulder.</p> - -<p>The tight lace collars creased and wrinkled her -throat, and made her cheeks bulge slightly over them, -giving her face a round full expression. When she was -excited and wagged her head, or when she laughed, her -fat little cheeks shook like cups of jelly. But as soon -as her last pupil had departed for the day, off came the -gold chains and the jabot. She was more comfortable -without the confining band about her neck though her -real reason for laying her lacy ruffles aside was to -keep them fresh and unrumpled. Stripped of her -frills, her daughters were accustomed to see her in -the early mornings, and evenings, with the homely -V-shaped garment about her withered neck, her cheeks, -lacking the support of the tight collar, sagging loosely. -Habit was strong with Mrs. Sturgis. Jeannette and -Alice were often amused at seeing their mother still -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_13">[Pg 13]</span> -flicking and tossing with an unconscious finger an -imaginary frill long after it had been laid aside.</p> - -<p>Now as the little woman bent over the stove, her -older daughter noted the pendant cheeks criss-crossed -with tiny purplish veins, the blue-white wrinkled neck, -and the vivid red spots beneath the ears left by the -sharp points of wire in the high collar she had just -unfastened. There were puffy pockets below her eyes, -and even the eyelids were creased with a multitude of -tiny wrinkles. Jeannette realized her mother was tired—unusually -tired. She remembered, too, that it was -Saturday, and on Saturday there were pupils all day -long. The girl jumped to her feet, snatched the stirring -spoon out of her mother’s hand and pushed her -away from the range.</p> - -<p>“Get out of here, Mama,” she directed vigorously. -“Go in to the table and sit down. Alice and I will put -dinner on.... Alice, make Mama go in there and -sit down.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis laughingly protested but she allowed -her younger daughter to lead her into the adjoining -room where she sank down gratefully in her place at -the table.</p> - -<p>“Well, lovies, your old mother <i>is</i> pretty tired....” -She drew a long breath of contentment and closed -her eyes.</p> - -<p>The girls poured the kidney stew into an oval dish -and carried it and the scalloped tomatoes to the table. -There was a hurried running back and forth for a -few minutes, and then Jeannette and Alice sat down, -hunching their chairs up to the table, and began -hungrily to eat. It was the most felicitous, unhurried -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_14">[Pg 14]</span> -hour of their day usually, for mother and daughters -unconsciously relaxed, their spirits rising with the -warm food, and the agreeable companionship which -to each was and always had been exquisitely dear.</p> - -<p>The dining-room in the daytime was the pleasantest -room in the apartment. It and the kitchen overlooked -a shabby back-yard, adjoining other shabby back-yards -far below, in the midst of which, during summer, a -giant locust tree was magnificently in leaf. There -were floods of sunshine all afternoon from September -to April, and a brief but pleasing view of the Hudson -River could be seen between the wall of the house next -door and an encroaching cornice of a building on -Columbus Avenue. At night there was little in the -room to recommend it. The wall-paper was a hideous -yellow with acanthus leaves of a more hideous and -darker yellow flourishing symmetrically upon it. -There was a marble mantelpiece over a fireplace, and -in the aperture for the grate a black lacquered iron -grilling. Over the table hung a gaselier from the center -of which four arms radiated at right angles, supporting -globes of milky glass.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis’ bedroom adjoined the dining-room -and was separated from it by bumping folding-doors, -only opened on occasions when Jeannette and Alice decided -their mother’s room needed a thorough cleaning -and airing. The latter seemed necessary much oftener -than the former for the room had only one small window -which, tucked into the corner, gave upon a narrow -light-well. It was from this well, which extended clear -down to the basement, that the evil smells arose when -the Najarians, two flights below, began cooking one of -their Armenian feasts.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_15">[Pg 15]</span></p> - -<p>In the center of the apartment were two dark little -chambers occupied by the girls. Neither possessed a -window, but the wall separating them was pierced by -an opening, fitted with a hinged light of frosted glass -which, when hooked back to the ceiling, permitted the -necessary ventilation. These boxlike little rooms had -to be used as a passageway. The only hall was the -public one outside, at one end of which was a back -door giving access to the kitchen and the dining-room, -and, opposite this, a front one, opening into the large, -commodious sitting-room, or studio—as it was dignified -by the family—in which Mrs. Sturgis gave her -music lessons.</p> - -<p>It was this generous front room, with its high ceiling, -its big bay window, its alcove ideally proportioned -to hold the old grand piano, which had intrigued the -little music-teacher twelve years before, when she had -moved into the neighborhood after her husband’s death -and begun her struggle for a home and livelihood. -Whether or not the prospective pupils would be willing -to climb the four long flights of stairs necessary to -reach this thoroughly satisfactory environment for -the dissemination of musical instruction was a question -which only time would answer. Mrs. Sturgis had confidently -expected that they would and her expectations -had been realized. The dollar an hour, which was all -she charged, had appealed to the more calculating of -their parents; moreover Henrietta Spaulding Sturgis -was a pianist of no mean distinction. She was a graduate -of the Boston Conservatory, was in charge of the -music at Miss Loughborough’s Concentration School -for Little Girls on Central Park West, and was the -accompanist for Tomaso Bellini, a well-known instructor -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_16">[Pg 16]</span> -in voice culture who had a studio in Carnegie -Hall. These facts the neighborhood inevitably learned, -and that lessons at such a price could be had from a -teacher so well equipped was confided by one shrewd -mother to another. The stairs were ignored; a little -climbing, if taken slowly, never hurt <i>any</i> child!</p> - -<p>But while year after year it became more and more -advertised that bustling, round-faced, cheerful Mrs. -Sturgis <i>did</i> have charge of the music at Miss Loughborough’s -school on Tuesdays and Fridays of each -week, and <i>did</i> play the accompaniments for the pupils -of Signor Bellini at his Carnegie Hall studio on Mondays -and Thursdays, no one suspected that sharp Miss -Loughborough handed Mrs. Sturgis a check for only -twenty-five dollars twice a month and that thrifty -Signor Bellini paid but five dollars a day to his accompanist. -Wednesdays and Saturdays were left for -private lessons at a dollar an hour, and although Mrs. -Sturgis could have filled other days of the week with -pupils, Miss Loughborough and Signor Bellini represented -an income that was certain, while nothing was -more uncertain than the little pupils whose parents -sent them regularly for a few months and then moved -away or summarily discontinued the instruction often -without explanation. Jeannette and Alice had urged -their mother repeatedly to drop one or the other of her -close-handed employers and take on more pupils, but -to these entreaties Mrs. Sturgis had shaken her head -with firm determination until her round little cheeks -trembled.</p> - -<p>“No—no, lovies; that may be all very well,—they -may be underpaying me,—perhaps they are, but the -money’s <i>sure</i> and that’s the comfort. It’s worth much -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_17">[Pg 17]</span> -more to me to know <i>that</i> than to earn twice the -amount.”</p> - -<p>It was the dreary hot summers that Mrs. Sturgis -and her daughters dreaded when Miss Loughborough’s -school closed its doors and Signor Bellini made his -annual pilgrimage to Italy, and the little pupils who -had filled the Wednesday and Saturday lesson hours -drifted away to the beaches or the mountains. July -and August were empty, barren months and against -their profitlessness some provision had to be made; a -little must be put by during the year to take care of -this lean and trying period. But somehow, although -Mrs. Sturgis firmly determined at the beginning of each -season that never again would she subject her girls -to the self-denials, even privations, they had endured -during the summer, every year it became harder and -harder to save, while each summer brought fresh -humiliations and a slimmer purse. Even in the most -prosperous seasons the small family was in debt, -always a little behind, never wholly caught up, and -as time went on, it became evident that each year -found them further and further in arrears. They -were always harassed by annoying petty accounts. -Miss Loughborough’s and Signor Bellini’s money paid -the rent and the actual daily food, and when a parent -took it into his or her head to send a check for a -child’s music, the amount had to be proportioned here -and there: so much to the druggist, the dentist and -doctor; so much to the steam laundry; so much to the -ice company and dairy; so much for gas and fuel.</p> - -<p>Emerging from the chrysalis of girlhood, Jeannette -and Alice were rapidly becoming young women, with -a healthy, normal appetite for pretty clothes and -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_18">[Pg 18]</span> -amusement. These were simple enough and might so -easily have been gratified, Mrs. Sturgis often sadly -thought, if her income would keep but a lagging pace -with modestly expanding needs. It required a few -extra dollars only each year, but where could she lay -her hands on them? When a business expanded and -its earnings grew proportionately, an employee’s -salary was sure to be raised after a time of faithful -service. Mrs. Sturgis did not dare increase the rates -she charged for her lessons. She felt she was facing -a blank wall; she could conceive of no way whereby -she might earn more. Skimping what went on the -table was an old recourse to which she and her children -were now thoroughly accustomed. She did not see -how she could possibly cut down further and still -keep her girls properly nourished.</p> - -<h5>§ 5</h5> - -<p>She watched them affectionately now as they finished -their dinner, observing her older daughter’s -fastidious manipulation of her fork, the younger one’s -birdlike way of twisting her small head as she ate. -A fleeting wonder of what the future held in store for -each passed through her mind. Jeannette was the -more impetuous, and daring, was shrewd-minded, -clear-thinking, efficient, was headstrong, and actuated -ever by a suffering pride; she would undoubtedly -grow into a tall, beautiful woman. Alice,—her -mother’s “brown bird,”—seemed overshadowed by -comparison and yet Mrs. Sturgis sometimes felt that -Alice, with her simpler, unexacting, contented nature, -her gentle faith, her meditative mind, was the more -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_19">[Pg 19]</span> -fortunate of the two. She, herself, turned to Jeannette -for advice, for discussion of ways and means, -and to Alice for sympathetic understanding and uncritical -loyalty. They were both splendid girls, she -mused fondly, who would make admirable wives. They -must marry, of course; she had brought them up since -they were tiny girls to consider a successful, happy -marriage as their outstanding aim in life; she had -trained them in the duties of wives, even of mothers, -but she shuddered and her heart grew sick within her -as she began dimly to perceive the time approaching -when she must surrender their bloom and innocence -and her complete proprietorship in them to some confident, -ignorant young male who would unhesitatingly -set up his half-baked judgment for his wife’s welfare -against her hard-won knowledge of life. Yet both -girls must marry; her heart was set on that. Marriage -meant everything to a girl, and to the right husbands, -her daughters would make ideal wives.</p> - -<p>With the speed of long practice, the remains of the -dinner were swept away and the kitchen set to rights. -Both girls attempted to dissuade their mother from -performing her customary dish-washing task, urging -her that to-night she must rest. But Mrs. Sturgis -would not listen; she was quite rested, she declared, -and there was nothing to washing up the few dishes -they had used; why, it wasn’t ten minutes’ work! She -invariably insisted upon performing this dirtier, more -vigorous task; Alice’s part was to wipe; Jeannette’s -to clear the table, brush the cloth, put away the china -and napkins, and replace the old square piece of -chenille curtaining which had for years done duty as -a table cover. Then there was the gas drop-light to -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_20">[Pg 20]</span> -set in its center, and connect with the gaselier above -by a long tube ending in a curved brass nozzle that -fitted over one of the burners. Where this joining occurred, -there was always a slight escape of gas, and -it frequently gave Mrs. Sturgis or her daughters a -headache, but beyond an impatient comment from one -of them, such as “Mercy me! the gas smells horribly -to-night!” or “Open the window a little, dearie,—the -gas is beginning to make my head ache,” nothing -was ever done about it. It was one of those things -in their lives to which they had grown accustomed and -accepted along with the rest of the ills and goods of -their days.</p> - -<p>Mother and girls used the dining-room as the place -to congregate, sew, read or idle. They rarely sat -down or attempted to make themselves comfortable in -the spacious front room. It was not nearly so agreeably -intimate, and they felt it must always be kept in -order for music lessons and for rare occasions when -company came. “Company” usually turned out to be -a pupil’s mother or a housemaid who came to explain -that little Edna or Gracie had the mumps or -was going to the dentist’s on Saturday and therefore -would not be able to take her lesson, or a messenger -from Signor Bellini to inquire if Mrs. Sturgis could -play for one of his pupils the following evening. Such -was the character of the callers, but the fiction of -“company” was maintained.</p> - -<p>The group Mrs. Sturgis and her daughters made -about the dining-room table in the warm yellow radiance -of the drop-light was intimately familiar and -dear to each of them. There was always a certain -amount of sewing going on,—mending or darning,—and -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_21">[Pg 21]</span> -hardly an evening passed without one or another -industriously bending over her needle. Usually they -were all three at it, for they made most of their own -clothes. Each had her own particular side of the -table and her own particular chair. They were extremely -circumspect in the observance of one another’s -preferences, and would apologize profusely if one happened -to be found on the wrong side of the table or -incorrectly seated. Mrs. Sturgis, on the rare occasions -when she found herself with nothing particular -to do, spread out a pack of cards before her and indulged -in a meditative solitaire; Alice had always a -novel in which she was absorbed. Generally three or -four books were saved up in her room, and she considered -herself dreadfully behind in her reading unless -she had disposed of one of them as soon as she acquired -another. Jeannette studied the fashions in the dress -magazines and sometimes amused herself by drawing -costume designs of her own.</p> - -<p>But dressmaking occupied most of the evenings. -There was usually a garment of some kind in process -of manufacture, or a dress to be ripped to pieces and -its materials used in new ways. Alice acted as model -no matter for whom the work was intended. She had -infinite patience and could stand indefinitely, sometimes -with a bit of sewing in her hands, sometimes -with a book propped before her on the mantel, indifferent -and unconcerned, while her mother and sister -crawled around her on the floor, pinning, pulling and -draping the material about her young figure, or else -sitting back on their heels and arguing with each -other, while they eyed her with heads first on one -side, then on the other.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_22">[Pg 22]</span></p> - -<h5>§ 6</h5> - -<p>To-night Jeannette was making herself a corset -cover, Alice was struggling over a school essay on -“Home Life of the Greeks in the Age of Pericles,” -and Mrs. Sturgis was darning. They had not been more -than half-an-hour at their work, when there was the -sound of masculine feet mounting the stairs, a hesitating -step in the hall, and a brief ring of the doorbell. -They glanced at one another questioningly and -Alice rose. Alice always answered the bell.</p> - -<p>“If it’s old Bellini wanting you to-night....” -Jeannette began in annoyance. But the man’s voice -that reached them was no messenger’s; it was polite -and friendly, and it was for Alice’s sister he inquired. -Jeannette found Dikron Najarian in the front room. -The young man was all bashful breathlessness.</p> - -<p>“There’s an Armenian society here in New York, -Miss Sturgis. My father was one of its organizers, -has been a member for years. We’re having a dance -to-night at Weidermann’s Hall on Amsterdam Avenue, -and my cousin, Louisa, who was going with me, -is ill; she has a bad toothache. I have her ticket and -... will you come in her place? Rosa’s going, of -course, and ... tell your mother I’ll bring you home -at twelve o’clock.”</p> - -<p>It was said in an anxious rush, with hopeful eagerness. -Jeannette, bewildered, went to consult her -mother. Mrs. Sturgis hastily pinned one of her jabots -around her neck and appeared to confront young -Najarian in the studio. She listened to the invitation -thoughtfully, her head cocked upon one side, her lips -pursed in judicial fashion. Janny was still very young, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_23">[Pg 23]</span> -she explained; she had never attended anything quite—quite -so grown-up, she was used only to the parties -her school friends sometimes asked her to, and Mrs. -Sturgis was afraid....</p> - -<p>Suddenly Jeannette wanted to go. She pinched her -mother’s arm, and an impatient protest escaped her -lips.</p> - -<p>“Oh, please, Mrs. Sturgis....” pleaded the young -man.</p> - -<p>A rich contralto voice sounded from the hallway of -the floor below. The door to the apartment had been -left open and now they could see big handsome Rosa -Najarian’s face through the banisters as she stood -halfway up the stairs.</p> - -<p>“Do let your daughter come, Mrs. Sturgis. They -are all nice boys and girls. I will keep a sharp eye -on her and bring her home to you safely.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mrs. Sturgis, “I just wanted to feel -satisfied that everything was right and proper.”</p> - -<p>There were some further words. Jeannette left her -mother talking with Dikron and flew to the dining-room, -to her sister.</p> - -<p>“Quick, Alice dearie! Dikron Najarian’s asked me -to a dance. I must fly! Help me get ready. He’s -waiting.”</p> - -<p>Instantly there was a scurry, a jerking open of -bureau drawers, a general diving into crowded closets. -The question immediately arose, what was Jeannette -to wear? In a mad burst of extravagance, she had -sent her dotted Swiss muslin to the laundry. There -remained only her old “party” dress, which had been -done over and over, lengthened and lengthened, until -now the velvet was worn and shiny, the covering of -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_24">[Pg 24]</span> -some of the buttons was gone and showed the bright -metal beneath, the ribbon about the waist was split in -several places. Yet there was nothing else, and while -the girl was hooking herself into it, Alice daubed the -metal buttons with ink, and sewed folds of the ribbon -over where it had begun to split. Jeannette borrowed -stockings from her sister and wedged her feet into a -pair of her mother’s pumps which were too small for -her. Her black lusterless locks were happily becomingly -arranged, and excitement brought a warm dull -red to her olive-tinted cheeks. She was in gay spirits -when Najarian called for her some fifteen minutes -later, and went off with him chattering vivaciously.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis stood for a moment in the open doorway -of her apartment and listened to the descending -feet upon the stairs, to the lessening sound of gay -young voices. She assured herself she caught Rosa -Najarian’s warmer accents as the older girl met her -brother and Jeannette two flights below; she still bent -her ear for the last sounds of the little party as it made -its way down the final flight of stairs, paused for an -interval in the lowest hallway, and banged the front -door behind it with a dull reverberation and a shiver -of glass. As the house grew still she waited a minute -or two longer with compressed lips and a troubled -frown, then shook her round little cheeks firmly, -turned back into her own apartment, and without comment -began to help Alice hang up Jeannette’s discarded -clothing and set the disordered room to rights.</p> - -<h5>§ 7</h5> - -<p>Jeannette found her mother sitting up for her when -she returned a little after twelve. Mrs. Sturgis was -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_25">[Pg 25]</span> -engaged in writing out bills for her lessons which she -would mail on the last day of the month. The old -canvas-covered ledger with its criss-crossed pages, -its erasures and torn edges in which she kept her -accounts was a familiar sight in her hands. She was -forever turning its thumbed and ink-stained leaves, -studying old and new entries, making half-finished calculations -in the margins or blank spaces. She sat now -in the unbecoming flannelette gown she wore at night, -her thin hair in two skimpy pig-tails on either side of -her neck, a tattered knitted shawl of a murderous red -about her shoulders, and a comforter across her knees. -In the yellow light of the hissing gas above her head, -she appeared haggard and old, with dark pockets underneath -her scant eyebrows and even gaunt hollows -in the little cheeks that bulged plumply and bravely -during the day above her tight lace collars.</p> - -<p>“Well,—<i>dear</i>-ie!” Bright animation struggled into -the mother’s face, and her voice at once was all eagerness -and interest. “Did you have a good time? ... -Tell me about it.”</p> - -<p>Immediately she detected something was amiss. -There was none of the gay exhilaration and youthful -exuberance in her daughter’s manner, she had confidently -expected. One searching glance into the glittering -dark eyes, as the girl stooped to kiss her, told -her Jeannette was fighting tears, struggling to control -a burst of pent-up feeling.</p> - -<p>“Why, dearie! What’s the matter? ... Tell me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh——!” There was young fury in the exclamation. -Jeannette flung herself into a chair and buried -her face in her hands, plunging her finger-tips deep into -her thick coils of black hair. For several minutes -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_26">[Pg 26]</span> -she would not answer her mother’s anxious inquiries.</p> - -<p>“Wasn’t Mr. Najarian nice to you? Didn’t he look -after you? Didn’t you have a good time? Tell Mama,” -Mrs. Sturgis persisted.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,—he was very nice, ... yes, he took good -care of me,—and Rosa did, too.”</p> - -<p>“Then what is it, dearie? What happened? Mama -wants to know.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette drew a long breath and got brusquely to -her feet.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s this!” she burst out, striking the gown -she wore with contemptuous fingers. “It’s these miserable -things I have to wear! There wasn’t a girl -there, to-night,—not even one,—that wasn’t better -dressed. I was a laughing-stock among them! ... -Oh, I know I was, I know I was! ... They all felt -sorry for me: a poor little neighbor of Dikron -Najarian’s on whom he had taken pity and whom he -had asked to a dance! ... Oh! I can’t and <i>won’t</i> -stand it, Mama.”</p> - -<p>Tears suddenly choked her but she fought them -down and stilled her mother’s rush of expostulations.</p> - -<p>“No—no, Mama! ... It’s <i>nobody’s</i> fault. You -work your fingers to the bone for Allie and me; you -work from daylight till dark to keep us in school and -in idleness. I’m not going to let you do it any -longer.... No, Mama, I’m not going to let things -go on as they are. I needed some experience like to-night’s -to make me wake up.”</p> - -<p>“What experience? Don’t talk so wild, baby.”</p> - -<p>“Finding out for myself I was the shabbiest dressed -girl in the room! There were a lot of other girls there,—really -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_27">[Pg 27]</span> -nice girls. I didn’t expect it. I suppose I -thought I wouldn’t find any American girls like myself -at an Armenian dance. I don’t know <i>what</i> I thought! ... -But there were only a few like Rosa and Dikron, -and all the other girls were beautifully dressed.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette broke off and began to blink hard for self-control. -Her mother, her face twisted with sympathy -and distress, could only pat her hand and murmur -soothingly over and over: “Dearie—my poor dearie—my -dearie-girl——”</p> - -<p>“I saw one old lady sizing me up,” Jeannette went -on presently. “I could see right into her brain and -I knew every thought she was thinking. She looked -me over from my feet to my hair and from my hair -to my feet. There wasn’t a thing wrong or right with -me that that old cat missed! She didn’t mean it unkindly; -she was merely interested in noting how -shabby I was.... And Mama,—it was a revelation -to me! I could just see ahead into the years that are -coming, and I could see that that was to be my fate -always wherever I went: to be shabbily dressed and -be pitied.”</p> - -<p>“Now—now, dearie,—don’t take on so. Mama will -work hard; we’ll save——”</p> - -<p>“But that’s just what I won’t have!” Jeannette interrupted -passionately. “I’m not going to let you go -on slaving for Allie and me, making yourself a drudge.... -What’s it all for? Just so Allie and I can marry -suitable rich young men! Isn’t that it? Ever since I -can remember, I’ve heard you talk about our future -husbands and what kind of men they are to be. You’ve -been describing to us for years the time when we’ll be -going to dances and theatres. Going, yes, but how? -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_28">[Pg 28]</span> -Dressed like this? Worn, shabby old clothes? To be -pitied by other women? ... No, Mama, I won’t do it. -I’d rather stay home with you for the rest of my life -and grow up to be an old maid!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Janny, don’t talk so reckless. You take things -so seriously, and you’re always imagining the worst -side of everything. There are thousands of girls a -great deal worse off than you. There are thousands -of mothers and fathers and daughters in this city right -this minute who are facing just this problem. It’s -as old as the hills. But there’s always a way out,—a -way that’s right and proper. Don’t let it trouble -you, dearie; leave it to Mama; Mama’ll manage.”</p> - -<p>“No, Mama, I <i>won’t</i> leave it to you! I’ve got eyes -in my head and I see how hard you have to struggle. -We’re always behind as it is,—pestered by bills and -the tradespeople. Why, this very afternoon we didn’t -have a cent in the house,—not even a copper,—and you -had to borrow a dime from Mildred Carpenter to buy -bread! Just think of it! <i>We didn’t have money -enough for bread!</i>”</p> - -<p>“But, dearie, I’ve got Miss Loughborough’s check -in my purse.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and we owe ten times its amount! ... We’re -running steadily behind. I don’t see anything better -ahead. It’s going to be this way year after year, -always falling a little more and a little more behind, -until—until, well—until people won’t trust us any -more.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps we could cut down a bit somewheres, -Janny.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mama, don’t talk nonsense! I’m going to -work,—that’s all there is about it.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_29">[Pg 29]</span></p> - -<p>“Jeannette! ... You can’t! ... You mustn’t!”</p> - -<p>“Well, I am just the same. Rosa Najarian is a stenographer -with the Singer Sewing Machine Company, -and she gets eighteen dollars a week! ... Think of it, -Mama! Eighteen dollars a week! She took a ten -weeks’ course at the Gerard Commercial School and -at the end of that time they got her a job. She didn’t -have to wait a week! ... No, I’m not going to High -School another day. To-morrow I’m going down to -that Commercial School.”</p> - -<p>“But, dearie—dearie! You don’t want to be a -working girl!”</p> - -<p>“You’re a working woman, aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>“But, my dear, I had no other choice. I had my -girls to bring up, and I’ve grubbed and slaved, as you -say, just so my daughters would never have to take -positions. I’ve worked hard to make ladies of you, -dearie,—and no lady’s a shop-girl.... Oh, I couldn’t -bear it! You and Allie shop-girls! ... Janny,—it -would <i>finish</i> me.”</p> - -<p>“Well, Mama, you don’t feel so awfully about Rosa -Najarian—do you? You consider Rosa a lady, don’t -you?”</p> - -<p>“She’s an Armenian, Jeannette, and I know nothing -about Armenians. Besides she is not <i>my</i> daughter. -The kind of men I want for husbands to my girls will -not be looking for their wives behind shop counters!”</p> - -<p>“But, Mama, stenographers don’t work behind -counters.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, they do.... Anyway it’s the same -thing.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette felt suddenly too tired to continue the -discussion. Her mind began turning over the changes -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_30">[Pg 30]</span> -the step she contemplated would occasion. Mrs. -Sturgis’ fingers played a nervous tattoo upon her -tremulous lips. She glanced apprehensively at her -daughter and in that moment realized the girl would -have her way.</p> - -<p>“Oh, dearie, dearie!” she burst out. “I can’t <i>have</i> -you go to work!”</p> - -<p>Jeannette knew that no opposition from her mother -would alter her purpose. Where her mind was made -up, her mother invariably capitulated. It had been so -for a long time, and Jeannette, at least, was aware -of it. As she foresaw the full measure of her mother’s -distress when she put her decision into effect, she came -and knelt beside her chair, gathered the tired figure -in its absurd flannelette nightgown in her arms and -kissed the thin silky hair where it parted and showed -the papery white skin of her scalp. Mrs. Sturgis bent -her head against her daughter’s shoulder, while the -tears trickled down her nose and fell upon the girl’s -bare arm. Jeannette murmured consolingly but her -mother refused to be comforted, indicating her disapproval -by firm little shakes of her head which she -managed now and then between watery sniffles.</p> - -<p>There were finally many kisses between them and -many loving assurances. The girl promised to do -nothing without careful consideration, and they would -all three discuss the proposition from every angle in -the morning. When they had said a last good-night -and the girl had gone to her room, Mrs. Sturgis still -sat on under the hissing gas jet with the red, torn -shawl about her shoulders, the comforter across her -knees. The tears dried on her face, and for a long -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_31">[Pg 31]</span> -time she stared fixedly before her, her lips moving -unconsciously with her thoughts.</p> - -<p>The little suite of rooms she had known so intimately -for twelve long years grew still; the chill of the -dead of night crept in; Jeannette’s light went out. -Mrs. Sturgis reached for the canvas-covered ledger -on the table beside her and began a rapid calculation -of figures on its last page. For a long time she stared -at the result, then rose deliberately, and went into her -room. There she cautiously pulled an old trunk from -the wall, unlocked its lid, raised a dilapidated tray, and -knelt down. In the bottom was an old <i>papier-maché</i> -box, battered and scratched, with rubbed corners. She -opened this and began carefully to examine its contents. -There was the old brooch pin Ralph had given -her after the first concert they attended together, and -there were her mother’s coral earrings and necklace, -and the little silver buckles Jeannette had worn on her -first baby shoes. There were some other trinkets: a -stud, Ralph’s collapsible gold pencil, a French five-franc -piece, a scarf-pin from whose setting the stone -was missing. Tucked into a faded leather photograph -case was a sheaf of folded pawn tickets. That was the -way her rings had gone, and the diamond pin, Ralph’s -jeweled cuff-links and the gold head of her father’s -ebony cane. She picked up the pair of silver buckles -and examined them in the palm of her hand; presently -she added the gold brooch and the collapsible pencil -before she put back the contents of the trunk and -locked it. For some moments she stood in the center -of her room gently jingling these ornaments together. -Then her eye travelled to her bureau; slowly she approached -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_32">[Pg 32]</span> -it, and one after another lifted the gold -chains she wore during the day. These she disengaged -from her eye-glasses and watch, and wrapped -them with the buckles and the brooch in a bit of tissue -paper pulled from a lower drawer. But still she did -not seem satisfied. With the tissue-paper package in -her hand, she sat on the edge of her bed, frowning -thoughtfully, her fingers slowly tapping her lips. -Presently a light came into her eyes. She lit a candle -and stole softly through the girls’ rooms, into the great -gaunt chamber that was the studio. In one corner was -a bookcase, overflowing with old novels, magazines, -and battered school-books. It was a higgledy-piggledy -collection of years, a library without value save for -five substantial volumes of Grove’s Musical Dictionary -on a lower shelf. Mrs. Sturgis knelt before these, -drew them out one by one, and laid them beside her on -the floor. She opened the first volume and read the -inscription: “To my ever patient, gentle Henrietta, -for five trying years my devoted wife, true friend, and -loving companion, from her grateful and affectionate -husband, Ralph.” There was the date,—twelve years -ago,—and he had died within six months after he had -written those words. Her fingers moved to her trembling -lips and she frowned darkly.</p> - -<p>She closed the book, carried the five volumes to a -shelf in a closet near at hand, and tucked them out of -sight in a far corner. There was one last business to -be performed: the books in the bookcase must be rearranged -to fill the vacant place where the dictionary -had stood. Mrs. Sturgis was not satisfied until her -efforts seemed convincing. At last she picked up -her wavering candle and made her way back to her -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_33">[Pg 33]</span> -own room. As she got into bed the old onyx clock -on the mantel in the dining-room struck three blurred -notes upon its tiny harsh gong. Only when darkness -had shut down and the night was silent, did tears -come to the tired eyes. There was then a blinding -rush, and a few quick, strangling sobs. Mrs. Sturgis -stifled these and wiped her eyes hardily upon a fold -of the rough sheet. She steadied a trembling lip with -a firm hand and resolutely turned upon her side to compose -herself for sleep.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_34">[Pg 34]</span></p> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I_II">CHAPTER II</h4> -</div> - -<h5>§ 1</h5> - -<p>It took all Jeannette’s young vigorous determination -to carry into effect the plan she had conceived the -night of the Armenian dance. She met with an unexpected -degree of opposition from her mother, and -even from Alice, who was as a rule indecisive, and the -vaguest of persons in expressing opinions. It was too -grave a step; Janny might come to regret it bitterly -some day, and it might be too late then to go back; -Alice thought perhaps it would be wiser to wait awhile. -But Jeannette did not want to wait. The more she -thought about being a wage-earner, and her own mistress, -free to do as she pleased and spend her money -as she chose, the more eager she was to be done with -school and the supervision of teachers. She felt suddenly -grown up, and looked enviously at the young -women she met hurrying to the elevated station at -Ninety-third Street in the early mornings on their way -downtown to business. She noted how they dressed -and critically observed those who carried their lunches. -She thought about what she should wear, the kind of -hat and shoes she would select, when she was one of -them. If it meant skipping her noonday meal entirely, -she decided, she would never be guilty of carrying -lunch with her. Alice and her intimates at school on -a sudden became drearily young to her; she was irritated -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_35">[Pg 35]</span> -by their giggling silliness. She chose to treat -them all with a certain aloofness, and began to regard -herself already as a highly-paid, valued secretary of -the president of a large corporation. In the evenings -she found excuses for visiting Rosa Najarian and -eagerly listened to the older girl’s account of the business -routine of her days.</p> - -<p>The tuition at the Gerard Commercial School for -ten weeks’ instruction in shorthand and typing was -fifty dollars payable in advance, and it was her inability -to get this sum that prevented Jeannette from -putting her plan immediately into effect. She made -herself unhappy and her mother and sister unhappy -by worrying about it. Mrs. Sturgis fretted uncomfortably. -She alone was aware of an easy way by -which the money could be obtained, but since she did -not approve of her daughter’s purpose, she had no -inclination to divulge it.</p> - -<p>A five thousand dollar paid-up insurance policy from -a benevolent society had become hers at the time -of her husband’s death. It represented a nest-egg, the -thought of which had always been the greatest comfort -to her. In sickness or in case of her death, the -girls would have something; they would not be left -absolutely destitute. She had never mentioned this -policy to her daughters, always being afraid she might -borrow on it, and many a time she had been sorely -tempted to do so. With the knowledge of its existence -unshared with anyone, Mrs. Sturgis felt herself equal -to temptation; but once taking her children into her -confidence, she feared she would soon weakly make -inroads upon it.</p> - -<p>Now as Jeannette became restive and impatient for -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_36">[Pg 36]</span> -want of fifty dollars, her mother grew correspondingly -depressed. It was to protect herself against just such -wild-goose schemes as this, she told herself over and -over, that she had refrained from telling her darlings -anything about the money.</p> - -<p>But events, unforeseen, and from her point of view, -calamitous, robbed her of her fortitude, and forced -her to play into her daughter’s hands. Scarlet fever -broke out in the neighborhood; an epidemic swept the -upper West Side; the Wednesday and Saturday lessons,—all -of them,—had to be discontinued; Miss -Loughborough’s school closed its doors. Mrs. Sturgis -found some music to copy, but the money she earned -in this way was far short of the meager income upon -which she and her daughters had depended. The days -stretched into weeks and still new cases were reported -in the district. The time came when there was actual -want in the little household, literally no money with -which to buy food, and no further credit to be had -among the tradespeople.</p> - -<p>Jeannette applied for and secured the promise of a -job in a small upholsterer’s shop in the neighborhood -at six dollars a week, and in the face of her firm resolution -to accept the offer and go to work on the following -Monday morning, Mrs. Sturgis confessed her -secret. As she had foreseen, Jeannette had little difficulty -in persuading her,—since now she would be compelled -to borrow on her store,—to make the amount of -her loan fifty dollars additional.</p> - -<p>“Why, Mama, I’ll be earning that much a month in -ten weeks, and I can pay it back to you in no time.”</p> - -<p>“I know—I know, dearie. But I just hate to do it.”</p> - -<p>Eventually, she gave way before her daughter’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_37">[Pg 37]</span> -flood of arguments. It was what she had feared ever -since Ralph died; there would be no stopping now the -inroads upon her little capital; she saw the beginning -of the end.</p> - -<p>But Jeannette went triumphantly to school.</p> - -<h5>§ 2</h5> - -<p>After the first few days while she felt herself conspicuous -as a new pupil, she began to enjoy herself -immensely. The studies fascinated her. Hers was an -alert mind and she was unusually intelligent. She -had always been regarded as an exceptionally bright -student, but she had achieved this reputation with little -application. Her school work heretofore had represented -merely “lessons” to her; it had never carried -any significance. But now she threw herself with -all the intensity of her nature upon what seemed to -her a vital business. She realized she had only ten -weeks in which to master shorthand and typing, and -at the end of that time would come the test of her -ability to fill a position as stenographer. She dared -not risk the humiliation of failure; her pride,—the -strongest element in her make-up,—would not permit -it. She must work, work, work; she must utilize every -hour, every minute of these precious weeks of -instruction!</p> - -<p>The girl knew in her heart that she had many of -the qualifications of a good secretary. She was pretty, -she was well-mannered, intelligent, and could speak -and write good English. To find ample justification -for this estimate, she had but to compare herself with -other girls in the school. These for the most part -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_38">[Pg 38]</span> -were foreign-born. A large percentage were Jewesses, -thick-lipped and large-nosed, with heavy black coils -of hair worn over ill-disguised “rats.” Jeannette detected -a finer type, but even to these exceptions she felt -herself superior. They chewed gum a great deal, and -shrieked over their confidences as they ate their -lunches out of cardboard boxes at the noon hour. She -could not bring herself to associate with such girls, -and forestalled any approach to friendliness on their -part by choosing a remote corner to devote the leisure -minutes to study. In consequence she became the butt -of much of their silly laughter, and though she winced -at these whisperings and jibes, she never betrayed -annoyance. There was a sprinkling of men and boys -throughout the school, but the male element was made -up of middle-aged dullards and pimply-necked raw -youths, none of whom interested her.</p> - -<p>The weeks fled by, and Jeannette was carried along -on an undiminished wave of excitement. Everything -she coveted most in the world depended upon her winning -a diploma from the school at the end of the ten -weeks’ instruction. She discovered soon after her -enrollment, that while this might be physically possible, -it was rarely accomplished, and most of her fellow -students had been attending the school for months. -A diploma represented to her the measure of success, -and as the time grew shorter before she was to take the -final examinations, she could hardly sleep from the -intensity of her emotions.</p> - -<p>At home, matters had materially improved. The -epidemic was over; Miss Loughborough’s school had -reopened its doors, and Mrs. Sturgis was again beginning -to fill her Wednesdays and Saturdays with lessons. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_39">[Pg 39]</span> -But the problem of finances was still unsolved. -There was a loan of five hundred dollars now on the -insurance policy, and Jeannette foresaw her mother -would not cease to fret and worry over that until it -had somehow been paid back. Everything, it seemed -to her, depended on her success at school. There was -no hope for the little family otherwise. Alice—trusting, -complacent little Alice—was not the type who -could shoulder any of the burden; her mother was perceptibly -not as strong as she had been. There would -always be debts, there would always be worry, there -would always be skimping and self-denial, unless she, -Jeannette, got a job and went to work.</p> - -<p>Weary with fatigue, she would drive herself at her -practice on the rented typewriter in the studio every -evening until her back flamed with fire and her fingertips -grew sore. She made Alice read aloud to her -while she filled page after page in her note-book with -her hooks and dashes, until her sister drooped with -sleep. Mrs. Sturgis protested, actually cried a little. -The child was killing herself to no purpose! There -wasn’t any sense in working so hard! She was wasting -her time and it would end by their having a -doctor!</p> - -<p>Jeannette shook her head and held her peace, but -when the reward came and old Roger Mason, who -had been principal of the school for nearly twenty -years, sent for her and told her he wanted to congratulate -her on the excellent showing she had made, -she felt amply compensated. But none of those who -eagerly congratulated her,—not even her mother nor -Alice,—suspected how infinitely harder than mastering -her lessons had been what she had endured from the -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_40">[Pg 40]</span> -jeering, mimicking girls who had made fun of her -through the dreadful ten weeks.</p> - -<p>But that was all behind her now. She could forget -it. She had justified herself, and stood ready to prove -to her mother and sister that she could now fill a position -as a regular stenographer, could hold it, and moreover -bring them material help. She was all eagerness -to begin,—frightened at the prospect, yet confident of -success.</p> - -<h5>§ 3</h5> - -<p>Graduates of the Gerard Commercial School ordinarily -did not have to wait long for a job. The demand -for stenographers was usually in excess of the supply. -Little Miss Ingram, down at the school, who had in -hand the matter of finding positions for Gerard graduates, -was interested in obtaining the best that was -available for Miss Sturgis who had made such an -excellent record, and Jeannette was thrilled one morning -at receiving a note asking her to report at the -school without delay if she wished employment.</p> - -<p>Miss Ingram handed her an address on Fourth -Avenue.</p> - -<p>“It’s a publishing house. They publish subscription -books, I think,—something of that sort. I don’t urge -you to take it,—something better may come along,—but -you can look them over and see how you think -you’d like it. They’ll pay fifteen.”</p> - -<p>“Fifteen a week?” Jeanette raised delighted eyes. -“Oh, Miss Ingram, do you think I can please them? -Do you think they’ll give me a chance?”</p> - -<p>Miss Ingram smiled and squeezed Jeannette’s arm -reassuringly.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_41">[Pg 41]</span></p> - -<p>“Of course, my dear, and they’ll be delighted with -you. You’re a great deal better equipped than most -of our girls.”</p> - -<p>The Soulé Publishing Company occupied a spacious -floor of a tall building on Fourth Avenue. Jeannette -was deafened by the clatter of typewriters as she -stepped out of the elevator.</p> - -<p>The loft was filled with long lines of girls seated at -typewriting machines and at great broad-topped tables -piled high with folded circulars. Figures, silhouetted -against the distant windows, moved to and fro between -the aisles. It was a turmoil of noise and confusion.</p> - -<p>As she stood before the low wooden railing that -separated her from it all, trying to adjust her eyes to -the kaleidoscopic effect of movement and light, a pert -young voice addressed her:</p> - -<p>“Who did chou want t’ see, ple-ease?”</p> - -<p>A little Jewess of some fourteen or fifteen years -with an elaborate coiffure surmounting her peaked -pale face was eyeing her inquiringly.</p> - -<p>“I called to see about—about a position as stenographer.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette’s voice all but failed her; the words fogged -in her throat.</p> - -<p>“Typist or regular steno?”</p> - -<p>“Stenographer, I think; shorthand and transcription,—wasn’t -that what was wanted?”</p> - -<p>“See Miss Gibson; first desk over there, end of -third aisle.” The little girl swung back a gate in the -railing, screwed up the corners of her mouth, tucked -a stray hair into place at the nape of her neck, and -with an assumed expression of elaborate boredom -waited for Jeannette to pass through.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_42">[Pg 42]</span></p> - -<p>It took courage to invade that region of bustle and -clamor. Jeannette advanced with faltering step, felt -the waters close over her head, and herself engulfed in -the whirling tide. Once of it, it did not seem so terrifying. -Already her ears were becoming attuned to the -rat-ti-tat-tating that hummed in a roar about her, and -her eyes accustomed to the flying fingers, the flashing -paper, the bobbing heads, and hurrying figures.</p> - -<p>Miss Gibson was a placid, gray-haired woman, large-busted -and severely dressed in an immaculate shirtwaist -that was tucked trimly into a snug belt about her -firm, round person.</p> - -<p>She smiled perfunctorily at the girl as she indicated -the chair beside her desk. Jeannette felt her eyes -swiftly taking inventory of her. Her interrogations -were of the briefest. She made a note of Jeannette’s -age, name and address, and schooling. She then -launched into a description of the work.</p> - -<p>The Soulé Publishing Company sold a great many -books by subscription: <i>Secret Memoirs</i>, <i>The Favorites -of Great Kings</i>, <i>A Compendium of Mortal Knowledge</i>. -Their most recent publication was a twenty-five volume -work entitled <i>A Universal History of the World</i>. This -set of books was supposed to contain a complete historical -record of events from the beginning of time, -and was composed of excerpts from the writings -of great historians, all deftly welded together to make -a comprehensive narrative. A tremendous advertising -campaign was in progress; all magazines carried full-page -advertisements, and a coupon clipped from a -corner of them brought a sample volume by mail for -inspection. When these volumes were returned, they -were accompanied by an order or a letter giving the -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_43">[Pg 43]</span> -reason why none was enclosed. To the latter, a personal -reply was immediately written by Mr. Beardsley,—Miss -Gibson indicated a young man seated by a -window some few desks away. He dictated to a corps -of stenographers, and followed up his first letters with -others, each containing an argument in favor of the -books.</p> - -<p>Miss Gibson enunciated this information with a -glibness that suggested many previous recitations. -When she had finished, with disconcerting abruptness, -she asked Jeannette if she thought she could do the -work. The girl, taken aback, could only stare blankly; -she had no idea whether she could do it or not; she -shook her head aimlessly. Miss Gibson frowned.</p> - -<p>“Well,—we’ll see what you can do,” she declared. -“Miss Rosen,” she called, and as a young Jewess came -toward them, she directed: “Take Miss—Miss”—she -glanced at her notes,—“Sturgis to the cloak room, and -bring her back here.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette’s mind was a confused jumble. “They -won’t kill me,—they won’t eat me,” she found herself -thinking.</p> - -<p>Presently she stood before Miss Gibson once more. -The woman glanced at her, and rose.</p> - -<p>“Come this way.” They walked toward the young -man she had previously indicated.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Beardsley, try this girl out. She comes from -the Gerard School, but she’s had no practical experience.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette looked into a pleasant boy’s face. He -had an even row of glittering white teeth, a small, -quaint mouth that stretched tightly across them when -he smiled, blue eyes, and rather unruly stuck-up hair.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_44">[Pg 44]</span></p> - -<p>She wanted to please him—she could please him—he -seemed nice.</p> - -<p>“Miss—Miss—I beg pardon,—Miss Gibson did not -mention the name.”</p> - -<p>“Sturgis.”</p> - -<p>“There’s a vacant table over there. You can have -a Remington or an Underwood—anything you are -accustomed to; we have all styles.... Miss Flannigan, -take charge of Miss Sturgis, will you?”</p> - -<p>A big-boned Irish girl came toward him. She was -a slovenly type but apparently disposed to be friendly.</p> - -<p>“I’ll lend you a note-book and pencils till you can -draw your own from the stock clerk. You have to -make out a requisition for everything you want, here. -You’ll find paper in that drawer, and that’s a Remington -if you use one.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette slipped into the straight-back chair and -settled with a sense of relief before the flimsy little -table on which the typewriter stood. She was eager -for a moment’s inconspicuousness.</p> - -<p>“This is the kind of stuff he gives you.”</p> - -<p>Miss Flannigan leaned over from behind and offered -her several yellow sheets of typewriting.</p> - -<p>Jeannette took them with a murmured thanks, and -began to read.</p> - -<p>“... deferred payment plan. Five dollars will immediately -secure this handsome twenty-five volume -set.... On the first of May, the price of these books, -as advertised, must advance, but by subscribing -now....”</p> - -<p>She wet her dry lips and glanced at another page.</p> - -<p>“The authenticity of these sources of historical information -cannot be doubted.... Eliminating the -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_45">[Pg 45]</span> -traditions which can hardly be accepted as dependable -chronicles, we turn to the Egyptian records which are -still extant in graven symbols.”</p> - -<p>She couldn’t do it! It was harder than anything she -had ever had in practice! She saw failure confronting -her. The sting of tears pricked her eyes, and she -pressed her lips tightly together.</p> - -<p>Blindly she picked up a stiff bristle brush and began -to clean the type of her machine. She slipped in a sheet -of paper, and, to distract herself, rattled off briskly -some of her school exercises. Those other girls could -do it! She saw them glancing at their notes, and busily -clicking at their machines. They did not seem to be -having difficulty. Miss Flannigan,—that raw-boned -Irish girl with no breeding, no education, no brains!—how -was it that <i>she</i> managed it?</p> - -<p>She frowned savagely and her fingers flew.</p> - -<p>“Miss Sturgis.”</p> - -<p>Young Mr. Beardsley was smiling at her invitingly. -She rose, gathering up her pencils and note-book.</p> - -<p>“Sit down, Miss Sturgis. This work may seem a -little difficult to you at first but you’ll soon get on to -it. Most of these letters are very much alike. There’s -no particular accuracy required. The idea is to get in -closer touch with these people who have written in or -inquired about the books, and we write them personal -letters for the effect the direct message....”</p> - -<p>He went on explaining, amiably, reassuringly. -Jeannette thawed under his pleasant manner; confidence -came surging back. She made up her mind she -liked this young man; he was considerate, he was kind, -he was a gentleman.</p> - -<p>“The idea, of course, is always to have your letters -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_46">[Pg 46]</span> -intelligible. If you don’t understand what you have -written, the person to whom it is addressed, won’t -either. I don’t care whether you get my actual words -or not. You’re always at liberty to phrase a sentence -any way you choose as long as it makes sense.... -Now let’s see; we’ll try one. Frank Curry, R.F.D. 1, -Topeka, Kansas.... I’ll go slow at first, but if I -forget and get going too rapidly, don’t hesitate to -stop me.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette, with her note-book balanced on her knee, -bent to her work. Beardsley spoke slowly and distinctly. -After the first moments of agonizing despair, -she began to catch her breath and concentrate on the -formation of her notes. More than once she was -tempted to write a word out long-hand; she hesitated -over “historical,” “consummation,” “inaccurate.” -She had been told at school never to permit herself -to do this. Better to fail at first, they had said, than -to grow to depend on slipshod ways.</p> - -<p>The ordeal lasted half-an-hour.</p> - -<p>“Suppose you try that much, Miss Sturgis, and see -how you get along.”</p> - -<p>She rose and gathered up the bundle of letters. -Beardsley gave her a friendly, encouraging smile as -she turned away.</p> - -<p>“How pleasant and kind everyone is!” Jeannette -thought as she made her way back to her little table.</p> - -<p>But her heart died within her as she began to decipher -her notes. Again and again they seemed utterly -meaningless,—a whole page of them when the curlicues, -hooks and dashes looked to her like so many -aimless pencil marks. She frowned and bent over her -book despairingly, squeezing hard the fingers of her -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_47">[Pg 47]</span> -clasped hands together. What had he said! How had -he begun that paragraph? ... Oh, she hadn’t had -enough training yet, not enough experience! She -couldn’t do it! She’d have to go to him and tell him -she couldn’t do the work! And he had been so kind -to her! And she would have to tell capable, friendly -Miss Gibson that a month or two more in school perhaps -would be wiser before she could attempt to do -the work of a regular stenographer! And there were -her mother and sister, too! She would have to confess -to them as well that she had failed! The thought -strangled her. Tears brimmed her eyes.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you’re in trouble? Can I help?” A -gentle voice from across the narrow aisle addressed -her. Jeannette through blurred vision saw a round, -white face with kindly sympathetic eyes looking -at her.</p> - -<p>“What system do you use? The Munson? ... That’s -good. Let me see your notes. Just read as far -as you can; his letters are so much alike, I think I -can help you.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette winked away the wetness in her eyes, and -read what she was able.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I know,” interrupted this new friend; -“it goes this way.” She flashed a paper into her -machine and clicked out with twinkling fingers a dozen -lines.</p> - -<p>“See if that isn’t it,” said the girl handing her the -paper.</p> - -<p>Jeannette read the typewritten lines and referred to -her notes.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it’s just the same.” Her eyes shone. “I’m -<i>so</i> much obliged.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_48">[Pg 48]</span></p> - -<p>“It seemed to me awfully hard at first. I thought -I never could do it.”</p> - -<p>“Did you?” Jeannette smiled gratefully.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes; we all had an awful time. He uses such -outlandish words.”</p> - -<h5>§ 4</h5> - -<p>The morning was gone before she knew it. She went -out at lunch-time, walked a few blocks up Fourth Avenue -and then turned back to the office. She did not -eat; she did not want any lunch; her mind was absorbed -in her work; she had hardly left the building -before she wanted to get back to her desk, to recopy a -letter or two in which she had made some erasures. -The afternoon fled like the morning.</p> - -<p>A whirl of confused impressions spun about in her -brain as she shut her eyes and tried to go to sleep -that night. Although she ached with fatigue, she was -too excited to lose consciousness at once. The day’s -events, like a merry-go-round, wheeled around and -around her. On the whole she was satisfied. She had -finished all of the letters Mr. Beardsley had given her; -he had beckoned her to come to him after he had read -them, had commended her, and given her back but one -to correct in which the punctuation was faulty.</p> - -<p>“I’m sure you’ll do all right, Miss Sturgis,” he told -her. “You’ll find it much easier as soon as you get -used to the work.”</p> - -<p>And Jeannette felt she had made a real friend in -Miss Alexander, the girl across the aisle who had so -generously, so wonderfully helped her. Among the -riff-raff of girls that surged in and out of the office, -cheaply dressed, loud-laughing, common little chits, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_49">[Pg 49]</span> -Beatrice Alexander was easily recognizable as belonging -to Jeannette’s own class. Each had discerned in -the other a similarity of thought, of taste and refinement -that drew them immediately together.</p> - -<p>A wonderful, tremendous feeling of importance and -self-respect came to Jeannette as she had made her -way across crowded Twenty-third Street and encountered -a great tide of other workers homeward bound; -as she climbed the steep elevated station steps, and -with the pushing, jostling crowd wedged her way on -board a train; as she hung to a strap in the swaying -car and squeezed herself through the jam of people -about the doorway when Ninety-third Street was -reached, and as she walked the brief block and a half -that remained before she was at last at home. Every -instant of the way she hugged the soul-satisfying -thought that she had proven herself; now she was truly -a full-fledged wage-earner, a working girl. She had -achieved, she felt, economic value.</p> - -<h5>§ 5</h5> - -<p>Life began to take on a new flavor. The future -held hidden golden promises. Jeannette had always -had a protecting, proprietary attitude toward her -mother and Alice, but now she was acutely aware of -it, and the thought was sweet to her; she revelled in the -prospect of the rôle she must inevitably assume. All -her world was centered in her eager, hard-working, -ever-cheerful, fussy little mother, and her gentle -brown-eyed sister who looked up to her with such -adoration and implicit faith. Jeannette felt she had -forever established their confidence in her by this successful -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_50">[Pg 50]</span> -step into the business world. Her mother had -been completely won by her good fortune, and her -stout little bosom swelled with pride in her daughter’s -achievement. Eagerly she told her pupils about it, and -even regaled with the news fat good-natured Signor -Bellini and politely indifferent Miss Loughborough.</p> - -<p>To Jeannette, the Soulé Publishing Company became -at once a concern of tremendous importance. -Before little Miss Ingram had mentioned its name to -her, she was not sure she had ever heard it. Now she -seemed to see it wherever she turned, heard about it -in chance conversations at least once a day; it leaped at -her from advertisements in the newspapers and from -the pages of magazines. Books, she casually picked -up, bore its imprint. A great pride in the big company -that employed her came to her: it was the largest and -most enterprising of all publishing houses; it was -spending a million dollars advertising <i>The Universal -History of the World</i>; it had hundreds of employees -on its pay-roll!</p> - -<p>If there were less roseate aspects of the concern that -paid her fifteen dollars every Saturday, Jeannette did -not see them. She never stopped to examine critically -the history she was helping to sell, nor to glance into -the pages of the <i>Secret Memoirs</i>, nor to open the leaves -of the set of books labelled <i>Favorites of Great Kings</i>. -She never thought it curious that the firm employed so -many cheaply dressed, vulgar-tongued little Jewesses, -and sallow-skinned, covert-eyed girls. Nor did she -wonder that she never observed any important-looking -individuals who might be officials of the company, -walking about or up and down the aisles of the racketting, -bustling loft. There was only Mr. Kent. The -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_51">[Pg 51]</span> -others, whoever they might be, confined their activities, -she came to understand, to the main offices of the Company -on West Thirty-second Street. This great loft -with its sea of life was only a temporary arrangement,—part -of the great selling campaign by which a hundred -thousand sets of the History were to be sold before -May first. Something of tremendous import was -to happen on this fateful date,—an upheaval in trade -conditions, a great change in the publishing world. -Jeannette was not sure what it was all to be about, but -she was convinced that after May first, the public -would no longer have this wonderful chance to buy the -twenty-five volumes of the History at such a ridiculously -low price.</p> - -<p>Behind glass partitions in one corner of the extensive -floor were the inner offices,—the “holy of holies” -Jeannette thought of them,—where Mr. Edmund Kent -existed, pulled wires, touched bells, and gave orders -that generalled the activities of the hundreds of human -beings who clicked away at their typewriters, or deftly -folded thousands and thousands of circulars, to tuck -into waiting envelopes that were later dragged away -in grimy, striped-canvas mail sacks. Mr. Edmund -Kent was the Napoleon, the great King, the Far-seeing -Master who in his awesome, mysterious glass-partitioned -office, ruled them with arbitrary and benevolent -power. All day long, Jeannette heard Mr. Kent’s -name mentioned. Miss Gibson quoted him; Mr. -Beardsley decided this or that important matter must -be referred to him. What Mr. Kent thought, said, -did, was final. The girl used to catch a glimpse of the -great man, now and then, as he came in, in the morning, -or went out to a late lunch: a square-shouldered, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_52">[Pg 52]</span> -firm-stepping man with a derby hat, a straight, trim -mustache, and an overcoat whose corners flapped about -his knees. He seemed wonderful to her.</p> - -<p>“Shhhh....” a whisper would come from one of -the girls near by; “there’s Mr. Kent”; and all would -watch him out of the corners of their eyes as they -pretended to bend over their work.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Kent is President of the Company?” Jeannette -one day ventured to ask Mr. Beardsley.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, just the selling agent,” he replied. This -was perplexing, but it did not make Jeannette regard -with any less veneration the stocky figure in derby hat -and flapping coat corners which strode in and out of -the office.</p> - -<p>There were other mysterious persons who had desks -in the “holy of holies,” but Jeannette was never able -to make out who these were, nor what might be their -duties. Miss Gibson was in charge of the girls on the -floor; Mr. Beardsley was her immediate “boss.” -There was a cashier who made up the pay-roll and -whose assistants handed out the little manila envelopes -on Saturday morning containing the neatly folded -bills. She had no occasion to be concerned about -anyone else.</p> - -<p>Her “boss’s” full name was Roy Beardsley. <i>Roy!</i> -She smiled when she heard it. He was young,—twenty-three -or-four; he was a recent Princeton graduate, -was unmarried and lived in a boarding-house -somewhere on Madison Avenue. She found out so -much from the girls her second day at the office; they -were glib with information concerning any one of -the force.</p> - -<p>Jeannette liked her young boss, principally because -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_53">[Pg 53]</span> -it soon became apparent that he treated her with a -courtesy he did not accord the other girls. She was, -after all, a “lady,” she told herself, straightening her -shoulders a trifle, and he was sufficiently well-bred himself -to recognize that fact. He must see, of course, -the difference between herself and such girls as—well—as -Miss Flannigan, for instance. But more than this, -Jeannette grew daily more and more convinced that -he was beginning to take a personal interest in her for -which none of these considerations accounted. Nothing -definite between them gave this justification. -There was no word, no inflection of voice that had any -significance, but she saw it in a quick glimpse of his -blue eyes watching her as she sat beside his desk, in -the smile of his strange little mouth that stretched -itself tightly across his small teeth when he first -greeted her in the day and wished her “good-morning.” -Some strange thrilling of her pulses beset her -as she sat near him. It irritated her; she struggled -against it, even rose to her feet and went to her desk -upon a manufactured excuse to check the subtle influence -that began to steal upon her when she was near -him. All her instincts battled against this upsetting -something, whatever it was,—she could not identify -it by a name—which began more and more to trouble -her.</p> - -<p>Jeannette was a normal, healthy girl budding into -womanhood, with broadening horizons and rapidly increasing -intimate associations with the world. She -was growing daily more mature, more impressive in -her bearing, and notably more beautiful. She was -fully conscious of this. Her mirror told her so, the -glances of men on the street contributed their evidence, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_54">[Pg 54]</span> -the covert inspection of her own sex both in and out of -the office confirmed it. She was becoming aware, too, -of a growing self-confidence, of poise and power in -herself that she had never suspected.</p> - -<p>With what constituted “crushes,” “cases,” with -what was implied in saying one was “smitten,” she -was thoroughly familiar. To a confidant she would -now have frankly described Roy Beardsley as having -a “crush” on her. He was not the first youth of whom -she could have truthfully said as much. Various boys -at one time or another, during her school days, had -slipped notes to her as they passed her desk, or -shamblingly trailed her home after school, carrying -her books for her, and had hung around the doorstep -of the apartment house, loitering over their leave-taking, -digging the toe of a shoe into the pavement, -grinning foolishly. Some of them had confided to -her that they “loved” her and asked her to promise -to be their “girl.” She, herself, had had a “terrible -case” on a vaudeville dancer named Maurice Monteagle, -and on a youth of Greek extraction who worked -in Bannerman’s Drug Store on the corner near her -home, tended the soda-water counter there and whose -name she never learned.</p> - -<p>But in none of these affairs of her young heart had -there been anything like this. She began by being -somewhat flattered by Beardsley’s attention, and was -guilty of provoking him a little at first with a smile -and glance. Like all girls of her age, she had been -willing, even anxious, to whip his interest into flame. -But she soon grew frightened. There was now something -in the air, something in herself she could not -quite control; she could not still the sudden throbbing -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_55">[Pg 55]</span> -of her heart, the swimming of her senses. The moment -came when she actually dreaded meeting him in the -mornings, when the minutes she was obliged to sit -beside his desk and listen to the peculiar little twang -in his voice were an ordeal. She dared not lift her -eyes to meet his, but she could see his long white -fingers moving about on the desk, playing with pencil -and pen, and she could feel him looking at her when -his voice fell silent. These were the moments that -disturbed her most, when she could not—not for the -life of her—control the mounting color that began -somewhere deep down within her, and swept up into -her cheeks, over her temples, to the roots of her hair. -She had to rest her hand against her note-book, to keep -it from trembling. During these silences when she -felt him studying her she sometimes thought she must -scream or do something mad, unless he turned his eyes -elsewhere. She seriously considered resigning and -seeking another position.</p> - -<h5>§ 6</h5> - -<p>Jeannette drank deeply of satisfaction in being a -wage-earner. She walked the streets of the city with -a buoyant tread; she gazed with pride and affection -into the eyes of other working girls she passed; she -was self-supporting like them; she had something in -common with each and every one of them; there was -a great bond that drew them all together.</p> - -<p>But while she felt thus affectionately sympathetic -to these girls in the mass, no one of them drew the line -of social distinction more rigidly, even more cruelly -than did she, herself. She felt she was the superior -of the vast majority of them, and the equal of the best. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_56">[Pg 56]</span> -She might not be earning the salary perhaps some of -them did who were private secretaries, but she was -confident that she would. Her experience with stenography -confirmed this self-confidence. With three -weeks of actual practice the trick, the knack, the knowledge,—whatever -it was,—had come to her of a sudden. -Now she could sweep her pencil across the page of her -note-book, leaving in its wake an easy string of curves, -dots and dashes, setting them down automatically, -keeping pace with even the swiftest of young Beardsley’s -sentences. Nothing could stop her progress in -the business world; she loved being of it, revelled in -its atmosphere, realizing that she was cleverer than -most men, shrewder, quicker, with the additional advantage -of unerring intuition.</p> - -<p>This new-born ambition told her to keep herself -aloof from other working girls. Not that she had any -inclination to associate with them; they offended her,—not -only those in the office but the giggling, simpering -girls she saw on the street, who were obviously -of the same class, teetering along on ridiculously high -heels, wearing imitation furs, and building their hair -into enormous bulging pompadours. They were the -kind who did not leave the offices where they worked -at the noon hour but gathered in groups to eat their -lunches out of cardboard boxes and left a litter of -crumbs on the floor; they were the kind who crowded -Childs’ restaurant, adding their shrill voices and -shrieks to the deafening clatter of banging crockery.</p> - -<p>Jeannette, feeling that it was a working girl’s privilege -to become an habitué of Childs’, eagerly entered -one of these restaurants at a noon hour during the -early days of her employment. Accustomed as she -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_57">[Pg 57]</span> -had become to the din of an office, the noise in the -eating place did not distress her. But she shrank from -rubbing elbows with neighbors whose manner of feeding -themselves horrified her. A study of the price card -and an estimate of what she could buy for fifteen -cents, the amount she decided she might properly allow -herself for lunches, completed her dissatisfaction with -the restaurant and similar places. She decided to go -without lunch and to spend the leisure time of her -noon-hour wandering up and down Fifth Avenue and -Broadway, looking into shop windows,—- Lord & -Taylor’s, Arnold Constable’s and even Tiffany’s on -Union Square,—and in making tours of inspection -through the aisles of Siegel-Cooper’s mammoth establishment -on Sixth Avenue.</p> - -<p>It was in the rotunda of this gigantic store, where -stood a great golden symbolic figure of a laurel-crowned -woman, that there was a large circular candy -counter and soda fountain, and here the girl discovered -one might get coffee, creamed and sugared, and -served in a neat little flowered china cup, and two -saltine crackers on the edge of the saucer, for a nickel. -In time, this came to constitute her daily lunch. She -could stand at the counter, sipping her drink, and nibbling -the crackers at her ease, feeling inconspicuous -and comfortable, presenting, she realized, merely the -appearance of a lady shopper, who had taken a moment -from her purchasing for a bit of refreshment.</p> - -<p>The nourishment, slight as it was, proved sufficient. -On the days she had gone lunchless, she had developed -headaches late in the afternoon, but the coffee and -crackers, she found, were enough to sustain her from -a seven o’clock breakfast to dinner at six-thirty. A -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_58">[Pg 58]</span> -nickel for lunch, a dime for carfare—sometimes she -walked downtown—took less than a dollar out of her -weekly wage. That left fourteen dollars to spend as -she liked. She gave her mother nine and kept five for -clothes. Five dollars a week for new clothes! Her -heart never failed to leap with joy at the thought. -Five dollars a week to save or to spend for whatever -she fancied! Oh, life was too wonderful! Just to -exist these days and to plan how she would dress herself, -and what else she would do with her earnings, -filled her cup of joy to the brim.</p> - -<p>Her little mother protested vehemently when she -put nine dollars in crisp bills into her hand at the end -of the first week of work.</p> - -<p>“Oh—dearie! What’s this? ... What’s all this -money for?”</p> - -<p>“It’s what I’m going to give you every week, -Mama.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis for a moment was speechless, gazing -with wide eyes into her daughter’s smiling face. She -wouldn’t accept it. She wouldn’t hear of such a thing. -It was the child’s own money that she had earned herself -and not one cent of it should go for any old stupid -bills or household expenses. She shook her head until -her round fat cheeks trembled like cupped jelly.</p> - -<p>But Jeannette had her way, as she knew, and her -mother knew, and admiring, exclaiming Alice knew -she would from the first. That same evening, after -the pots and pans and the supper dishes had been -washed, Mrs. Sturgis established herself under the -light at the dining-room table with the canvas-covered -ledger before her and began to figure. Thirty-six dollars -a month! Thirty-six dollars a month! Six times -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_59">[Pg 59]</span> -six? That was ...? Why, they’d almost be out of -debt in six months! And they wouldn’t need to fall -behind a cent during summer! It was wonderful! It -was too—too wonderful! Tears filmed Mrs. Sturgis’ -bright blue eyes; her glasses fogged so that she had -to take them off and wipe them. She didn’t deserve -such daughters! No woman ever had better girls!</p> - -<p>They got laughing happily, excitedly over this, an -hysterical sob threatening each. They kissed each -other, the girls kneeling by their mother’s chair, their -arms around one another, and clung together. And -then Alice said she had half a mind to go to work, -too, and do her share.</p> - -<p>But there was an immediate outcry at this from -both her mother and sister. What nonsense! What a -foolish idea! She mustn’t <i>think</i> of such a thing! Just -because Jeannette had given up her schooling and gone -out into the world was no reason why both sisters -should do it. There was not the slightest necessity. -Alice’s place was at school and at home. Some one -had to run the house; that was her contribution. She -was fitted for it in every way: she was domestic, she -liked to cook and she liked to clean.</p> - -<p>A still more convincing argument that persuaded -apologetic Alice that indeed she was quite wrong, and -her mother and sister were entirely right, was voiced -by Jeannette. Alice had much too retiring a nature -to be a success in business. Assurance, self-assertiveness, -even boldness were required, and Alice had none -of these qualities. This was undeniably true; they all -agreed to it. It seemed to be the last word on the matter; -the topic was dismissed. Mrs. Sturgis went back -to figuring on her bills; Jeannette to speculating about -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_60">[Pg 60]</span> -Roy Beardsley as she darned a tear in an old -shirtwaist.</p> - -<p>“I’ve often wondered,” ventured Alice after a considerable -pause, “just what I should do,—how I could -support myself if both of you happened to die. I mean—well, -if Jeannette should go off somewhere,—to -Europe, maybe,—and Mother should get sick, and I -should have to....”</p> - -<p>Her voice trailed off into silence before the astonished -looks turned upon her.</p> - -<p>“Well, upon my word ...” began Jeannette.</p> - -<p>“Why, Alice dearie, what’s got into you?”</p> - -<p>“You’re going to kill us both off,—is that it? I’m to -run away and leave Mother sick on your hands?”</p> - -<p>“I mean—well, I meant——” struggled the confused -Alice.</p> - -<p>“Dearie,” said her mother, “you won’t have to -worry about the future. Mama’ll take care of you -until some nice worthy young man comes along to -claim you for his own.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll be married, Allie dear, long before I will. -You’re just the kind rich men fall madly in love with.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, hush, Janny! ... please.”</p> - -<p>But her sister’s thoughts were already upon a more -engaging matter. She was busy once again with Roy -Beardsley.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_61">[Pg 61]</span></p> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I_III">CHAPTER III</h4> -</div> - -<h5>§ 1</h5> - -<p>Spring burst upon New York with a warm breath -and a rush of green. The gentle season folded the -city lovingly in its arms. Everywhere were the evidences -of its magic presence. The trees shimmered -with green, shrubbery that peeped through iron fence -grillings vigorously put forth new leaves, patches of -grass in the areaways of brownstone houses turned -freshly verdant, hotels upon the Avenue took on a -brave and festal aspect with blooming flower-boxes in -their windows, florist shops exhaled delicate perfumes -of field flowers and turned gay the sidewalks before -their doors with rows of potted loveliness, the Park -became an elysian field of soft invitingness, with -emerald glades and vistas of enchantment like tapestries -of Fontainebleau. Spring was evident in -women’s hats, in shop windows, in the crowded tops -of lumbering three-horse buses, in the reappearance -of hansom cabs, in open automobiles, in the smiling -faces of men and women, in the elastic step of pedestrians. -Spring had come to New York; the very walls -of houses and pavements of the streets flashed back -joyously the golden caressing radiance of the sun.</p> - -<p>Walking downtown to her office on an early morning -through all this exhilarating loveliness, stepping along -with almost a skip in her gait and a heart that danced -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_62">[Pg 62]</span> -to her brisk strides, Jeannette felt rather than saw a -man’s shadow at her elbow and turned to find Roy -Beardsley beside her, lifting his hat, and smiling -at her with his tight little mouth, his blue eyes twinkling.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” she exclaimed, her fingers pressed hard -against her heart. She had been thinking of him almost -from the moment she had left home.</p> - -<p>“Morning.... You don’t mind if I walk along? ... It’s -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">a wonderful morning; isn’t it glorious?”</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>“Oh, my, yes,—it’s glorious.” She had herself in -hand by another moment and could return his smile. -They had never stood near one another before, and -the girl noticed he was half-a-head shorter than herself. -There were other things the matter with him, seen thus -upon the street while other men were passing, and with -his hat on! Jeannette could not determine just what -they were. Glancing at him furtively as they walked -together down the Avenue, she was conscious of a -vague disappointment.</p> - -<p>“Do you walk downtown every morning?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, sometimes. How did you happen to be up this -way so early?”</p> - -<p>“I take a stroll through the Park occasionally. It’s -wonderful now.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it’s very beautiful.”</p> - -<p>“I think New York’s the loveliest place in the world -in spring.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I guess it is,” she agreed.</p> - -<p>“And you have to go through a long wet winter like -this last one to appreciate it.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I think you do.”</p> - -<p>“I thought we’d never get rid of the snow.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_63">[Pg 63]</span></p> - -<p>“They clean the streets up awfully quickly though;—don’t -you think so?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, they have a great system here.”</p> - -<p>“The poor horses have a terrible time when it’s -slippery.”</p> - -<p>“There was a big electric hansom cab stuck in the -snow for four days in front of the place where I live. -They had to dig it out,” he said.</p> - -<p>“It makes the spring all the more enjoyable when -the change comes.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, the people seem to take a personal pride in -the weather.”</p> - -<p>“It’s as though they had something to do with it -themselves.”</p> - -<p>“That’s right I noticed it the first year I was -here.”</p> - -<p>“You’re not a New Yorker, then?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no; my home’s in San Francisco. I only came -East three years ago to go to college.”</p> - -<p>“I thought you were ... one of the girls at the -office mentioned you were a Princeton man.”</p> - -<p>“I was, but I ... well, I flunked out at Christmas. -I was tired of college, anyway. I wanted to go into -newspaper work, but I couldn’t get a job with any of -the metropolitan dailies, so temporarily I am trying -to help sell the <i>Universal History of the World</i>.”</p> - -<p>They talked at random, the man inclined to give -more of his personal history; the girl, pretending indifference, -commented on the steady encroachment of -stores upon these sacred fastnesses, the homes of -the rich. She interrupted him with an exclamation -every now and then, to point out some object of interest -on the street, or something in a shop window.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_64">[Pg 64]</span></p> - -<p>It was thrilling to be walking together down the brilliant -Avenue in the soft, morning sunshine. They -paused at Madison Square before beginning to weave -their way through the traffic of the street, and striking -across the Park, gay with beds of yellow tulips, trees -budding into leaf, and fountains playing. Roy put his -hand under the girl’s forearm to guide her. The touch -of his fingers burnt, and set her pulses thrilling. She -pointedly disengaged herself, withdrawing her arm, -when they reached the farther side of the Avenue.</p> - -<p>Crossing the Square, she glanced at him critically -once more. He seemed absurdly young,—a mere college -boy with his cloth hat at a youthful angle, his slim -young shoulders sharply outlined in the belted jacket. -It was possible he was a few years her senior, but she -felt vastly older.</p> - -<p>He was commenting on the portentous date, May -first, when the price of the History was to advance. -The company had somehow succeeded in postponing -the fateful day for two weeks, and the public was to -have a fortnight longer in which to take advantage of -the low prices.</p> - -<p>“... and after that, no one knows what will happen. -Perhaps we’ll all lose our jobs.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,—do you really think so?” Jeannette was -aghast.</p> - -<p>“Well, some of us will go; they can’t continue to -keep <i>that</i> mob on the pay-roll. I don’t think they’ll -let you go, though, you’re such a dandy stenographer. -I shall certainly recommend them to keep you, but I -doubt if they’ll have any further use for me. They’ll -let me out, all right.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_65">[Pg 65]</span></p> - -<p>He smiled whimsically. It was this whimsical smile -the girl found so appealing and so—so disconcerting.</p> - -<p>“I shall be sorry if that happens,” she said slowly.</p> - -<p>“Will you?”</p> - -<p>“Why, of course.”</p> - -<p>“But will you be really sorry if—if I’m no longer -there?”</p> - -<p>“We-ll,—it will be hard getting used to someone -else’s dictation; I’m accustomed to yours now.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,—I’ll be sorry to go,” he said after a moment. -“I like the work, after a fashion, ... but, of course, -it isn’t getting me anywhere. I want to write; I’ve -always been interested in that. If I could get any kind -of work on a newspaper or a magazine, it would suit me -fine. My father’s awfully sore at me for being dropped -at Princeton. He’s a minister, you know,”—Beardsley -laughed deprecatingly with a glance at his companion’s -face,—“and he didn’t like it a little bit. I -didn’t want to go back home like—well—like the prodigal -son, so I wrote him I’d get a job in New York, -and see what I could do for myself.”</p> - -<p>“I see,” the girl said with another swift survey of -his clean features and tight, quaint smile. There was -an extraordinary quality about him; he was pathetic -somehow; she felt oddly sorry for him.</p> - -<p>“I’d like to make good for my father’s sake.... -He’s only got his salary.”</p> - -<p>“I see,” she repeated.</p> - -<p>“But summer’s the deuce of a time to get a job on -a newspaper or magazine in New York, everybody tells -me.... I don’t know what I’ll do if I don’t get -something.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_66">[Pg 66]</span></p> - -<p>Jeannette wondered what she would do herself. She -had begun to enjoy so thoroughly her daily routine, -and to take such pride in herself! ... Well, it would -be too bad....</p> - -<p>They had reached the intersection of Fourth Avenue -and Twenty-third Street where the ground was torn -up in all four directions, and hardly passable.</p> - -<p>“I’ll say a prayer of thankfulness when they get -this subway finished, and stop tearing up the streets,” -Jeannette remarked.</p> - -<p>Once again Roy caught her elbow to help her over -the pile of débris, across the skeleton framework of -exposed tracks, and again the girl felt the touch of his -young fingers like points of flame upon her arm. She -caught a shining look in his eyes. Love leaped at her -from their blueness. A moment’s giddiness seized her, -and there came a terrifying feeling that something -dreadful was about to happen, that she and this boy -at her side were trembling on the brink of some dreadful -catastrophe. Instinct rose in her, strong, combative. -She turned abruptly into the open door of a -candy shop and steadied herself as she bought a dime’s -worth of peppermints.</p> - -<p>Emotions, burning, chilling, conflicting, took possession -of her the rest of the day. From her typewriter -table she covertly studied Beardsley, as he leaned -back in his armed swivel-chair before his flat-topped -desk, his fingers loosely linked together across his -chest, his eyes unseeing, fixed on some distant point -through the window’s vista, dictating to the stenographer -who bent over her note-book, as she scribbled -beside him. What was it about him that moved her -so strangely? What was it in his twinkling blue eyes, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_67">[Pg 67]</span> -his quaint mouth with its whimsical smile that stirred -her, and set her senses swimming? He was in love -with her. Perhaps it was just because he cared so -much that she was thus deeply stirred. There had -been others, she reminded herself, who had been in -love with her, but they had awakened no such emotion.</p> - -<p>Had she come to care herself?</p> - -<p>She asked the question with a beating heart. Was -this love,—the feeling about which she had speculated -so long? Love,—the <i>great</i> love? Was she to meet -her fate so soon? Was her adventure among men to -be so soon over? Was this all there was to it? The -first man she met? She and Roy Beardsley?</p> - -<p>She denied it vehemently. No, it was nonsense,—it -was ridiculous! Roy Beardsley was a boy,—a mere -youth who had been dropped from college. She would -not permit herself to become interested in him. It was -preposterous,—absurd!</p> - -<p>She assured herself she would have no difficulty in -controlling her emotion in future, but the emotion -itself continued to puzzle her. What was it, she felt -for this man? Was she in love,—<i>really</i> in love,—in -love at last? She looked at him a long time. She -wondered.</p> - -<h5>§ 2</h5> - -<p>That he would meet her on the Avenue next morning -she felt was almost certain. She said to herself -a hundred times it would be much wiser for her to take -the elevated train, or at least to walk down another -street and avoid the possibility of such an encounter. -If she were not to permit herself to become further -interested, it was obvious she must see him as little -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_68">[Pg 68]</span> -as possible. But when morning came it was into Fifth -Avenue she turned.... She felt so sure of herself; -she wanted to see if he would really be there.</p> - -<p>Once or twice she thought she recognized his distant -figure coming toward her. Each time her heart came -into her throat. She stopped and made a pretense -of studying a milliner’s window, while she wrestled -with herself. She was mad, she was a fool, she had -no business to let herself play with fire this way! At -the next corner she would turn eastward, and go down -Fourth Avenue. But when she reached the cross -street she decided to walk just one more block, and in -that interval he stepped from a doorway where he -had been watching for her, and joined her.</p> - -<p>“Good-morning.”</p> - -<p>“Oh—hello!”</p> - -<p>The sudden sight of him, the sound of his voice -affected her like fright. She hurried on, trying to -still the pounding in her breast, turning her face -toward the traffic in the street to hide her confusion.</p> - -<p>“What’s the hurry?” he laughed. “It isn’t half -past eight yet.”</p> - -<p>“I have a personal letter to type before office -hours,” Jeannette said abstractedly, but she lessened -her pace.</p> - -<p>“I love these early walks on the Avenue,” he said.</p> - -<p>“I always walk down if I have time,” she replied. -“I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” She gave him a -quick inspection. He was insignificant,—he had a -weak, effeminate expression,—his features were small -and lacked resolution. And yet it was the same face -with its blue eyes, always brightly alight, its twisted -mouth and thin lips stretched tightly over his small, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_69">[Pg 69]</span> -glittering, even teeth when he smiled, that haunted her -through the day, pursued her to her home, gleamed at -her from the blackness of her room after she had gone -to bed, visited her in her dreams, and greeted her with -its irresistible charm when she awoke in the mornings. -She loved that irresolute face, with all its weakness, -its curious eccentricities; she loved the grace of that -slight boyish figure with its square, bony shoulders, -its tapering, slim waist; she loved those thin, almost -emaciated white wrists, and those long chalk-hued -hands and attenuated fingers. She loved the way he -bore himself, the poise of his figure, the lithesomeness -and suppleness of his young body. And she despised -herself for loving, and hated him for the emotion he -stirred in her. She wanted to kiss him, she wanted to -kill him, she wanted him in her arms, she wanted never -to see him again; she wanted him to be madly, desperately -in love with her, and she wanted herself to -be coldly indifferent.</p> - -<p>The spring sunlight flooded the Avenue gloriously; -the green omnibuses, dragged by three horses harnessed -abreast, rambled up and down; cabs teetered -on their high wheels, and weaved their way through -the traffic at a smart clip-clap; hurrying women, with -the trimming of their flowered hats nodding to their -energetic gait bustled upon their early morning -errands; stores were being opened, shirt-sleeved porters -were noisily folding the iron gates before the -doors back into their daytime positions; shop-girls, -and stenographers, briskly on their way to their offices, -half smiled at one another as they passed.</p> - -<p>It was impossible not to respond to the infectious -quality that was in the air. Jeannette laughed happily -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_70">[Pg 70]</span> -into her companion’s face, and he gazed at her eagerly, -his eyes shining, his mouth twisted into its whimsical -smile. They were exhilarated, they were enthralled, -they were oblivious to everything in the world except -themselves.</p> - -<p>He stopped her abruptly, a block from the office.</p> - -<p>“I think perhaps ... I believe you would prefer it, -Miss Sturgis, if—if you and I ... if you were not -seen entering the building, with—with an escort. It -might be easier, pleasanter for you, if I....”</p> - -<p>He hesitated, floundering helplessly. They stood -still a moment facing one another, each thinking of -impossible things to say. Then Beardsley murmured: -“Well ...” lifted his hat, and she put her hand in -his. He held it tightly in the firm grip of his thin white -fingers, until she had to free it. She laughed shakily, -as she turned away.</p> - -<p>“That was really very nice of him,” she thought as -she hurried on. “That was really very nice. I shan’t -mind walking with him occasionally, if it doesn’t set -the office gossiping.”</p> - -<h5>§ 3</h5> - -<p>Love swept them tumultuously onward. There was -no time to pause, to consider, no time to calculate, none -to take stock of one’s self. In a week Jeannette -Sturgis and Roy Beardsley were friends, in ten days -they were lovers. Every morning he met her on the -Avenue and walked with her to within a block of the -office, and in the evening he joined her for the tramp -homeward. He begged her again and again to lunch -with him but to this she would not agree. They knew -they loved each other now, but dared not speak of it. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_71">[Pg 71]</span> -He was diffident, eager to ingratiate himself with her, -fearful of her displeasure; and she,—while she confessed -her love to herself,—passionately resolved he -should never guess it nor persuade her to acknowledge -it. She had an unreasonable primitive dread of -what might follow if Roy should speak. Their love -was all too sweet as it was. She did not want to risk -spoiling it, and trembled at the thought of its avowal.</p> - -<p>Yet in her heart she knew what must inevitably -happen. Their attraction for one another was stronger -than either; it was rushing them both headlong down -the swift current of its precipitous course.</p> - -<p>On the very day the words were trembling on her -lover’s lips came the staggering announcement that -on the fifteenth day of May the activities of the Soulé -Publishing Company in selling the <i>Universal History -of the World</i> would cease, and the services of all -employees would terminate on that date.</p> - -<p>The girls told Jeannette the news the moment she -arrived at the office, and she found it confirmed on a -slip of paper in an envelope on her typewriting table.</p> - -<p>“All? Every one?” she asked blankly. She had -confidently expected that she would be kept on,—for -a month at least.</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s what they say; Mr. Beardsley, Miss -Gibson,—everybody.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” murmured Jeannette, betraying her disappointment.</p> - -<p>“Did you think they’d keep you on the pay-roll after -the rest of us were fired?” asked Miss Flannigan -airily.</p> - -<p>Jeannette perceptibly straightened herself and -levelled a cool glance at the girl.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_72">[Pg 72]</span></p> - -<p>“Perhaps,” she admitted.</p> - -<p>“Oh-h,—is that so?” mimicked Miss Flannigan. -“Well, you got another think coming,—didn’t you?”</p> - -<p>Jeannette drowned the words by attacking her machine, -her fingers flying, the warning ping of the tiny -bell sounding at half-minute intervals. But her heart -was lead within her, and her throat tightened convulsively. -She was going to lose her job! She was -going to be thrown out of work! She was going to -be among the unemployed again! Her mother! ... And -Alice! ... That precious five dollars a week that -was all her own!</p> - -<p>The rest of the day was dreary, interminable. -Demoralization was in the air. The girls whispered -openly among themselves, and filtered by twos and -threes to the dressing-room, where they congregated -and gossiped. The spring sunshine grew stale, and -poured brazenly through the west windows. Miss -Flannigan chewed gum incessantly as she giggled -noisily over confidences with a neighbor. Even -Beardsley seemed to have lost interest for Jeannette.</p> - -<p>Yet when she came to his desk later in the day for -the usual dictation, he handed her a paper on which -he had written:</p> - -<p>“You mustn’t be downhearted. There is always a -demand for good stenographers. You won’t have the -slightest difficulty in getting another job. I wish I was -as sure of one myself. May I walk home with you -this evening?”</p> - -<p>She gave him no definite answer but she liked him -for his encouragement and sympathy. Whenever she -sat near his desk, note-book in hand, waiting for him -to dictate to her, he was to her a superior being, one -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_73">[Pg 73]</span> -whose judgment and perception were above her own; -he was her “boss.” It was different when she met -him outside the office; he was just a boy then,—a boy -who had flunked out of college. Now he, too, had lost -his job. Like her, he would soon be unemployed. No -longer need she fear his possible censure of her work, -or take pleasure in his praise of it. She realized he -had lost weight with her.</p> - -<p>After office hours that evening, he met her outside -the building and as he walked home with her was full -of philosophical counsel.</p> - -<p>“Why, Miss Sturgis, it’s never hard for a girl to -get a job, —a,girl who’s got a profession, and who’s -shown herself to be a first-rate stenographer. The -offices downtown are just crazy to get hold of girls like -you. You won’t have the slightest difficulty in finding -another position.... If you were me, you’d have -something to worry about. I’ve got to get a job that -will land me somewhere,—a job in which I can rise -to something better.”</p> - -<p>“But so have I,” said Jeannette.</p> - -<p>“Well, yes, I know.... But girls’re different. -They only want a job for a little while,—a year, two -or three years perhaps, and then they get married. -Working for girls is only a sort of stop-gap.”</p> - -<p>“No, it isn’t; not always. There’s many a girl who -perhaps doesn’t regard matrimony with such awful -importance as you men think. I mean girls who aren’t -thinking about marriage at all, and who really want -to become smart, capable business women.”</p> - -<p>Roy smiled deprecatingly. “But I’m talking about -the average girl,” he said.</p> - -<p>“And so am I. Girls have a right to be economically -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_74">[Pg 74]</span> -independent, and I can’t see why they have to stop -working just because they marry,—any more than -men do.”</p> - -<p>“Girls have to stay home and run the house.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, what nonsense!” cried Jeanette. “It’s no -more her home than it is the man’s.”</p> - -<p>Roy shrugged his slight shoulders. He had no -desire to argue with her. He was more concerned -with the thought that in the future there would be no -office to bring them together daily.</p> - -<p>“There are only two days more. Saturday we get -our last pay envelope.”</p> - -<p>They walked on in silence.</p> - -<p>“I hope you’ll let me come to see you. We’ve become -such good friends. I’d hate to....”</p> - -<p>He left the sentence awkwardly unfinished.</p> - -<p>“Oh,—I’d like to have you call some evening,” she -said with apparent indifference. “I’d like to have -you meet my mother and sister.”</p> - -<p>“I’d love to.... I want to know them both.”</p> - -<p>“Well, come Sunday,—to—to dinner. We have it -at one o’clock. I suppose it’s really lunch, but we’re -awfully old-fashioned and we always have our Sunday -dinner in the middle of the day.... You mustn’t -expect much; we live very simply.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks, awfully....”</p> - -<p>“We don’t keep any servant, you know.”</p> - -<p>“I quite understand. You’re very good to invite -me.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure my mother and sister will be glad to meet -you.”</p> - -<p>“I’m awfully anxious to know <i>them</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Well, come Sunday.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_75">[Pg 75]</span></p> - -<p>“You bet I will.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, they’ve heard about ‘Mr. Beardsley.’”</p> - -<p>“Have they? ... Do you talk about me sometimes -to them?”</p> - -<p>“Why, of course! ... Naturally.... What do you -expect?”</p> - -<p>“I hope you’ve given me a good character.”</p> - -<p>“I daresay they think you’re an old bald-headed man -with a thick curly beard.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, <i>no</i>! ... They’ll be terribly disappointed!”</p> - -<p>“I’m going to tell them you’re a gruff old codger -with a perpetual grouch.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Sturgis,—please!”</p> - -<p>They were both laughing hilariously.</p> - -<p>“Here’s your home. I had no idea we had walked -so far.... Shall I see you to-morrow? I’ll be waiting -at the Seventy-second Street entrance to the Park.”</p> - -<p>“All right.”</p> - -<p>“At eight o’clock?”</p> - -<p>She nodded, waved her hand to him, and ran up the -stone steps. He waited until she had fitted her key -into the lock, and the heavy glass-panelled door had -closed behind her.</p> - -<h5>§ 4</h5> - -<p>Saturday was their first intimate little meal by a -window in a café. It had been their last morning at -the office, and by noon the activities of the Soulé Publishing -Company in selling the <i>Universal History of -the World</i> had ceased. Pay envelopes had been distributed -shortly after eleven, and an hour later all -the little Jewesses with their absurd pompadours and -high heels, the Misses Rosens and Flannigans, the -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_76">[Pg 76]</span> -office clerks and office boys had packed the great elevators -for the last time, laughing and squeezing -together, and swarmed out of the building not to return. -And Roy and Jeannette were among them.</p> - -<p>“You will go to lunch with me?” he had written on -a sheet of paper and pushed toward her as she sat at -his elbow. “I’ve got a lot of things to talk to you -about, and it’s our last day here together.”</p> - -<p>She had tried to consider the matter dispassionately, -but a glimpse of his bright, eager eyes fixed on her -had sent the blood flooding her neck and cheeks, and -before she quite knew what she had done she had -nodded.</p> - -<p>He joined her at the street entrance and together -they made a happy progress toward Broadway.</p> - -<p>A great felicity descended upon them. Their senses -thrilled to the beauty of the warm day and their being -thus together. Roy piloted her through the hurrying -noontime throng, his hand about her arm. She tingled -again at the touch of his fingers, and loved it. Then -they entered the café of a hotel, and found a cozy table -for two by the window where, dazzled and enthralled -by their great happiness, they smiled into one another’s -eyes across the white cloth, glittering with -cutlery and glasses.</p> - -<p>Love was wonderful! He loved her; she loved him. -They both knew it; they were drunk with the thought. -This was their adventure,—theirs and theirs alone!</p> - -<p>“I may have to go home this summer,” Roy said -with a troubled air after he had given their order to -the waiter. He stared at the winding crowd that -surged back and forth beneath their window. “But -I’m coming back right away. In August.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_77">[Pg 77]</span></p> - -<p>“You mean to San Francisco?”</p> - -<p>“My father wants me to come West for a month -or two. He sent me my ticket.... I guess he expects -me to settle down out there. Of course he wants me to. -The ticket is only a one-way one. But he’s in for a -disappointment. I can’t be happy in San Francisco; -I want to come back to New York.”</p> - -<p>They both fell silent, thinking their own thoughts. -Jeannette was conscious of the dreariness and drabness -of life once more; it was disheartening and -depressing to be unemployed. All these people hurrying -past the window, she reflected, were intent upon -some particular errand; each one had a job; the whole -world had jobs but herself. There would be nothing -for her to do but “apply for employment.”</p> - -<p>“Please can you give me a position? ... Excuse -me, sir, I’m looking for work.... Could you use a -stenographer?”</p> - -<p>Oh, it was detestable, it was intolerable! It dragged -her pride in the dust! ... And there would be no one -to sympathize, to advise her,—or help her! She would -be alone all summer in New York with no one interested!</p> - -<p>Roy, watching her, guessed her thoughts.</p> - -<p>“I’m coming back....”</p> - -<p>She flushed warmly.</p> - -<p>“Would you like me to come back? Would it make -any difference to you, if I did? If you’ll just say you’d -like me to come back, I will; ... I’ll promise! ... Will -you?”</p> - -<p>The girl bent over her plate, hiding her face with -the brim of her hat. The giddiness she had experienced -that day in the street threatened her.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_78">[Pg 78]</span></p> - -<p>“Would you want me to come back?” Roy insisted.</p> - -<p>She raised her eyes and met his gaze; he held them -with the burning intentness of his own, and for a long, -long moment they stared at one another.</p> - -<p>“You know I love you,” he said tensely.</p> - -<p>His lip quivered; his face was aglow.</p> - -<p>“I love you with every fibre of my being! I’ll come -back to you,—I’ll come back from the ends of the -earth. Only just say you love me, too, Jeannette.... -You <i>do</i> love me, don’t you? ... You’re the most -wonderful girl I’ve ever known, Jeannette! ... God, -Jeannette, you’re just wonderful!”</p> - -<p>Why was it that in the supreme moment of his great -avowal he seemed a little ridiculous to her? She felt -suddenly like laughing. He was so absurdly young, -so juvenile, so school-boyish, leaning toward her across -the table in his youthful Norfolk jacket, with his unruly -hair sticking up on top his head!</p> - -<h5>§ 5</h5> - -<p>He kissed her when they parted from one another -late that afternoon. They had been absorbed in talk, -and the hours slipped by until before they were aware -it was five o’clock. He walked home with her and just -inside the heavy glass doors of the old-fashioned -apartment house where she lived he put his arms -about her, their faces came close together, and for the -briefest of moments their lips met. It was a shy kiss, -hardly more than a touch of mouth to mouth. For -another moment they stood raptly gazing into each -other’s eyes, their fingers interlocked. Then Jeannette -fled, running up the stairs, nor did she grant him -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_79">[Pg 79]</span> -another look, even when she reached the landing above -and had to turn. But on the third flight of stairs she -paused, held her breath to still the noise of her panting, -and listened. There was nothing. A cautious glance -over the balustrade down through the narrow well of -the stairs revealed his shadow on the stone flagging -below. She sank to the step, and waited to catch her -breath, her ears strained for a sound. Presently she -heard him moving; there was a crisp clip of his shoes; -she guessed he was searching the gloom of the stairwell -for a glimpse of her. But she would not look, and -sat motionless with tightly clasped hands. After a -long interval she heard his hesitating step again. The -half-opened door swung slowly back, brightening the -hallway below a moment with yellow daylight from the -street, then closed with a dull jangle of heavy glass. -She sat for a moment more, then a tiny choking sound -burst from between her close-shut lips, and she buried -her glowing face in her hot hands, pressing her fingertips -hard against her eyeballs until the force of them -hurt her.</p> - -<h5>§ 6</h5> - -<p>That night Jeannette experienced all the exquisite -joy and fierce agony of young love. It was an exhausting -ordeal; she lived over and over the thrilling hours -of the day that had terminated in that glorious, intoxicating -second when the boy’s thin lips were against -her own, and she had felt their warm, tingling pressure. -The recollection brought to her wave upon wave -of hot flushes that began somewhere deep down inside -her being and flooded her with ecstasy. She strove -against it, yet had no wish to control her thoughts. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_80">[Pg 80]</span> -Shame,—some curious sense of wrong,—distressed her. -It was not right;—it was all wrong! Instinct grappled -with desire. She wept deliciously, convulsively, burying -her head in her pillow and pressing its smothering -softness against her mouth to stifle her sobbing breath -that neither her mother nor Alice might hear it. Past -midnight she rose and went noiselessly to the bathroom -where she washed her face, carefully brushed -and re-braided her hair. Her head ached and her -swollen eyes were hot and painful. But she felt calmer. -She studied her face for a long moment in the battered -mirror that hung above the wash-stand, and as she -looked a great quivering breath was wrung from her.</p> - -<p>“Roy ... I can’t ... it can never be ... never, -never be,” she whispered despairingly to her image.</p> - -<p>For the moment she felt triumphant. She had conquered -something, she did not know what. She -dimmed the gaslight and found her way back to bed. -Sleep came mercifully, and she did not wake until her -mother kissed her the next morning.</p> - -<h5>§ 7</h5> - -<p>It was Sunday, the day he had promised to come to -dinner. Dinner, with the Sturgises on Sunday, was -always the noontime meal. Cold meat or a levy on -Kratzmer’s delicatessen counters, with weak hot tea, -constituted Sunday supper. Dinner, however, invariably -involved roast chicken and ice cream which was -secured at the last moment from O’Day’s Candy -Parlor, and carried home by one of the girls, packed -in a thin pasteboard box. There was seldom ice in -the leaky ice-box, and Sunday dinner was therefore -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_81">[Pg 81]</span> -usually a hurried affair, as mother and the girls were -always acutely conscious during every minute of its -duration of the melting cream in the kitchen.</p> - -<p>For this Mrs. Sturgis was responsible. Her frugality -would not allow her leisurely to enjoy her meal -at the sacrifice of the ice cream. The fear of its becoming -soft and mushy pressed relentlessly upon her -consciousness.</p> - -<p>“Now, dearie,—don’t talk! Eat your dinner. It’s -much more digestible if it’s eaten while it’s hot,” she -would urge her daughters almost with every mouthful.</p> - -<p>No one ever spoke of the ice cream itself. The -reason for such close application to the business of -eating was never voiced. It was part of the ritual of -Sunday dinner that it should not be mentioned. Not -until Alice had piled and crowded the aluminum tray -with the soiled dishes, carried these away, and returned -with the mound of cream sagging upon its platter, -could Mrs. Sturgis and her daughters allow themselves -to relax. No matter how well the rest of the dinner -might be cooked, it must be gulped down and its enjoyment -wasted for the sake of a quarter’s worth of -frozen cream.</p> - -<p>It was upon these circumstances that Jeannette’s -rebellious thoughts centered on the morning of Roy -Beardsley’s visit. She was worn out after her troubled -night, and the prospect of seeing him so soon -after the tremendous occurrences of the previous -afternoon and her stormy reflections upon them made -her nervous, apprehensive. She wanted time to think -things out, to consider matters.... Anyhow—what -would her mother and sister think of him? What -would he think of them?</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_82">[Pg 82]</span></p> - -<p>“Dearie—dearie!” Mrs. Sturgis expostulated more -than once. “Whatever makes my lovie so cross this -morning? ... You’ll get another position, dearie,—if -that’s what’s troubling you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you make me tired!” thought her daughter, -angrily, though the words were unsaid.</p> - -<p>“Well, I <i>do</i> hope we can at least have some other -kind of dessert,” she said aloud. “We always have to -rush so infernally through dinner; it makes me sick! ... Or, -I’ll tell you what,” she went on hopefully, -“we can get in a little ice.”</p> - -<p>“It will leak all over the floor,” Alice objected. -“The old thing is full of holes.”</p> - -<p>“There’s nothing better than O’Day’s strawberry -cream,” Mrs. Sturgis declared; “and there isn’t a -thing in the house, so I can’t make a pudding.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette said nothing further but gloomed in -silence. She elected to be furiously energetic, and -undertook a thorough cleaning of the studio, strewing -strips of damp newspaper over the floor, sweeping -vigorously, her head tied up in a towel. The broom -shed its straw, and she discovered little triangles of -dirt in obscure corners which Alice had evidently deliberately -neglected. The white curtains were dingy, the -front windows needed washing, and in the midst of -her cleaning, Dikron Najarian came in upon her to -ask her to walk with him in the afternoon. In a fury -she attempted to move the piano to pull loose a rug, -and in the effort, which was far beyond her strength, -she hurt herself badly. Her mother found her lying -on the floor, crying weakly.</p> - -<p>“Dearie—<i>dearie</i>! What happened to you! My -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_83">[Pg 83]</span> -darling! You shouldn’t work so hard; there’s no -necessity for your being so thorough.”</p> - -<p>The girl had really injured herself. Mrs. Sturgis -called wildly for Alice, and between them they carried -her to her room and laid her on her bed. She had -wrenched her back, but she refused to admit it. She -wouldn’t be put to bed. She was all right, she told -them; just a few moments’ rest, and she would be herself -again. It was twelve o’clock and Roy would be -there at one!</p> - -<p>She lay on her bed, and gazed blindly up at the old -familiar discolored ceiling; presently her eyes closed -and two large tears stole from under her lashes and -rolled down her cheeks. She knew she had hurt herself -far more seriously than she would let her mother or -sister suspect. Something had given way in the small -of her back; she made an effort to sit up, and the pain -all but tore a cry from her. But she was determined -they should not know; she would get up, and meet Roy, -and go through with dinner as though nothing was the -matter!</p> - -<p>Struggling, with tiny explosions of pent-up breath -and smothered groans, her hand at every free moment -pressed to her side, she managed to dress herself. The -effort exhausted her; a film of perspiration covered her -forehead, her upper lip and the backs of her hands. -She steadied herself now and then by leaning against -the dresser, until her strength came back to her. She -did not care, now, whether Roy Beardsley found the -studio clean or not, whether or not he was hustled -through dinner, thought her home cheap and poor, her -mother and sister commonplace and fussily solicitous.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_84">[Pg 84]</span></p> - -<p>He was ahead of time. She met him with careful -step and a fixed smile of welcome. He was glowing -with eagerness; his hands trembled a little as he held -them out to her. At sight of him, a moment’s wave -of yesterday’s emotion swept over her, but immediately -there came a sharp stab of pain, and she caught -a quick breath from between the lips that held her -smile. His anxious questions were cut short by the -bustling entrance of Mrs. Sturgis and Alice.</p> - -<p>Jeannette’s mother was at once flatteringly hospitable, -inviting the guest to sit down and make himself -comfortable, while she established herself with an elegant -spread of skirts on the davenport, and began to -toss the lacy ruffles of her best jabot with a careless -finger.</p> - -<p>Were Mr. Beardsley’s parents living? Ah, yes,—in -San Francisco. They had fogs out there a great -deal, she’d heard. And he had lost his mother. Consumption? -Ah, that was indeed a pity! ... And his -father was a clergyman? Eminently laudable profession.... And -he had wanted to come East to college? -Quite right and proper. Princeton was a fine college; -nice boys went there.... And he had spent some -time in New York? Wonderful city,—but a very expensive -place to live,—probably the most expensive in -the world....</p> - -<p>Jeannette recognized a favorite theme and broke in -with an inquiry about dinner. She was suffering miserably; -she wondered if she would have the strength -to get to the dining-room. Alice already had disappeared; -the slam of the back door some moments -before had announced her departure for O’Day’s -Candy Parlor. Mrs. Sturgis excused herself with -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_85">[Pg 85]</span> -many profuse explanations, and departed kitchenward, -whence presently there came the bang of pots in the -sink and the hiss of running water.</p> - -<p>Left together, Roy turned eagerly to Jeannette -where she stood beside the mantel, a white hand gripping -its edge.</p> - -<p>“Dearest, I’ve been so crazy to see you! ... Is -anything wrong? You’re not angry with me after -yesterday?”</p> - -<p>Her eyes softened, but, as if to check for that day -any moment’s tenderness, there was again a sharp -twinge. Involuntarily she winced.</p> - -<p>“Jeannette! You’re not well! What’s the matter?”</p> - -<p>She laid her hand on his arm to reassure him and -steady herself.</p> - -<p>“Nothing,” she breathed. “I hurt my back this -morning. I must have wrenched it. It’s really nothing. -Now and then it gets me.”</p> - -<p>She managed a disarming smile.</p> - -<p>“Mother and Allie mustn’t know a thing about it. -I don’t want to alarm them; they’re so excitable. To-morrow, -I’ll be quite all right again.... You must -help me.”</p> - -<p>“Why, surely; you know I will.... But, dearest——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, please! Don’t make a fuss.” Her tone was -sharp, and at once he fell silent, watching her face -anxiously.</p> - -<p>“Do you love me?” he queried in a low voice.</p> - -<p>She did not answer; she was in no mood for love-making. -In a moment, she moved with difficulty to the -window, and stood there, fighting her pain, and looking -down vacantly into the street. Provokingly, tears rose -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_86">[Pg 86]</span> -to her eyes. She was afraid she was going to cry. She -could see Allie returning with the square paper box -held with a finger by its thin wire handle, and presently -the great front door of the house shut with a -jangle.</p> - -<p>Roy’s arm stole about her waist, but its touch hurt -her.</p> - -<p>“Oh, please!” she begged crossly.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry,—awfully sorry. I forgot.... You’re -in terrible pain, aren’t you? ... Shall I get a doctor? ... Don’t -you want to lie down? ... Would you like -me to go?”</p> - -<p>She wanted to slap him.</p> - -<p>“Just leave me alone!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis’ eager step was approaching, and in a -moment she presented at the doorway a face reddened -from the heat of the stove, and moist with perspiration.</p> - -<p>“Dinner’s ready, dearie,” she announced. “Won’t -you come this way, Mr. Beardsley? We use our bedrooms -for a passage-way, although the hall outside, I -suppose, is really better, but, you see, it’s much more -convenient....”</p> - -<p>Jeannette motioned him to precede her, and followed, -holding on by the furniture as she made her -way. Her mother was in the kitchen and Alice’s back -was turned as in anguish she got into her chair.</p> - -<p>Dinner was endless. The soup had curdled; the -potatoes were scant; the salt-cellar in front of Roy -had a greenish mold about its top; Roy, himself, kept -fiddling with his silverware,—rattling knife and fork, -and fork and spoon; her mother and sister had never, -in Jeannette’s opinion, jumped up from the table so -incessantly for errands to kitchen or sideboard. The -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_87">[Pg 87]</span> -pain in her back every now and then became excruciating. -She sat through the dragging meal with a set -smile upon her lips, turning her head with assumed -brightness from face to face as each one spoke. Her -mother did most of the talking, keeping up a continual -flow of chatter to fill the silences. Alice rarely volunteered -an observation when there was company, and -Jeannette’s misery made her dumb. Mrs. Sturgis -rose to the occasion and supplied conversation for all -three. Jeannette, watching Roy’s face, resented his -polite show of interest. Her mother had what her -daughters described as a “company” manner. When -it was upon her she interrupted herself every little -while with nervous giggles and to-day, Jeannette decided, -she had never indulged in them so often. She -was eloquent during the meal with reminiscences of -her childhood’s escapades and early cuteness, and -Jeannette watched the animated face with its jogging, -pendent cheeks in an agony of spirit that matched her -physical misery.</p> - -<p>“... Nettie,—we always called Janny, ‘Nettie,’ -when she was little,—was only six then, and she was -awfully pretty and cute. We were having dinner at a -restaurant downtown,—her papa had a friend to entertain. -Allie....? I don’t remember where Allie was....”; Mrs. -Sturgis gazed in sudden perplexity at her -younger daughter. “I guess you were at home with -Nora, lovie.... At any rate, we were at this restaurant -and a waiter was serving us nicely, and nobody -was paying any attention, when all of a sudden Nettie -says loud and pertly to the waiter: ‘Now that you’re -up, will you please get me a glass of milk?’” Mrs. -Sturgis shut her eyes and laughed until her little round -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_88">[Pg 88]</span> -cheeks shook. “Imagine,” she finished, “‘Now that -you’re <i>up</i>!’ ... To the <i>waiter</i>!” She went off into -gales of mirth.</p> - -<p>Roy laughed too, a thin, polite laugh, without a trace -of spontaneity. Jeannette hated him. She hated her -sister, too, for her smug complacency. Alice sat there -encouraging her mother with responsive twitterings -every time Mrs. Sturgis threw her head back to chuckle. -Jeannette felt she was suffocating; the pain dug itself -steadily and cruelly into the small of her back; she -could not draw one adequate breath.</p> - -<p>The platter and remains of the hacked and dismembered -chicken, and the soiled dishes eventually were -removed; Alice brushed the table-cloth with a folded -napkin, sweeping crumbs and litter, ineffectually, as -Jeannette noted in utter desolation, into the palm of -her hand, carrying the refuse handful by handful to -the kitchen, until the operation was complete. The -ice cream was borne in, in mushy disintegration, and -her mother commented on its melted condition and -the various responsible reasons, until the girl thought -she would scream in protest.</p> - -<p>She could not eat; she could not drink; lifting her -hand to her lips was misery. Roy’s solicitous glance -was more and more intently fixed upon her; Alice, -also, was beginning to send concerned looks in her -direction. She felt her strength rapidly ebbing from -her. She could endure but little more—but little, little -more. Her will power was deserting her, resolution -forsaking her, she felt it going—going; it was slipping -away ... she was going to fall! ... Ah, she <i>WAS</i> -falling....!</p> - -<p>“Janny, dearie!” Her mother’s alarmed cry faintly -reached her dimming consciousness.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_89">[Pg 89]</span></p> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I_IV">CHAPTER IV</h4> -</div> - -<h5>§ 1</h5> - -<p>The following summer was one of the hottest on -record in New York City. The thermometer persistently -hung around ninety, and the newspapers gave -daily accounts of deaths and prostrations. Thousands -of East-siders sought Coney Island and the cool -beaches to spend their nights upon the sands. Thunderstorms -brought but temporary relief. Jeannette, -slowly regaining strength and energy, declared she -had never known so many violent thunderstorms in -the space of one short summer. She hated the vivid, -blinding darts and the cracking ear-splitting detonations. -She could reason convincingly with herself that -there was but the minutest atom of danger, yet the -menacing crashes never failed to bring her heart into -her mouth and make her wince.</p> - -<p>She had been in bed four weeks since the Sunday -Roy had dined with the family, and she had fainted at -the table. The doctor, when he arrived, had declared, -after careful examination, that several ligaments had -been torn from the bone, and the muscles of her back -had been badly strained. She had been tightly -bandaged with long strips of adhesive tape, and put to -bed in her mother’s room, where she had lain for a -month, rebellious and raging, at the mercy of a horde -of disturbing thoughts.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_90">[Pg 90]</span></p> - -<p>Roy sent flowers, a box of candy, magazines. He -wrote her long letters in a boyish hand in which he -boyishly expressed his concern for her condition, his -earnest hope of her speedy recovery, his tremendous -devotion. It was for the last that she eagerly looked -when she unfolded his scrawled pages. But his words -never seemed to satisfy her wholly; they were never -vehement enough. She longed for something more -vigorous, aggressive, violent.</p> - -<p>At the end of ten days he begged to be allowed to -come to see her. There was no reason why he -shouldn’t, Jeannette reflected, but she could not bring -herself to the point of asking her mother to arrange -for the visit. She did manage to say, with a light air -of ridicule, one morning, when Mrs. Sturgis brought -her breakfast tray to her bedside:</p> - -<p>“Roy’s got the nerve to want to come to see me.”</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you let him, dearie,—if you’d like it? -He seems a right nice young fellow, and you could put -on your dressing sacque, and Alice could do your hair.... I’ll -be home to-morrow,—all day, you know. It -would be quite right and proper.”</p> - -<p>But the girl only made a grimace.</p> - -<p>“That kid! That rah-rah boy! ... He thinks he’s -got an awful case.”</p> - -<p>“Why do you treat Mr. Beardsley so mean, Janny?” -Alice asked her a few days later, closely studying her -face. “You know,” she continued slowly, “sometimes -I think you’re really in love with him.”</p> - -<p>“Love!” cried her sister. “Hah! with <i>that</i> kid?”</p> - -<p>“I think he’s terribly attractive, Janny.”</p> - -<p>“Half baked!” Jeannette said scornfully.</p> - -<p>“Well, I think he’s <i>charming</i>.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_91">[Pg 91]</span></p> - -<p>“You can have him!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Janny! ... You’re <i>dreadful</i>!”</p> - -<p>But in the dark nights Jeannette would kiss the -scrawled writing, press the stiff note-paper to her -cheek, and let her thoughts carry her back to their -first meeting, their first encounter on the Avenue, -their first kiss in the hallway downstairs, their memorable -lunch together....</p> - -<p>Ah, it was beautiful? It was all so very beautiful,—so -infinitely beautiful! Every glance, every word, -every moment! She loved him! She could not deny -it. Oh,—she loved him, she loved him!</p> - -<p>He wrote he was obliged to go to San Francisco. -It was impossible to find a position in New York during -midsummer, and his father had telegraphed him to -come home. He would have to go, but he longed to -see Jeannette just once before he went. He <i>must</i> see -her, if only to say “good-bye.” He was coming back -the first of September, and then he would.... But -they must talk everything over. Wouldn’t she please -let him come?</p> - -<p>Jeannette still hesitated. She wanted to see him -again; yet she was afraid,—afraid of disappointment, -of what her mother and sister might think, of herself -and Roy. In the end, with what seemed to her a weakness -she despised, she wrote him, and named an afternoon; -Although the doctor had said she was to remain -in bed for another week, she prevailed upon her mother -and sister to move her into the studio, where with -pillows about her and a comforter across her knees, -and her hair arranged in the pretty fashion Alice -sometimes liked to dress it, she received her lover.</p> - -<p>It was as unsatisfactory an interview as she had -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_92">[Pg 92]</span> -feared. Constraint held them both. Jeannette was -intent upon not betraying the delicious madness into -which her thoughts of Roy had led her during the -empty hours of her long illness, and she sat up stiffly, -unbendingly. Roy did not understand. He thought -the change in her was due to her illness, but there was -something about her that troubled him. They made -their promises to one another, they held each other’s -hands, they kissed good-bye, but there was nothing -fervid about any of it. At the door, however, when -he turned, hat in hand, for a final, searching look, she -saw a glitter in his eyes, his queer little mouth was -straight and drawn harshly, unsmilingly across his -teeth. It was that last look of him, that wet gleam in -his eyes which took her courage and brought her own -tears in a rush. But by then he was gone. The dull -boom of the hall-door closing downstairs announced -his departure with stern finality.</p> - -<h5>§ 2</h5> - -<p>The summer bore on, hot, unalleviated. The apartment -smelled of strange odors, was close, airless in -spite of open windows. The Najarians, with much -banging and clattering, left with their trunks and -boxes for several weeks at the seashore, and on the -first of the month old Mrs. Porter, who had occupied -the first floor since the building was erected thirty -years before, moved away. Only the two trained -nurses, one flight down, who were rarely at home, remained -in the city during the burning weeks of July -and August.</p> - -<p>With the Sturgises, life became dreary and grew -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_93">[Pg 93]</span> -drearier. Miss Loughborough’s school closed, Signor -Bellini departed for his beloved Italy, the Wednesday -and Saturday pupils became fewer and fewer and by -mid-July had evaporated entirely. Mrs. Sturgis, fretting -over the trivial expenses each day inevitably -brought, wore a worried, harassed air. She found -some work to do, copying music, but this had to be -given up, as her teeth commenced to give her trouble. -How long she was able to disguise her discomfort -from her daughters, they never guessed, but her -misery eventually was discovered, and she was summarily -driven to a dentist. It developed that her teeth -were in such a decayed condition they would all have -to be pulled, and replaced by an artificial set.</p> - -<p>Poor Mrs. Sturgis wept and protested. She objected -strenuously to anything so drastic. It wasn’t <i>in the -least necessary</i>! She couldn’t <i>possibly</i> afford it! Her -daughters urged her and argued with her until they lost -their tempers and there was almost a quarrel in the -little household. The dentist declined to modify his -advice. Pain—cruel, persistent pain, that robbed her -of her sleep, and sapped her strength—finally compelled -her to give way.</p> - -<p>“I’ll do it,—but my girlies haven’t the faintest idea -what they are letting me in for! It will be the death -of me!” wailed Mrs. Sturgis.</p> - -<p>Jeannette, able to sit up now and hobble from one -room to another, regarded her mother with frank -impatience as she rocked vigorously back and forth, -weeping abjectly into a drenched little handkerchief. -She felt sorry for her, she would have made any sacrifice -to alleviate her pain to make matters easier for -her, and yet it was obvious there was no other course -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_94">[Pg 94]</span> -for her, and the sooner the teeth were out and a false -set in their place, the better it would be for them all. -The girl gazed gloomily out of the window.</p> - -<p>“And my daughter’s no comfort to me,” continued -Mrs. Sturgis, piteously, conscious of Jeannette’s unvoiced -criticism. “The child that I’ve raised through -sorrow and tribulation, through hunger and self-denial,—the -daughter for whom I’ve worked and sacrificed -my life....”</p> - -<p>Jeannette continued to stare stonily into space, -locked her fingers more tightly together, but said -nothing.</p> - -<p>Eventually there came the terrible day when Mrs. -Sturgis and Alice went forth to the dental surgeon, -and when the young girl brought her spent and broken -mother home in a cab. The four flights of stairs for -the exhausted woman were a dreadful ordeal. Jeannette, -catching a glimpse of the labored progress, as -she gazed over the balustrade from the top landing, -forgot her own weakened condition, the doctor’s caution, -and hurried to her mother’s assistance. She ran -down the stairs and grasped the little woman’s almost -fainting figure in her young arms. Together the sisters -dragged and pushed her up the remaining steps, but -the older girl knew before she reached the top, that -she had put too great a strain upon her own partially -regained strength.</p> - -<p>She paid for the imprudence by another three weeks -in bed. It was the longest three weeks of her life. -Her mother roamed about from room to room, toothless -and inarticulate, unable to eat solid food, waiting -for her lacerated gums to heal. She complained and -mumbled almost incessantly, harassed by the thought -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_95">[Pg 95]</span> -of doctor’s and dentist’s bills which she declared over -and over she saw no way of ever paying. Jeannette, -chained to her bed, had to listen unhappily. Mrs. -Sturgis gave her no respite. She refused to leave -the house for fear of meeting a friend in the street -who would discover her toothlessness. Alice went to -market and ran the errands, while Mrs. Sturgis rocked -back and forth, back and forth, beside Jeannette’s bed, -picked at her darning, and complained of life. It was -not like her mother, thought the daughter wearily; she -of indomitable spirit, who had never been afraid of -hardships, but rejoiced in overcoming them.</p> - -<p>Letters from Roy brought the only alleviating spots -in these long, tiring days. He wrote almost every day -and there were numerous picture post-cards. His -letters were full of assurances and young hopes. -Jeannette loved his endearments, his underscored protestations, -but the plans which he elaborately unfolded -seemed so uncertain, their realization so improbable -that they left her cold. She read the scrawled words -in the immature script, and tried to conjure up a picture -of him penning them. It eluded her. The boy -in the Norfolk jacket with the stuck-up hair, blue eyes, -and whimsical smile, that had so strangely fired her -heart, had already become hazy and remote. Her own -weak back and helplessness, her mother’s trembling -cheeks and mumbled complaints were harsh realities, -very close at hand. The summer sun blazed on unsparingly, -and perspiration covered her arms and neck -and trickled down between her breasts. Spring and -young love, the glittering Avenue, walks and talks and -murmured confidences that whipped the blood and -caught the breath, were of a far distant yesterday. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_96">[Pg 96]</span> -Was there ever a time when thoughts of this boy had -kept her awake at nights, a time when at the memory of -his kiss her tears had blinded her? It was some -other Jeannette,—not the one who sighed wearily and -wished Alice would keep the door shut, and not let -in the flies to bother her.</p> - -<h5>§ 3</h5> - -<p>Slowly Nature reasserted herself. Strength returned, -old hopes revived, youth throbbed again in the -veins, life once more took on a pleasing aspect. The -late August day, that found Jeannette making a cautious -way toward the Park on her first venture from -the house, was brilliant with warm but not too hot -sunshine, and the foliage of trees and shrubbery in -the Park vistas never appeared greener or more -inviting.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis’ false teeth had made a great improvement -in her appearance, had rounded out her face, -given strength to her jaw, and made her seem ten years -younger. The little woman was delighted with the -effect, and was now evincing a gratified interest in her -appearance. Signor Bellini had returned earlier than -he expected, had already started his Monday and -Thursday classes, while Miss Loughborough’s Concentration -School for Young Ladies was about to open -its doors, and pupils were flocking back from their -vacations. And lastly, and to the girl, most important -of all, Roy was returning to New York.</p> - -<p>He would arrive in the city in a few days, and she -wondered how she would feel toward him when they -met. As she sat upon a park bench, enjoying the sun -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_97">[Pg 97]</span> -and the toddling children playing in the soft gravel -of the pathway near by, she asked herself if she cared. -She could not tell. Of far more interest to her was -the prospect of work again. She had been stifled all -summer by illness and heat, but now she wanted to -get back to the business world and win her independence -anew. Her ambition was afire; she was all eagerness -to have a job once more.... Roy? ... Well, it -would be pleasant to have him making love to her -again, to watch him tremble at her nearness.</p> - -<p>But she found herself thrilling on the afternoon he -was to see her. He had telephoned in the morning -from the station, and his voice had sounded wonderfully -sweet and eager. When his ring at the door -announced him, her heart raced madly. Delicious -tremors, one after another, coursed through her.</p> - -<p>He came hurrying up the stairs and she met him -in the studio. Their hands instantly found one another’s, -and they stood so a moment, smiling happily -and ardently into each other’s eyes; then she drifted -into his arms, and it seemed the peace of the world -had come.</p> - -<p>Ah, she had forgotten how dear he was, how lovable, -how sweet! It was good to have him take her to himself -that way, and feel his thin arms about her, and -have him hold her close against his young hard breast.</p> - -<p>Plans—plans,—they were full of them. They were -engaged now; Mrs. Sturgis and Alice must be told, -the father wired, and Roy must immediately set about -finding a job. He had some corking letters, he told -her eagerly, and he was on the trail of a splendid position -already. Jeannette was going to find work, too; -they would both save, buy all the clothes they would -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_98">[Pg 98]</span> -need, and be married,—oh, some time in the spring! -Roy, holding both her hands, gazed at her with shining -eyes, his whole face glowing with excitement.</p> - -<p>“Oh, God, Jeannette—oh, God! Just think! You -and me! Married!”</p> - -<p>It <i>was</i> a wonderful prospect.</p> - -<h5>§ 4</h5> - -<p>In less than a week, he had obtained a promising -position with the Chandler B. Corey Company, publishers -of high-class fiction and the best of standard -books. It was a new but flourishing organization with -offices on Union Square. In addition to its book business, -there were two monthly magazines, <i>The Wheel -of Fortune</i> and <i>Corey’s Commentary</i>, and Roy was -made part of the staff that secured advertisements for -the pages of these periodicals. He was full of enthusiasm -for his new work. Mr. Featherstone, the advertising -manager, who was also a member of the firm, -was the jolliest kind of a man, and the other fellows in -the department, Humphrey Stubbs and Walt Chase, -were “awfully nice” chaps. He was to receive from -the start, twenty dollars a week, and Mr. Featherstone -promised him a raise of five dollars at the end -of three months, if he made good. The gods were with -them. Jeannette and he could be married early in -the spring.</p> - -<p>The girl listened and pretended to rejoice, but her -heart was sick within her. Roy, getting twenty dollars -a week!—back in a job!—independent and secure once -more!—a bright future and rapid advancement ahead -of him! She was bitterly envious. She longed for the -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_99">[Pg 99]</span> -old life of business hours, of office excitement, for her -neatly managed if frugal lunches, for the early hours -in the mornings and the tired hours at night, for the -heart-warming touch of the firm, plump little manila -envelope on Saturday mornings, and, above all, she -longed for the satisfaction of being a wage-earner -again, of being financially her own mistress, and being -able to contribute something toward the household -bills each week.</p> - -<p>The next day she started out to find work. She knew -it would be a humiliating business, but she found it -worse than she feared. The advertisements for stenographers -in the newspapers which she answered, all -turned out to be disappointing. The most she was -offered was ten dollars a week, and in the majority of -cases only six or eight. She had made up her mind -to accept nothing less than what she had earned before. -She would walk out of an office into the glaring street -with the prick of tears smarting her eyes, with lips -that trembled, but she would vigorously shake her -head, and renew her determination.</p> - -<p>She went to interview Miss Ingram of the Gerard -Commercial School, but Miss Ingram had no vacant -positions on her list.</p> - -<p>“I’ve never seen anything like it,” the little teacher -said with a forlorn air; “I’ve got three girls now just -waiting for something to turn up, but all they want -downtown are boys—boys—boys!”</p> - -<p>Twice Jeannette had the unpleasant experience of -having men to whom she applied for work lay their -hands on her. One slipped his arm about her, and -tried to kiss her, pressing a bushy wet mustache -against her face; the other placed his fat fingers -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_100">[Pg 100]</span> -caressingly over hers and, leering at her, promised -he would find her a good job, if she’d come back later -in the day. She was equal to these occasions but there -was always a sickening reaction that left her weak -and trembling with a salt taste in her mouth. She -said nothing about them at home.</p> - -<p>Her mother and Alice, even Roy, had urged her not -to go to work again. Mrs. Sturgis reiterated her -original objection; Alice thought it was not necessary, -that Janny had better take things easy and devote her -time to wedding preparations. Roy did not like the -idea, he frankly admitted, of her associating so intimately -with a lot of men in an office, and, besides, it -distracted her, made her nervous.</p> - -<p>“In three months, sweetheart, I’ll be getting twenty-five -dollars a week and we can get married. A hundred -a month is enough for a while. You ought to run the -table on ten dollars a week,—your mother does that -for the three of you!—and out of the remaining sixty, -we surely will have enough for rent, and a lot left over -for clothes and theatres.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” Jeannette sighed wearily, “it’s plenty,—only -I want—I want to earn some money myself. I -need clothes, and I ought to have everything for a -year, at least!”</p> - -<p>September passed, and October came with a tingle -of autumn, and an early touch of yellow, drifting -leaves. Jeannette missed the chance of an excellent -position in the manager’s office of a large suit and -cloak manufacturer by no more than a minute or two. -She saw the other applicant enter the office just ahead -of her, and was presently told the place was filled. -The girl who had preceded her was Miss Flannigan!</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_101">[Pg 101]</span></p> - -<p>There was another position in a lawyer’s office for -which she eagerly applied. She heard the salary was -twenty-five dollars a week, but when she was interviewed, -and it was discovered she had no knowledge -of legal phraseology, she was rejected.</p> - -<p>Desperate and discouraged, she was obliged to listen -in the evenings to Roy’s glowing praise of his new -associates, to detailed accounts of small happenings -in the office, and gossip between desks. She learned -all about Mr. Featherstone, his devoted and adoring -wife, his small, crippled son, his own good nature, -and hearty joviality. She heard a great deal about -Humphrey Stubbs and Walt Chase. Stubbs, she gathered, -was already Roy’s enemy. He had made several -efforts to discredit the newcomer, and was on the lookout -for things about which to criticize him to his chief. -Walt Chase, on the contrary, was amiable and inclined -to be very friendly. Walt had been married less than -a year, lived in Hackensack, and his wife had just had -a baby.</p> - -<p>Jeannette listened enviously, with despair in her -heart, when she heard about Miss Anastasia Reubens, -the editor of <i>The Wheel of Fortune</i>. That Miss Reubens -was forty-five and had spent all the working years -of her life on the editorial staff of one magazine or -another made little difference to Jeannette. She hated -to inquire about her, but her curiosity was too great.</p> - -<p>“What do you suppose she gets?” she asked Roy -with a casual air.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t know; perhaps fifty or sixty a week. -I’m sure I haven’t an idea. None of the folks down -there get high salaries; everyone is underpaid. Mr. -Corey hasn’t more than got the business started. He -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_102">[Pg 102]</span> -only began it five years ago. He tells us, we’ve got -to wait with him, until the money begins to come in, -and then we’ll all share in the profits.”</p> - -<p>“Fifty or sixty a week?” sniffed Jeannette. “Did -she tell you she got that? ... She’s lucky, if she gets -twenty-five!”</p> - -<p>Roy shrugged his shoulders. He had an irritating -way of avoiding arguments, Jeannette noticed, by -lapsing silent. She considered the matter for a moment -further, but decided it was not worth pressing.</p> - -<p>“What kind of a man is Mr. Corey?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Corey? Corey’s a peach. He’s a dynamo of -energy, and has all sorts of enthusiasm. He’s got the -most magnetic personality I’ve ever seen in my life. -He’s going to make a whale of a big business out of that -concern. Every Wednesday we all lunch together,—that -is, the men in the editorial and book departments,—and -we go to the Brevoort; we’ve got a private room -down there, and Mr. Corey always comes and talks to -us about the business and we try to offer suggestions -that will help each other. We call it ‘The Get Together -Club.’ It’s great.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette studied her lover’s face and for a moment -felt actual dislike for him. What did <i>he</i> know? Why -should <i>he</i> be so fortunate? Why should everything go -so smoothly for <i>him</i>? Why shouldn’t <i>she</i> have a -chance like that?</p> - -<p>“Mr. Featherstone may send me to Boston Friday -to see the Advertising Manager of Jordan & Marsh -about some copy. He said something about it last -night. I’d hate to go, but, gee! it would be a great -trip!”</p> - -<p>Jeannette rose to her feet abruptly and lowered a -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_103">[Pg 103]</span> -hissing gas-jet. Oh, she was unreasonable, silly, ungenerous! -But she couldn’t listen any longer. It -made her sick.</p> - -<h5>§ 5</h5> - -<p>Mr. Abrahms, of Abrahms & Frank,—fur dealers and -repairers of fur garments,—would pay twelve dollars -a week for a first-class “stenog,” who “vood vork -from eight till sigs.” He was very anxious that Jeannette -should accept his offer.</p> - -<p>“I need a goil chust lige you, who c’n tage letters -vot I digtate an’ put ’em into nice English, and be -polide to der customers vot come in ven I am busy,” -he explained.</p> - -<p>It was a cheap little establishment, crowded into the -first floor and basement of an old private dwelling, -now devoted to similar small enterprises. A dressmaker -occupied the second floor, an electrician the -next, and a sign-painter the last and topmost. It was -far from being the kind of employment Jeannette -wanted, but it was the best that had been offered, and -she promised to report on Monday.</p> - -<p>She went dismally home on the “L,” deriving a -bitter satisfaction in picturing to herself what her days -would be like, cooped up in an ill-ventilated back office -with the swarthy, none-too-clean Mr. Abrahms, interviewing -the none-too-clean customers who would be -likely to patronize such a place. Still it was a job and -she was a wage-earner again. There would be some -comfort in announcing the news to Roy and to her -mother and sister.</p> - -<p>She found a message from Roy when she reached -home. It had been brought by the clerk in Bannerman’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_104">[Pg 104]</span> -Drug Store. He had said, Alice repeated for -the hundredth time, that Mr. Beardsley had ’phoned -and asked him to tell Miss Jeannette Sturgis to come -down at once to his office; he had said it was important. -Alice didn’t know anything more than that; there -wasn’t any use asking her questions; the clerk had -just said that, and that was all.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps he’s got a job for me!” Jeannette exclaimed -with a wild hope. “He knows how badly I -want one!”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure I haven’t the faintest idea.” Her sister -turned back to the soapy water in the wash-tub where -she was carefully washing some of her mother’s jabots.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll fly.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette hurried to her room, and jerked the tissue -paper out of her best shirtwaist. Her fingers trembled -as she re-dressed herself; the tiny loops that connected -with small pearl buttons on her cuffs eluded her again -and again until she was almost ready to cry with fury. -She felt sure that Roy had a job for her; he would -have telephoned for no other reason. In thirty minutes -she was aboard the “L” again, rushing downtown.</p> - -<p>As she crossed Union Square the gold sign of the -Chandler B. Corey Company spreading itself imposingly -across the façade of an ancient office building -made her heart beat faster, and her rapid, breathless -walk doubled with her excitement into almost a skip -as she hurried along. Oh, there was good news awaiting -her! She felt it!</p> - -<p>The wheezy elevator bumped and rumbled as it -leisurely ascended. At the fourth floor she stepped -out into a reception room whose walls were covered -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_105">[Pg 105]</span> -with large framed drawings and paintings. There -were some magazines arranged on a center table. The -place smelt of ink and wet paste. A smiling girl rose -from a desk and came toward her.</p> - -<p>“I’ll see if he’s in,” she said in reply to Jeannette’s -query and disappeared.</p> - -<p>Upon an upholstered wicker seat in one corner of -the room an odd-looking woman wearing a huge cart-wheel -hat was talking animatedly to another who -listened with a twisted, sour smile. They were discussing -photographs, and the woman in the cart-wheel -hat was handing them out one by one from a great pile -in her lap. Jeannette was forced to listen.</p> - -<p>“This one is of some monks in a village monastery -in Korea, and this shows some of the Buddhist prayers -for sale in a Japanese shop,—did you ever see such a -number?—and here is a group of our Bible students -at Tientsin,—could you ask for more intelligent faces? ... Wonderful -work.... these men are sacrificing -their lives ... twelve thousand dollars....” The -words trailed off into an impressive whisper.</p> - -<p>Down in the Square the trees were a mass of lovely -golden brown and golden yellow shades. Tiffany’s -windows across the way sparkled with dull silver.</p> - -<p>Roy’s quick step sounded behind her, and Jeannette -turned to meet his grinning, eager face, his smile -stretched to its tightest across his small and even -white teeth.</p> - -<p>“Gee, I’m glad you’ve come, Janny!” he exclaimed -boyishly. “Say, you look dandy!—you look out-of-sight!” -He eyed her delightedly. The woman with -the sour, twisted smile glanced toward them casually. -Jeannette was all cool dignity.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_106">[Pg 106]</span></p> - -<p>“What was it, Roy? ... Why did you send for -me?”</p> - -<p>He continued to smile at her, but at last her serious, -expectant look sobered him.</p> - -<p>“I think I’ve got a job for you!” he said quickly, -dropping his voice. “I only heard about it this morning. -I couldn’t telephone until I went out to lunch. -One of our regular stenographers is sick; she’s very -sick and is not coming back. Mr. Kipps, the business -manager, was explaining why they were short-handed -upstairs and I was right there, so of course I heard -about it. I spoke to Mr. Featherstone about you, and -he sent me to Kipps, and Kipps told me to tell you -to come down, so he could talk to you. I told him what -a wizard you were, and he seemed awfully interested. -I didn’t lose a minute; I telephoned as soon as I went -out to lunch. I had a deuce of a time making that drug -clerk understand.... Gee, you look dandy! ... Gee, -you look swell! ... Gee, I love you!”</p> - -<p>He piloted her a few minutes later into the inner -offices. Jeannette gained a confused impression of -crowded desks and clerks, the iron grilling of a cashier’s -cage, an open safe, a litter of paper, wire baskets -of letters, and stacks of bills. Before she knew it, she -found herself confronting Mr. Kipps, and Roy had -abandoned her. She was aware of a nervous, fidgety -personality, with a thin, hawklike face and long, thin -fingers. He had unkempt hair and mustache, and wore -round, black tortoise-shell glasses through which he -darted quick little glances of appraisement at the girl -who had seated herself at his invitation beside his -desk.</p> - -<p>He fitted his finger-tips neatly together as he questioned -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_107">[Pg 107]</span> -her, lolled back in his swivel armchair, and -swung himself slowly from side to side, kicking the -desk gently with his feet. He asked her to spell -“privilege” and “acknowledgment,” and to tell him -how many degrees there were in a circle. He nodded -with her replies.</p> - -<p>He would give her a trial; she could report in the -morning. He dismissed her with no mention of what -salary she would receive.</p> - -<p>But Jeannette did not care. She was delighted and -in high spirits. This was just the kind of a job she -wanted, just the sort of an atmosphere she longed for; -she felt certain that, whatever they paid her at first, -she would soon make them give her what she was -worth.</p> - -<p>When Roy arrived that evening there was great -hilarity in the Sturgis household. He had never seen -Jeannette in such wild spirits, or found her so affectionate -with him. The coldness he sometimes met in -her, the reserve, the unyieldingness, were all absent -now. He pulled the shabby davenport up before the -fire, and they sat holding hands, watching the dying -fire flicker and flicker and finally flicker out, and when -the light was gone she lay close against him, his arms -about her, and every now and then, as he bent his head -over her, she raised hers to his, and their lips met.</p> - -<h5>§ 6</h5> - -<p>Her desk, with those of the five other stenographers -employed by the publishing company, was located on -the floor above the editorial offices. Here were also -the circulation and mail order departments. Light entered -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_108">[Pg 108]</span> -from three broad front windows but it was far -from sufficient and thirty electric bulbs under green -tin cones suspended by long wire cords burned -throughout the day over the rows of desks and tables -that filled the congested loft. At these were some -hundred girls and women, and half a dozen men. In -the rear, where the daylight failed almost completely -to penetrate, the cones of electric radiance flooded the -dark recesses brilliantly. Old Hodgson, who was in -charge of the outgoing mail, there had his domain, and -it was in this quarter that the lumbering freight elevator -occasionally made its appearance with a bang -and crash of opening iron doors. Toward the front, -near the windows, and separated from the rest by low -railings, were located the desks of Miss Holland and -Mr. Max Oppenheim. The former was a tall, thin-faced -woman with iron-gray hair and a distinguished -voice and manner. Just what her duties were Jeannette -could not guess. She had her own stenographer -and was forever dictating, or going downstairs with -sheaves of letters in her hands for conferences with -Mr. Kipps. Oppenheim was the Circulation Manager. -He was a Jew, intelligent and shrewd, with a pallor so -pronounced it seemed unhealthy, further emphasized -by a thick mop of coal-black glistening hair that swept -straight back without a parting from his smooth white -forehead. Jeannette thought she recognized in him a -type to be avoided; but she never saw anything either -in his manner toward her or the other girls at which -to take exception.</p> - -<p>There was one other individual in the room who had -a department to herself. This was a chubby, bespectacled -lady with an unpronounceable German name who -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_109">[Pg 109]</span> -presided over a huddle of desks and conducted the mail -order department. No one ever seemed to have anything -to say to her, nor did she in her turn appear to -have anything to say to anyone. She plodded on with -her work, unmolested, lost sight of. Sometimes -Jeannette suspected that Mr. Corey and Mr. Kipps and -the other men downstairs had forgotten the woman’s -existence.</p> - -<p>The stenographers with whom she was immediately -and intimately thrown were distinctly of a better class -than the girls who had been her associates in the Soulé -Publishing Company. Miss Foster was red-headed -and given to shouts of infectious mirth, Miss Lopez -was Spanish, pretty and charming, Miss Bixby was a -trifle hoidenish but good-natured, and Miss Pratt was -frankly an old maid for whom life had been obviously -a hard and devastating struggle; there remained Miss -La Farge, who, Jeannette suspected, was not of the -world of decent women; her be-ribboned <i>lingerie</i> was -clearly discernible through her sheer and transparent -shirtwaists, and she was given to rouge, lavish powdering, -and strong scent.</p> - -<p>The first day in her new position was as difficult as -Jeannette anticipated. She knew she gave the impression -of being cold and condescending, but her shyness -would not permit her to unbend. The girls were politely -distant with her at first, but Jeannette was fully -aware that each and every one of them was alive to -her presence, and everything they did and said was -for her benefit.</p> - -<p>She made an early friend of Miss Holland. The tall -woman stopped at her desk in passing, smiled pleasantly -at her and asked if everything was going all -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_110">[Pg 110]</span> -right. Something of quality, of good breeding in the -older woman’s face brought the girl to her feet, and it -was this trifling act of courtesy that won Miss Holland’s -approval and favor, which Jeannette never was -to lose.</p> - -<p>There were plenty of girls scattered among the tables -where the business of folding circulars, addressing -envelopes, and writing cards went on, who were of the -high-heeled, pompadoured, sallow-skinned variety with -which Jeannette was already familiar, but these persons -came and went with the work; few of them were -regular employees.</p> - -<p>When a stenographer was needed in the editorial -department a buzzer sounded upstairs and the girl -next in order answered the summons. Miss Foster -usually took Mr. Corey’s dictation and also that of his -secretary, Mr. Smith, but the other girls went from -Mr. Featherstone to Mr. Kipps to Miss Reubens and -to the rest as they were required.</p> - -<p>Mr. Kipps sent especially for Jeannette on her first -morning. She was nervous and her pencil trembled a -little as she scribbled down her notes. She found his -dictation extremely difficult to take; he hesitated, -paused a long time to think of the word he wanted, -corrected himself, asked her to repeat what he had -said, or to scratch out what she had written and to go -back and read her notes to a point where he could -recommence. But he seemed pleased when she brought -him the finished letters.</p> - -<p>“Very good, Miss Sturgis,—very good indeed,” he -said without enthusiasm, tapping his pursed lips with -the tip of his penholder as he scanned her work.</p> - -<p>She was jubilant. She looked for Roy; she was -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_111">[Pg 111]</span> -eager to tell him what Mr. Kipps had said. But he -was not at his desk as she passed through the advertising -department, nor was he waiting for her—as -she hoped—when five o’clock came and she started -home.</p> - -<p>Well, she was satisfied,—she had gotten just what -she wanted,—she would soon make herself indispensable.... Mr. -Kipps was really a lovely man, although -one would never suspect it from his nervous -manner. She felt a sudden assurance she was going -to be very happy.</p> - -<p>Roy found her again in her sweetest, kindest mood -that evening. They began at once to discuss everyone -in the entire organization of the company from the -President, himself, down to Bertram, the little Jew -office boy, who was inclined to be fresh. The publishing -house had suddenly become their entire world and -everyone in it was either friend or foe.</p> - -<p>“I hope I make good,” sighed Jeannette.</p> - -<p>“Make good?” repeated her lover indignantly. “Of -course, you’ll make good. Don’t <i>I</i> know how good you -are? Why, <i>say</i>, Janny dear, you’ve got that bunch of -girls skinned a mile!”</p> - -<p>It was soon evident to Jeannette that Roy was right. -The next day she made a point of glancing at some of -Miss Foster’s and Miss Lopez’s letters; she noted two -errors in the former’s, and the latter’s were rubbed -and full of erasures; the letters, themselves, were -poorly spaced and the sheets in several instances were -far from being clean. She was genuinely shocked at -such slovenliness. They would not have tolerated it -at the school for a minute! The girls who had been -with her under Beardsley had done better work than -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_112">[Pg 112]</span> -that!.... She paused over the thought and smiled. -It was funny now to think of dear old Roy as the Mr. -Beardsley who had once filled her with such awe and -in fear of whose displeasure she had actually trembled.</p> - -<h5>§ 7</h5> - -<p>Her satisfaction with her new position found utter -completeness when on her first Saturday morning her -pay envelope reached her, and she discovered she was -to receive fifteen dollars a week. It was the last drop -in her felicity. She flung herself into her work with -all the eagerness of an intense young nature. In turn -she took dictation from Mr. Featherstone, Miss -Reubens, Mr. Olmstead, the auditor, and young Mr. -Cavendish, who edited <i>Corey’s Commentary</i>. Everyone -seemed to like her. Miss Reubens, having tried the -new stenographer, thereafter invariably asked for her, -and while this was gratifying in its way, Jeannette -would have willingly foregone the distinction. Miss -Reubens was not a pleasing personality for whom to -work; she referred to Jeannette as “the new girl,” -treated her like a machine, and kept her sitting idly -beside her desk while she sorted papers or carried on -long conversations at the telephone. She was a high-strung, -perpetually agitated person, given to complaining -a great deal, undoubtedly overworked, but -finding consolation in pitying herself and in bemoaning -her hard lot. Jeannette recognized in her the lady -with the twisted, sour mouth who had been inspecting -photographs the day she first came to the office.</p> - -<p>Mr. Olmstead, the auditor, was a tiresome old man, -who teetered on his toes when he talked and tapped his -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_113">[Pg 113]</span> -thumb-nail with the rim of his eye-glasses to emphasize -his words. He took a tedious time over his dictation, -and Jeannette had to shut her lips tightly to keep from -prompting him.</p> - -<p>Mr. Cavendish, on the other hand, was charming. -He was about thirty-three or-four, Jeannette judged, -handsome, with thick, very dark red hair, and a thick, -dark red mustache. He was always very courteous, -and had an ever-ready stock of pleasantries. She was -aware that he admired her, and she could not help -feeling self-conscious in his company. They joked -together mildly and their eyes frequently held one -another’s in amused glances. Of all the people in the -office she liked best to take dictation from him; he -never repeated himself, his sentences were neatly -phrased and to the point, and his choice of words, she -considered, beautiful. That he was unmarried did not -detract from her interest in him. She read some of -the recent back numbers of <i>Corey’s Commentary</i> and -particularly the editorials, and told Roy she admired -them enormously.</p> - -<p>She was far happier in the environment of the editorial -rooms than upstairs where she worked with the -other stenographers in the midst of the bustle, racket -and confusion of the circulation and mail order departments. -She soon discovered she had little in common -with Miss Foster or Miss Bixby; Miss Lopez was a -pretty nonentity; Miss Pratt, an elderly incompetent, -and Miss La Farge, a vulgar-lipped grisette. The girls -realized she looked down on them and clannishly hung -together, to talk about her among themselves. They -were not openly rude, but Jeannette was aware she was -not popular with them.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_114">[Pg 114]</span></p> - -<p>Miss Holland alone on the first floor attracted her. -They smiled at one another whenever their eyes met, -and Jeannette enjoyed the feeling that this faded, -kindly gentlewoman recognized in her a girl of her -own class.</p> - -<h5>§ 8</h5> - -<p>There were a dozen other personalities in the company -that the new stenographer learned to know and -with whom she came more or less into contact. Important -among these was Mr. Corey’s secretary, Mr. -Smith, whom nobody liked. He was suspected of being -a tale-bearer, an informant who tattled inconsequences -to his chief. He was obviously a toady, and treated -everyone in the office, not a member of the firm, with -an air of great condescension. Mrs. Charlotte Inness -of the book department was a regal, gray-haired personage, -with many floating draperies that were ever -trailing magnificently behind her as she came and -went. Miss Travers, who was cooped up all day behind -the wire grilling of the Cashier’s cage, was a -waspish, merry individual, and although sometimes -common, even vulgar, was both friendly and amusing. -Francis Holme and Van Alstyne spent most of their -time on the road visiting book dealers. Van Alstyne -was English and inclined to be patronizing, but Holme -was large-toothed, large-mouthed and big-eared, bluff -and frank, noisy and good-hearted. And there was -also Mr. Cavendish’s assistant, Horatio Stephens, a -tall, rangy young man, with rather a dreamy, detached -air, with whom Roy shared a room at his boarding-house. -Jeannette found him vaguely repellent; there -was something about his long skinny hands and drooping -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_115">[Pg 115]</span> -eyelids that made her creepy. And then there was -Mr. Corey himself.</p> - -<p>Chandler B. Corey was, as Roy had described him, -a man of vivid personality. Although not yet in his -fifties, he had a full head of silky white hair. In sharp -contrast to this were his black bushy eyebrows and his -black mustache which curled gracefully at the ends -and which he had a habit of pulling whenever he was -thinking hard. His skin was pink and clear as a boy’s, -but there was nothing effeminate in his face with its -heavy square jaw. There was a dynamic quality about -him that communicated itself to everyone who came in -contact with him, and yet with all his energy and fire, -Jeannette noted there was an extraordinary gentleness -about him, somewhat suggesting sadness.</p> - -<p>On a day toward the end of her third week, she took -a long and important letter from him. Miss Foster -was struggling with a pile of other work he had already -given her, and Mr. Smith sent Bertram upstairs with -a request for Miss Sturgis to come down.</p> - -<p>She had never been in Mr. Corey’s office before. At -once she was struck with its quality. Compared with -the noisy ruggedness and bare floors outside, it was -quiet, luxurious. Sectional bookcases, filled to overflowing, -and many autographed framed photographs -lined walls that were covered with burlap. There were -one or two large leather armchairs and in the center a -great flat-topped desk heaped with manuscripts and -stacks of clipped papers. A film of dust lay over many -of these, and the scent of cigar smoke was in the air. -Mr. Corey’s silvery head beyond the desk appeared as -a startling blot of white against the background of -warm brown.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_116">[Pg 116]</span></p> - -<p>She was surprised to discover how tersely he dictated. -There was nothing of a literary quality about -his sentences, nothing savoring of the polish of Mr. -Cavendish. He was all business and dispatch. She -felt oddly sorry for him; more than once during the -brief quarter of an hour that she was with him a -great sympathy for him came over her. He seemed -weighed down with responsibilities. A paper mill was -pressing him for money; no funds would be available -for another three months; his letter offered them his -note for ninety days. While he dictated, the telephone -interrupted him; something had gone wrong with the -linotype machines, and the delay would result in <i>The -Wheel of Fortune</i> being two or three days late on the -news-stands. In the midst of this conversation Mr. -Featherstone came in to report that Shreve & Baker -had cancelled their advertisement and had definitely -refused to renew it. An army of annoyances pressed -around on every side.</p> - -<p>She told Roy about it when he came to see her that -night.</p> - -<p>“Oh, C. B.’s a wonder,” he agreed; “he carries that -whole concern on his shoulders, and you can rest assured -there’s nothing goes on down there that he -doesn’t know. They all depend on him.”</p> - -<p>“He seems so over-burdened, and so—so harassed,” -Jeannette said.</p> - -<p>“I guess he’s all of that. You know he’s had an -awful hard time getting a start; the business is just -about able to stand on its own feet now.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think Mr. Smith is much help to him. He -could save him a whole lot if he would.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, <i>that</i> fish! He’s no good. He told C. B. a most -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_117">[Pg 117]</span> -outrageous lie about Mr. Featherstone; there was an -awful row.”</p> - -<p>“Then why doesn’t Mr. Featherstone have him discharged?”</p> - -<p>“Nobody’s got anything to say down there except -Mr. Corey. He owns fifty-one per cent of the stock, I -understand, and if he likes Smith, Smith is going to -stay.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t see how Mr. Corey can put up with him.”</p> - -<p>“How did C. B. like your work?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. Mr. Smith took it when I brought it -downstairs, and carried it in to him. I didn’t hear a -word; but he didn’t send it back to me for anything.”</p> - -<p>“He was pleased all right. You’ve made a hit with -everyone. They’re all crazy about you; Miss Reubens -always wants you; and Cavendish, I notice, seems to -take a special interest in his dictation now.”</p> - -<p>The last was said with an amused scrutiny of her -face.</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t be silly, Roy!”</p> - -<p>“I’m not,” he declared sensibly. “I don’t care if -he admires you. Men are always going to do that. -Holme asked me the other day who the new queen was, -and I was mighty proud to tell him you were my -fiancée. I guess I appreciate the fact that the smartest, -loveliest girl in the world is going to be my wife!”</p> - -<p>“Oh,—don’t!” Jeannette repeated. There was -trouble in her face.</p> - -<h5>§ 9</h5> - -<p>Her days were packed full of interest now. She enjoyed -every moment of the time spent within the -shabby portals of the publishing house. The rest of -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_118">[Pg 118]</span> -the twenty-four hours were given to happy anticipation -of new experiences awaiting her, or in pleasant -retrospect of happenings that marked her advancement. -For it was clear to her she was progressing, -daily tightening her hold upon her job, making the -“big” people like her, bringing herself nearer and -nearer the goal she some day eagerly hoped to reach: -of being indispensable to these delightful, new employers. -To what end this tended, how far it would -carry her, under what circumstances she would achieve -final success she could not surmise. She was conscious -these days only of an intense satisfaction, a delight -in knowing she was steadily, though blindly, attaining -her ambition.</p> - -<p>Often she wished during these early weeks she had a -dozen pairs of hands that she might take everyone’s -dictation and type all the letters that left the office. -She became interested in the subject and purpose of -these letters. Cavendish wrote an urgent note to a -Mr. David Russell Purington, who was a regular contributor -to <i>Corey’s Commentary</i> from Washington, -telling him how extremely important it was, in connection -with a certain article shortly to appear in the -magazine, for him to obtain an exclusive interview on -the subject with the Japanese plenipotentiary at that -time visiting the capital. Miss Reubens fretted and -murmured complainingly as she worded a communication -to Lester Short, the author, explaining that it was -impossible for <i>The Wheel of Fortune</i> to pay the price -he asked for his story, <i>The Broken Jade</i>. Mr. Kipps, -through her, informed the Typographical Union, -Number 63, that under no conditions would the Chandler -B. Corey Company reëmploy Timothy Conboy -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_119">[Pg 119]</span> -and that if the union persisted, the Publishing Company -was prepared to declare for an open shop. -Mrs. Inness confided to her hand an enthusiastic memorandum -to Mr. Corey urging him to accept and publish -at once a novel called <i>The Honorable Estate</i> by -a new writer, Homer Deering, which she declared was -of the most sensational nature.</p> - -<p>But after typing these letters and memorandums -Jeannette heard nothing more of them. She wanted to -know whether or not Mr. David Russell Purington -succeeded in obtaining the much desired interview, -what Lester Short decided to do about the seventy-five -dollars Miss Reubens offered, how the Typographical -Union, Number 63, replied to Mr. Kipps’ ultimatum, -and if Mr. Corey accepted Homer Deering’s significant -manuscript. Her curiosity was seldom gratified; she -hardly ever saw the replies to the letters she had typed -with such interest. Miss Foster, Miss Lopez, Miss -Pratt, Miss Bixby or Miss La Farge continued the correspondence. -Often she would see a letter unwinding -itself from a neighboring machine at the top of which -she would recognize a familiar name, but she had no -time to read further, and there was a certain restraint -observed among the girls about overlooking one another’s -work. Jeannette realized she was merely a -small cog in a machine and that her prejudices, enthusiasms, -her interest and opinion were of small consequence -to anyone.</p> - -<p>She rose early in the morning, sometimes at five, and -her mother would hear her thumping and pounding -with an iron in the kitchen as she pressed a shirtwaist -to wear fresh to the office, or clitter-clattering in the -bathroom as she polished her shoes or washed stockings. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_120">[Pg 120]</span> -Her costume was invariably neat and smart, -but she dressed soberly, with knowing effectiveness -for her working day. Her mother, yawning sleepily or -frowning in mild distress, would find her getting her -own breakfast at seven.</p> - -<p>“Why, dearie,” she would plaintively remonstrate, -“whatever do you want to bother with the stove for? -I’m going to get your breakfast; you leave that to -me.... I don’t see,” she might add querulously, -“why you have to get up at such unearthly hours.”</p> - -<p>Alice would shortly make her appearance, and with -wrappers trailing, slippers clapping and shuffling about -the kitchen, her mother and sister would complete the -simple preparations for her morning meal, and set -about getting their own. About the time they had -borne in the smoking granite coffee-pot again to the -dining-room, and had hunched up their chairs to the -table, Jeannette would be ready to leave the house. -When she came to kiss them good-bye, she would always -find them there, her mother’s cheek soft and -warm, Alice’s firm, hard face, cool and smelling faintly -of soap. She would seem so vigorously alive as she -left them, so confident and capable. There was always -a tremendous satisfaction in feeling well-dressed, well-prepared -and early-started for her day’s work. As she -left the house, and filled her lungs with the first breath -of sharp morning air, there would come a tug of -excitement at the prospect of the hours ahead. She -loved the trip downtown on the bumping, whirring -elevated; she loved the close contact with fellow-passengers, -wage-earners like herself; she loved the -brisk walk along Seventeenth Street and across the -leaf-strewn square, where she faced the tide of clerks -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_121">[Pg 121]</span> -and office workers that poured steadily out of the -Ghetto and lower East Side, and set itself toward the -great tall buildings of lower Fifth Avenue and Broadway, -and she loved the first glimpse of the gold sign of -the Chandler B. Corey Company, with the feeling that -she belonged there and was one of its employees.</p> - -<p>She would be at her desk half to three-quarters of -an hour ahead of the other girls. There would usually -be work left over from the previous day. She liked -settling herself for the busy hours to come when no -one was around and she could do so with comfort.</p> - -<p>She would hardly be conscious of the other girls’ -arrival, and would often greet them with a smiling -good-morning, or answer their questions with no recollection -afterwards of having done so.</p> - -<p>The whirlwind of office demands and the tide of -work would soon be about her. Miss Reubens wanted -her, Mr. Kipps rang for a stenographer, Mr. Featherstone -had an important letter to get off before he went -out. Would Miss Sturgis look up that letter to the -Glenarsdale Agency? Would Miss Sturgis come down -when she was free? Mr. Cavendish had an article he -wanted copied as soon as possible. Miss Bixby was -busy, Miss Foster was busy, Miss Lopez, Miss Pratt, -Miss La Farge were busy; Miss Sturgis was busiest -of all. She thrilled to the rush and fury of her days. -There was never a let-up, never a lull; there was -always more and more work piling up.</p> - -<p>At noon, at twelve-thirty, at one,—whenever she -was free for a moment about that time,—she would -slip out for her lunch. She had learned she must eat,—eat -something, no matter how little, in the middle of the -day. She still patronized the soda and candy counter -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_122">[Pg 122]</span> -in the big rotunda of Siegel-Cooper’s mammoth department -store for her china cup of coffee and two -saltine crackers. Sometimes she spent another nickel -for a bag of peanut brittle. Somewhere she had read -that the sugar in the candy and the starch in the peanuts -contained a high percentage of nutritious value. -She nibbled out of the bag on her way back to the office.</p> - -<p>She would be gone hardly more than half the hour -she was allowed for luncheon. Between one and three -in the afternoon was the time she was least interrupted, -and in this interval her fingers flew, and letter after -letter,—slipped beneath its properly addressed envelope,—would -steadily augment the pile in the wire -basket that stood beside her machine. She rejoiced -when it grew so tall, the stack was in danger of falling -out.</p> - -<p>In the late afternoon came the rush and the most -exacting demands. Miss Reubens had a letter that -must go off that night without fail; Mr. Featherstone -had just returned from a conference with a big advertiser -and wanted a record of the agreement typed -at once; Mr. Kipps had a communication to be instantly -dispatched; Mr. Corey needed a stenographer. -The girls were all busy; they had too much to do already; -they could not finish half the letters that had -been given them. Well, how about Miss Sturgis? -Could Miss Sturgis manage to get out just one more? -It was <i>so</i> important. Yes, Miss Sturgis could,—of -course she could; it might be late, but if the writer -would remain to sign it, she’d manage to finish it somehow.</p> - -<p>“You’re a fool,” Miss Bixby said to her one day -sourly. “Nobody’s going to thank you for it; you -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_123">[Pg 123]</span> -don’t get paid a cent more; I don’t see why you want -to make a beast-of-burden out of yourself. They just -use you like a sponge in this office; squeeze every ounce -of strength out of you, and then throw you away. -Look at Linda Harris!”</p> - -<p>Linda Harris was the girl who had sickened, and -whose place Jeannette now filled.</p> - -<p>Perhaps Miss Bixby was right, Jeannette would say -to herself, riding home after six and sometimes after -seven o’clock on the lurching train, tired to the point -where her muscles ached and her sight was blurred. -But there was something in her that rose vigorously -to this battle of work, that made her reach down and -ever deeper down inside herself for new strength and -new capacity.</p> - -<h5>§ 10</h5> - -<p>Wearily, her hand dragging on the stair rail, she -would pull herself step by step up the long flights to -the top floor. Tired though she might be, her mind -would still be buzzing with the events of the day: Mr. -Cavendish’s letter to Senator Slocum,—had she remembered -the enclosures? Mr. Kipps had been short -with her, or so he had seemed; perhaps he had been -only vexed at the end of a long day of worry. Mr. -Corey’s smile at a comment she had ventured was consoling. -Then there was that friction between Miss -Reubens and Mrs. Inness; they had had some sharp -words; she wondered which one of them eventually -would triumph. Mrs. Inness, of course.... And -little Miss Maria Lopez had confided to her in the -wash-room she was going to be married!</p> - -<p>“Hello, dearie! ... Home again?” Jeannette’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_124">[Pg 124]</span> -mother would call to her cheerfully as she pushed open -the door. Alice would turn her head with a “’Lo, -Sis”; she would kiss them dutifully, perfunctorily. -The kitchen would be hot and steamy; the smell of -food would make her feel giddy, perhaps faint. She -would be ravenously hungry. She would go to her -dark little bedroom, light the gas, remove her hat, -blouse, and skirt and stretch herself gratefully on her -bed.... Would Mrs. Inness go to Mr. Corey about -her difference with Miss Reubens? ... Miss Holland -had had a conference with Mr. Kipps all afternoon; -what could it be about? ... Would Bertram be discharged -for losing that manuscript? ... Mr. Van -Alstyne had certainly been unnecessarily curt; she -cordially disliked him.... And Mr. Smith had most -assuredly not given her Mr. Corey’s message; why, -she remembered distinctly....</p> - -<p>“Dinner, dearie.” She would drag herself to her -feet, rub her face briskly with a wet wash-rag, and in -her wrapper join her mother and sister at table.</p> - -<p>“Well, tell us how everything went to-day,” Mrs. -Sturgis would say, busy with plates and serving spoon.</p> - -<p>“Oh,—’bout the same as usual,” Jeannette would -sigh. “Bertram, the office boy, lost a manuscript to-day. -It was terribly important. We were awfully -busy upstairs, and Mrs. Inness sent the book out to be -typed, and he left the package somewheres,—on the -street car, he thinks. Mr. Kipps will probably fire -him; he deserves it; he’s awfully fresh.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t say,” Mrs. Sturgis would murmur abstractedly. -“Drink your tea, dearie, before it gets -cold.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_125">[Pg 125]</span></p> - -<p>Jeannette dutifully sipping the hot brew would consider -how to tell them of the trouble between Mrs. -Inness and Miss Reubens.</p> - -<p>“Miss Reubens,—you know, Mother,—is the editor -of <i>The Wheel of Fortune</i>, and Mrs. Charlotte Inness -runs our book department. They dislike each other -cordially and I just know some day there’s going to be -a dreadful row——”</p> - -<p>“Alice, dearie,—get Mother another tea-cup,” Mrs. -Sturgis might interrupt, her eye on her older daughter’s -face to show she was attending. “And while -you’re up, you might glance in the oven.... Yes, -dearie?” she would say encouragingly to Jeannette.</p> - -<p>The girl would recommence her story, but she could -see it was impossible to arouse their interest. Their -attention wandered; they knew none of the people in -the office; it was no concern of theirs what happened -to them.</p> - -<p>“Kratzmer had the effrontery to charge me thirty -cents for a can of peaches to-day,” Mrs. Sturgis would -remark. “I just told him they were selling for twenty-five -on the next block and I wouldn’t pay it, and he -said to me I could take my trade anywhere I chose, -and I told him that that was no way to conduct his -business, and he as much as told me that it was his -business and he intended to run it the way he liked! -I wouldn’t stand for such impudence, and I just gave -him a piece of my mind.” An indignant finger tossing -an imaginary ruffle at her throat suggested what had -been the little woman’s agitated manner.</p> - -<p>“Kratzmer’s awfully obliging,” Alice commented -mildly.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_126">[Pg 126]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, perhaps,—but the idea!”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Corey was unusually nice to me to-day,” Jeannette -remarked.</p> - -<p>Her mother would smile and nod encouragingly, but -her eyes would be inspecting her daughters’ plates, -considering another helping or whether it was time for -dessert.</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t match my braid,” Alice would murmur -in a disconsolate tone. “I went to the Woman’s -Bazaar and to Miss Blake’s and they had nothing like -it. I suppose I’ll have to go downtown to Macy’s. Do -you remember, Mother, where you got the first piece?”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t, dearie,” her mother would reply -slowly. “Perhaps it was O’Neill & Adams.... How -much do you need?”</p> - -<p>“About three yards. I could manage with two. Do -you suppose you’d have time to-morrow, Janny, to -try at Macy’s?”</p> - -<p>“Maybe; I can’t promise. You have no idea how -rushed we are sometimes.”</p> - -<p>“You know I’ve a good mind to try Meyer’s place -over on Amsterdam; it always seems so clean. Kratzmer’s -getting too independent.”</p> - -<p>“Kratzmer knows us, Mama, and sometimes it’s -awfully convenient to charge.”</p> - -<p>“I know. That’s perfectly true. But the idea of -his talking to me that way!”</p> - -<p>“They might have it at Siegel-Cooper’s. You could -ask there to-morrow. It would only take you five -minutes. I hate to go all the way downtown, and -there’s the carfare.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve traded with Kratzmer ever since he moved -into the block. I guess he forgets I’ve been a resident -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_127">[Pg 127]</span> -in this neighborhood for nearly thirteen years. He -shouldn’t treat me like a casual customer; it’s not -right and proper.”</p> - -<p>“It would be the greatest help if I could get it -to-morrow. I’m absolutely at a standstill on that dress -until I have it. Siegel’s sure to keep a big stock. I’ll -give you a sample.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve always liked the look of things at Meyer’s. -All the Jewesses go there and they always know where -to get the best things to eat,—but I suppose he <i>is</i> more -expensive.”</p> - -<p>“It oughtn’t to cost more than twenty cents a yard. -Do you remember what you paid for it, Mama?”</p> - -<p>“Dearie,—it’s so long ago; I’m sorry.... I’d rather -hate to break with Kratzmer after all these years. -You can’t help but make friends with the trades-people. -Do you think Meyer’s would really be more high-priced, -Janny?”</p> - -<p>Jeannette would shrug her shoulders and carefully -fold her napkin. They were dears,—she loved them -best of all the world,—but they seemed so small and -petty with their trifling concerns: matching braids and -disagreeing with trades-people.</p> - -<p>The dinner dishes would be cleared away. Jeannette -would brush the cloth, put away the salt and pepper -shakers, the napkins, and unused cutlery; then she -would carefully fold the tablecloth in its original -creases, replace it with the square of chenille curtaining, -and climb on a chair to fit the brass hook of the -drop-light over the gas-jet above.</p> - -<p>Roy would arrive at eight,—he was always there -promptly,—and she would have a bare twenty minutes -to get ready. She would hear her mother and sister -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_128">[Pg 128]</span> -scraping and rattling in the kitchen as she dressed, -water hissing into the sink, the bang of the tin dishpan, -their voices murmuring.</p> - -<p>She would be glad when her lover came. A flood of -questions, surmises, hazarded opinions about office -affairs, poured from her then. She was free at last to -talk as she liked about what absorbed her so much; -she had an audience that would listen eagerly and attentively -to everything. What <i>would</i> Mr. Kipps do -about Bertram, and if the manuscript was really lost, -what <i>would</i> Mrs. Inness do about it? ... Did he hear -anything about the row between Mrs. Inness and Miss -Reubens? Well,—she’d tell him, only she wanted first -to ask his advice about whether she should go to Mr. -Corey and simply tell him that Smith had certainly -<i>never</i> given her his message?</p> - -<p>Roy would meet this eager gossip with news of his -own. Mr. Featherstone had given Walt Chase an -awful call-down for promising a preferred position -he had no right to, and Stubbs was starting on a trip -to Chicago and St. Louis. There was talk of putting -Francis Holme in charge of the Book Sales Department, -and Roy hoped he’d get it instead of Van Alstyne. -And what did Jeannette think the chances -would be of Horatio Stephens getting Miss Reuben’s -job if Miss Reubens quit on account of Mrs. Inness?</p> - -<p>Roy would tire eventually of this shop talk. He -longed to reach the love-making stage of the evening; -he was eager to tell her how much he adored her, and -to have her confess she cared for him in return; he -liked to have her nestle close against him, his arms -about her, to hold her to him and have her raise her -lips to his each time he bent over her. But Jeannette -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_129">[Pg 129]</span> -grew less and less inclined these days to surrender herself -to these embraces. Each time Roy mentioned love, -she would tell him not to be silly, and would speak of -another office affair. It distressed her lover; he would -fidget unhappily, not quite understanding how she -eluded him. Again and again he would return to the -question of their marriage. Did Jeannette think -March would be a good month? It was three months -off. Yes, March would be all right, but did he suppose -Miss Reubens was really overworked? Roy didn’t -know whether she was or not; she complained a good -deal, he admitted. But now about where they were to -live; he had heard of a little house in Flatbush that -could be rented for twenty dollars a month. How did -she feel about living in Brooklyn?</p> - -<p>But marriage did not interest her for the present; -she was too much absorbed in the affairs of the publishing -company. Weddings could wait; hers could, -anyhow. Just now she wanted Roy to help her guess -the salaries of everyone in the office.</p> - -<p>And when, as ten and ten-thirty and eleven o’clock -approached, Roy, conscious of the passing minutes, -would press his love-making to a point where Jeannette -could no longer divert him, she would send him -home. She would suddenly remember she had her -stockings to wash out, or gloves to clean before she -went to bed. She would realize at the moment, how -dreadfully tired she was, and the morrow always -presented a difficult day.</p> - -<p>“You must go now, Roy,” she would say. “You -simply <i>must</i> go. I’m dead and I’ve got to get some -sleep. Please say good-night.”</p> - -<p>“Not until you kiss me,” he would insist.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_130">[Pg 130]</span></p> - -<p>“... There. Now go.”</p> - -<p>“But tell me first you love me?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, <i>Roy</i>!”</p> - -<p>“No,—you must tell me.”</p> - -<p>“Why, of course; you know I do.”</p> - -<p>“Lots?”</p> - -<p>“Yes—yes.”</p> - -<p>“And you’ll marry me?”</p> - -<p>“Surely.”</p> - -<p>“When?”</p> - -<p>“Now, Roy, you <i>must</i> go. I tell you I’m dropping, -I’m so tired.”</p> - -<p>“But tell me when you’ll marry me?”</p> - -<p>“Well,—whenever we’re ready.”</p> - -<p>“You darling! Kiss me again.”</p> - -<p>“Roy!”</p> - -<p>“Kiss me.... Oh, kiss me <i>good</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Good-night!”</p> - -<p>“Good-night.... You darling!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_131">[Pg 131]</span></p> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I_V">CHAPTER V</h4> -</div> - -<h5>§ 1</h5> - -<p>Roy wanted to be married; he wanted Jeannette to -set the date; he wanted her to make up her mind where -she preferred to live, and to start making plans accordingly. -Just before Christmas his salary was raised -five dollars a week and the last barrier—for him—to -the wedding was removed. There was nothing to -prevent their being married at once. Everyone agreed, -even Jeannette herself, that a hundred dollars a month -would be sufficient for their needs the first year. -With a mysterious air, Mrs. Sturgis hinted at responsibilities -that might come to them, but Roy’s salary -would undoubtedly be raised more than once by that -time. She liked her daughter’s promised husband; -he had such an honest, clean face, his eyes were so -clear and blue. He made her think of her Ralph. She -felt she could with safety entrust Jeannette’s happiness -to him. Alice was frankly a warm admirer of -her prospective brother-in-law. She agreed with -everything he said and always sided with him in an -argument. Mother, sister and future husband shared -the opinion that the marriage must soon take place; -there was no sense in Jeannette’s wearing herself to -death down there at that office; she took it all too seriously; -she was undermining her health.</p> - -<p>Jeannette, with vague misgivings, agreed. It was -too bad; she liked the business life so much. But marriage -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_132">[Pg 132]</span> -was the thing; she must make up her mind to be -married and settle down in a little house with Roy -over in Brooklyn,—presumably. She thought of the -dish-washing, bed-making, carpet-sweeping, cooking, -and shuddered. She hated domesticity. Alice would -have loved it; but she was different from Alice.</p> - -<p>Roy? ... Oh, she loved Roy, she guessed, but not -with the fluttering pulse and quickened breath he had -once occasioned. She liked him; he was sweet and -companionable. Sometimes she felt very motherly -toward him, liked to brush his stuck-up hair and rest -her cheek against his. She could see herself happy -with him, knowing she would always dominate him -and he was disarmingly amiable. Sometimes she -thought about babies. She wouldn’t mind having -them. She had always imagined she would like one -some day, to dandle about and cuddle close to her. -Roy was sure to be a sweet-tempered father. But she -sighed when she thought of the office, the progress she -was making there, her popularity, and particularly the -five dollars a week that was her own to spend just as -she pleased. She loved that five dollars; once she -touched the soft greenback to her lips.</p> - -<p>She agreed to be married on the second of April.</p> - -<h5>§ 2</h5> - -<p>It was shortly after the beginning of the new year -that the news went around the office that Mr. Smith -was going;—fired, everyone decided. No one knew -how the rumor got about, but there was universal and -secret rejoicing. It was whispered that, as Mr. Corey’s -secretary, he had been indiscreet.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_133">[Pg 133]</span></p> - -<p>There were to be other changes in the office. Miss -Travers was to take Smith’s place, Mr. Holme was to -be put in complete charge of the Book Sales department, -Van Alstyne was leaving, and Miss Holland was -to go downstairs to assist Mr. Kipps.</p> - -<p>Jeannette, excited by these readjustments, surmised -that her own news of resignation would create its particular -stir. How interested everyone would be to -learn that she and Roy Beardsley of the Advertising -Department were to be married! There would be a lot -of rejoicing and good wishes. The office would consider -it a happy match. Her going would be regretted,—she -knew that she was valued,—but all would be glad -nevertheless that she and young Beardsley were going -to be man and wife. An ideal couple!—Happy romance!—Miss -Sturgis and Mr. Beardsley! How delightful! -Well—well!</p> - -<p>If everyone was sure to think so well of her marriage, -why should she have any doubts about it?</p> - -<p>She was pondering on this, one day, while mechanically -folding her letters and putting them into their -proper envelopes, when there came a summons from -Mr. Corey. She found him idly thumbing the pages of -an advance dummy of one of the magazines. When -she had seated herself and flapped back her note-book -for his dictation, he asked her without preamble how -she would like the idea of being his secretary. He -elaborated upon what he should expect of her: there -would be plenty of hard work, long hours sometimes, -she might have to come back occasionally in the evenings, -and there must be no gossiping with other employees -of the company or outside of the office.</p> - -<p>“What goes on in here, what you learn from my letters -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_134">[Pg 134]</span> -or see from my correspondence, what you come to -know of my business or private life, must be kept -strictly to yourself. Nothing must be repeated,—not -even what may seem to you a trivial, insignificant fact. -I wish to have no secrets from my secretary, and I do -not wish my affairs discussed with anyone, not even -with members of the firm, such as Mr. Kipps, or Mr. -Featherstone. Understand? Miss Holland thinks -you’re qualified to fill the position,—recommends you -warmly,—and Mr. Kipps has a good word for you. -Personally I have a feeling you will do very well, and -that I can trust you. If you think you can do the work, -we will start you at twenty-five a week.... What do -you say?”</p> - -<p>Jeannette’s throat went dry, her temples throbbed, -her face burned. Visions swift, tormenting, rose before -her: she saw Roy, her mother, sister!—she saw -herself a bride, a wife, with hair hanging about her -face, bending over a steaming pan full of dirty dishes; -she saw herself sitting where Mr. Smith had sat, moving -about the office, respected, looked up to, feared and -conciliated. She thought of the number of times she -had said that Smith was of small help to his chief, and -the number of times, in her secret soul, she had pictured -herself in some such post as his, helping, protecting, -serving as she knew she could help, protect and -serve. She gazed at the kind face with its crown of silvery -white, and into the dark eyes studying her, as she -felt rising up strong within her the consciousness of -how she could work for this man, and be to him all he -could ever expect in a secretary. The sadness that surrounded -him, the big fight he was waging to make his -business a success touched her imagination. She -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_135">[Pg 135]</span> -sensed his need of her,—his great need of her,—and -she saw in the dim future how dependent he would -grow to be on her. She would have a part in his struggle; -she could help him achieve his ambition as he -could help her achieve hers. Suddenly Roy’s stricken -face interposed again. Rebellion rose passionately! ... But -it was too late. She was going to be married; -she was going to be Roy’s wife.... Yet how desperately -she longed to be this big man’s secretary! She -thought of the sensation the promotion would cause, -how it would stagger Miss Foster, Miss Bixby, the -other girls,—how it would impress her mother, Alice, -—<i>Roy</i>!</p> - -<p>Her strained, hard expression brought a puzzled -look to her employer’s face. She tried to speak; her -lips only moved soundlessly.</p> - -<p>“Well, well,—you don’t have to make up your mind -at once,” Mr. Corey said. “Suppose you try it for a -month or two. I don’t think you’ll find it as hard as -you anticipate. I am away for some months every -year,—I go abroad in the spring,—and while that does -not mean a vacation for you, the work is naturally -easier. I would greatly appreciate loyalty and conscientiousness. -I think you have just the qualities. -Try it, as I suggest, until, say the first of March, and -then we’ll see how we get along together and whether -you think the work too hard.”</p> - -<p>She could not bring herself to tell him she was going -to be married, that she was thinking of resigning in a -few weeks; she could not dash from his hand the cup, -brimming with all her ambitions realized, which he -held out to her so persuasively. No,—not just yet. -He suggested she try the position until the first of -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_136">[Pg 136]</span> -March. There was nothing to hinder her from doing -that! The glory would be hers, even if she were to -enjoy it but for six weeks. She would be “Mr. -Corey’s secretary” before the office; everyone would -know of it, her mother, Alice, Roy,—all of them would -see how she had succeeded. On the first of March,—went -her swift mind,—she could talk it over with Mr. -Corey, tell him the work was beyond her strength, that -she didn’t like it,—or that she was going to be married! -It wouldn’t matter then.</p> - -<p>“Well,—what do you say?” Mr. Corey leaned forward -slightly, his shrewd eyes watching her.</p> - -<p>She swallowed hard, and met his steady gaze.</p> - -<p>“Yes,—I’ll try it. I—I think I can do it.”</p> - -<p>“Good. Then we’ll start in to-morrow. Mr. Smith -leaves us Saturday. He can show you about my private -filing system and some of the ropes before he -goes.”</p> - -<h5>§ 3</h5> - -<p>Quietly she told the news to her mother and sister -that evening. At once there was a hubbub; they were -lavish with kisses, hugs and congratulations. Alice, -clapping palms, exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“That will give you seventy-five—ninety dollars -more to spend on your trousseau! ... Oh, what will -you <i>do</i> with it, Janny?”</p> - -<p>“It’s more than Roy gets,” Mrs. Sturgis commented -proudly with an elegant gesture of her hand.</p> - -<p>“No, he was raised just before Christmas.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s as much anyway. Think of it: twenty-five -dollars a week! ... For a <i>girl</i>! ... Why, your -father never earned much more!”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_137">[Pg 137]</span></p> - -<p>Roy was delighted, too.</p> - -<p>“By golly!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “I told -you, didn’t I? I guess I can tell a good stenographer -when I see one. You were worrying—remember?—when -you first went down there whether you were -going to make good or not.... Well,—<i>say</i>,—isn’t -that great! ... I guess I’ve got a pretty smart girl -picked out for a wife; hey, old darling? You’re just a -wonder, Janny! You can do anything. I wish I -was good enough for you, that’s all.... Poor old -C. B.! He’ll be disappointed as the deuce when you -quit!”</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, within the next few days Roy wondered -if he altogether liked the change in Jeannette’s -status. Her manner towards him became different. -She no longer would gossip about office matters, and -during business hours she treated him with cold formality. -There had always been a pleased light in her -eyes at a chance encounter with him and sometimes he -would find a little note on his desk she had left there. -But now she held him at a distance rather pompously, -he thought. She answered “I don’t know,” or “Mr. -Corey didn’t say,” when he asked some casual question -about business. She had become close-mouthed, and -gave herself an air as she went about her work.</p> - -<p>“I can’t act differently towards you than I do -towards anybody else,” she said in her defence when -he complained. “Don’t you see, Roy, I’ve got to be a -kind of machine now. I’ve got to treat everybody -alike. Mr. Corey wouldn’t like it if he thought I was -intimate with you.”</p> - -<p>“But we’re <i>engaged to be married</i>!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, of course,—but he doesn’t know it. And I -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_138">[Pg 138]</span> -want to make good, even if it’s only for a few weeks. -You understand, don’t you, Roy?”</p> - -<p>Perhaps he did, perhaps he didn’t. Jeannette did -not concern herself. She was absorbed in adequately -filling this coveted job which satisfied her heart and -soul and brain.</p> - -<p>The hour of triumph when the news went abroad of -her promotion was as gratifying as she could possibly -have wished. The girls crowded about her, congratulating -her, wringing her hands; Miss Foster impulsively -kissed her. Jeannette knew they envied her; she -knew that, for the time being, they even hated her; but -their assumed pleasure in her good fortune was none-the-less -agreeable. Miss Reubens complained sourly -that the general office had lost its only efficient stenographer; -Mr. Cavendish charmingly expressed his personal -satisfaction in her advancement and gave her -hand a warm pressure of friendliness; Mr. Kipps and -Mr. Featherstone both complimented her with hearty -enthusiasm. Jeannette was not cynical but she believed -she put a proper value on these felicitations,—particularly -those of these last two gentlemen. Mr. Corey -was indeed the dominant power behind them all; their -destinies lay largely in his hands, and she was now -the go-between, the avenue of approach between the -underlings and leader. As they had feared and disliked -Smith, so they would fear and perhaps dislike her. -She hoped they would learn to like her in time, but it -was natural they should feel a great respect for President -Corey’s secretary, and be anxious to gain her -favor, hoping that to each of them she might prove a -“friend at court.” Still they were not wholly insincere. -Miss Holland, Jeannette felt, was genuinely -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_139">[Pg 139]</span> -pleased. The older woman held both her hands and -told her how happy the news had made her; her eyes -shone with the light of real pleasure. The girl felt -her to be indeed a friend.</p> - -<p>Jeannette took her new work with the utmost seriousness. -She determined at the outset to treat everyone -in the office with absolute impartiality, to carry -whatever anybody entrusted to her to the President’s -attention with an equal measure of fidelity, to see to it -that Mr. Kipps or Horatio Stephens would fare the -same at her hands. She planned to execute her secretarial -duties automatically, disinterestedly, with the impersonal -functioning of a machine.</p> - -<p>But she discovered the futility of this scheme of -conduct within the first few days. Miss Reubens -wished to speak to Mr. Corey. Was Mr. Corey busy? -Would Miss Sturgis be so good as to tell her when -she might see him for a few minutes? Jeannette knew, -as it happened, what Miss Reubens wished to interview -Mr. Corey about; Miss Reubens had already discussed -it with him, and he had already advised her. It -would be merely adding to his troubled day to go over -the matter again; nothing more would be accomplished. -Besides, Jeannette knew Miss Reubens bored Mr. -Corey just as she bored everybody else. The interview -did not take place.</p> - -<p>Again, Mr. Cavendish had promised a check to a -distinguished contributor to <i>Corey’s Commentary</i>; he -had assured the author-statesman it would be in the -mail that afternoon without fail; would Miss Sturgis -manage to get Mr. Corey to sign it at once? Miss -Sturgis could and did, but a check to an engraving -company, which Mr. Olmstead wished to be sent the -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_140">[Pg 140]</span> -same day, waited until next morning for the hour -which Mr. Corey set apart for check-signing.</p> - -<p>Her first concern was for Mr. Corey himself. She -had guessed he was harassed and harried, but had no -idea how greatly harassed and harried until she came -to work at close quarters with him. He had tremendous -capacity, was an indefatigable worker, but she -had not observed his methods a week before she noted -he did far too much that was unnecessary. Insignificant -things engaged and held his attention; he frittered -away his time upon trivialities. She set herself -to save him what she could and began by keeping the -office force from troubling him. Mr. Corey had a -delightful personality, was a charming and stimulating -talker, a most pleasing companion; his secretary understood -quite clearly why every member of the staff -liked to sit in an easy chair in his office and spend -half-an-hour with him, chatting about details. He was -too ready to squander his precious moments on anyone -who came to him. It was difficult to sidetrack these -time-wasters but in some measure she succeeded. -Memorandums that came addressed to him, she dared -answer herself; she even went so far as to lift papers -from his desk and return them whence they came with -a typed note attached: “Mr. Corey thinks you had -better handle this. J. S.” Her daring frightened her -sometimes. It was inevitable she should run into -difficulties.</p> - -<p>One afternoon the “buzzer” at her desk summoned -her; it sounded more peremptory than usual.</p> - -<p>“Miss Sturgis,” Mr. Corey addressed her, “Mr. -Kipps left some information about our insurance on -my desk a day or two ago; have you seen it?”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_141">[Pg 141]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, I returned it to him early this morning -and suggested that he take care of the matter for -you.” As she spoke she felt the color rushing to her -face.</p> - -<p>Corey’s black brows came together in an annoyed -frown. He cleared his throat with a little impatient -cough, and jerked at his mustache.</p> - -<p>“I wish, Miss Sturgis,—I wish you would not be -quite so officious.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette squared herself to the criticism, and stood -very erect, returning his look.</p> - -<p>“I thought Mr. Kipps could take care of the matter, -without bothering you further,” she said, beginning -to tremble.</p> - -<p>There was silence in the room. The girl’s defiant -figure, tall and straight, confronted the man at the -desk, and the dark frown that bore down upon her. -She was very beautiful as she stood there, with the -warm color tinging her olive-hued cheeks, her eyes -clear and unwavering, her head flung back, her small -hands shut, resolute, unflinching. Perhaps Corey saw -it, perhaps it occurred to him that she showed a fine -courage, bearding him in this fashion, facing him -with such spirit, acknowledging her high-handedness -yet defending it. As he considered the matter, it came -to him that she was right. Kipps was perfectly capable -of taking care of this insurance business himself.</p> - -<p>What was passing in the man’s mind the girl never -knew. Slowly she saw the scowl drift away, the stern -face relax. He swung his chair toward the window -and contemplated the horizon. The sun was setting -over the Jersey shore, and the glow of a red sky was -reflected on his face.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_142">[Pg 142]</span></p> - -<p>“Very well,” he said at last. It was ungracious, it -was curt, but there was nothing more. There was no -dismissal. The girl waited a few minutes longer, then -turned and quitted the room.</p> - -<p>There were errors—serious errors—for which she -was accountable. She incorrectly addressed envelopes -in the hurry of dispatching them, she mixed letters and -sent them to the wrong people, she mislaid certain correspondence -that upset the whole office, and she kept -the great Zeit Heitmüller, painter and sculptor,—of -whom she had never heard,—waiting for more than an -hour in the reception room, though Mr. Corey had -begged him to call. Mr. Featherstone criticized her -sharply when she neglected sending off some advertising -copy after Mr. Corey had O.K.’d it, and she was -aware that Mr. Olmstead complained of her in great -annoyance when she returned to him an inventory he -had prepared after it had lain four days on Mr. -Corey’s desk. At times she felt herself an absolute -failure, and at others knew she was steadily gaining -ground in the confidence and regard of the man she -served. There were hard days, days when everything -went wrong, when everybody was cross, when it was -close and suffocating in the office, and whatever one -touched felt gritty with the grime of the dusty wind -that swept the streets. There were days when Corey -was short and critical, when whatever Jeannette did, -seemed to irritate him. A dozen times during a morning -or afternoon she might be near to tears and would -rehearse in her mind the words in which she would -tell him that since she could not do the work to satisfy -him, he had better find someone else to take her place. -There were other days when he chatted with her -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_143">[Pg 143]</span> -in the merriest of moods, asked how she was getting -along, inquired about herself and her family, looked up -smilingly when she stood before his desk to interrupt -him, and thanked her for having protected him from -some trifling annoyance.</p> - -<p>Her heart swelled with pride and satisfaction the -first Saturday she tore off a narrow strip from the -neat, fat little envelope Miss Travers handed her, and -found folded therein two ten-and one five-dollar bills. -Twenty-five dollars a week! She rolled the words -under her tongue; she liked to hear herself whisper it. -“Twenty-five dollars a week!” There were hundreds -and hundreds of men who didn’t earn so much, and a -vastly larger number of women!</p> - -<p>Her mother, warmly seconded by Alice, refused to -allow her to contribute more than ten dollars toward -the household expenses. She had her trousseau to -buy, they argued, and this was Jeannette’s own money -and she ought to spend it just as she chose and for -what she chose. Finances at the moment were much -less of a problem than they had been for the little -household. A wealthy pupil of Signor Bellini with a -fine contralto voice had engaged Mrs. Sturgis as her -regular accompanist, and paid her ten dollars every -time she played for her at an evening concert.</p> - -<p>Jeannette allowed herself to be persuaded, and Saturday -afternoons became for her orgies of shopping. -She priced everything; she ransacked the department -stores. She knew what was being asked for a certain -type and finish of tailor suit on Fifth Avenue, and -what “identically the same thing” could be bought for -on Fourteenth Street. She got the tailor suit, and a -new hat, a pair of smart, low walking pumps, some -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_144">[Pg 144]</span> -half-silk stockings, be-ribboned underwear, a taffeta -petticoat, everything she wanted. She lunched at the -St. Denis in what she felt to be regal luxury, and -indulged herself in a bag of chocolate caramels afterwards. -The joy of having money to spend intoxicated -her; she revelled in the glory of it; it was exciting, -wonderful, marvellous. Not one of the things she -bought would she allow herself to wear; everything -was to be saved until she was married, and became -Mrs. Roy Beardsley.</p> - -<p>Her future husband took her one Sunday to inspect -the small brick house in Flatbush which could be rented -for twenty dollars a month. The weather was unduly -warm,—an exquisite day with a golden sun,—one of -those foretastes of spring that are so beguilingly deceptive. -From the janitor, who showed them over it, -they learned that the house would cost them twenty-two -dollars a month. It was one of a solid, unrelieved -row of fourteen others exactly like it, all warmed by a -central heating system, and supplied similarly with -water and gas. It was dark, the floors were worn and -splintery, the windows dingy; the whole place smelled -of old carpets and damp plaster. Still it had three bedrooms -upstairs, and a living-room, a really pleasant -dining-room, and a kitchen on the ground floor. Roy -watched Jeannette’s face eagerly as they stepped from -room to room, but he failed to detect any sign of -enthusiasm. It impressed the girl as anything but -cheerful. She saw herself day after day alone in this -place, sweeping, dusting, making beds, washing dishes, -getting herself a plate of pick-up lunch and eating it at -the end of the kitchen table, trying to read, trying to -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_145">[Pg 145]</span> -sew, trying to amuse herself during the empty afternoons -until it was time to start dinner and wait for -her husband to come home. After the bustle and excitement -of the office, it would be insufferably dull.</p> - -<p>As they waited a moment on the front steps for the -janitor to lock up after them, Jeannette noticed a -large, fat woman in a shabby negligée, watching them -from the upper window of the adjoining house, her -plump, pink elbows resting on a pillow, as she leaned -out upon the sill, enjoying the mellowness of the afternoon. -On the ground floor behind the looped lace curtains -of a front window, her husband was asleep in a -large upholstered armchair, Sunday newspapers scattered -about him, the comic section across his round, -fat abdomen.</p> - -<p>“These would be the kind of neighbors she would -have!” thought Jeannette. Oh, it wasn’t what she -wanted! It wasn’t her kind of a life—<i>at all</i>! She -would be lonely, lonely, lonely.</p> - -<p>Roy was getting twenty-five dollars a week; she was -getting twenty-five dollars a week. Why couldn’t they -go on working together in the same office and have a -joint income of fifty dollars a week,—two hundred -dollars a month! The idea fired her.</p> - -<p>But she found no one to share her enthusiasm. -Alice pressed a dubious finger-tip against her lips; -Roy frowned and said frankly he didn’t think it was -the right way for a couple to start in when they -got married; her mother indulged in firm little shakes -of her head that set her round cheeks quivering. When -the heated discussion of the evening was over and Roy -had taken himself home, Mrs. Sturgis came to sit on -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_146">[Pg 146]</span> -the edge of Jeannette’s bed after the girl had retired, -and in the darkness discoursed upon certain delicate -matters which evidently her dear daughter hadn’t -considered.</p> - -<p>“I hope my girl won’t have responsibilities come -upon her too soon after she’s married,” she said, after -a few gentle clearings of her throat, “but, dearie, you -know about babies, and you’ll want to have one, and -it’s right and proper that you should. But where would -you be if a—if a—you found you were going to have -one,—and you were working in an office? You must -consider these things. Roy’s perfectly right in not -wanting his wife at a dirty old desk all day.... And -then, dearie, there are certain decencies, certain proprieties. -A bride cannot be too careful; she must -always be modest. Suppose you actually tried this—this -wild scheme of yours, and after your happy honeymoon, -went back to the office among your old associates, -the men and women with whom you’ve grown -familiar; imagine how it would seem to them, and -what dreadful thoughts they might think about you -and Roy! One of the lovely things about marriage, -Janny, is the dear little home waiting to shield the -young bride.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but Mama ...” began Jeannette in weary protest. -But she stopped there. What use was it to -argue? None of them understood her; none of them -was able to grasp her point of view.</p> - -<p>Roy voiced the only argument that had weight with -her.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think C. B. would like it; I don’t think he -would want to have a secretary who was married to -somebody in the same office.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_147">[Pg 147]</span></p> - -<p>Jeannette felt that this would be a fact. No matter -how well she might please Mr. Corey, a secretary who -was married to another employee of the company would -not be satisfactory. It was highly probable that in the -event of her marriage he would be unwilling for her -to continue with him.</p> - -<p>No, it was plain that if she married Roy, she must -resign, she must let go her ambition, her hopes for -success in business, and she must accept Flatbush, and -the dismal little brick house, the unprepossessing -neighbors, and the lonely, lonely days.</p> - -<p>Well—suppose—suppose—suppose she <i>didn’t</i> -marry!</p> - -<p>The relief the idea brought was startling. But she -couldn’t bring herself to give up Roy,—she couldn’t -hurt him! She loved him,—she loved him dearly! -Never in the last few months since he had come back -to her from California had she been so sure she loved -him as now. Those eager blue eyes of his, that unruly -stuck-up hair, that quaint smile, that supple, boyish -figure,—so sinuous and young and clean,—she -couldn’t give them up!</p> - -<p>A battle began within her. It was the old struggle,—the -struggle of ambition and independence, against -love and drudgery, for marriage meant that to her; -she could think of it in no other way.</p> - -<p>Daily in her work at the office, she felt a steady -progress; daily, she beheld herself becoming increasingly -efficient; daily, more and more important matters -were entrusted to her.</p> - -<p>“Thank you very much, Miss Sturgis.” “That’s -fine, Miss Sturgis.” “Please arrange this, Miss Sturgis.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_148">[Pg 148]</span> -“Miss Sturgis, will you kindly attend to this -matter yourself?”</p> - -<p>These from Mr. Corey, and in the office she overheard:</p> - -<p>“Well,—get Miss Sturgis to do that.” “Better ask -Miss Sturgis.” “Miss Sturgis will know.” “If you -want C. B.’s O.K., get Miss Sturgis to put it up to -him.”</p> - -<p>It was wine to her. She felt herself growing ever -more confident, established, secure.</p> - -<h5>§ 4</h5> - -<p>“Now, Janny,—what are you going to do about a -house or an apartment or something where we can -begin housekeeping? Gee, I hate the idea of boarding! -We ought to have a place we can call our <i>home</i>. -April second is only two weeks off, and I don’t suppose -it’s possible to find anything now. We’ll have to go -to a hotel or a boarding-house for a while until we can -look ’round.... Do you realize, Miss Sturgis, you’re -going to be Mrs. Roy Beardsley inside of a fortnight!”</p> - -<p>“Roy—<i>dear</i>!” she exclaimed helplessly.</p> - -<p>“But, my darling,—you’ve got to make up your -mind.”</p> - -<p>Make up her mind? She could not. She listened -dumbly, miserably while her mother and sister discussed, -with the man she had promised to marry, the -details of the wedding, and what the young couple had -better do until they could find a suitable place in which -to start housekeeping.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_149">[Pg 149]</span></p> - -<p>“We’ll go over to the church on Eighty-ninth Street -about six o’clock, and Doctor Fitzgibbons will perform -the ceremony and then we’ll come back here for -a happy wedding supper,” planned Mrs. Sturgis -confidently.</p> - -<p>On what was she expected to live? asked Jeannette, -mutinously, of herself. Twenty-five dollars a week for -both of them? It had seemed ample when they first -discussed it. Her mother’s income for herself and -two daughters had rarely been more and frequently -less. Mrs. Sturgis paid thirty dollars a month rent -for the apartment, and Alice was supposed to have ten -dollars a week on which to run the table; in reality -she provided the food that sustained the three of them -at an expenditure of one dollar a day. But at forty -dollars a month for food and twenty or twenty-five a -month for rent and at least five dollars a week for -Roy’s lunches and carfare, what was she, Jeannette, -to have left to spend on clothes or amusement? She -would be a prisoner in that dismal little Flatbush -house, bound hand and foot to it for the lack of carfare -across the river to indulge in a harmless inspection -of shop windows! Now she was free,—now she -could get herself a gay petticoat if she wanted one, or -a new spring hat in time for Easter, or take Alice and -herself to a Saturday matinée and nibble chocolates -with her, hanging excitedly over the rail of the gallery -from front row seats! And she was to relinquish all -this liberty, which now was actually hers, actually her -own to enjoy and delight in rightfully and lawfully, -and manacle her hands, rivet chains about her ankles -and enter this prison, whose door her mother, her sister -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_150">[Pg 150]</span> -and Roy held open for her, and where they expected -her to remain contentedly and happily for the rest of -her life!</p> - -<p>It was too much! It was preposterous! It was inhuman! -She didn’t love <i>any</i> man enough to make a -sacrifice so great. She was self-supporting, independent,—beholden -to no one,—she could take care of herself -for life if necessary, and after her room and -board were paid for, she would always have fifteen -dollars a week—sixty dollars a month!—to spend as -foolishly or as wisely as she chose with no one to call -her to account. She hugged her little Saturday envelopes -to her breast; they were hers, she had earned -them, she would never give them up,—never—never—never!</p> - -<h5>§ 5</h5> - -<p>She persuaded Roy to postpone the wedding. There -was no special need for hurry. It would require a lot -more saving before they could properly furnish a -little house or an apartment; it was much wiser for -them to start in right; in a few months they could have -two or three hundred dollars. She presented the matter -to him in a rush of words one evening and, as she -had foreseen, he was overborne by her vehemence. -Roy was sweet-tempered, he was amiable, he was -always willing to give way in an argument. Often she -had felt impatient with him for this easy tractability. -He didn’t have enough backbone! Even now his readiness -to concede what she asked disappointed her. -Something within her clamored for an indignant rejection -of her proposal. She wanted him to insist -with an oath that their marriage must take place at -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_151">[Pg 151]</span> -once, that she must make good her promise without -further to-do. He lost something very definite in her -regard at that moment; he never meant quite so much -to her again. It was the pivotal point in their -relationship.</p> - -<p>Alice let her hands and sewing fall into her lap -when her sister told her the marriage was to be postponed, -and said anxiously: “Oh, Janny,—I’m awfully -sorry,” but her mother unexpectedly approved.</p> - -<p>“There’s no need of your rushing into all the troubles -and worries of marriage, dearie,—until you’re -quite, quite prepared. I think you’re very wise to wait -a little while; it’s right and proper; you and Roy are -showing a lot of real common sense. You’ll have some -capital to start in with, and you can take your time -about finding just the right kind of a place to live in. -And then it means I’m going to have my darling all -summer.... Only,” she added with a reproachful -glance at the girl and a pout of lips and cheeks, “I -wish you’d give up that horrid, old office and stay at -home with your mother and sister, and have a few -months to yourself before you fly away to be a bride.”</p> - -<p>What a relief to know she had escaped for a time -at least the net that had been spread for her! With -head held high, and a free heart, with eager step and -a pulse tuned to the joy of living, Jeannette plunged -on with her work.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_152">[Pg 152]</span></p> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I_VI">CHAPTER VI</h4> -</div> - -<h5>§ 1</h5> - -<p>The cold of winter clung with a tenacious grip to -the city that year until far into April. Jeannette had -eagerly looked forward to the spectacular flower-vendors’ -sale of spring blooms in Union Square on the -Saturday before Easter but a bitter wind began to -assert itself early in the day and by ten o’clock had -wrought pitiful havoc with the brave show of potted -lilies and azaleas. The Square was littered with their -battered petals and torn leaves. Three days before -the first of May a flurry of snow clothed the city again -in white, and then, without warning, summer breathed -its hot, moist breath upon the town. The air was heavy -with water; a mist, thick and enervating, spread itself -like a miasma from a stagnant pool, through the -streets. A tropical heat,—the wet clinging heat of a -conservatory,—enveloped New York. And in June -came the rain, an intermittent downpour that lasted -for weeks.</p> - -<p>It was a trying time for everyone. The office felt -damp, and there was a constant smell all day of wet -rubber and damp woolens. Black streams of water -meandered over the floor from the tips of wet umbrellas, -stacked in corners. On the fifth floor the roof -leaked, and old Hodgson had to be moved elsewhere. -In the midst of the general discomfort Mr. Corey fell -sick.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_153">[Pg 153]</span></p> - -<p>It proved nothing more serious than a heavy bronchial -cold, but his physician ordered him to bed, and -he was warned he must not venture into the damp -streets until the last vestige of the cold had disappeared. -The doctor consented to let him see his secretary -and to keep in touch with the office by telephone. -It was thus that Jeannette came to visit her employer -in his own home.</p> - -<p>Mr. Corey lived in one of three cream-painted brick -houses on Tenth Street, a hundred yards or so from -the corner of Fifth Avenue. The houses were quaint -affairs, only two stories in height, with square-paned -glass in the shallow windows and wide, deep-panelled -front doors ornamented in the center with heavy, shining -brass knockers. They were old buildings, dating -back to the early nineteenth century, and had somewhat -of a colonial atmosphere about them. The Corey -family consisted of Mrs. Corey and two children,—a -boy of eighteen, Willis Corey, in his first year at Harvard, -and a girl, Helen, a year younger, who lived at -home and was called “Babs.” Jeannette was disappointed, -not to say disturbed, at meeting her employer’s -wife.</p> - -<p>“I wasn’t aware that I had a preconceived idea of -her,” she said to Alice in recounting her impressions. -“Mr. Corey seems to be devoted to her, and has a large -silver-framed photograph of her on his desk. I supposed -from her picture and from the way he speaks -about her that she was the same kind of earnest, hard-headed, -clear-thinking person as himself. But she isn’t -that way at all. In the first place, she’s very tall and -stately; she’s got lots of hair,—it’s quite gray and very -curly,—and she piles it up on top of her head and -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_154">[Pg 154]</span> -always wears a bandeau or a fillet to bind it. She’s -rather intense in her manner and a trifle theatrical. -She’s a handsome woman, faded of course now, but -she has very large dark eyes, that she uses effectively, -and really beautiful brows. She affects the weirdest -of costumes, all lace and floating scarf, with lots of -color. She had several rings on her fingers and bracelets -dangling and jingling on her wrists. I thought -her stupid; I mean <i>really</i> dense. When I got to the -house she came out to the hall where I was waiting, -led me into the parlor and made me sit down. She -said she wanted to have a good talk with me. She -was so glad Mr. Smith had gone, and she went on at -once to say how she had urged ‘Chandler!’—it was -funny to hear Mr. Corey called by his first name!—how -she had urged him to make a change for a long -time. She said he said to her: ‘Where do you think -I could find anybody to replace him?’ and she said: -‘Well, how about that clever Miss Sturgis who’s just -come to you?’ She told me she had begged him for -weeks to give me a trial before he consented.</p> - -<p>“You know, Allie, it rather puzzled me what her -object could be in romancing that way, for, of course, -I don’t believe a word of it. She never heard of me -until Mr. Corey happened to tell her he had a new -secretary! And then she went on to talk about the -business. My dear, it was pathetic! She wanted me -to think that she knew about everything that went on -at the office, that Mr. Corey kept nothing from her, -and talked over every important decision with her -before he made up his mind. I almost laughed in her -face! She doesn’t know one single thing about his -affairs. She hasn’t the faintest idea, for instance, that -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_155">[Pg 155]</span> -he’s in debt, that the paper company could wind up -his affairs to-morrow if it wanted to, nor what bank -has helped to finance him from the start, nor where -the money comes from that buys her food and clothing. -She supposes, I presume, that it comes from -profits. Profits are a negligible quantity with the -Chandler B. Corey Company and have been ever since -Mr. Corey launched it. It’s getting in better shape all -the time, and some day there <i>will</i> be profits.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Corey looked brightly at me with her large -soulful eyes and said: ‘Those two volumes of <i>The -Life and Letters of Alexander Hamilton</i> are quite -wonderful, aren’t they? Such beautiful bookmaking!’ -and ‘We were quite successful with <i>The Den</i>, weren’t -we?’ Imagine, Alice! ‘<i>We!</i>’ What she knows about -the business is about as much as she can gather from -the books Mr. Corey publishes and occasionally brings -home to her! She talked a lot about the magazines, -and asked me if I didn’t think Miss Reubens was making -a very wonderful periodical out of <i>The Wheel of -Fortune</i>.</p> - -<p>“I just nodded and agreed with her. She was trying -to impress me how well-informed she was, and I let -her think she succeeded. Toward the end she got -started on Mr. Corey, and how hard he worked, and -how keenly I ought to feel it my duty to save him from -petty annoyances; I must consider myself a guard, a -sentinel, stationed at the door of his tent to keep the -rabble from disturbing the great man! I let her rave -on, but it was all I could do to listen. I thought as I -sat there that in all probability she was the noisiest -and most disturbing of the lot. She wound up by telling -me what the doctor had said to her about Mr. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_156">[Pg 156]</span> -Corey having caught cold, and she wanted to urge me -particularly to guard him against draughts. Then she -asked me if Mr. Corey ever took me to lunch! Now -what do you think made her ask me a question like -that? You don’t suppose she’s jealous? It seems too -ridiculous even to think about. My goodness! When -you see the kind of women some men get for wives -you wonder how they put up with them!”</p> - -<h5>§ 2</h5> - -<p>All Mr. Corey’s personal mail passed through -Jeannette’s hands; she opened and read most of it. -He dictated to her his letters to his son at Cambridge, -and even those to his wife and Babs when they went to -Kennebunkport for the summer. Jeannette learned -that Willis had been madly in love with a married -woman who sang in the choir of a Fifth Avenue church, -that he was given to midnight carousing, smoked far -too many cigarettes, that his mother spoiled him, and -his father was disgusted with him. With the aid of -a “cramming” school, he had somehow wiggled himself -into Harvard, but Mr. Corey had made him distinctly -understand that at the first complaint concerning -him he would have to withdraw and go to work. -Jeannette came to know, too, that Babs was epileptic -and that early in May she had had the first fit in two -years, and that the day after her mother and herself -had arrived in Kennebunkport, she had had another. -Letters of a very agitated nature passed between the -parents as to what should now be done. Nothing was -decided. Likewise Jeannette learned that Mrs. Corey -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_157">[Pg 157]</span> -was at times recklessly extravagant. Her husband repeatedly -had to call her to account, and sometimes -they had violent quarrels about the matter. Just before -Mrs. Corey departed for Maine she had bought -six hats for herself and Babs, and had charged over -three hundred dollars’ worth of new clothing. Mr. -Corey had been exasperated, as only a few weeks before -he had made a point of asking her to economize -in every way possible during the coming summer. -He himself, Jeannette knew, must shortly undergo a -more or less serious operation, of which his family -was totally ignorant, that he was worried because his -Life Insurance Company had declined after an examination -to increase the amount of his insurance, and -that he had successfully engineered a loan to wipe off -his indebtedness to the big Pulp and Paper Company.</p> - -<p>There was little that concerned him with which she -did not become acquainted. She knew that his house -on Tenth Street was heavily mortgaged and that on -the second loan carried by the property he was paying -an outrageous rate of interest; that on the tenth of -every month he never failed to send a check for sixty-six -dollars and sixty-seven cents to a man in Memphis, -Tennessee, that his dentist threatened to sue him unless -he settled a bill that had been owing for two -years; that on the first of every month, Mr. Olmstead -deposited to his account in the Chemical National Bank -five hundred dollars; that no month ever passed without -his chief sending for the old man and directing -him to deposit an additional hundred, or two hundred, -or sometimes three hundred to his account, and that -these sums appeared on the books of the company as -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_158">[Pg 158]</span> -personal indebtedness. Frequently this levy upon the -Company’s bank balance upset Mr. Olmstead, and -more than once Jeannette heard the old cashier emphatically -assert as he rapped his eye-glasses in his -agitated fashion upon his thumb-nail:</p> - -<p>“All right, Mr. Corey,—you’re the boss here, and -I’ve got to do as you say, but I won’t answer for it, -Mr. Corey. I warn you, sir, we won’t have enough for -next week’s pay-roll!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” Mr. Corey would soothe him. -“We’ll manage somehow; you pay the money in the -bank for me and we’ll talk about it afterwards.”</p> - -<p>There were even more intimate things about the -man she served which became his secretary’s knowledge. -He sometimes took the sixtieth of a grain of -strychnine when he was unusually tired, he dyed his -mustache and eyebrows, and wore hygienic underwear -for which he paid six dollars a garment. She had -charge of his personal bank account. She drew the -checks, put them before him for his signature, and -sent them out in the mail. While Mrs. Corey was in -Kennebunkport, she paid all the household expenses -of the establishment on Tenth Street: electric light and -milk bills, grocer’s and butcher’s accounts, the wages -of the cook. She knew what were Mr. Corey’s dues -and expenses at the Lotus Club, what he paid for his -clothes, what he owed at Brooks Bros., and at the -Everett House where he had a charge account and -signed checks for his lunches. There were no secrets -in his life that were closed to her; he had less than -most men to conceal; she considered him the most -generous, the most upright, the most admirable man -in the world.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_159">[Pg 159]</span></p> - -<h5>§ 3</h5> - -<p>It was on a hot Saturday afternoon in July when -no one but themselves were in the office, that Jeannette -told Mr. Corey about Roy. She had not seen quite so -much of Roy lately; he had been away on a business -trip, and Horatio Stephens had asked him to spend -his fortnight’s vacation with himself and family at -Asbury Park. He had written her letters full of -endearments and underscored assertions of love, and -had returned to plead eagerly that she set the day for -the wedding and begin to plan with him how and -where they should live. His earnestness made her -realize she could temporize no longer.</p> - -<p>“It isn’t that I don’t care for him,” she said to -Mr. Corey; “it’s just that I don’t want to get married, -I guess.”</p> - -<p>The windows were open and a gentle hot wind -stirred the loose papers on the desk. A lazy rumble -of traffic rose from the street, punctuated now and then -by the shrill voices of children in the Square, and the -merry jingle of a hurdy-gurdy.</p> - -<p>“You mustn’t trifle with your happiness, Miss -Sturgis,” Corey said, pulling at his mustache thoughtfully. -“You know this is all very well here for a time, -but you must think of the future.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette stared out of the window and for some -minutes there was silence; she spoke presently with -knitted brows.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’ve gone over it and over it, again and again, -and it seems more than I can do to give up my independence -and the fun of living my own life just yet. -I—I like Mr. Beardsley; I think we’d be happy together. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_160">[Pg 160]</span> -He’s devoted to me, and he’s most amiable,”—she -glanced with a smile at her employer’s face. -“My mother and my sister are eager to have me marry -him, but I just can’t—can’t bring myself to give up -my work and my life here to substitute matrimony.”</p> - -<p>“No consideration for me, my dear girl, ought to -influence you. I’d be sorry to lose you, of course; -you’re the best secretary I ever had, and I’d be hard -put to it to find anyone who could begin to fill your -place even remotely. But you mustn’t think I couldn’t -manage; I’d find somebody. Your duty is to yourself -and living your own life.”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t that, Mr. Corey. It’s the work that I love; -I don’t want to give it up,—the excitement and the -fun of it. It’s a thousand times more exhilarating -than cooking and dish-washing.... And then there’s -the question of finances, which, it seems to me, I’m -bound to consider. Mr. Beardsley’s getting twenty-five -and I’m getting twenty-five; that’s fifty dollars a -week we earn, but if I marry him, we both would have -to live on just his salary.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,—that’s very true,” the man admitted.</p> - -<p>The girl threw him a quick glance, and went on -hesitatingly:</p> - -<p>“I don’t suppose we could marry and each of us -go on holding our jobs?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Corey considered, stroking his black mustache -with a thoughtful thumb and finger.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said slowly, “what do you gain? If you -went on working, you’d find it difficult to keep house; -you’d have to live in a boarding-house. And that isn’t -homemaking. And then, Miss Sturgis, there’s the, -question of children. What would you do about them? -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_161">[Pg 161]</span> -You wouldn’t care to have a child as long as you came -downtown to an office every day.... No, I wouldn’t -advise it. If you love your young man well enough, -I would urge you to marry him.”</p> - -<p>“I <i>don’t</i>!” Jeannette said to herself violently on -her way home.</p> - -<p>But did she? Almost with the denial, she began to -wonder.</p> - -<p>That night when Roy came to see her and asked her -again for the thousandth time to name the day, she -took his face between her hands and kissed him tenderly, -folded his head against her breast, and with -arms tight about him, pressed her lips again and -again to his unruly hair.</p> - -<p>Later, when he had gone and she was alone, she -dropped upon her knees before the old davenport where -they had been sitting, and wept.</p> - -<p>It was the end of the struggle. She told no one for -a long time, but in her mind she knew she would -never marry him. Her work was too precious to her; -her independence too dear; to give them up was demanding -of her more than she had the strength to -give.</p> - -<p class="center"><small>END OF BOOK I</small></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_163">[Pg 163]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_II">BOOK II</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_165">[Pg 165]</span></p> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="BREAD_I">BREAD</h3> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II_I">CHAPTER I</h4> -</div> - -<h5>§ 1</h5> - -<p>The Chandler P. Corey Company was moving its -offices. A twenty-year lease had been taken on a building -especially designed to fit its needs in the East -Thirties. The new home was a great cavernous concrete -structure of eight spacious floors. On the ground -floor were to be the new presses destined to print the -magazines, and perhaps some of the books in the -future; the next two floors were to house the bindery, -the composing room and typesetting machines; the -editorial rooms were to be located on the fourth floor, -and above these would come in order the advertising, -circulation and pattern departments, each with a -stratum in the great concrete block to itself. The -eighth floor was to be given over to surplus stock, and -it would also serve as a store-room for paper and -supplies.</p> - -<p>Both <i>Corey’s Commentary</i> and <i>The Wheel of Fortune</i> -had made money for their owners during the past -three years. It was the day of the “muck-raking” -magazine, and Cavendish had unearthed a Wall Street -scandal that sent the circulation of <i>Corey’s Commentary</i> -climbing by leaps and bounds. <i>The Wheel of -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_166">[Pg 166]</span> -Fortune</i> had been rechristened <i>The Ladies’ Fortune</i>, -and its contents were now devoted to women’s interests -and fashions. The pattern business, that had been -launched in connection with it, had proven from the -outset immensely successful. Horatio Stephens was -now its editor, and Miss Reubens conducted the special -departments appearing among the advertising in -its back pages, always referred to in the office as “contaminated -matter.” The circulation of both periodicals -had increased so rapidly that Mr. Featherstone -had been obliged to announce an advance in their advertising -rates every three months.</p> - -<p>Other branches of the business, too, had grown and -shown a profit. Francis Holme, who was head of the -Book Sales Department, and now a member of the -firm, had developed the manufacture and sale of book -premiums and school books. He sold large quantities -of the former to the publishers of other magazines, -for use in their subscription campaigns, and was even -more successful with the latter among private schools -and some public ones throughout the country. One or -two recent novels had sold over the hundred thousand -mark, and the general standing of the Chandler B. -Corey publications had improved. It was conceded -in the trade they had now a better “line.” Something -was being done, too, in the Mail Order Department, -in charge of Walt Chase, and more and more -sets of standard works were being sold by circularizing -methods.</p> - -<p>The installation and operation of their own presses -had been a grave undertaking. Mr. Kipps had strenuously -opposed it, arguing that the new building was -enough of a responsibility, and that they should mark -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_167">[Pg 167]</span> -time for awhile and see how they stood, rather than -incur a new loan of half a million dollars which the -new presses involved. Mr. Corey was convinced, however, -that a tide had arrived in their affairs which demanded -a rapid expansion of the business, and if he -and his partners were to make the most of the opportunity -thus presented, they must rise to the occasion, -and show themselves able to expand with it.</p> - -<p>“There’s no use of our trying to crowd back into -our shells after we’ve outgrown them, is there, Miss -Sturgis?” he said to his secretary, with an amused -twinkle in his eye, after a heated conference with the -other members of the firm, during which Kipps in high -dudgeon had left the room.</p> - -<p>Jeannette smiled wisely. She believed that her chief -was one of those few men who had far-seeing vision, -and could look with keen perception and unfaltering -eye into the future, and that he would carry Mr. Kipps, -Mr. Featherstone, the office, his family, herself, everybody -who attached themselves to him, to fame and -fortune in spite of anything any one of them might do. -When he was right, he knew it, and knew it with conviction, -and nothing could shake him.</p> - -<p>He had only one weakness, his secretary felt, and -that was his attitude toward his son, Willis, who, two -years before, had been withdrawn from the intellectual -atmosphere of Cambridge, and put into the business, -presumably that his father might watch him. He was -one of the sub-editors of <i>Corey’s Commentary</i> and -demoralized the office by his late hours, his disregard -of office rules against smoking, and his condescending -attitude toward everyone in his father’s employ.</p> - -<p>The three years that Jeannette Sturgis had been -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_168">[Pg 168]</span> -Mr. Corey’s secretary had seen many changes. Poor -Mrs. Inness had turned out to be a dipsomaniac. -Jeannette guessed her secret long before it was discovered -by anyone else, and she had been full of pity -and sorrow when this gray-haired, regal woman had -to be dismissed. Van Alstyne was gone, and Humphrey -Stubbs as well; Max Oppenheim likewise had -departed. The new Circulation Manager was a shrewd, -keen-eyed, spectacled young Scotchman, named MacGregor, -whom everyone familiarly spoke to and of as -“Sandy.” Miss Holland was still Mr. Kipps’ assistant, -and now most of the routine affairs of the business -were administered by her. Besides Mr. Holme, there -was another new member of the firm, Sidney Frank -Allister, who had come into the Chandler B. Corey -Company from a rival house, and was now entrusted -with the book-publishing end of the business. It was -usually his opinion that decided the fate of a manuscript. -He had his assistants: a haughty Radcliffe -graduate, named Miss Peckenbaugh, whom Jeannette -heartily disliked, and old Major Ticknor, who had a -stiff leg since his Civil War days, and who stumped into -the office two or three times a week with his bundle of -manuscripts and stumped out again with a fresh supply. -Very rarely Mr. Corey was consulted; he frankly -declared he hated to read a book, and would only do so -under the most vigorous pressure.</p> - -<p>“Do I <i>have</i> to read this, Frank?” Jeannette would -often hear him ask Allister, when the latter brought -him a bulky manuscript and laid it on his desk. “You -know, I don’t know anything about literature,” he -would add, smilingly, with his favorite assumption of -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_169">[Pg 169]</span> -being only a plain business man and lacking in appreciation -of the arts.</p> - -<p>“Well, Mr. Corey, this is really important,” Allister -would say. “We don’t agree about it in my department.”</p> - -<p>“Has Holme read it? He can tell you whether it -will sell or not.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Holme doesn’t think it will, but I believe this -is a very important book, and one we most assuredly -ought to have on our list.”</p> - -<p>Frequently Mr. Corey would hand the manuscript -over to Jeannette after Mr. Allister had left the room, -and beg her to take it home with her, read it, and give -him a careful synopsis and her opinion. She used to -smile to herself when she would hear him quoting her, -and once when he repeated a phrase she had used in -her report, he winked at her in a most undignified -fashion.</p> - -<p>“I’m nothing but a hard-headed business man, you -know,” he would say, justifying himself to his secretary -when they were alone together. “I haven’t any -time to read books. I can hire men to do that,—men -with much keener judgment about such things than I -have. I’m watching the circulation of our magazines, -the advertising revenues, our daily sales report, and -seeing that our presses are being worked to their maximum -capacity. I’m negotiating with a mill for a -year’s supply of paper, and buying fifty thousand -pounds of ink, and at the same time arranging for a -loan from the bank. I haven’t got time for books. -Anyhow I never went to college,”—this with a humorous -twinkle as he had a general contempt for college -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_170">[Pg 170]</span> -men,—“and I don’t know anything about ‘liter-a-choor.’”</p> - -<h5>§ 2</h5> - -<p>Jeannette took a tremendous pride in the new building. -She had an office to herself, now,—one adjoining -Mr. Corey’s. He left the details of equipping both to -her. She took the greatest delight in doing so. She -bought some very handsome furniture,—a great mahogany -desk covered with a sheet of plate glass for -Mr. Corey; some finely upholstered leather armchairs, -a rich moquette rug, and she had the walls distempered, -and lined on three sides with tall mahogany -bookcases with diamond-paned glass doors. She had -all the authors’ autographed photographs reframed in -a uniform narrow black molding, and hung them herself. -She arranged to have some greens always on the -bookcases, and a great bunch of feathery pine boughs -in a large round earthenware jar on the floor in one -corner.</p> - -<p>There had come to exist a very warm and affectionate -companionship between the president of the publishing -house and his secretary. Jeannette thought -him the finest man she knew. She admired him tremendously, -admired his shrewdness, his cleverness, -his extraordinary capacity for work. He was impatient -beyond all reason, sometimes. She had often -seen him jump up with a bang of a fist on his desk and -an angry exclamation on his lips when an office boy had -dallied over an errand, or had heard these things when -it was she who was keeping him waiting, and he would -come himself after the carbon of the letter, or the report, -or the book he had asked for. He would stride -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_171">[Pg 171]</span> -through the aisles between the desks, or across the -floor to somebody’s office with great long steps, his fists -swinging, his brows knit, intent upon putting his hands -at once upon what he wanted. He could be brutally -rude, when annoyed, and he gave small consideration -to anyone else’s opinion when he had a definite one -of his own. But she could forgive these shortcomings. -She saw the odds against which he contended, she saw -the ultimate goal at which he aimed, and she saw the -vigorous battle he was waging toward this end,—and -her esteem for him knew no bounds.</p> - -<p>She felt herself to be his only real ally though she -did not overestimate her services. Among those who -came close to him—his business associates and family—she -was the only one not an actual drag upon him. -Mr. Featherstone and Mr. Kipps were of no more assistance -to him in conducting the affairs of the company -than any two of the salaried clerks. Frequently -they hampered him, rubbing their chins or hemming -and hawing over one of his brilliant flashes of wisdom, -to rob him of his enthusiasm. As the business increased, -they were more and more inclined to demur at -any new scheme he proposed. His family were so much -dead weight about his neck. The boy had proved himself -of small account, the daughter was epileptic, Mrs. -Corey an exacting, extravagant, capricious wife.</p> - -<p>Jeannette’s surmise upon their first meeting that -her employer’s wife was already unaccountably jealous -of her soon found ample confirmation. Mrs. Corey -grew more and more resentful of Jeannette’s intimate -knowledge of her personal affairs, the complete confidence -of her husband which she enjoyed, the close daily -association with him. Jeannette was aware there had -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_172">[Pg 172]</span> -been several violent quarrels over her between husband -and wife, Mrs. Corey demanding that she be -dismissed, Mr. Corey firmly declining to agree. It -did not make matters any too pleasant for the girl. -Whenever Mrs. Corey encountered her, she was effusively -sweet, but her manner suggested: “You and I, -my dear, <i>we</i> know about him,” or “We women,—his -secretary and his wife,—must stand together for his -protection.” Jeannette was keenly conscious of the -utter falseness and insincerity of this attitude. She -knew that Mrs. Corey hated her, and would gladly -see her summarily dismissed. She would smile with -equally apparent sweetness in return, and fume in -silence. She considered she was often doing for Mr. -Corey what his wife should have been doing, that she -filled the place of assistant, philosopher and friend -only because Mrs. Corey was utterly incompetent to -fill any of these rôles. If her relation to her employer -had grown to be that of companion and helpmate, if -she had been obliged to assume part of the province -of a wife, none of the compensations were hers, she -reflected indignantly. Mrs. Corey lived in luxury, -came and went as she pleased, observed no hours, exercised -no self-restraint, posed as her husband’s partner -in life, his guide and counsellor, spent his money extravagantly, -and enjoyed the satisfaction of being the -wife of the president of what had now become one of -the big publishing houses in New York, while she, -Jeannette, who worked beside him eight, nine, sometimes -eleven or twelve hours out of every twenty-four, -got thirty-five dollars a week!</p> - -<p>But in moments of fairer judgment she realized she -received much more than merely the contents of her -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_173">[Pg 173]</span> -pay envelope. She had an affection and a regard from -Mr. Corey that he never had given his wife. She was -closer to him than anyone else in the world; she was -what both wife and daughter should have meant to -him; he loved her with a warm paternal feeling, and -her love for him in return was equally sincere, deep -and devoted. She sometimes felt that she and this -man for whom she slaved and whom she served and -helped could conquer the world. There existed no sex -attraction between them; each recognized in the other -the half of an excellent team of indefatigable workers; -their relation was always that of father and daughter, -but their feelings could only be measured in terms of -love,—staunch, enduring, unswerving loyalty.</p> - -<h5>§ 3</h5> - -<p>There was nothing in Jeannette’s life from which -she derived more satisfaction than the way in which -she had deflected Roy Beardsley’s interest in herself -to her sister. There was a time after she had made -up her mind she could not marry him, when dark hours -and aching thoughts assailed her, when she felt she -was sacrificing all her happiness in life to a mere idea. -But she had fought against these disturbing reflections, -resolutely banishing Roy from her mind, and -making herself think of ways in which their relationship -could be put upon a platonic basis. She took -walks with him, made him read aloud to her when he -came in the evenings, persuaded him to take her to -lectures, and formed the habit of going with him once -a week to a vaudeville show in a neighboring theatre -on upper Broadway. Her policy was always to be -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_174">[Pg 174]</span> -<i>doing</i> things with him, never to be idle or to sit alone -with him, for this always led to intimate talk and love-making. -She strove to keep the conversation impersonal. -Roy was so easily managed, she sometimes -smiled over it. And yet there came times when it -was hard to deny herself the firm hold of his young -arms.</p> - -<p>What proved an immediate and tremendous help in -conquering herself was a discovery she made from a -chance glimpse of her sister’s earnest, brown eyes -fixed upon Roy’s face. The three of them were in -the studio one evening, and happened to be discussing -religion. Roy delivered himself sententiously of a trite -truism, something like: “It should be part of everyone’s -religion to respect the religion of others.” As -Jeannette was considering him rather than his words -at the moment, her gaze happened to light upon her -sister’s face, and little Alice’s secret stood revealed. -The girl sat with her mouth half-open, staring at Roy -with wide eyes, and an adoring look, eloquent of her -thoughts. Jeannette was staggered. She was instantly -aware of a great pain in her own heart, a great -longing and hurt. It was clear Alice did not understand -herself, had no suspicion that she was in love.</p> - -<p>At once the elder sister began to readjust herself, -“clean house,” as she expressed it. She marvelled -again and again about Alice; it was hard to accept the -idea that love had come to her little sister, yet the -look in the rapt face had been unmistakable, and as -the days went by Jeannette found plenty of evidence -to confirm her suspicions. It was surprising how much -the knowledge of her sister’s secret helped her to -overcome any weakness for Roy that remained in her -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_175">[Pg 175]</span> -own heart. She saw at once the suitableness of a match -between them; Alice and Roy were ideally suited to -each other, and their coming to care for one another -would surely be the best possible solution to her own -problem. She could not, would not, marry him; the -next best thing, of course, would be for him to marry -her sister.</p> - -<p>She set about her schemes at once. The very next -evening it had been arranged Roy was to go with her -to the theatre. They usually sat in one of the back -rows of the balcony. That afternoon she left a little -note on his desk to say she wanted to see him when he -came in, and when he appeared, told him she would be -obliged to work with Mr. Corey that evening, and suggested -he take her sister to the show in her place. -When he came of an evening to see her at her home, -she would send Alice out to talk to him, while she dallied -over her dressing. Whenever Alice happened to -join her and Roy, she found an excuse to leave them -together. She persuaded the young man frequently to -include her sister in their jaunts or walks, and in the -evenings, more and more often she complained of a -headache, took herself to bed, and left Alice to entertain -him. Poor little Alice was blindly unconscious of -the strings that were being pulled about her, but she -came to a full and terrifying realization at last of -where her heart was leading her. She began to mope -and weep, to talk of going away. She spoke of wanting -to be a trained nurse.</p> - -<p>Roy was still placidly indifferent to her interest in -him. His ardor for Jeannette had cooled, but he still -fancied himself in love with her, and expected that -some day they would be married. He no longer fretted -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_176">[Pg 176]</span> -her, however, with demands or troubled her with love-making. -His days were full of interests: he had his -friends, his work at the office, his companionship with -the two Sturgis girls,—all of which was very agreeable -and entertaining. Jeannette and he would be married -some day before long; he was content to let matters -drift until she was ready to name the day.... Alice? -Oh, Alice was a lovely girl,—a <i>deuce</i> of a lovely girl. -She was going to be his sister-in-law soon.</p> - -<p>Before long Mrs. Sturgis came fluttering in great -agitation to her oldest daughter. By various circumlocutions, -she approached the subject which was -causing her so much distress. It was quite evident -that Alice was not well; she was run down and getting -terribly nervous. Had Jeannette noticed anything -wrong with her? Jeannette didn’t suppose it could -be a <i>man</i>, did she? The little brown bird was still her -mother’s baby after all, but you never could tell about -girls. Alice was,—well, Alice was nineteen! And if -it <i>was</i> a man,—the dear child acted exactly as if there -was one,—who could it possibly be? She didn’t see -anybody but Roy; she didn’t go any place with anybody -else. Now her mother didn’t want to say <i>one -word</i> to distress Jeannette, or to say anything that -would—would upset her.... Perhaps she was all -wrong about it anyway, but—but did Jeannette think -it was possible that Alice and Roy,—that Alice,—that -Alice....</p> - -<p>Amused, Jeannette watched her anxious little -mother floundering on helplessly. Then she suddenly -took the plump and worried figure in her arms, hugged -her, and told her all about it.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis could only stare in amazement and -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_177">[Pg 177]</span> -interject breathless exclamations of “But, <i>dearie</i>!” -“Why, <i>dearie</i>!” “Well, I don’t know what to make -of you!”</p> - -<p>But the question now remaining was how to jog -Roy’s consciousness awake, make him see the little -brown flower at his feet that looked up at him so adoringly, -only waiting to be plucked. Jeannette said -nothing to her mother, but she went to Roy direct. -She felt sure of her touch with him.</p> - -<p>First she made him realize that she could never be -satisfied with being his wife. She explained carefully -and convincingly why it could never be, and then while -he gazed tragically at the ground, twisting his lean -white fingers, she spoke to him frankly of Alice.</p> - -<p>As she talked it came over her with fresh conviction -that, had she married him, she could have done -as she liked with Roy; he was putty in her hands. But -her husband must be a man who would mold <i>her</i>, make -her do what he wished, bend her to his will. Only such -a man would awaken her love and keep it. She despised -Roy for his amiability.</p> - -<p>He looked very boyish and silly to her now, as he -rumpled his stuck-up hair, and dubiously shook his -head. He was surprised to hear about Alice, and,—Jeannette -could see,—at once interested. She left the -thought with him and confidently waited for it to take -hold. Mr. Corey, she felt, would have handled the -situation in just some such fashion as she had,—direct, -cutting the Gordian knot, plunging straight to -the heart of the matter.</p> - -<p>One night at dinner she casually told her mother -and sister that her engagement with Roy had been -broken by mutual consent. She explained they both -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_178">[Pg 178]</span> -had begun to realize they did not really love one -another well enough to marry and had decided to call -it off. Roy was a sweet boy, she added, and would -make some girl a splendid husband. She glanced covertly -at Alice. The girl was bending over her plate, -pretending an interest in her food, but her face was -deadly white. A rush of tenderest love flooded Jeannette’s -heart. At the moment she would have given -much to have been free to take her little sister in her -arms and tell her everything, assure her that the man -she loved was beginning to love her in return and -would some day make her his wife.</p> - -<p>And that was how it turned out. A year later Roy -and Alice were married by the Reverend Doctor Fitzgibbons -in the church on Eighty-ninth Street in just -the way the bride’s mother had planned for her older -daughter, and now they were living in a small but -pretty four-room apartment out in the Bronx for which -they paid twenty-five dollars a month. Happy little -Mrs. Beardsley’s mother and sister were aware that -very shortly those grave responsibilities at which Mrs. -Sturgis had often mysteriously hinted were to come -upon her. Alice was “expecting” in March.</p> - -<p>Roy was no longer an employee of the Chandler B. -Corey Company. He had found another job just -before he married and was now with <i>The Sporting -Gazette</i>, a magazine devoted to athletic interests, gaming, -and fishing, where he was getting forty dollars a -week as sub-editor. He had always wanted to write -and this came nearer his ambition than soliciting -advertisements. Moreover there was the increase in -salary. Of course <i>The Sporting Gazette</i> was new and -had nothing like the circulation of the Corey publications, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_179">[Pg 179]</span> -but Roy considered it a step ahead. He had -given Mr. Featherstone a chance to keep him, but Mr. -Featherstone had rubbed his chin and wagged his -head dubiously when asked for a raise. No,—there -mustn’t be any more raises for awhile, no more increases -in salary until the company was making larger -profits; they were expanding; there was the new building -with the larger rent, and all those new presses to -be paid for. So Roy had gone in quest of another job, -and had found it in one of three rough little rooms -comprising the editorial offices of <i>The Sporting Gazette</i>. -He considered himself extremely happy, extremely -fortunate.</p> - -<p>The attraction Jeannette had once felt for him was -as dead as though it had never been.</p> - -<h5>§ 4</h5> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis no longer had to work so hard. She -had given up her position as instructor in music at -Miss Loughborough’s Concentration School for Little -Girls and her work as accompanist for Signor Bellini’s -pupils. Jeannette had made her resign from both -places. With Alice married and gone, it was better for -her mother to stay at home and take charge of the -housekeeping. Mrs. Sturgis gave private lessons, now,—a -few hours only in the morning or afternoon,—and -these, she asserted, were a “real delight.” It left -her plenty of time for marketing and for preparing -the simple little dinners she and her daughter enjoyed -at night. She took the keenest interest in these, and -was always planning something new in the way of a -surprise for her “darling daughter when she comes -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_180">[Pg 180]</span> -home just dead beat out at the end of the day.” -Finances were no longer a problem. Jeannette contributed -twenty dollars a week to the household expenses -while her mother earned as much and sometimes -more. She often reminded her daughter she could -do even better than that, especially during the winter -months, but Jeannette would not hear of her working -harder.</p> - -<p>“But what’s the use, Mama?” she would ask. -“We’ve got everything we want. I can dress as I -like on what’s left out of my salary, and there is no -sense in your teaching all day. I love the idea of your -being free to go to a concert now and then, and Alice’s -going to need you a lot when the baby comes and -afterwards.”</p> - -<p>“That may be all very true, dearie, but I don’t just -feel right about having so much time to myself. I -could easily do more. There was a lady called this -afternoon and just <i>begged</i> me to take her little girl. -You know I have all Saturday morning.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Jeannette decisively; “I won’t consider -it.”</p> - -<p>They were really very comfortably situated, the -girl would reflect. Once a week, sometimes oftener, -Mrs. Sturgis would be asked to accompany a singer -at a recital. That meant five dollars, often ten,—ten -whenever Elsa Newman sang. Then there was the -twenty she, herself, contributed weekly, and the lessons -that brought in an equal amount. Between her mother’s -earnings and her own, their income was never less -than two hundred and fifty dollars a month. They -were rich; they lived in luxury; they need never worry -again. Jeannette knew she could remain with Mr. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_181">[Pg 181]</span> -Corey for life if she wanted to; there was no possible -danger of her ever losing her job. Her mother fussed -about the apartment, cooked delicious meals, took an -interest in arranging and managing their little home -in a way that previous demands upon her time had -never permitted. A new rug was bought for the studio, -and some big easy chairs, which they had talked about -purchasing for years. The piece of chenille curtaining -that had done duty as a table cover so long in the -dining-room was supplanted by a square of handsomer -material; the leaky drop-light vanished and was replaced -by one more attractive and serviceable. More -particularly Jeannette had seen to it that her mother -got new clothes. Mrs. Sturgis had always favored -lavender as the shade most becoming to her, and her -daughter bought her a lovely lavender velvet afternoon -dress which had real lace down the front and was -trimmed with darker lavender velvet ribbon. Some -lavender silk waists followed, and a small lavender hat -upon which the lilac sprays nodded most ingratiatingly. -Mrs. Sturgis was radiant over her new apparel. Her -extravagant delight touched the daughter. It was pathetic -that so little could give so much intense enjoyment.</p> - -<p>Once or twice a month, Jeannette took her mother -to a matinée. She loved to go to the theatre herself, -and studied the advertisements, read all the daily theatrical -notes and never missed a review. She would -secure seats for the play, weeks in advance, and always -took her mother to lunch downtown before the performance. -These were wonderful and felicitous occasions -for both of them. They had great arguments -each time as to where they should eat, what they should -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_182">[Pg 182]</span> -select from the magnificent menus, and later about the -play itself. Jeannette liked to startle her mother by -selecting some extravagant item from the bill-of-fare, -or surprise her by handing her a little present across -the table. Sometimes as they came out of the theatre -she would pilot her without preamble toward a hansom-cab -and before the excited little woman knew what -it was about, would help her in, and tell the cabby to -drive them home slowly through the Park.</p> - -<p>“Oh, dearie, you’re not going to do this again!” -Mrs. Sturgis would expostulate drawing back from the -waiting vehicle. She really wished to protest against -the needless extravagance. Jeannette would smile -lovingly at her, and urge her in. Later as they were -rumbling through the leafless Park and met a stream -of automobiles and sumptuous equipages going in the -opposite direction, Mrs. Sturgis would settle herself -back with a sigh of contentment and say:</p> - -<p>“Really, dearie, I don’t think there is anything I -enjoy quite as much as riding in a hansom. You’re -very good to your old mother. We may land in the -poorhouse, but we’re having a good time while the -luck lasts.”</p> - -<p>On the occasion of the first performance of <i>Parsifal</i> -at the Metropolitan, Jeannette, through Mr. Corey, -was able to secure one ten-dollar seat for her mother. -It was the greatest event in little Mrs. Sturgis’ life. -She longed for Ralph, and wept all through the Good -Friday music.</p> - -<p>Frequently on Sunday afternoons Jeannette’s -mother made her daughter accompany her to Carnegie -Hall for a concert or a recital. Then, she declared, -it was her turn to treat and she would not allow the -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_183">[Pg 183]</span> -girl to pay for anything. Her entertainments were -never as “grand” as her daughter’s, but she took a -keen delight in playing hostess, and after the music -always suggested tea. They were both exceedingly -fond of toasted crumpets, and Mrs. Sturgis was ever -on the lookout for new places where they were served. -But neither of her daughters inherited her love for -music. Jeannette went to the concerts dutifully, but -the satisfaction derived from these afternoons came -from giving her mother pleasure rather than from the -jumble of sound made by the wailing strings, tooting -wood-winds and blaring trumpets. She could make -nothing out of it all. When there was a soloist she -was interested, especially if it was a woman, of whose -costume she made careful notes.</p> - -<p>Mother and daughter also went to church sometimes. -Doctor Fitzgibbons had made a deep impression upon -Mrs. Sturgis when he officiated at the marriage of Roy -and Alice. She had been “flattered out of her senses” -when the clergyman called upon her a few weeks after -the ceremony to inquire for the young couple. He had -talked to her about “parish work,” and expressed the -hope that she would see her way clear “to join the -church” and become interested in his “guild.” Mrs. -Sturgis had laughed violently at everything he said, -and had promised all he suggested. Thereafter she -referred to him as her “spiritual adviser,” and Jeannette -was aware she called occasionally at the rectory -to discuss what she termed her “spiritual problems.”</p> - -<p>Sunday evenings, Mrs. Sturgis and Jeannette usually -invited Alice and Roy to dinner, and sometimes they -were the guests of the young couple in the little Bronx -apartment. Roy and Alice were like two children -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_184">[Pg 184]</span> -playing at keeping house, Mrs. Sturgis said with one -of her satisfied chuckles. Jeannette, too, thought of -them as children. Alice had always seemed younger -to her than she really was, and even when her own -thoughts had been filled with Roy, he had always impressed -her as a “boy.” She often wondered nowadays, -when he and his happy, dimpling, brown-eyed -bride sat side by side on the sofa, their arms around -one another, their hands linked, exchanging kisses -every few minutes in accepted newly-wed fashion, -what she had ever seen in him that had made her own -senses swim and her heart pound. He was just a -sweet, amiable boy to her now, with a fresh, eager -manner, and rather an attractive face. She still liked -his quaint mouth, his whimsical smile, his quick flashing -blue eyes, but they no longer stirred her. She -could kiss him in affectionate sisterly fashion without -a tremor.</p> - -<p>Jeannette and Mrs. Sturgis took great delight in -observing the young couple together, in watching them -in their diminutive but pretty home, and in discussing -them afterwards. They were ideally happy,—laughing, -romping, playing little jokes upon one another, -deriving vast amusement from words, signs and -phrases, the meaning of which were known to them -alone. Both were affectionately demonstrative, forever -holding hands, caressing one another and kissing. -Jeannette said it made her sick, was disgusting, but -her mother scolded when she betrayed her distaste, -and reminded her it was “only right and proper.”</p> - -<p>Roy, against the prospect of his marriage to Jeannette, -had saved money; Mrs. Sturgis, urged by her -older daughter, had once again placed a loan of five -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_185">[Pg 185]</span> -hundred dollars upon the nest-egg in the savings bank; -Jeannette had contributed another hundred, and Roy’s -father had shipped from San Francisco a half car-load -of family furniture which had been in storage for many -years. The wedding had awaited the arrival of this -freight, and as soon as it came the stuff had been uncrated, -and installed in the little Bronx apartment. -The ceremony then followed and Roy took his blushing, -laughing, excited bride from her mother’s arms, from -the old-fashioned apartment where she had lived almost -since she could remember, and from the wedding -supper, direct to the new home in the Bronx which -together they had furnished with such joy and hours -of planning and discussion.</p> - -<p>They had nearly a thousand dollars to spend, but -Alice wisely decided, so her mother thought, that only -half of it should go into house-furnishing. The furniture -shipped by the Reverend Dwight Beardsley was -designed in the style of an earlier day and much of -it was too large for the snug little rooms of the Bronx -flat. A large sideboard with a marble slab top and -huge mirror could not be brought into the apartment -at all, and was sold to a second-hand furniture dealer -on Third Avenue for fifteen dollars. But most of the -furniture from California was usable, and all of it good -and substantial. Alice made the curtains for the dining -and living rooms herself; she and Roy, on their -hands and knees, painted the floors a warm walnut -tone. They bought three or four rugs, a fine second-hand -sofa with a rich but not too gaudy brocaded -cover, bed and table linen, and everything needed for -the kitchen. Horatio Stephens and his family sent -them a colored glass art lamp, and Mr. Corey, consulting -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_186">[Pg 186]</span> -Jeannette, presented a beautiful clock with -silvery chimes.</p> - -<p>No young husband and wife ever took greater delight -in their first home. They were always “fixing” -things, arranging and rearranging them, cleaning and -dusting. Roy bought a Boston fern during an early -week of the marriage, paid three dollars for a brass -jardiniere at a Turkish vendor’s to hold it, and the -plant flourished on a small taboret in the front windows. -They took the most assiduous care of this, watering -it several times a day and digging about its roots -with an old table knife whenever either of them had an -idle moment. When one of the curling fronds began -to turn brown, they had long discussions as to whether -it should be trimmed off or not. They acquired a -canary, too, which shared with the fern the young -couple’s devotion. Alice had bought the bird because -she was so “miserably lonely” without Roy all day long -that she would “go out of her senses wanting him” -unless there was something alive ’round the house to -keep her company. The fact that the canary never -opened his throat to make a sound,—although Alice -had been assured by the man in the bird-store that he -would “sing his head off”—did not in any wise detract -from her love for the little feathered creature that -hopped about in his cage and made a great fuss over -giving himself a bath in the mornings. They called -him “Sonny-boy” and took turns at the pleasure of -feeding him.</p> - -<p>Alice was a good cook. She had a gift for the -kitchen, and Jeannette and her mother would exclaim -in admiration over the delicious meals she prepared -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_187">[Pg 187]</span> -when they came to dinner. Roy would glance from -mother to sister-in-law when the roast appeared or -when a particularly appetizing-looking pudding was -brought in, and at their exclamations of delight, he -would say:</p> - -<p>“Guess I’ve got a pretty smart wife,—hey? Guess -I know a good cook when I see one, huh? Why, Alice’s -got most women I know skinned a mile! She’s just -a wonder; she can do anything. I only wish I was -good enough for her. She’s a wonder, all right—all -right.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette was deeply moved when her sister told -her she was going to have a baby. It tore at her heart -to think of little Alice, to herself so young, so immature, -so tender and weak and inexperienced, bringing -a child into the world. She worried about it, wondered -if Alice would die, felt with terrifying conviction -that that would be the way of it. Her mother’s pleasure -and complacency about the matter reassured her -but little. Alice was having a child much too soon -after her wedding; she ought to have waited for a -year or so at least.</p> - -<p>She watched the changes in her sister’s face and -figure with growing wonder. Child-bearing was a -mystery. Jeannette had never known a woman intimately -who had had a baby; now she was both curious -and concerned. After the early months of discomfort -had passed, a benign gentleness settled upon Alice; -her expression became placid, serene, beautiful. A -quality of goodness transfigured her. She moved -through the days toward her appointed time with -supreme tranquillity. Whenever Alice spoke of “my -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_188">[Pg 188]</span> -baby,” Jeannette winced, while her mother maddened -her each time with the remark that it was “only right -and proper.”</p> - -<p>One morning early in March, shortly after Jeannette -had reached the office, her mother telephoned -her in a great state of excitement. She had just heard -from Roy; Alice’s baby would arrive that day; they -were taking her right away to the hospital; she wasn’t -in any pain yet, but the doctor thought it would be best -to have her there; he didn’t say when the child was -likely to be born.</p> - -<p>There was no more news. The morning stretched -itself out endlessly. Jeannette worried and suffered -in silence; at noon she telephoned the hospital and got -Roy; there was little change; Alice was miserable, -but there was no talk about when the baby would be -born; the doctor had promised to be in at three; Roy -would let her know if anything happened. All afternoon -there was a meeting of the members of the firm in -Corey’s office; the question of the move to the new -building was being discussed; it lasted until four, until -five, until quarter to six. Jeannette was beside herself. -Alice was dead and they were afraid to let her know!</p> - -<p>At six o’clock her mother telephoned again. Alice -was having her pains with some regularity now; the -baby ought to be there about eight or nine o’clock, the -doctor said.</p> - -<p>As soon as she was at liberty Jeannette left the -office. She did not want to eat, but took the elevated -direct to the hospital. Her mother and Roy met her -and they kissed one another again and again. Alice -was “upstairs” now. They sat with their elbows -touching on a hard leather-covered seat in the reception-room. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_189">[Pg 189]</span> -Jeannette’s head began to ache; she -counted the sixty-three squares in the rug on the floor -twenty-two times; the black on the Welsbach burner -in the lamp looked exactly like two people kissing.</p> - -<p>Towards midnight the baby was born.</p> - -<p>When Jeannette first saw her niece, the upper part -of the little head and forehead were carefully bandaged. -Her mother whispered that it had been an -“instrument case”; Roy was not to know for a while -at any rate. The baby was perfect,—a fine, healthy, -eight-pound girl, and Alice was doing nicely.</p> - -<p>But Alice did not leave the hospital for six weeks -and was six months in recovering her old strength and -buoyancy.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_190">[Pg 190]</span></p> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II_II">CHAPTER II</h4> -</div> - -<h5>§ 1</h5> - -<p>It was some three months after the publishing house -had been established in its new offices, that Jeannette -had the card of Martin Devlin brought to her. It was -embossed and heavily engraved, with a small outline -of the earth’s two hemispheres in one corner and -bisecting these, in tiny capitals, the words: <span class="allsmcap">THE GIBBS -ENGRAVING COMPANY</span>. Mr. Corey was out; Jeannette -told the boy to inform the caller. In a minute or -two the messenger returned to say that the gentleman -would like to speak to Mr. Corey’s secretary, -but Jeannette had no time to waste on solicitors of -engraving work, and sent word that she was occupied. -The boy reappeared presently with another of Mr. -Devlin’s cards, on the back of which was pencilled:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Dear Miss Sturgis,—I’d be grateful for two -minutes’ interview. Have a message from an -old friend of yours.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">M. Devlin.</span>”<br /> -</p> -</div> - -<p>Jeannette frowned in distaste, and looked up at -the boy, annoyed. She was extremely busy, typing a -speech for Mr. Corey which he was to read that night -at a Publishers’ Banquet at the Waldorf. It was -twenty minutes past four; she expected him to return -at any minute.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_191">[Pg 191]</span></p> - -<p>“Tell the gentleman to come again, will you, Jimmy? -I’m really too busy to see him to-day.”</p> - -<p>The boy went out and she returned to her work, her -fingers flying.</p> - -<p>“The responsibility of molding public opinion,” -went her notes, “rests perhaps with our press, but to -whom do the discriminating readers of the nation in -confidence turn for the formation of their taste in -literature, their acquaintance with the Arts, the dissemination -of those inspiring idealistic thoughts and -precepts of the fathers of our great——”</p> - -<p>She estimated there were another three pages of it.</p> - -<p>The door of her office opened and a young man of -square build, with broad shoulders, and a grin on his -face, filled the aperture.</p> - -<p>“Beg pardon, Miss Sturgis,” he began. “I hope -you won’t think I’m butting-in.”</p> - -<p>He had a strong handsome face, big flashing teeth, -black hair and black eyebrows.</p> - -<p>Jeannette looked at him, bewildered. She had never -seen this man before; she did not know what he was -doing in her office, nor what he wanted.</p> - -<p>“I’m Martin Devlin,” he announced, advancing into -the room.</p> - -<p>At once she froze; her breast rose on a quick angry -intake, and her eyes assumed a cold level stare.</p> - -<p>“I hope you’re not going to be sore at me.” He -smiled down at her in easy good humor.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Corey’s not in,” said the girl. She was staggered -by this individual’s effrontery.</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s too bad, but I really called to have a -few minutes’ chat with you,” he returned nonchalantly. -“We have a friend of yours down at our office: Miss -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_192">[Pg 192]</span> -Alexander, Beatrice Alexander. ’Member her? She -says a lot of nice things about you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” Jeannette elevated her eyebrows and surveyed -the speaker’s head and feet.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid you’re sore at me,” he said. He laughed -straight into her cold eyes, showing his big teeth.</p> - -<p>Jeannette straightened herself and frowned. She -felt her anger rising.</p> - -<p>“Er—you—a——” she began, deliberately clearing -her throat with a little annoyed cough. “I think -you’ve made a mistake. Mr. Corey is not in. As you -see, I am busy. Good-day.”</p> - -<p>She looked down at her notes and swung her chair -around to her machine.</p> - -<p>“Whew!” whistled Mr. Devlin. He took a step -nearer, put his hand on her desk, bent down to catch a -glimpse of her face, and said with a pleading note in -his voice and with that same flashing smile:</p> - -<p>“Aw—please don’t be sore at me, Miss Sturgis!”</p> - -<p>The man’s sudden nearness brought Jeannette up -rigidly in her seat. Her eyes blazed a moment, but -there was something in this person’s manner and in -the ingratiating quality of his smile that made her -hesitate. Her first thought had been to call the porter -or one of the men outside, and have him summarily -put out. Instead she said in her most frigid tone:</p> - -<p>“Really, Mr. Devlin, you presume too far. You see -that I am busy and I’ve told you that Mr. Corey is -not in.”</p> - -<p>“Well that’s all right, but what do you want me to -tell Miss Alexander? She’ll be wanting to know if I -delivered her message.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Alexander, as I remember her, is a very -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_193">[Pg 193]</span> -lovely girl. You can tell her that I’ve not forgotten -her, and that I am sorry that ... that in her office -there are not more mannerly gentlemen.”</p> - -<p>Devlin threw back his head and roared. His laugh -was extraordinary.</p> - -<p>“Say, Miss Sturgis,” he began, “please don’t be -sore at me. I didn’t know I’d find a girl like you in -here. Miss Alexander said you were awfully nice and -I thought maybe you’d be doing me a favor one of -these days. I took a chance on getting in to see you -the way I did. Don’t blame the kid.”</p> - -<p>“What kid?”</p> - -<p>“The office boy. I slipped him a quarter and told -him to tell you I was an old friend of yours and wanted -to give you a surprise.”</p> - -<p>“Upon my word!”</p> - -<p>“Well, you see,—we’ve all got to make our living; -you, me and the office boy.”</p> - -<p>“There are ways of doing it,” said Jeannette acidly.</p> - -<p>“I think they’re all legitimate.”</p> - -<p>“What,—bribing office boys?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I didn’t bribe him exactly. I deceived him.” -He laughed again. He was Irish, the girl noted, and -presumably considered he had a great deal of Irish -charm.</p> - -<p>“At any rate, I got in to see you.”</p> - -<p>“Much good it’s done you.”</p> - -<p>“I have hopes for the future.”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t cherish them.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, well now, Miss Sturgis, don’t be cruel!”</p> - -<p>“I’m not in the least interested.”</p> - -<p>“Won’t you tell me who’s doing Corey’s engraving?”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_194">[Pg 194]</span></p> - -<p>“I will not.”</p> - -<p>“I can find out easily enough, and I think I can -interest him.”</p> - -<p>“I think you can’t.”</p> - -<p>“Won’t you make an appointment for me to see -him?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly not!”</p> - -<p>“There’s other ways I can meet him.”</p> - -<p>“You’re at liberty to find them.”</p> - -<p>“Aw ... you’re awfully mean. Why don’t you -give a fellow a chance for his living?”</p> - -<p>“You don’t deserve it.”</p> - -<p>“Because I gave the boy a quarter to show me which -was your office?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and because you’re so ... so....”</p> - -<p>“Fresh,—go on; you were going to say it!”</p> - -<p>“Evidently you are aware of it.”</p> - -<p>“A fellow hasn’t a chance to think anything else.”</p> - -<p>“Well,—you’ll have to excuse me. I’m really very -busy.”</p> - -<p>“Can I come again when you’ve a little more time -to spare?”</p> - -<p>“I am always busy.”</p> - -<p>“Can I ’phone?”</p> - -<p>“I can’t bother with ’phone messages.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Devlin for a moment was routed.</p> - -<p>“Oh, <i>gosh</i>!” he said in disgust.</p> - -<p>Jeannette was not to be won. She nodded to him, -and began to type briskly, the keys of her machine -humming. The man stood uncertainly a moment more, -shifting from one foot to the other; then he swung himself -disconsolately toward the door, and closed it -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_195">[Pg 195]</span> -slowly after him. Almost immediately he opened it -again and thrust in his head.</p> - -<p>“I’m coming back again,—just the same!” he -bawled. Jeannette did not look around, and the door -clicked shut.</p> - -<h5>§ 2</h5> - -<p>The next time he called she was taking dictation -from Mr. Corey and was unaware he had come. When -she finished with her employer, and picked up the -sheaf of letters he had given her, she passed through -the connecting door between the two offices, and found -Devlin waiting in her room.</p> - -<p>“<i>Really!</i>” She stopped short and frowned in quick -annoyance.</p> - -<p>“Well, here I am again!” he said blandly.</p> - -<p>“And here’s where you go out!” She walked -towards the door that led to the outer office and flung -it open.</p> - -<p>Devlin’s face altered, and a slow color began to -mount his dark cheeks.</p> - -<p>“Aw—say——” he said in hurt tones. The smile -was gone; for the moment his face was as serious as -her own.</p> - -<p>Jeannette did not move. Devlin picked up his hat -and gloves.</p> - -<p>“My God!” he exclaimed fervently, “you’re hard -as nails!”</p> - -<p>As he went out she suddenly felt sorry for him.</p> - -<p>But that was not the last of him. His card appeared -the next afternoon. Mr. Corey was again away from -the office.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_196">[Pg 196]</span></p> - -<p>“I’m not in to this person,” she said to Jimmy, -“and if he bribes you to show him in here, I’ll go -straight to Mr. Kipps and have you fired.”</p> - -<p>The next day he telephoned. She hung up the receiver, -and told the girl at the switch-board to find out -who wanted her before she put through any more calls. -The day following brought a letter from him, but as -soon as she discovered his signature, she tore it up -and threw it in the waste-paper basket. Two minutes -later, she carefully recovered its ragged squares and -pieced them together.</p> - -<p>“My dear Miss Sturgis,” it read, “you must overlook -my boorish methods. I’ll not bother you again, -but I beg you will not hold it against me, if I try to -make your acquaintance in some more acceptable manner. -Yours with good wishes, Martin Devlin.”</p> - -<p>He wrote a vigorous hand,—strong, distinct, individual.</p> - -<p>Jeannette considered the letter a moment, then -uttered a contemptuous “Puh!” scooped the fragments -into her palm, and returned them to the receptacle -for trash.</p> - -<h5>§ 3</h5> - -<p>Toward the end of the week, she had a telephone call -from Beatrice Alexander. She had not seen the girl -for nearly four years but remembered how exceptionally -kind she had been to her that first day she -went to work, and thought it would be pleasant to -meet her again, and talk over old times. They arranged -to have luncheon together.</p> - -<p>They met at the Hotel St. Denis. Jeannette always -went there whenever there was sufficient excuse; she -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_197">[Pg 197]</span> -loved the atmosphere of the old place. Her luncheon -was invariably the same: hot chocolate with whipped -cream, and a club sandwich. It cost just fifty cents.</p> - -<p>Beatrice Alexander had changed but little during -the years Jeannette had not seen her, except that now -she wore glasses. A little gold chain dangled from the -tip of one lens, and hooked itself by means of a gold -loop, over an ear. It made her look schoolmarmy, but -she had the same sweet face, the same soft dovelike -eyes, and the whispering voice.</p> - -<p>“And you <i>never</i> married Mr. Beardsley,” she commented. -“I heard you were engaged and he certainly -was awfully in love with you.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette explained about her sister, and how happy -the two were in their little Bronx flat. Her companion -exclaimed about the baby.</p> - -<p>She had had two or three places since the old publishing -house suspended its selling campaign of the -History. She had been in the business office of the -Fifth Avenue Hotel Company until it closed its doors. -Now The Gibbs Engraving Company employed her; -she’d been there about a year, and liked it all right, but -the constant smell of the strong acids made her a little -sick sometimes. She and Jeannette fell presently to -discussing Martin Devlin.</p> - -<p>“Oh, he’s all right,” Beatrice Alexander said. “He -came there about the same time I did. He’s an awful -flirt, I guess, and he gets round a good deal. I don’t -know much about him, except that he’s always pleasant -and agreeable, never, anything but terribly nice to me. -Everybody likes him. He’s one of our best solicitors. -I heard from one of the men in your composing room, -who’s a kind of cousin of mine, that you were with -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_198">[Pg 198]</span> -the Corey Company and were Mr. Corey’s private secretary, -and one day I happened to hear Mr. Devlin -talking to Mr. Gibbs,—Mr. Gibbs and his brother own -The Gibbs Engraving Company,—and he said something -about how he wished he could land your account -but he didn’t know a soul he could approach. And -then I mentioned I knew you. That was all there was -to it, only he said you treated him something awful.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette rehearsed the interview.</p> - -<p>“He struck me as a very fresh young man,” she -concluded.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Devlin’s all right,” Beatrice Alexander -said again. “He doesn’t mean any harm. He’s Irish, -you know,—he was born here and all that,—and he -just wants to be friendly with everyone. I suppose -he was kind of hurt because you were so short with -him.”</p> - -<p>“I most certainly was,” Jeannette said, grimly.</p> - -<p>“Well, he’s been begging and begging me to call you -up. He wanted to take us both out to lunch, but I -wouldn’t agree to that. I told him I’d see you about -it first.”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t consider it,” Jeannette said, indignantly. -“The idea! What’s the matter with him?”</p> - -<p>“I imagine,” Beatrice Alexander said shyly, “he -likes your style.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t like <i>his</i>! ... The impertinence!”</p> - -<p>They finished their lunch and wandered into Broadway. -It was Easter week, and the chimes of Grace -Church were ringing out a hymn.</p> - -<p>“Let’s not lose touch with each other again,” said -Beatrice Alexander at parting. “I’ll ’phone you soon, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_199">[Pg 199]</span> -and next time you’ll have to have luncheon with <i>me</i>. -I always go to Wanamaker’s; they have such lovely -music up there, and the food’s splendid.”</p> - -<h5>§ 4</h5> - -<p>Jeannette had forgotten Mr. Devlin’s existence until -one day as she was typing busily at her desk she suddenly -recognized his loud, infectious and unmistakable -laugh in the adjoining office. Mr. Corey had come in -from lunch some ten minutes before, and had brought -a man with him. She had heard their feet, their voices, -and the clap of the closing door as they entered. Now -the laugh startled her. She paused, her fingers suspended -above the keys of her typewriter, and listened. -It was Mr. Devlin; there was no mistaking him. She -twisted her lips in a wry smile. He and Mr. Corey -were evidently getting on.</p> - -<p>She knew she would be called. When the buzzer -summoned her, she picked up her note-book and pencils, -straightened her shoulders in characteristic fashion, -and went in.</p> - -<p>Devlin rose to his feet as she entered, but she did -not glance at him. Her attention was Mr. Corey’s.</p> - -<p>“How do you do? How’s Miss Sturgis?” Devlin -was all good-natured friendliness, showing his big -teeth as he grinned at her.</p> - -<p>She turned her eyes toward him gravely, gazed at -him with calm deliberation, and briefly inclined her -head.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you two know each other? Friends, hey?” -asked Mr. Corey, looking up.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_200">[Pg 200]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, we’re trying to be,” laughed Devlin.</p> - -<p>Jeannette made no comment. She gazed expectantly -at her chief.</p> - -<p>“The Gibbs Engraving Company,” said Mr. Corey -in his brusque businesslike voice, “wants to do our -engraving. I’m going to give them a three months’ -trial. I’d like to have you take a memorandum of what -they’ve quoted us. Mr. Gibbs is to confirm this by -letter. Now you said five cents per square inch on -line cuts with a minimum of fifty cents....”</p> - -<p>Jeannette scribbled down the figures.</p> - -<p>“Three-color work a dollar a square inch,” supplied -Devlin.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I thought you said you’d give us a flat rate on -our color work.”</p> - -<p>“On the magazine covers, yes, but I can’t do that -on general color work.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s all right.” The discussion continued. -Presently the girl had all the details.</p> - -<p>“Give me a memorandum of that,” Corey said, “and -send a carbon to Mr. Kipps.” He turned to the young -man. “We’ll talk it over, and let you know just as -soon as we hear from you.” Devlin rose. The men -shook hands as Jeannette passed into her own room. -She heard them saying good-bye. Their voices continued -murmuring, but she did not listen. Suddenly -Mr. Corey opened her door.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Devlin wants to speak to you a minute, Miss -Sturgis.” He nodded to his companion, said “Well, -good-bye; hope we can get together on this,” and -shook hands once more, and left Devlin confronting -her.</p> - -<p>“Please let me say just one word,” he said quickly. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_201">[Pg 201]</span> -“I met Mr. Corey at the Quoin Club the other day -and made a date for lunch. I’m after his business all -right, and think I’ve got it cinched. I don’t want you -to continue to be sore at me, if my outfit and yours are -going to do business together. I’m sorry if I got off -on the wrong foot. Please accept my apology and let’s -be friends.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think there is any occasion——” began -Jeannette icily.</p> - -<p>“Aw shucks!” he said interrupting her, “I’m doing -the best I can to square myself. I didn’t mean to -annoy you. I didn’t care at first what you thought -of me as long as I got in to see Mr. Corey. I confess -I thought maybe I could jolly you into arranging a -date for me to see him. No,—wait a minute,” he -urged as the girl frowned, “hear me out. You see I’m -being honest about it. I’m telling you frankly what I -thought at first, but that was before I even saw you. -I had no idea you were the kind of girl you are. It -isn’t usual to find a person like you in an office. Oh, -you think I’m jollying you! I swear I’m not. I just -want to ask you to forgive me if I offended you, and -be friends.”</p> - -<p>There was something unusually ingratiating about -this man. Jeannette hesitated, and Devlin continued. -He pleaded very earnestly; it was impossible not to -believe his sincerity.</p> - -<p>Jeannette shrugged her shoulders when he paused -for a moment. Her hands were automatically arranging -the articles on her desk.</p> - -<p>“Well,” she conceded slowly, “what do you want?”</p> - -<p>“For you to say you’ll forgive a blundering Irish -boobie, and shake hands with him.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_202">[Pg 202]</span></p> - -<p>He wrung a dry smile from her at that. She held -out her hand.</p> - -<p>“Oh, very well. It’s easier to be friends with you -than have you here interfering with my getting at my -work.”</p> - -<p>“That’s fine, now.” He held her fingers a moment, -his whole face beaming. “You’ve a kind heart, Miss -Sturgis, and I sha’n’t forget it.”</p> - -<p>He took himself away with a radiant smile upon his -face.</p> - -<h5>§ 5</h5> - -<p>It was evident Martin Devlin proposed to be a factor -in her life. When he came to the office to see Mr. -Kipps or Miss Holland about the engraving,—and the -work brought him, or he pretended it brought him, -two or three times a week—he never failed to step to -Jeannette’s door, open it, and give her the benefit of his -flashing teeth and handsome eyes as he wished her -good-day or asked her how she was. He did not intrude -further. His visits were only for a minute or -two. Only once when she was looking for a letter in the -filing cabinet, he came in and lingered for a chat. -He saw she was not typing, therefore ready to talk to -him since he was not interrupting her. When she went -to lunch with Beatrice Alexander a week or two later -at Wanamaker’s he joined the two girls by the elevators -as they were leaving the lunch-room, pretending, -Jeannette noticed, with a great air of surprise, -that the meeting was merely a fortuitous circumstance. -The subway had a few days before begun to operate. -Jeannette had never ridden upon it, so Martin piloted -her down the stone steps, boarded the train, and rode -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_203">[Pg 203]</span> -with her until they reached Thirty-fourth Street. -Beatrice Alexander had said good-bye as they left -Wanamaker’s.</p> - -<p>Devlin had a confident, self-assured way with him. It -could not be said he swaggered, but the word suggested -him. He was easy, good-natured, laughing, cajoling, -irresistibly merry. His good humor was contagious. -Men smiled back at him; women looked at him twice. -To the subway guard, to the sour-faced little Jew at -the newsstand, to the burly cop with whom they collided -as they climbed the stairs to the street, he was -familiar, patronizing, jocular. He called the Italian -subway guard “Garibaldi,” the Jewish newsdealer -“Isaac,” the burly policeman “Sergeant.” One -glance at him and each was won; it was impossible to -resent his familiarity. Everybody liked him; he could -say the most outrageous things and give no offense. -It was that Irish charm of his, Jeannette decided, -back once more at her desk and clicking away at her -machine, that made people so lenient with him.</p> - -<p>She began to speculate about him a good deal. It -was clear he was in hot pursuit of her, and that he -intended to give her no peace. He commenced to bring -little boxes of candy which he slid on to her desk -with a long arm when he opened her office door to say -“Hello!” Then flowers put in their appearance: -sweet bunches of violets, swathed in oiled paper, their -stems wrapped in purple tinfoil, the fragrant ball -glistening with brilliant drops of water; there were -bunches of baby roses, too, and lilies-of-the-valley, and -daffodils. One day she happened to mention she had -never read “The Taming of the Shrew,” and the following -morning there was delivered at her home a -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_204">[Pg 204]</span> -complete set of the Temple edition of Shakespeare’s -plays. She protested, she threatened to throw the -flowers out of the window, she begged him with her -most earnest smile not to send her anything more. -She was talking into deaf ears. The very next day -she found on her desk two seats for a Saturday matinée -with a note scribbled on the envelope: “For you -and your mother next Saturday. Have a good time -and think of Martin.”</p> - -<p>In deep distress she told her mother about him, -but Mrs. Sturgis shared none of her concern.</p> - -<p>“Well, perhaps the young man is trying to be friends -with you in the only way he knows how. I wouldn’t -be too hasty with him, dearie. You say he’s with an -engraving company? Is that a good line of work? -Does he seem well-off,—plenty of money and all that?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, <i>Mama</i>!” cried Jeannette, in mild annoyance.</p> - -<p>“There’s no harm, my dear, in a nice rich young -fellow admiring a pretty girl like my daughter. If -the young man’s well brought up and means what’s -perfectly right and proper, I don’t see what you can -object to. You’ve got to marry one of these days, -lovie; you must remember that. There isn’t any sense -in tying yourself down to a desk for the rest of your -life! You’ve <i>got</i> to think about a husband!”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t want <i>him</i>!”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps not. I’m not saying anything about him. -But there’s plenty of nice young men in the world, -and you mustn’t shut your eyes to them. A girl should -marry and have a home of her own; that’s what God -intended. Doctor Fitzgibbons was saying exactly that -same thing to me only yesterday. Now this Mr. Devlin,—it’s -an Irish name, isn’t it?——”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_205">[Pg 205]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, hush,—for goodness’ sakes, Mama! Don’t let’s -talk any more about him.... What did Alice have to -say to-day?”</p> - -<p>“She’s really gaining very rapidly now,” Mrs. -Sturgis said instantly diverted. “She says she’s going -to let that woman go. She comes every day and does -all the dishes and cleans up and it only costs Alice -three dollars a week.”</p> - -<p>“Why, she’s crazy,” cried Jeannette. “She isn’t -half strong enough to do her own work, yet. You -tell her I’ll pay the three dollars till she’s all right -again. I can’t imagine what Roy Beardsley’s thinking -about!”</p> - -<h5>§ 6</h5> - -<p>Martin Devlin begged her to allow him to take her -mother and herself to dinner, and “perhaps we’ll have -time to drop in at a show afterwards,” he added. -Jeannette declined. She had no wish to become on -more intimate terms with him, but he would not take -“No” for an answer. He persisted; she grew angry; -he persisted just the same. She considered going to -Mr. Corey and informing him that this representative -of The Gibbs Engraving Company was annoying her, -and yet it hardly seemed the thing to do. She spoke -of it again to her mother, and Mrs. Sturgis at once -was in a flutter of excitement at the prospect of a dinner -downtown.</p> - -<p>“But why not, dearie?” she argued. “I could wear -my lavender velvet, and you’ve got your new taffeta.... -I’d like to meet the young man.”</p> - -<p>After all there were thousands of girls, reflected -Jeannette, who were accepting anything and everything -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_206">[Pg 206]</span> -from men, wheedling gifts out of them, sometimes -even taking their money. Her mother would -get much pleasure out of the event.</p> - -<p>When Devlin urged his invitation again, she drew -a long breath, and consented. There seemed no reason -why she should not accept; there was nothing wrong -with him; she liked him; he was agreeable and devoted; -her mother would be delighted.</p> - -<p>He called for them on the night of the party in a taxi. -It was an unexpected luxury. He won Mrs. Sturgis at -once. Why, he was perfectly charming, a delightful -young man! What in the world was Jeannette thinking -about? She laughed violently at everything he -said, rocking back and forth on the hard leather seat in -the stuffy interior of the cab, convulsed with mirth, -her round little cheeks shaking. He was the most -comical young man she’d ever known!</p> - -<p>The taxi took them to a brilliant restaurant, gay with -lights, music and hilarity. Jeannette’s blue, high-necked -taffeta and her mother’s lavender velvet were -sober costumes amidst the vivid apparel and low-cut -toilettes of the women. But the girl was aware that -no matter what her dress might be, she, herself, was -beautiful. She saw the turning heads, and the eyes -that trailed her as the little group followed the head-waiter -to their table. The table had been reserved, -the dinner ordered. Cocktails appeared, and she sipped -the first she had ever tasted. Her mother was in -gay spirits, and preened herself in these surroundings -like a bird. Devlin seemed to know how to do everything. -He was startlingly handsome in his evening -clothes; the white expanse of shirt was immaculate; -there were two tiny gold studs in front, and a black -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_207">[Pg 207]</span> -bow tie tied very snugly at the opening of his collar. -It was no more than conventional semi-formal evening -dress, and yet somehow it impressed Jeannette as -magnificent. She had never noticed how becoming the -costume was to a man before. She realized, as she -glanced at him, he was the first young man she had -ever known, who had taken her out in the evening and -worn evening dress. Roy had been too poor; the -tuxedo he had had at college was shabby; she had -never seen him wear it. She studied Devlin now -critically. His hair was coal black, coarse, a trifle -wavy; he wet it, when he combed it, and it caught -a high light now and then. His eyebrows were heavy -and bushy like his hair, the eyes, themselves, deep-set -but alive with twinkles and laughter. They were expressive -eyes, she thought, capable of subtlest meanings. -His nose was straight, his mouth large and red, -and his big even teeth glistened between the vivid lips -with the glitter of fine wet porcelain. He had an oval-shaped -face and a vigorous pointed chin. His skin -was unblemished, but the jaw, chin, and cheeks were -dark blue from his close-shaven beard. It was his -expression, she decided, more than the regularity of -his features, that made him so handsome. In his -evening dress he was extraordinarily good-looking. -She judged him to be twenty-six or seven.</p> - -<p>The dinner progressed smoothly. Devlin had evidently -taken pains in ordering it, and he gave a pleased -smile when Mrs. Sturgis waxed enthusiastic over some -particular feature, and Jeannette echoed her praise. -There was, as a matter of fact, nothing spectacular -about it: oysters, chicken <i>sauté sec</i>,—a specialty of the -restaurant,—a vegetable or two, salad with a red sauce—Mrs. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_208">[Pg 208]</span> -Sturgis thought it most curious and pronounced -it delicious—an ice. To his guests, it seemed the most -wonderful dinner they had ever eaten. The girl was -impressed; her mother flatteringly excited.</p> - -<p>“It’s all so <i>good</i>!” Mrs. Sturgis kept repeating as if -she had made a surprising discovery.</p> - -<p>Devlin called for the check, glanced at it, dropped a -large bill on the silver tray, and when the change was -brought, amounting to two dollars and some cents,—as -both Jeannette and her mother noted,—waved it -away to the waiter with a negligent gesture. It was -lordly; it was magnificent!</p> - -<p>Jeannette loved such ways of doing things, she loved -the lights and music, the excellent food, the deferential -service, the gorgeous restaurant, the beautifully -gowned women. She would like to own one rich and -sumptuous evening dress like theirs, and to be able to -wear it to such a magnificent place as this, and queen -it over them all. She knew she could do it; she could -dazzle the entire room.</p> - -<p>Devlin guided his guests through the revolving glass -doors to the street, the taxi-cab starter blew his whistle -shrilly, a car rolled up, the door was held open for -them to enter, and banged shut. The starter in his -gold-braided uniform and shining brass buttons, -touched his cap respectfully, and the taxi rolled out -into the traffic. Jeannette thrilled to the luxuriousness -and extravagance of it all.</p> - -<p>It was the same at the theatre. They had aisle seats -in the sixth row; the musical comedy was delightful, -spectacular, magnificent, in tune with everything else -that evening. After the theatre, their escort insisted -upon their going to a brilliant café where the music -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_209">[Pg 209]</span> -was glorious, and where Jeannette and her mother -sipped ginger-ale and Devlin drank beer. Mrs. Sturgis -commented half-a-dozen times upon the peel of a -lemon, deftly cut into cork-screw shape, and twisted -into her glass, which gave the ginger-ale quite a delightful -flavor. It was Devlin’s idea; she had heard -him suggest it to the waiter. He was a very remarkable -young man, —very!</p> - -<p>They were swept home in another taxi-cab, and he -refused to let them thank him for the glorious evening. -He hinted he would like to call, and perhaps be asked -to dinner. But of course, that was not to be thought -of! A grand person like him coming to one of their -simple little meals, with Mrs. Sturgis or Jeannette -jumping up to wait on the table? That would be perfectly -ridiculous! But he might call some time, or -perhaps go with them to a Sunday concert. He would -be delighted, of course. He held his hat high above -his head as he said good-night, and stood at the foot -of the steps until they were safely inside.</p> - -<p>It had been a memorable evening; they really had -had a most wonderful time; Mr. Devlin certainly knew -how to do things! Mrs. Sturgis, carefully pinning a -sheet about her lavender velvet preparatory to hanging -it in the closet, began planning how they could -entertain him.</p> - -<p>“Is he fond of music, do you know, dearie? I think -we could get seats for some Sunday afternoon concert, -and then bring him home to tea. It would be much -better to ask him here than to go to any of those little -tea-places; we could get some crumpets and toast them -ourselves, and might buy a few little French pastries. -You could see he was dying to be asked.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_210">[Pg 210]</span></p> - -<p>Jeannette felt vaguely irritated.</p> - -<p>“Oh, let’s not rush him, Mama.”</p> - -<p>“Rush him? Who’s talking of rushing him, I’d like -to know? The young man is a very delightful, presentable -gentleman, and he’s evidently taken a great fancy -to you, and he’s even been nice to your poor old mother. -I declare, Janny, I can’t sometimes make you out! -I just was proposing we extend him a little hospitality -in return for his extremely lavish entertainment. He’s -been most kind and considerate, and the least we can -do....”</p> - -<p>Jeannette’s mind wandered. It certainly would be -wonderful, went her roving thoughts, to have money, -and dress gorgeously, and go about to such magnificent -restaurants, and then taxi off to the theatre, whenever -one wanted to! It would be wonderful, too, to have -somebody strong and resourceful always looking out -for one’s comfort and enjoyment, paying all the bills, -never bothering one about money, consulting and gratifying -one’s slightest whim!</p> - -<p>She went to sleep in a haze of golden imaginings. -Her mother’s voice in the next room planning various -schemes, commenting upon Mr. Devlin’s attractiveness, -grew fainter and fainter, and finally dwindled -silent.</p> - -<h5>§ 7</h5> - -<p>But the next morning Jeannette vigorously attacked -the subject. There had been nothing extraordinary -about the past evening. A man in conventional evening -dress had taken her mother and herself to dine -in a restaurant, and afterwards had driven them in a -taxi to the theatre. What was there so remarkable -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_211">[Pg 211]</span> -in that? It was being done all the time; the restaurants -were packed full of such parties night after -night. It had merely <i>seemed</i> wonderful to a girl and -her mother unused to such entertainment.</p> - -<p>Jeannette kept reminding herself of this throughout -the ensuing day. She did not propose to have her head -turned, as her mother’s evidently was, by a little -splurge of money. She was not in love with Martin -Devlin, she did not care a snap of her finger for him, -she would not marry him if he had a million! There -was no sense in letting him think she would even consider -such an idea. She couldn’t help it, if he was in -love with her. She had done nothing to encourage him, -and she didn’t propose to begin. No, the whole thing -had better come to an end; it had gone quite far -enough; she’d have to call off any silly plans her -mother might be making.... What! Marry Martin -Devlin and give up her job? <i>Never in the world!</i></p> - -<p>But Jeannette found she was dealing with a personality -very different from that of Roy Beardsley. -Mr. Devlin had one idea, one object: the idea was -Jeannette, the object matrimony. He besieged her -with attentions, he gave her no peace, he hounded her -footsteps. Mrs. Sturgis threw herself whole-heartedly -upon his side. She was deaf to her daughter’s remonstrances; -she refused to be discourteous, as she -described it, to a young man so attentive and considerate. -Mother and daughter actually quarrelled -about the matter, refused to speak to each other for -a whole day, made up with tears and kisses, but this -in no jot altered Mrs. Sturgis’ purpose of being Mr. -Devlin’s friend and advocate.</p> - -<p>Jeannette was not to be shaken. She did not desire -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_212">[Pg 212]</span> -Mr. Devlin, she did not want to marry anyone, she -had no intention of abandoning her work.</p> - -<p>“You <i>got</i> to marry me, Jeannette,” this purposeful -young man said to her one day.</p> - -<p>“Never,” said Jeannette resolutely.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, you will,” he told her with equal -confidence.</p> - -<p>“Well, we’ll see about that. I don’t care for you; I -wouldn’t marry you if I did; you are only annoying -me with your attentions. I would really like you much -better if you’d leave me alone.”</p> - -<p>The very evening this conversation took place she -found a beautiful little scarab pin waiting for her when -she got home. She mailed it back to him at The Gibbs -Engraving Company. The next day came perfume, -and a day or two later a large roll of new magazines; -he sent her candy, flowers, theatre tickets. She gave -the candy away, threw the flowers out of the window, -tore up the theatre tickets and sent the torn paste-boards -back to him in a letter in which she told him -further gifts would only anger her. They kept on -coming with undiminished regularity. She wept; her -mother scolded her; Devlin called. There was no evading -him; he was everywhere.</p> - -<p>One day, he grabbed her, took her in his arms, beat -down her resistance, strained her to him, and kissed -her savagely, hungrily on the mouth. In that instant -she capitulated; something broke within her; an overwhelming -force rose like a great tide, welled up over -her head and submerged her. She wilted in his embrace, -succumbed like a crushed lily and longed for -him to trample on her.</p> - -<p>Love, glorious, intoxicating, passionate, had sprung -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_213">[Pg 213]</span> -to life in her. She resented it; she was helpless -against it. She fought—fought—fought to no purpose. -It rode her, rowelled her, harried her. Martin -Devlin had conquered her heart, but her will was -another matter.</p> - -<h5>§ 8</h5> - -<p>Jeannette became miserably unhappy. She imagined -she had experienced all love’s emotions when Roy -Beardsley possessed her thoughts. She laughed now -when she thought of them. She had been little more -than a school girl then, with a school girl’s capacity -for love,—a maiden’s love, virginal, immature. It was -not to be compared with this flame that seethed within -her now. Oh, God! Her love for Martin Devlin was -an agony! For the first time in her life she knew the -full meaning of fear. She feared this man with a -fear like terror. Ruthlessly he obtruded himself into -her life, ruthlessly he assaulted the securest fastnesses -of it, ruthlessly, she dreaded, he would strike them -down and subdue her will as easily as he had won her -love. He was in her thoughts all day and all night; -she trembled when he was near her; it was torment -when they were apart. Again and again, she returned -to her determination to put him out of her life; he -would only cause her trouble; there was only unhappiness -in store for them both. It was useless. Neither -her thoughts nor Devlin had any mercy upon her. -She knew at last what love, real love, was like; it was -a raging fire, white-hot, scorifying, consuming.</p> - -<p>His lips never again found hers after that first terrible -moment of weakness. Sometimes he caught her -to him and strained her in his arms, but her cheek or -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_214">[Pg 214]</span> -hair or neck received his eager kiss. She resisted -these embraces with all her strength, struggled in his -grasp. She was mortally afraid of him; mortally -afraid of herself. Desire throbbed in all her veins. -She clung desperately to the last redoubt in her defenses -behind which every instinct told her safety lay. -She would allow him no avenue of approach; she would -tolerate no moment’s weakness in her fortitude.</p> - -<p>“Janny, you love me, and, by God, I love you. -You’re the finest woman I’ve ever known, Janny. -When are you going to marry me?” Martin had his -arms about her, but both her hands were pressed -against his breast. He seemed so big and powerful -as he stood holding her; she knew his clean shaven -chin was rough with his beard, firm and cold; he -smelled fragrantly of cigars.</p> - -<p>Ah, love! That was one thing,—she had no control -over her heart,—but marriage was another. That was -very different indeed.</p> - -<p>“Martin dear,—I <i>do</i> love you,—I’m proud I love -you. But I don’t want to get married!”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>Jeannette sighed wearily.</p> - -<p>“I don’t suppose I can ever make you understand. -I like to live my own life; I like to come and go as I -please; I like to have the money I earn myself to spend -the way I like. And besides that, I love my work, I -love being at the office. I’ve been part of this business -now for three years; I’ve helped to build it up, I know -every detail; it belongs to me in a way. Does that -sound unreasonable to you?”</p> - -<p>“No, not unreasonable exactly. But I don’t think -you see it right; you attach too much importance to -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_215">[Pg 215]</span> -it. You’ll be just as free and independent as my wife -as you are now.”</p> - -<p>Would she? She wondered. It was of that, that -she had her gravest misgivings.</p> - -<p>“And then there’s Mr. Corey. I wouldn’t feel right -about leaving him; he depends on me so much.”</p> - -<p>“Well, for God’s sake!” exclaimed Martin. “Do -you mean to tell me you would let <i>that</i> stand in the -way?”</p> - -<p>“It’s a consideration,” said Jeannette honestly. -Martin’s face settled grimly.</p> - -<p>“And then there’s Mama,” went on the girl. “She’s -so happy now, living with me. She doesn’t have to -work so hard any more, and she goes to concerts and -visits Alice and does as she pleases. You see, if I -married, that would have to come to an end. I don’t -know what she would do.”</p> - -<p>“Why, she could do a lot of things,” argued Martin. -“She might go and live with your sister, for instance, -or come with us; she could divide her time between -the two of you.”</p> - -<p>“Alice would love to have her,” admitted Jeannette. -“Mama’s crazy about Etta, and of course it would -make it easier for Allie. But I don’t think Mama -would consent to live with either of her children.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve always been a fan for your ma,” said Martin, -“and that just shows how dead sensible she is. Your -sister’s husband and I could each send her twenty-five -dollars a month, and she could find some place to board -easily for that.”</p> - -<p>“Roy hasn’t got any twenty-five dollars.”</p> - -<p>“We can fix up some arrangement that will be satisfactory -all ’round.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_216">[Pg 216]</span></p> - -<p>“Mama would never consent to give up her teaching. -It really means too much to her.”</p> - -<p>“Well, there you are! You haven’t got a real reason -on earth for not marrying me to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>But Jeannette felt she had, though she could find -no one to agree with her.</p> - -<p>“You’re just playing with your happiness, dearie,” -her mother said to her. “Martin Devlin’s a fine young -man. You could go a long way before you’d find a -better husband. I want to see my dearie-girl in a -little home of her own like her sister’s.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Janny,” said Alice, “you don’t know what fun, -being married is! Why, after you’ve become a wife, -you feel differently about the whole world. Why, I’d -marry <i>anybody</i> rather than not be married at all! ... -And then, Janny, you haven’t got the faintest idea how -sweet it is to have a baby of your own. Etta is just -the joy of our lives. You ought to see Roy playing -with her when he comes home from the office and I -am getting her bath ready!”</p> - -<p>Jeannette studied her sister’s radiant face curiously. -There was a mystery here; something she did not understand. -This was the girl who had borne her child -in agony, who had endured nearly fifteen hours of -labor, who had been torn and ripped, and had lain helpless -on her back for six long months, fighting her way -back to strength and normality, despairing and weakly -crying! Yet here she was talking of the joy of having -a baby, urging her sister to a like experience!</p> - -<p>It was puzzling. How soon mothers forgot! Six -months of helplessness already unremembered! It -had not passed from Jeannette’s recollection. It had -been terrible—terrible! ... And yet she would like -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_217">[Pg 217]</span> -to have a baby of her own,—a baby without that fearful -ordeal,—a little Martin Devlin. She kissed Etta -on the back of her wrinkled fat neck where it was -sweetly perspiry and fuzzy with the lint from her -blankets.</p> - -<h5>§ 9</h5> - -<p>Jeannette was equally sure of two things: she loved -Martin with all her soul; she would never consent to -give up her position with Mr. Corey and marry him. -Martin, her mother, Alice, even Mr. Corey, who soon -learned of the situation, could not persuade her.</p> - -<p>Corey had a long talk with her about the matter.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know very much about your young man; -Gibbs speaks well of him. He tells me he’s been with -them a little more than a year, and is their star salesman. -I think he has more possibilities in him than -that. Of course you never can tell. I confess I was -impressed when I first met him. Somebody at the -Quoin Club had him there as a guest and introduced -us, and he talked good business from the start. I don’t -think much of Gibbs’ engraving, but that’s no reflection -on Devlin. Personally I think you ought to marry. -I advised you the same way before. Perhaps you were -right in not being too hasty in that instance. I can’t -know, of course, whether you’re seriously interested or -not. Your heart has got to tell you that. If you love -Devlin well enough and think you’ll be happy with him, -you ought to marry him. I hate to see you wasting -your life down here in this office. You’re deserving a -better chance. Business is no place for a girl. You -ought to be building a home and rearing children of -your own. If you make as good a wife as you have -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_218">[Pg 218]</span> -a secretary,” he ended with a smile, “your husband -will have no occasion to find fault with you.”</p> - -<p>But she could not bring herself to give up her independence. -That was what stuck in her throat. She -came back to it repeatedly. A little apartment like -Alice’s to share with Martin, to fix and furnish,—it -appealed to her imagination, it had its attractions,—but -it would be such a leap in the dark! She was so -sure of her happiness living the way she was—why -alter it? Yet was there any happiness for her without -Martin? She tried to picture it, and her heart -misgave her.</p> - -<p>Some of the glamor that surrounded him at first had -now disappeared. He no longer seemed a scion of -wealth, a prince, a lordling, to whistle menials to his -beck and call, and to swagger his way in and out of -restaurants, leaving a trail of scattered largess in his -wake. Familiarity had stripped him of the cloak of -splendor with which he first had dazzled her. She -liked him all the better without it, for it had only been -bluff with him, his way of trying to impress her. She -knew him now for an ever merry soul, an amused and -amusing companion, possessing rare thoughtfulness, -a little vain, a little opinionated, vigorous, direct, domineering, -who could, if he so desired, charm an angel -Gabriel to softness. He had his faults; she thought -she knew them all. He was happy-go-lucky, had small -regard for time, appointments, or others’ feelings; -he was extravagant in all his tastes; and loved pleasure -inordinately. But there was a charm about him that -made up to her a thousandfold for these trifling short-comings. -He was the handsomest of men, generous -and invariably kind-hearted, he could win a smile from -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_219">[Pg 219]</span> -an image, or accomplish the impossible, once his mind -was made up.</p> - -<p>It was a satisfaction to learn that he earned only -fifty dollars a week. She had thought him a millionaire -at first. He threw money about with a prodigality -that distressed her. His theatre tickets, his gifts, his -unceasing attentions cost money,—a great deal of -money. She knew his salary did not warrant it. She -was glad he got but fifty a week,—only fifteen more -than she did, herself. Roy was getting forty. Martin -seemed more human to her after she knew the size of -his salary; he was more comprehensible.</p> - -<p>And here, once more, was confronting her the matter -of finances were she to marry. She and her mother -together enjoyed an income that was never less than -two hundred dollars a month. She contributed eighty, -as her share towards rent and food, and had still sixty -dollars a month left to spend as she chose, for clothes, -for a gift to Alice, or for delightful adventures with -her mother, lunches and theatres on Saturday afternoons, -and the little surprises that were so delightful. -Would she have anything like as much out of the two -hundred dollars Martin earned if she married him? -What part of his weekly pay envelope was he likely -to give her to run their house, and to spend on herself?</p> - -<p>It was only fair, since he pressed his suit so vigorously, -that this all-important matter should be brought -up and discussed. She did not consider herself mercenary. -The question of the wife’s allowance in marriage -seemed a vital one to her. She had tasted independence, -and did not consider she should be expected -to relinquish it in marriage. Alice and Roy got along -in amiable fashion on this point. Roy kept five dollars -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_220">[Pg 220]</span> -a week for himself and gave his wife the rest of his -pay envelope. Sometimes toward the end of the week -he would ask her for fifty cents or a dollar to tide him -over until Saturday. That arrangement seemed to -Jeannette eminently fair. Roy gave all he could be -reasonably expected to, she thought; five dollars a -week was about as little as he could get along on for -carfare, lunches and tobacco. Of course, his clothing -and the pleasures he and his wife shared, came out of -what Alice was able to save from week to week,—and -she did manage to save a little. But, as Jeannette had -often remarked, Alice was different from her. She, -Jeannette, had won for herself an economic value to be -measured in dollars and cents, and it was not fair to -expect her to forego this for a hazy, uncertain condition -in which her wishes and wants were only to be gratified -at her husband’s whim. It was better to have a frank -discussion and settle the matter.</p> - -<p>Martin shouted a delighted laugh when she expounded -this thought.</p> - -<p>“Why, my darling,” he said, “don’t bother your -head about it. You can have every cent I make and if -that isn’t enough, I’ll go out and steal for you.”</p> - -<p>“But seriously, Martin, what do you think a wife -should have out of her husband’s income? Now, I’m -not saying I’ll marry you——”</p> - -<p>“You darling!”</p> - -<p>“No—no,—be sensible, Martin. I want to thresh -this out. If I <i>should</i> consent to marry you, what would -you think would be a fair proportion of what you earn -that I could count on as my own?”</p> - -<p>“What would you be wanting money for?” Martin -asked, amused by her earnestness.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_221">[Pg 221]</span></p> - -<p>“What would I be wanting money for?” she repeated. -“Why, what do you think? ... For clothes, -for pleasures, to throw away if I liked!”</p> - -<p>“Aw, hear her!” he laughed. “Why, my darling, -I’ll buy you your clothes and everything your little -heart desires if only you’ll say ‘yes’ to me.”</p> - -<p>“Martin, I’ll never say ‘yes’ until this is settled,” -she said spiritedly, her eyes with a queer light in them.</p> - -<p>Martin was serious for a moment.</p> - -<p>“Sweet woman,” he said earnestly, “you can have -it all. Divide it any way you like. I don’t care in -the least. There’s plenty for the two of us.”</p> - -<p>But Jeannette would consider nothing so indefinite. -She did not want a great deal, but she wanted to feel -sure of something that would be regarded as entirely -her own. With difficulty she persuaded him to talk -about the matter in earnest. They agreed that if his -salary were equally divided, and Jeannette paid all the -table expenses out of her half while he paid the rent -and everything else out of his, that would be an equitable -arrangement. That satisfied Jeannette; it gave -her something to think about when she considered -marrying him.</p> - -<p>But even with this much settled, she was no nearer -making up her mind than she had ever been. Marriage -meant giving up the office, the close affiliations she had -formed there. Propinquity had made her fellow-workers -her friends; she knew them all intimately, -knew something of their private lives, rejoiced or sorrowed -with them at the inevitable changes of fortune. -When an eminent surgeon from Germany performed a -miraculous operation on Mr. Featherstone’s little son -and gave him the use of his legs on which he had never -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_222">[Pg 222]</span> -walked, she shared his father’s joy; when Mr. Cavendish -married a charming Vassar girl who was the -daughter of a wealthy Wall Street banker, she congratulated -him with a real pleasure; when Miss Holland’s -seventeen-year-old nephew secured an appointment -at Annapolis and successfully passed the entrance -examination, she took keen satisfaction in her friend’s -delight. She was shocked and saddened when Sandy -MacGregor’s wife died, and when Mr. Allister was -taken ill with pneumonia no one inquired more frequently -about him while he struggled desperately to -live, or felt more pleasure when it was announced he -had turned the corner and would before long be back -again at his desk. She was glad when Francis Holme, -Walt Chase and Sandy MacGregor each received a substantial -gift of the company’s common stock at Christmas-time, -and was correspondingly sorry that Horatio -Stephens and Willis Corey shared equally in the -honorarium. When Miss Peckenbaugh asked for a -raise in salary, and her request was endorsed by Mr. -Allister, she took it upon herself to tell Mr. Corey -certain facts about the young lady that had become -known to her, and when as a result, the request was -refused and Miss Peckenbaugh in anger resigned, she -was amused and delighted. At the same time she urged -and secured a five-dollar raise per week for old Major -Ticknor who had a little blind grandchild he was helping -to maintain in a private sanitarium. Young Tommy -Livingston in the bindery had impressed her upon a -certain occasion with his brightness and ability, and -she recommended him warmly to Mr. Corey, and had -the satisfaction of seeing him promoted to a desk in -Mr. Kipps’ department. At her suggestion, window-boxes -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_223">[Pg 223]</span> -filled with flowers were put along the windows -of the press-room that faced the street; she persuaded -the firm to install a lunch-room for the women employees -on the eighth floor, and it was her idea that a -regular trained nurse be engaged and established in a -small but complete infirmary within the building. -She induced Mr. Corey to offer a certain rising young -author, whose work had been her discovery and who -was showing steady improvement, an increase in -royalty percentage, and she prevented the publication -of a certain piece of fiction, which Corey had given -her to read, because she considered it vicious, despite -Mr. Allister’s strong recommendation. She advised -her chief to instruct Horatio Stephens to order a series -of articles from a woman writer whose work in another -magazine had interested her, and she urged him not -to engage a certain Madame Desseau of Paris, a -designer of women’s clothes, as the fashion editor of -<i>The Ladies’ Fortune</i>. Jeannette had a hand in almost -every important step that was taken. Mr. Corey respected -her judgment, frequently consulted her, and -sometimes followed her advice even when contrary to -his inclinations. He often told her that he believed -her intuition was unerring and the greatest possible -help to him.</p> - -<h5>§ 10</h5> - -<p>That particular winter proved an exceptionally -strenuous and exacting one for Mr. Corey. He was -worn out with work and with the ever increasing demands -upon him, demands that came more and more -from the outside.</p> - -<p>The P. P. Prescott Publishing Company, a house -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_224">[Pg 224]</span> -with a reputation of half a century of high literary -output, through mismanagement was in danger of -bankruptcy. While the “P P P” books were famous -the world over, the bank that had financed the concern -for years was tired of the arrangement; the tottering -house owed the Chandler B. Corey Company nearly a -hundred thousand dollars for subscription premiums -Francis Holme had sold it, and it was a foregone conclusion -that if the Prescott Company failed, there -would be no way of collecting the debt. Mr. Corey -wanted to take over the Prescott Company entirely,—it -could have been bought at the time for practically -nothing by assuming its obligations,—but this was one -of their chief’s bold and brilliant ideas that Mr. Kipps -and Mr. Featherstone opposed and, to Jeannette’s intense -regret, persuaded him against. The result was -that instead of absorbing the Prescott Company, and -letting the Corey organization administer its various -activities, Mr. Corey was forced to become chairman -of the board which undertook to put the older publishing -house on its feet again, and to do most of the work -himself.</p> - -<p>In addition to this he was compelled to accept the -leadership of a committee appointed by the Publishers’ -Association to confer with the postal authorities in -Washington regarding the rates on second class mail -matter which were in danger of being raised. He had -been obliged to make several trips to the capital. He -was one of the directors of a large paper mill which, -in conjunction with some other publishers, he had purchased. -He had shown an interest in local politics and -had been put on the Republican State Central Committee; -he was one of the governors of the Swanee -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_225">[Pg 225]</span> -Valley Golf Club, and executor of the estate of Julius -Zachariah Rosenbaum, a wealthy Jewish capitalist, -whose autobiography he had published during the old -Hebrew’s life. No one outside the immediate members -of the firm, with the exception of Jeannette, knew -that Rosenbaum had taken sixty thousand subscriptions -to <i>Corey’s Commentary</i> when the story of his life was -appearing in serial form in that magazine, and when -the book was published he ordered twenty-five thousand -copies, presumably to distribute among his friends. -Poor Rosenbaum! It was doubtful if he had a score, -and when he died there was universal rejoicing -throughout the country that the most grasping of -moneyed barons, who had consistently obstructed the -wheels of progress, was gone. But he left a large slice -of his wealth in charitable endowments, and named -Chandler B. Corey as one of the executors of his will.</p> - -<p>These responsibilities weighed heavily upon Mr. -Corey’s health and strength. He had been troubled -with indigestion for several months and his general -condition was not good. In addition there were domestic -cares. With the increase of their fortunes, Mrs. -Corey had moved herself and her family into a stone -front house on Riverside Drive where she proceeded to -maintain an expensive order of existence. She had -begged hard for this new home, and her husband weakly -had given way. He never seemed able to refuse his -wife anything, Jeannette thought. He could be strong -about other matters, but where Mrs. Corey and his -son, Willis, were concerned he was foolishly irresolute. -Mrs. Corey established herself in great feather in the -new house, hired four servants in addition to a liveried -chauffeur, who drove her Pope-Toledo, and began to -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_226">[Pg 226]</span> -entertain lavishly. Her special victims were authors, -particularly visiting ones from England, and if any -of them happened to be titled, it was always the occasion -for an elaborate affair. Mr. Corey hated these -entertainments, and to avoid them frequently went -to Washington on the plea of pressing business connected -with the postal rates. The new order was exceedingly -expensive. Jeannette could not understand -why Mr. Corey put up with it.</p> - -<p>But his wife’s reckless expenditure was a matter -of small concern in comparison with his anxiety for his -daughter. The unfortunate girl had fallen during a -sudden epileptic seizure, and struck her head upon a -brass fender at the hearth. She had lain for three -months in a semi-conscious condition, and though treatments -had partially restored her mind, she was not -wholly competent and would never again be able to go -about without an attendant. It was a great grief to -her father. His troubles had been further augmented -at this particular time by Willis, who had been paying -marked attention to a married society woman with an -unenviable reputation for many affairs with young -men. Mr. Corey solved this particular problem by -sending Willis on a hunting expedition to South Africa -with Eric Ericsson, the Norwegian explorer. Ostensibly -the young man went to write articles about the -trip for <i>Corey’s Commentary</i>. It was announced he -was to be gone for a year. Jeannette was aware that -Mr. Corey had paid Ericsson five thousand dollars to -take his son with him; the money had been given, of -course, in the form of a contribution to scientific -research.</p> - -<p>It was small wonder that Corey’s physician ordered -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_227">[Pg 227]</span> -a complete rest for him in the early spring of the year. -The man was threatened with a nervous breakdown, his -doctor told him; the matter of his indigestion must -have his serious attention; he must take a vacation, -and he must take it immediately. Affairs at the office -made it impossible, at the moment, for this vacation -to be of any length; even Jeannette realized that it -would be hazardous for the company to be left without -Mr. Corey’s guiding hand on the helm. It was decided -that he should go to White Sulphur Springs, play golf -as much as he was able, give especial attention to his -diet, and keep in touch with the office by mail and -telegraph. He would be able, it was hoped, to get a -complete change of climate and a proper rest by this -arrangement.</p> - -<p>“Of course, you’ll have to go with me, Miss Sturgis,” -he said, wheeling round upon her when this conclusion -had been reached. “I couldn’t do a thing down there -without you.”</p> - -<p>“Why, certainly,” the girl answered. As their eyes -met a moment, the same thought passed through both -minds.</p> - -<p>“We’ll take your mother along,” said Corey in his -brisk, direct fashion.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis at once was in a great state of agitation.</p> - -<p>“But my pupils, dearie,—my little pupils!” she -cried. “What will the darlings do without their -lessons?”</p> - -<p>“Well, the little darlings can get along without -them,” Jeannette told her. “When their parents want -to take them off to the mountains or the seashore, they -just take them, and there’s never any question about -paying for cancelled lessons. I guess you can do the -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_228">[Pg 228]</span> -same for once in your life.... Anyhow, there’s no use -arguing about it, Mama. Mr. Corey needs me, and if -you don’t go with me, I’ll go without you. It’s perfectly -ridiculous that we have to be chaperoned! He’s -like my father! ... But I thought you’d enjoy the -trip. You know it isn’t going to cost either of us a -penny!”</p> - -<p>“Why, of course, dearie,—but you kind of spring -this on me. I haven’t had a chance to think it over.... -Of course, I’d love it.”</p> - -<h5>§ 11</h5> - -<p>White Sulphur Springs was beautiful, the weather -perfection; Jeannette enjoyed every hour of her stay. -She had wanted to get off by herself for some time, to -think calmly over what she must do about Martin -Devlin. He had given her one of his hungry kisses -when he said good-bye, and she felt at the moment he -was dearer to her than life itself. He was urging her -with voice, eyes and lips to be his wife. A realization -had come to her that she could temporize with the -situation no longer; she must either agree to marry -him, or in some way bring the intimacy to an end.</p> - -<p>Corey played golf mornings and afternoons. Jeannette -watched his mail, and answered most of it herself, -only consulting him when necessary. She would -give him brief memorandums of what his mail contained, -and show him the carbons of the letters she had -dispatched, signed with his name, “per J. S.” He did -not have to give more than an hour a day to his affairs.</p> - -<p>The doctor had warned him about his diet, and had -directed him to take a hydrochloric acid prescription -three times a day. Jeannette watched his food as well -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_229">[Pg 229]</span> -as his mail; she studied the menus in the dining-room -and ordered his meals in advance, so that he would be -sure to eat the proper food; she made him take his -medicine, and persuaded him to try some electric baths -that were operated in connection with the hotel. She -kept a chart of his weight, and when they met at the -breakfast table she would inquire about his night. -She saw with satisfaction that he was improving -steadily; his face, neck and hands were turning a -healthy bronze color, his appetite was excellent, his -sleep undisturbed.</p> - -<p>At first a problem presented itself in Mrs. Sturgis. -The little woman was intensely excited at being so -closely associated with Mr. Corey. His presence -agitated her; she felt it was her duty to entertain him, -to evince an interest in his comings and goings, to -maintain a pleasant and polite ripple of conversation -at the table or whenever they were together. She believed -it was expected of her to show an interest equal -to her daughter’s in the state of his health, and that she -must always inquire how he felt and how he had passed -the night. Jeannette knew Mr. Corey hated this kind -of fussy solicitude; it annoyed and irritated him. The -girl suffered acutely whenever her mother commenced -to ply him with her prim inquiries, or when she pretended -to be interested in his golf game about which -she knew, and her daughter and Mr. Corey knew she -knew, not one thing. Jeannette suspected there were -moments when Mr. Corey could have strangled her -with delight.</p> - -<p>There came a distressing hour eventually to mother -and daughter. Jeannette had to tell her that Mr. -Corey did not like her concern as to his welfare, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_230">[Pg 230]</span> -that he had come down to White Sulphur Springs to -rest, and that he must be spared all possible conversation. -Mrs. Sturgis wept. She declared she had -never been so “insulted” in her life, that she was -going to pack her trunk and go home at once.</p> - -<p>It was in the midst of this scene that a bell-boy of -the hotel brought Jeannette a telegram addressed to -Mr. Corey. She tore it open. It was from his wife.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Dear Chandler, am lonesome without you. Wish to -join you for rest of your stay. Wire me if I may come. -Can leave at once. Love.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Rachael.</span>”<br /> -</p> -</div> - -<p>Jeannette shut her teeth slowly as she read the -words. It was most unfortunate. Mrs. Corey would -upset her husband, would interfere with his daily -routine, clash with him at once over his golf, object -to the time he gave to it, find fault with Jeannette’s -presence, angrily resent her supervision of his health -and meals, so that little of the hoped-for good would -result from these weeks of rest and recreation. And -Mr. Corey would amiably agree to letting her join him!</p> - -<p>Jeannette’s distress soon persuaded Mrs. Sturgis to -forget her own grievances. Once her sympathy for -her daughter was aroused, she waxed indignant over -Mrs. Corey’s selfishness and lack of consideration.</p> - -<p>“Why, the woman must be crazy,” she said warmly. -“He came down here just to get away from her!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I know,” murmured Jeannette, “and as sure -as I show him her telegram he will tell me to wire her -to come at once.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I wouldn’t tell him anything about it,” declared -Mrs. Sturgis.</p> - -<p>They fell to discussing the situation. After long -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_231">[Pg 231]</span> -consultation and several efforts at drafting it, they -concocted the following answer:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Mr. Corey is not well. I think it would be unwise -for you to join him just now. He is getting a maximum -amount of rest and sleep and anything tending to -interfere with these I believe would be unfortunate. -Will keep you advised of his condition.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Jeannette Sturgis.</span>”<br /> -</p> -</div> - -<p>In the middle of the night that followed, Jeannette -awoke, and considered what she had done. As she lay -awake reviewing the matter, the conviction slowly -came to her that she had committed a dreadful blunder. -Her mouth grew dry; a cold sweat broke out on her. -She got up, went to the window and gazed out upon -the flat moonlight that filled the hotel garden below -with evil shadows.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Corey was certain to be wild! She would be -insane with anger! Jeannette could follow the workings -of her mind: Was her husband’s secretary to presume -to tell her what she should do where his welfare -was concerned? Was this stenographer at so much a -week to take it upon herself to tell her employer’s -wife she did not think her presence at her husband’s -side a good thing for him? Was she implying that it -would be harmful, distressful for him? Did she have -such entire confidence in herself and her judgment that -she could send a telegram like that without even consulting -him? ...</p> - -<p>Oh, the heavens were about to fall! It was an irreparable -mistake! Mr. Corey, himself, would be -furious with her! The mental distress she had been -anxious to save him, she had, with her own hand, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_232">[Pg 232]</span> -brought ten times more heavily upon him! She was a -fool,—an utter, inexcusable fool! She was—was—was——</p> - -<p>She did not sleep the rest of the night. She rolled -and tossed in her bed, and walked the floor.</p> - -<p>In the morning she went straight to Mr. Corey and -told him what she had done. His seriousness as he -frowned, and pulled at his moustache confirmed her -worst fears. He made no comment; asked a few questions; -there was nothing more. Jeannette went on -talking volubly, at times incoherently, for the first -time in all the years she had been his secretary, trying -to justify herself. Suddenly a rush of tears blinded -her; she tried to check them; it was useless.</p> - -<p>“Well, well, well, Miss Sturgis,” Corey said consolingly -patting her folded hands. “You mustn’t take -it so hard. It’s not such a serious matter. You’re -making too much of it. I guess I can square it for both -of us.”</p> - -<p>He drew a sheet of hotel paper toward him and -scribbled a couple of lines with his fountain pen.</p> - -<p>“Here,” he said, shoving it towards her. “Send her -this telegram and see how it works.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette read what he had written through blurred -vision.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Dear Rachael, Miss Sturgis has shown me your -wire of yesterday. I agree with her that it would -be a mistake for you to join me just at present. Am -writing you. Much love.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Chandler.</span>”<br /> -</p> -</div> - -<p>The girl looked up at him with swimming eyes. -Impulsively she caught his hand; his generosity overwhelmed -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_233">[Pg 233]</span> -her; in a moment she had pressed the hand -to her lips.</p> - -<h5>§ 12</h5> - -<p>They returned to New York the end of March. Mrs. -Sturgis had been in a flutter of excitement during the -last ten days of their stay; she was madly anxious to -get home to see Alice, who had written she was going -to have another baby. Both her mother and sister were -distressed at the news; they felt it was unfortunate -she was going to have one so soon after her first. -Little Etta was not a year old yet.</p> - -<p>On Washington’s Birthday, which fell on a Friday -that year, Martin Devlin had come all the way from -New York to see Jeannette. He had brought with him -in his pocket a flawless, claw-set diamond solitaire in -a little plush jeweller’s box and had begged Jeannette -to allow him to slip it on her finger. She had found -herself missing him during the weeks of separation -more than she had believed it possible she could miss -anyone; she missed his big hands and his big voice, his -indefatigable solicitude, his joyous laugh, his unwavering -love for her. In the months,—it was close to a -year,—that she had known him, she had grown dependent -upon these; Martin was part of her life now; -she could not imagine it without him; love had enriched -the existence of both. But she was no nearer -marrying him than she had ever been. During the -weeks of sunshine, the hours of solitude and thinking -she had enjoyed, it seemed to her that marriage would -be a terrible mistake; she believed she saw her destiny -lying straight ahead; she had chosen a vocation, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_234">[Pg 234]</span> -like a nun, who renounces marriage, she too must give -up all thought of being a wife. She must pursue her -life work unhampered by domesticity. Not forever -would she be Mr. Corey’s secretary; there were heights -beyond she planned to attain. She told herself she -had the capacity of being a successful executive; some -day she would hold a position like Miss Holland’s, have -a department of her own. Walt Chase had charge of -the Mail Order business; one of these days he would be -promoted to something more responsible, and Jeannette -intended then to ask Mr. Corey to give her his -place. She knew she could do the work,—perhaps even -better than Walt Chase. She had plans already to -make it larger and to get out special literature designed -to arouse women’s interest. Walt Chase was getting -seventy-five dollars a week now. She would like to be -earning that much. She knew what she would do with -it: she’d begin to put by a hundred a month, and invest -it in good securities; when she grew old or wanted to -take a vacation, she would have something saved up. -She had only commenced to think of these matters recently, -but now the idea fired her. It would be wonderful -to have a private income of one’s own. And perhaps -she might take her mother with her on a little -jaunt to Europe! ... But matrimony? No, marriage -was too great a risk, too much of an experiment. She -acknowledged she loved Martin Devlin as much as she -could ever love any man. Of that she was sure. She -was not equally sure she would always be happy with -him, that she would like married life itself. Why -risk something that might bring her untold sadness?</p> - -<p>So Jeannette had argued before Martin arrived to -see her and so she had planned to tell him. It was a -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_235">[Pg 235]</span> -familiar conclusion with her, but this time she determined -that he should have the truth and she would -convince him that she could never marry him. But -when Martin put his big fingers around her arm and -drew her strongly to him, crushing her in his embrace -while he forced his lips against hers, she wanted to -swoon in his arms and so die. The weakness was but -momentary; she fled from him, won control of herself -again, and the bars were up once more between them. -But she had not been able to bring herself to enunciate -her high resolve; she had refused the ring, yet Martin -had returned to New York with the confident feeling -that some day she would wear it.</p> - -<p>Mr. Corey had entirely regained his old buoyancy -during the six weeks’ rest. He came back to his desk -with all the dynamic energy which had so impressed -Jeannette when she first became his secretary. She, -too, was glad to be home again, back in her own office, -resuming her daily routine, gathering up the threads -of activity and influence she loved to have within her -grasp, and seeing Martin every day. Alice, with her -round eyes reflecting in their depths that same curious -light Jeannette had noticed when the first baby was -coming, welcomed her mother and sister in the gayest -of spirits. She was having not nearly the same degree -of discomfort, she told them, that she had had while -carrying Etta. She made them come to dinner the -night they arrived in New York; she wanted them to -see the baby, and to show them the sewing machine Roy -was buying for her on the installment plan. Martin -was included in the party. This troubled Jeannette a -little, for it seemed to establish him in the family -circle.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_236">[Pg 236]</span></p> - -<p>She had returned from White Sulphur Springs on -Sunday. On Tuesday, Mr. Corey did not come to the -office all day. Jeannette had expected him; he had said -nothing to her about being absent; she had no idea -where he was. On Wednesday, when he came in, in -the middle of the morning, a strained white look upon -his face told her at once that something had gone -wrong. He rang for her almost immediately, and indicated -a chair for her, while he instructed the operator -at the telephone switch-board he was not to be disturbed.</p> - -<p>“Miss Sturgis,” he began, working a troubled thumb -and forefinger at the ends of his moustache, “I have -some unhappy, news for you; it has been unhappy for -me, and I fear it will be equally so for you. Mrs. -Corey as you know is a high-strung, temperamental -woman. You’ve no doubt observed she had a decidedly -suspicious nature....”</p> - -<p>Jeannette’s heart stood still. In a flash she saw -what was coming. A gathering roar began mounting -in her ears, every muscle grew tense. She could see -Mr. Corey’s mouth moving, his lips forming words and -she heard his voice, but what he was saying, was meaningless -to her; she could get no sense out of it. Suddenly -he came to the word “divorce.” Her whole -nature seemed to have been waiting for him to say it; -as he pronounced it, she sat bolt upright, and a quick -convulsion passed through her. At once her mind was -clear and she was able to follow everything he was -saying.</p> - -<p>“... wrote her a long letter from the hotel. I was -loving and affectionate in it—as affectionate as I knew -how to be, for I feared the unfortunate matter of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_237">[Pg 237]</span> -telegrams would anger her. I think I wrote some eight -or nine pages, and I tried to explain that you had been -merely actuated by your solicitude for me. In my -anxiety to placate her, I spoke very harshly of you, -told her that you realised you had overstepped your -province, that I had given you a severe reprimand and -that you were much chagrined. I explained to her carefully -your mother was with us, but she knew that was -to be before we left. I assured her of my devotion. I -got no answer. I suspected before we reached New -York that she was at outs with me, but there have been -other occasions when this was so, and I had no doubt -that I could soothe her injured feelings. She had -always resented your being my secretary; of course, -you’ve known that. I did not dream, however, that she -was as angry with me as she evidently is. She has shut -herself into her own apartment at home and declines -to see me; she is preparing to file against me a suit for -absolute divorce, accusing me of improper conduct -with you at White Sulphur Springs, claiming that your -mother was bribed into conniving——”</p> - -<p>“<i>Oh!</i>” gasped Jeannette.</p> - -<p>“I am telling you these unpleasant details, so that -you can fully grasp the situation. You will have to -know in any case, and I think it is only fair to you to -give you the whole truth from the start. She has -gone to Leonard and Harvester and persuaded them to -represent her. I don’t know what Dick Leonard is -thinking about; he has known me for twenty years. -Winchell, whom I saw yesterday, has been to interview -Leonard, and he informs me that a detective agency -was employed to watch us while we were at the hotel, -and that affidavits have been obtained from some of -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_238">[Pg 238]</span> -the hotel employees which substantiate Mrs. Corey’s -allegations.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Corey smiled wryly.</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to go on shocking you in this fashion. -I just wish to say that Winchell showed me a copy of -the plea, and the statements contained in it are as -odious as they are false. You and I have been spared -nothing.”</p> - -<p>Again Mr. Corey paused, and a savage frown gathered -on his brow. Jeannette was trembling; she wet -her lips and swallowed convulsively.</p> - -<p>“The brunt of the attack,” he resumed after a moment, -“seems to be levelled against you. Leonard told -Winchell that Mrs. Corey had no desire to expose me,—that -was the word used; she wishes to bring to an -immediate termination a relationship which she cannot -tolerate; she declines,—so Leonard states,—to remain -my wife as long as you are my secretary. As -Winchell points out we have no way of determining -whether or not she is in earnest. Of course she cannot -prove her suit; she can prove nothing; but she sees -quite clearly she can blacken your reputation before -the world and force you out of this office by the very -publicity which is bound to be attached to the case.... -It makes me angry; it makes me <i>very</i> angry. I have -been thinking over the situation from every angle, and -I would willingly, and, I confess, with a good deal of -relish, contest her suit, force her to retract every word -she has said against either of us, and assist you in -every way I could in suing her for libel. All my life -my guiding principle has been justice. I believe in -justice; I believe in a square deal, and this is foul, rank -and outrageously unfair. If there was any possible -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_239">[Pg 239]</span> -way of obtaining justice for you I wouldn’t care anything -for myself. I would welcome the publicity; certainly -I have no cause to dread it. But it would serve -you hard.... Take our own office here,—how many of -those people outside there would believe in your or my -innocence, no matter how completely we were vindicated?</p> - -<p>“But far more important that the opinion of any one -of those out there,—or that of all of them together,—is -the effect this unpleasant story would have upon -your young man. No doubt he has the same confidence -in you that I have, but you will appreciate that no man -likes to have for a wife a girl who has been mixed up -in a scandal.... You see, how it would be? ... -Devlin is a fine fellow; I like him; he will make his -mark. You have confided in me that you care for -him.... Well, Miss Sturgis, I advise you to marry -him!—marry him before this ugly story gets bruited -abroad. I am convinced it will never be told. I know -Mrs. Corey and I know how she will act. As soon as -she hears you are married and no longer here, she will -withdraw her suit and be anxious to make amends. I -have no desire for a divorce. I understand all too well -that it will be Mrs. Corey who will suffer if we are -separated, not I, and I have the wish to protect her -against herself. There are the children to think of, too. -This is merely the act of an insane woman,—a woman -blinded by jealousy. Outrageously unfair as it is to -you, and much as I shall hate to part with you, it seems -to be the wisest thing to do. Winchell advises it, and -I confess when I think of your own interests and everything -that is involved, I agree with him. What do you -think?”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_240">[Pg 240]</span></p> - -<p>Jeannette sat staring at her folded hands. Slowly -the tears welled themselves up over her lashes and -splashed upon the crisp linen of her shirtwaist. She -was not sorrowful; she was only hurt,—hurt and -cruelly shocked that anyone could believe the things -Mrs. Corey had said of her and this man who was -father, friend, and counsellor to her, whom she loved -and respected and who, she knew, loved and respected -her in return. Their relationship during the four and -a half years they had been so intimately associated -had been above criticism; it had been perfect, irreproachable. -Jeannette felt foully smirched by the base -imputation.</p> - -<p>“<i>Gracious—goodness!</i>” she said at last upon a quivering -breath, her breast rising. Tears trembled on her -lashes, but for the instant her eyes blazed.</p> - -<p>“Well,” Mr. Corey said wearily after a pause, “it’s -too bad,—isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>Too bad? Too bad? Ah, yes, it was indeed too bad! -Silence filled the book-lined room, the very room she -had taken such pains and such delight in furnishing so -tastefully. She recalled Mrs. Corey had resented that! -She had put some fresh pine boughs in the earthenware -pot in the corner yesterday, and the office smelled fragrantly -of balsam. The rumble of the presses below sent -a fine tremor through the building. Both man and girl -stared at the floor. They were thinking the same -things; there was no need to voice them; both understood; -it was all clear now to each.</p> - -<p>He was right. The best thing,—the only thing for -her to do was to resign. That would immediately -pacify his wife; it would avert the breach and save -Corey from an ugly scandal which could only hurt -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_241">[Pg 241]</span> -him. And then there was herself to consider, her own -good name, her mother and Alice, and there was Martin! -Nothing stood in the way now of her giving him -the answer for which he eagerly waited. Martin! Ah, -there was a refuge for her, there was a haven ready -to welcome her! He would take her to himself, protect -her, shield her against these slandering tongues!</p> - -<p>Suddenly at the thought of him, so merry and strong -and confident, of his joy at the promise she was now -free to make, the floodgates of her heart opened and, -bowing her head upon her fiercely clasped hands, she -burst into convulsive sobbing.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_242">[Pg 242]</span></p> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II_III">CHAPTER III</h4> -</div> - -<h5>§ 1</h5> - -<p>June sunshine streamed in through the open windows -in an avalanche of golden light and lay in bright -parallelograms on the floor. Jeannette was making -the bed. She was in the gayest of spirits and sang as -she punched the pillows to rid them of lumpiness, and -smoothed them flat. She spread the brilliant cretonne -cover, with its gaudy design of pheasants, over the -bed, turned it neatly back two feet from the head-board, -laid the pillows in place, and folded the cretonne -over them, tucking it in gently at the top. The bed-cover -was not as long as it should have been, and it -required nice adjustment to make it lap over the -pillows. It was the Wanamaker man’s fault, Jeannette -always thought, when she reached this point in her -morning’s housework; she had told him with the -utmost pains how she wished the cretonne to go, and -it was his mistake that it was not long enough. Short -as it was, it could be made to reach by allowing only -a scant inch or two at the bottom. She had put the -same material at the windows in narrow strips of -outside curtaining, and there was a gathered valance -across the top. The bedroom was “sweet,”—charming -and beautifully appointed like the rest of her -domain. Her mother and Alice had “raved” about -everything. Martin liked it, too, though his wife wished -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_243">[Pg 243]</span> -he could find the same amount of pleasure in their -little home that she did. Martin was like most men: -he did not notice things, never commented upon her -ideas and clever arrangements.</p> - -<p>To her the apartment was perfection. It was situated -in a building that had just been erected in the -West Eighties, halfway between Broadway and the -Drive. It had five rooms and the rent was fifty dollars -a month, more perhaps than they ought to be -paying, but Martin had argued that ten dollars one -way or another did not make any particular difference -and if it suited Jeannette, he was for signing the -lease. So he had put his name to the formidable-looking -legal document, and the young Devlins had -agreed to pay the big rent and to live there for a year. -They could remain in it for life, Jeannette declared, -as far as she was concerned; she could not imagine -ever wanting a more beautiful or a more satisfactory -home.</p> - -<p>The apartment contained all the latest improvements: -electric lights, steam heat, a house telephone. -The woodwork was chastely white throughout; the -electrolier in the dining-room a plain dull brass; the -fixtures in all the rooms were of the same lusterless -metal; between dining-and living-rooms were glass -doors, the panes set in squares; the bathroom floor was -solid marquetry of small octagonal tiles embedded in -cement, and glossy tiling rose about the walls to the -height of the shoulder; the room glistened with shining -nickel and flawless porcelain; the bathtub was -sumptuous and had a shower arrangement with a -rubber sheeting on rings to envelop the bather. Martin -had grinned when his eye took in these details. He -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_244">[Pg 244]</span> -swore in his enthusiasm: by God, he certainly would -enjoy a bathroom like that; it certainly would be -great. But Jeannette was more intrigued with the -kitchen. Here were white-painted cupboards, fragrantly -smelling of new wood, and a marvellous pantry -full of neat contrivances, drawers, bins and lockers. -In one of them Jeannette discovered a little sawdust -and a few carpenter’s shavings; they spoke eloquently -of the newness and cleanliness of everything. There -was a shining gas-stove, too, with a roomy oven that -had an enamelled door and a bright nickel knob to it. -There was even a gas heater connected with the boiler; -all one had to do was to touch a match to the burner,—the -renting agent explained,—and presto! the flame -came up, heated the coil of copper pipe and in a -moment,—oh, yes, indeed, much less than a minute!—there -was the hot water!</p> - -<p>It had seemed so miraculous to Jeannette that she -had not believed it would work, but it did, perfectly. -No fault was to be found with anything connected with -the wonderful establishment.</p> - -<p>There had been plenty of money with which to -furnish it just as Jeannette pleased. The publishing -company had presented her with a check for two hundred -and fifty dollars as a wedding gift in appreciation -of her faithful services, and Mr. Corey had supplemented -this with one of his own for a like amount.</p> - -<p>“No,—no,—don’t thank me,—please, Miss Sturgis,” -he had said almost impatiently as he handed it to -her. “I feel so badly about your going, and I can -never pay you for all you’ve done for me. This is a -poor evidence of my gratitude and esteem. I wish -I might make it thousands instead of hundreds.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_245">[Pg 245]</span></p> - -<p>In addition, he had sent her on the day she was -married a tall silver flower vase that must have cost, -Jeannette and Martin decided, almost as much as the -amount of his check.</p> - -<p>Her mother had borrowed five hundred upon the old -paid-up policy, asserting that she had done so for -Alice, and the older daughter was entitled to a like -amount upon getting married. And besides all this, -Martin had turned over to his wife on the day the lease -had been signed, several hundreds more.</p> - -<p>It appeared that a year before, about the very time -he had met Jeannette, his mother died. She had lived -in Watertown, New York, where Martin was born, and -where she had an interest in a small grocery business. -Martin’s father,—dead for sixteen years,—had been a -grocer and had run a “back-room” in connection with -his store, where Milwaukee beer had been dispensed -but never “hard” liquor. Jeannette did not give her -mother these facts when she learned them; it was -nobody’s business, she contended; everybody when -he came to America was a pioneer and began in a -humble way. Paul Devlin’s old partner, Con Donovan, -who had come over from Ballaghaderreen with him -in ’73, had carried on the business after his demise, -and there had been money enough to send Martin to -school and to support the boy and Paul’s widow. But -when his mother had followed his father to the grave, -Martin had no longer any interest in groceries, and -he gladly accepted the three thousand dollars Con -Donovan offered him for his inherited share of the -business. It hadn’t been enough to do anything with, -Martin explained to his wife; so he had just “blown” -it. It accounted for the theatre tickets, the presents, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_246">[Pg 246]</span> -the entertainments with which he had backed his -wooing. There was nearly a thousand dollars left -after the honeymoon to Atlantic City, and Martin had -gone to his bank and transferred the whole account to -his wife’s name upon their return, telling her to go -ahead and furnish the new home in any way she -fancied.</p> - -<p>Jeannette had nearly seventeen hundred dollars in -the bank when she began. She had no thought of -spending so much, but it melted away in the most -surprising fashion. Martin, in a way, was responsible -for this: whenever she consulted him, he was always -in favor of the more expensive course. She would -have been quite satisfied with a two-hundred-and-twenty-dollar -dining-room set, but he decided in favor -of the one that cost three hundred and fifty. When -she said she would be contented with the simple white-painted -wooden bed, he had chosen a brass one and -ordered the box-spring mattress that had cost nearly -a hundred dollars more. He had also persuaded her -against her judgment in the matter of the big davenport -and the upholstered chairs that went with it for -the living-room. Then there had been the matter of -the two oil paintings in ornate gold frames upon which -they had chanced in Macy’s while on a shopping tour. -Jeannette had grave doubts about the oils; she did not -know whether they were good or bad. Her misgivings -in regard to them may have sprung from the fact that -they hung in Macy’s art gallery; but there could be -no questioning the handsomeness and impressiveness -of the gold frames.</p> - -<p>“Why sure, let’s have ’em,” Martin said, eyeing -them judicially as he and his wife stood together considering -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_247">[Pg 247]</span> -the purchase; “they look like a million dollars, -and anything I hate are bare walls! You want -to have the place lookin’—oh, you know—artistic and -classy.”</p> - -<p>“The autumn coloring in this one is most lifelike,” -the eager young salesman ventured. “It seems to -me they both have a great deal of depth and quality,—don’t -you think?—and while, of course, the size has -nothing to do with the art, still I really think you -ought to take into consideration the fact that this -canvas is thirty-six by twenty-seven, and the other -one is nearly as large. Now for twenty-five and thirty -dollars....”</p> - -<p>“Sure, let’s have ’em,” Martin decided in his lordly, -arbitrary way, “and if I find out they’re no good,” he -added to the beaming salesman, “I’ll come back here -and slap Mrs. Macy on the wrist!”</p> - -<p>This last was most appreciated, and the very next -day, in much excelsior and paper wrappings, the two -heavily framed paintings arrived and now hung facing -one another in the front room. Jeannette used to -study them, finger on lip, wondering if they had merit -or were nothing but daubs. They appeared all right; -there was nothing to criticize about them as far as she -could see, but she knew they would never mean anything -to her as long as she remembered they had been -bought at Macy’s. Her mother warmly shared her -husband’s enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>“Why, dearie, they look perfectly beautiful,” she -told her daughter, “and they give your home such -an air of distinction. I wouldn’t worry my head about -where they came from, as long as they give you -pleasure.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_248">[Pg 248]</span></p> - -<p>But if Jeannette had misgivings about the pictures, -she had no doubts about anything else her perfect -little home contained. It was complete as far as she -could make it, from the service of plated flat silver her -old associates at the office had clubbed together and -given her, to the carpet sweeper that had a little closet -of its own to stand in along with the extra leaves of the -dining-room table. There were towels, sheets, table -linen, chairs, pictures and rugs. She had indulged -her fancy somewhat in curtaining, had decided on plain -net at the windows with narrow strips of some brightly -colored material on either side. She had picked out -a salmon-tinted, satin-finished drapery at Wanamaker’s -for the living-room, and gay cretonne for her -bedroom, and she had had these curtains made at -the store.</p> - -<p>“I’d be forever doing the work,” she had said in -justifying this extravagance to Martin, “and we want -to get settled some time!”</p> - -<p>“Sure,—have ’em made,” he had agreed genially.</p> - -<p>The dining-room had puzzled Jeannette for a long -time, but after the dark blue carpet had been selected -and made into a rug to fit the room, she had found a -blue madras that just matched its tone. It cost a great -deal more than she felt she ought to pay, but she had -bought the twelve yards she needed, nevertheless, and -had determined she could save something by cutting -and hemming the curtains herself; she could take them -out to Alice’s and use her sewing-machine.</p> - -<p>It was all finished now, Jeannette reflected, pushing -the big brass bed into place against the wall. They -had been a little reckless perhaps, but now they were -ready to settle down, begin to live quietly and to save. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_249">[Pg 249]</span> -They owed about two hundred dollars at Wanamaker’s -but would soon manage to pay that off.</p> - -<p>She went on calculating expenses as she ran the carpet -sweeper about the room. Martin liked a good deal -of meat, so she doubted if she could manage the table -on less than twelve or maybe, thirteen dollars a week; -that would take half of what he gave her on Saturdays. -She needed so much for this, so much for that, -and she would have to get herself some kind of a silk -dress for the hot weather; still she thought she could -save five or six dollars a week and Martin ought to be -able to do the same; they would have the Wanamaker -bill paid in a few months. As she went on running the -sweeper under the bed and pushing it gingerly into -corners so as not to mar the paint of the baseboards, -she reflected that, as a matter of fact, Martin had -really no right to expect her to pay anything out of -her weekly money on what they owed Wanamaker; -every cent of that bill had been for house furnishing, -and it had been clearly understood between them that -her money was for the table and herself. Still it had -been she who had wanted the curtains; she ought to -help pay for them.</p> - -<h5>§ 2</h5> - -<p>When the bathroom was cleaned, Martin’s bath -towel spread along the rim of the tub to dry, his dirty -shirt and collar put into the laundry basket, his shoes -set neatly on the floor of the closet, the ash receiver -in the living-room emptied and the cushions on the -davenport straightened, Jeannette settled herself in -a rocking-chair at the window, her basket of sewing in -her lap. She hated sewing; the basket was in tangled -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_250">[Pg 250]</span> -confusion, but it was always that way. Spools and -yarn, papers of needles, pins, buttons, threads, tape, -and scraps of material were all mixed up together in -a fine snarl. She found a certain degree of satisfaction -in its confusion. To-day she had a run in one of her -silk stockings to draw together, and a button to sew -on Martin’s coat.</p> - -<p>She caught the coat up first and as she held it in -her hands, the song that she had been humming all -morning died upon her lips. She looked at the garment -with softening eyes; then she raised its rough -texture to her cheek and kissed it. It smelled of its -owner,—a smell that was fragrance to her,—an odor -scented faintly with cigars but even more redolent of -the man, himself; it was strong, it was masculine, it -was Martin. There was no smell like it in the world or -one half so sweet.</p> - -<p>She mused as she searched for a black silk thread, -needle and thimble. When Alice had extolled to her -the wonderful happiness of marriage, how right she -had been! Jeannette pitied all unmarried women now. -There was a Freemasonry among wives, and all spinsters, -old and young, were debarred from the mystic -circle. She wondered what made the difference. Unmarried -women were all buds that had never opened -to the full beauty of the mature flower. They were of -the uninitiated and as long as they remained so would -never attain their full powers. Miss Holland, now, -was a fine woman, efficient, capable, executive, but how -much more able and efficient and remarkable if she had -married! She might be divorced, she might be a -widow. That did not make a difference, it seemed to -Jeannette in the full bloom of her own wifehood; it was -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_251">[Pg 251]</span> -marrying that counted; it was that “Mrs.” before a -woman’s name, that gave her standing, poise, position -in the world, broadened her sympathies, increased her -capabilities.</p> - -<p>She thought her own marriage perfection; she considered -herself the happiest, most fortunate of wives; -her pretty home enchanted her, and Martin was the -most satisfactory of adoring husbands. He had his -faults, she presumed, and she, no doubt, had hers, but -there were never woman and man so happy together, -so ideally congenial. She thought of her honeymoon,—the -few days at Atlantic City. She had never learned -to swim, but Martin was an expert. He had looked -stunning in his bathing-suit,—straight, clean-limbed, -with his big chest and shoulders and his slim waist,—the -figure of an athlete, as she indeed discovered him -to be when he struck out into the sea with the freedom -of a seal, flinging the water from his black mop of hair -with a quick head-toss now and then, his arms working -like flails. They had plunged through the breakers -together, and Martin had held her high up as the curling -water crashed down upon them. It had been cold -but exhilarating, and a group had gathered on the -boardwalk and down on the beach to watch the two -battling with the waves. Then there had been the -quiet rolling up and down the boardwalk in the big -chair while the tide of Easter visitors sauntered past -them in all their gay clothing. The weather had been -warm, the sunshine glorious. She thought of their -room at the hotel and the intimate times of dressing -and undressing in each other’s presence. It had been -emotional, exciting, a little frightening, but there had -been the discovery of perfect comradeship, and all -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_252">[Pg 252]</span> -the other phases of marriage,—pleasant and unpleasant,—had -been forgotten. Companionship,—wholehearted, -unreserved, constant,—that was the outstanding -feature of marriage for Jeannette.</p> - -<p>Her mind carried her on to contemplate the future -and what it held in store for them. Her marriage with -Martin must be a success. There must be no quarrelling, -no disagreements, no bickerings. There must -never, never be any talk of divorce between them.... -Ah, how she hated the word divorce now! She -had never given the subject any particular consideration -heretofore; it was merely an accepted proceeding -by which unhappily married people won back their -freedom. But how differently she felt about it to-day! -She would die rather than ever consent to a divorce -from Martin! She’d forgive him anything! He was -a little spoiled, perhaps; he liked to have his own way, -and he hated anything unpleasant. It must be her -duty to humor and educate him; she must give a little, -exact a little. A successful marriage, she believed, -depended upon that. A husband and wife must become -adjusted to one another. If necessary, she resolved, -she would give more than she received. Oh, yes, she -would give and give and <i>give</i>!</p> - -<p>Martin had only one serious fault, and that was he -too much liked having a good time. It seemed to her -he was never satisfied with anything less than an -epicure’s dinner; he must have the best all the time. -He loved cocktails and wine and good cigars, a -“snappy” show, a little bite of something afterwards, -a gay place to dine, lively music, lights, color. He -wanted “to go places where there was something -doing,” and he didn’t want “to go places where there -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_253">[Pg 253]</span> -was nothing doing.” These were familiar expressions -on his lips. His wife told herself she liked a good -time, too; she loved the theatre and to dress well, and -she liked a gay restaurant, good food and music, but -she didn’t want them all the time; she wasn’t as dependent -upon them as Martin was. A husband and -wife, she considered, should not indulge in too much -of that kind of frivolous living, and no later than last -evening she had had a talk with Martin about it.</p> - -<p>“Aw,—sure my dear,—you’re dead right,” he had -assured her. “I know. We must settle down, and stay -at home nights, but we’re still having our honeymoon, -and I can’t get used to the idea that you’re my -wife. It just seems to me we ought to celebrate all the -time.”</p> - -<p>Martin was always so reasonable, thought Jeannette, -recalling his words. She decided she would have a -specially nice dinner for him that night to show him -how much she appreciated his sweetness. She paused -a moment over the decision, as she recalled that something -vague had been said to her mother about coming -to dine with them. She knew Martin would prefer -to be alone and she wanted to encourage the idea -of his spending the evenings quietly with her. She -would go to see her mother and explain matters; she -would have lunch with her; at Kratzmer’s she would -stop and get some salad, and she’d buy some crumpets -at Henri’s and take them along with her.</p> - -<p>Abruptly, she determined to let the run in her stocking -wait. She wound the silk several times about the -button on Martin’s coat, pushed the needle through the -fabric twice, and snapped the thread close to the cloth -with an incisive bite of her teeth. Then she carried the -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_254">[Pg 254]</span> -work to her room, hanging Martin’s coat on a hanger -in the closet.</p> - -<p>As she proceeded to dress carefully, she considered -each detail of her costume. Her wardrobe was delightfully -complete; she had plenty of clothes, a suitable -garment for any demand. While an office worker, -she had always dressed with certain soberness, an -eye to business decorum. But as a married woman, a -young matron who lived at the Dexter Court Apartments, -she felt she could allow herself more latitude. -She ran her eye appraisingly over the file of dresses -that hung neatly in her closet; their number gratified -her; she was even satisfied with her hats. Now she -lifted down her blue broadcloth tailor suit, covered -handsomely with braid, and selected a soft white silk -shirtwaist that had a V-neck and a pleated ruffled -collar; she drew on fine brown silk stockings and fitted -her feet into tan Oxfords. Her ankles were trim and -shapely. She never had appeared so smartly dressed; -her appearance delighted her. But she was in doubt -about the hat for the day, and finally selected the -Lichtenberg model: a silvered straw, with a flaring -brim, trimmed in gray velvet and a curling gray cock’s -feather. As she pulled her hands into tan gloves and -gave a final glance at herself in the long mirror of the -bathroom door she decided that was the costume she -would wear when she went to the offices of the Chandler -B. Corey Company to pay her old friends a visit.</p> - -<h5>§ 3</h5> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis had declared after Jeannette’s marriage -she preferred to remain in the old apartment -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_255">[Pg 255]</span> -where she had been comfortable for so many years. -To be sure the rent was thirty dollars a month, but -she said she could manage that. She had her music -lessons,—four or five hours a day,—and there were -other pupils to be had if she needed the income. But -it did not appear necessary. Elsa Newman’s cousin, -Cora Newman, who had been studying with Bellini -for two years, had developed a truly remarkable -mezzo, and she preferred Mrs. Sturgis to any other -accompanist. The very week Jeannette was married -Cora Newman had given her first public recital, and -Mrs. Sturgis had been at the piano. She had had a -very beautiful black dress <i>made</i> for the occasion and -the affair had been a great success. The critics had -praised Miss Newman’s voice and the <i>Tribune</i> had -given a special line to the player: “The singer was -sympathetically accompanied at the piano by Mrs. -Henrietta Spaulding Sturgis.” Now both Elsa and -Cora wanted her whenever either of them sang, and -there were plans ahead for a concert tour to Quebec -and Montreal. If that turned out successfully, they -were talking of an up-state trip in the fall through -Rochester, Syracuse, as far as Buffalo.</p> - -<p>“You know what <i>I</i> eat, lovies,” Mrs. Sturgis had -explained to her daughters when keeping the apartment -was being discussed among them, “is microscopic, -and it won’t cost me five a week. I can always -get whatever I need at Kratzmer’s and a little tea and -toast is often all I want.”</p> - -<p>“But that’s just <i>it</i>!” Jeannette had expostulated. -“You don’t eat enough to keep a bird alive, anyhow, -and if you live by yourself, you won’t eat <i>that</i>!”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_256">[Pg 256]</span></p> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis had assured them she would take good -care of herself.</p> - -<p>“You can’t imagine me happy in a boarding-house,” -she had challenged, “and I wouldn’t be able to have a -piano there or give lessons!” There had been no -answer to this; boarding in one place and renting a -studio in another would be even more expensive than -keeping the apartment.</p> - -<h5>§ 4</h5> - -<p>To-day Jeannette heard the familiar finger exercises -as she neared the top of the long stair-flight of -her old home: ta-ta-ta-ta-<i>de</i>-da-da-da-da—ta-ta-ta-ta-<i>de</i>-da-da-da-da, -and as she noiselessly opened the back -door kitchenward, her mother’s voice from the studio: -“<i>One</i>-and-two-and-three-and-four-and....”</p> - -<p>She took off her hat and gloves, laid them on her -mother’s bed and went to peek in the cupboard; there -was a piece of bakery pie and a few eggs. She decided -to make an omelette and with the toasted crumpets and -tea, a little jar of marmalade and the potato salad she -had brought with her, she and her mother would lunch -royally. It was ten minutes to twelve; the lesson would -soon be over.</p> - -<p>They lingered over their repast until nearly two. -Mrs. Sturgis had lessons from four to six,—the after-school -hours,—but until then she was free. She had -had half a notion, she confessed, of going down to -Union Square that afternoon to look at some new piano -pieces for beginners at Schirmer’s. Jeannette told -her she would go with her,—she wanted to get an -alligator pear for Martin’s dinner,—but neither of -them appeared inclined to terminate the little luncheon -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_257">[Pg 257]</span> -at the kitchen table. They had finished the crumpets, -but there was still marmalade left, and Mrs. Sturgis -produced some pieces of cold left-over toast with -which to finish it.</p> - -<p>She was full of news and her affairs. In the first -place, Alice and Roy were going to Freeport on Long -Island for the summer. They had found a very nice -place where they could board for eighteen dollars a -week,—oh, yes, both of them and the baby, too,—Roy -was going to commute every day, and the Bronx flat -was to be closed,—just turn the key in the door and -leave it until they were ready to come back. Then -there was great talk about the concert tour. Bellini, -who had sailed only the day before yesterday for Italy, -had thought Miss Elsa and Miss Cora had better study -another winter before attempting it, but a most encouraging -letter had been received from Montreal, and -both the girls were eager to try the experiment. They -were in doubt as to whether they should take a violinist -with them or not; of course a violinist would be -a drawing-card, but they would have his salary and -all his expenses to pay, which would cut down the -profits—if there were any! Jeannette’s mother did -not think it was in the least necessary, but if they -didn’t take one, Miss Elsa had said Mrs. Sturgis had -better be prepared to do some solo numbers, and that -meant she’d have to do some real hard practising as -she hadn’t done anything like that for years! She -did not know whether to work up the Mendelssohn -<i>Capricioso</i> or the Chopin <i>Fantaisie Impromptu</i>; what -did Jeannette think? Of course there was that <i>Meditation</i>....</p> - -<p>But as her mother rambled on, Jeannette’s mind -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_258">[Pg 258]</span> -wandered. Her thoughts were with Martin. She -wondered what he was doing at that moment; with -whom he had lunched; how she could entertain him in -the evenings and keep him from wanting to go out. He -must have some friends whom she could invite to -dinner. There was Beatrice Alexander, of course, and -she had heard him speak pleasantly of Herbert Gibbs,—the -younger of the two Gibbs brothers. He was married, -she remembered; his wife had a baby and they -lived somewhere down on Long Island. She herself -would have liked to have asked Miss Holland, but she -was hardly the type that would interest Martin. There -was Tommy Livingston,—but Tommy was really too -young. Her mind rested on Sandy MacGregor! He -was a widower,—his wife had been dead for over a -year,—she knew he would love to come to them, and -Martin was sure to like him. The thought elated her: -Sandy and Beatrice Alexander would make an excellent -combination.</p> - -<p>She accompanied her mother downtown in gay -spirits, full of determination to put this plan immediately -into effect.</p> - -<h5>§ 5</h5> - -<p>The dinner-party, when it took place, was not altogether -a success; still it was far from being a failure. -Sandy unquestionably had a good time, for he and -Martin took a great liking to each other. Beatrice had -proven the unfortunate element. She had always been -diffident and the eye-glasses hopelessly disfigured her. -Martin liked her because he knew her so well,—one -had to know Beatrice to appreciate her,—but Sandy -had been merely polite and amiable. He enjoyed Martin -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_259">[Pg 259]</span> -and Martin’s cocktails, however,—they had one or -two before dinner,—and each time they raised their -glasses, Sandy said: “Saloon!” which had amused -Martin vastly. The dinner itself was delicious,—even -Jeannette felt satisfied. The baked onions stuffed with -minced ham,—Alice had suggested that and shown -her how to do them,—had been enthusiastically praised, -the chicken had been tender and the iced pudding, -ordered at Henri’s, could not have been more delicious.</p> - -<p>After dinner they played auction bridge; Martin -loved cards in any form and he undertook to teach -Jeannette; Sandy was an old hand at the game, but -Beatrice Alexander was but a timid player. After -three or four rubbers, the men abandoned the cards, -which, Jeannette could see, bored them with such partners, -and began matching quarters, and Martin had -won eighteen dollars. The last match had been for -“double or nothing” and Jeannette was hardly able -to stifle the quick breath of relief that came to her -lips when Martin won. She had always known Sandy -to be liberal-handed and he paid his losses good-humoredly, -telling Jeannette in a way that made her -believe he meant what he said, that he had had a wonderful -evening, and would telephone shortly to ask the -Devlins to dinner with him. He generously offered to -take Beatrice Alexander home, and Jeannette returned -from the elevator, where she and Martin had -bidden good-night to their departing guests, to the -disorder and smoky atmosphere of their little home -with the feeling that it had all been worth while.</p> - -<p>“My Lord!” Martin said that night as he lay in bed -waiting for her to wind the clock, open the window, -snap out the lights and join him, “I wish you had a -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_260">[Pg 260]</span> -girl out there in the kitchen to help you with all that -mess. Damned if I like the idea of my wife doing -all those dirty dishes, and having to clean up everything -to-morrow. It will take you all day.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” Jeannette answered, “I’ll hate it to-morrow -myself. But I really don’t mind very much. I love -the idea of entertaining our friends. But we can’t -have a girl yet. I’ve got to do my own work for awhile -at any rate. You see, Martin, I was figuring it -out....”</p> - -<p>She had crawled in beside him and at once his arms -were about her and she had nestled close to him, her -head on his hard shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Your friend Sandy’s a corker,” he said, kissing her -hair and ignoring her plan of figures and economy. “I -like that guy fine. You can have all that eighteen dollars -I won from him.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Martin!”</p> - -<p>“Sure,—of course.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll put it in the till.”</p> - -<p>The till was a small round canister intended for tea -but converted into a savings bank.</p> - -<p>“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” Martin told her. -“You blow it in on yourself, or for something nice -for the house.”</p> - -<p>“But, Mart,” she remonstrated, “I want to pay off -that Wanamaker’s bill! We can’t have a girl in the -kitchen until we don’t owe a cent.”</p> - -<p>“Aw, don’t worry so, Jan. You’re always scared -we’re going to go bust or something. I’ll get a raise -as soon as summer’s over. Gibbs is bound to come -through ’cause he knows I’ll quit if he don’t. I bring -in a lot of fine business to that outfit, and all my customers -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_261">[Pg 261]</span> -are dandy friends of mine. I’ll not be working -for him at fifty per much longer.”</p> - -<p>“Mart,” Jeannette said suddenly, “wouldn’t it be -a good plan to have Herbert Gibbs and his wife to -dinner some night and show them how nice we are -and how nice we live and what a good dinner we can -give them? You know it might help; he tells his -brother everything, Beatrice says.”</p> - -<p>“Great! Say, that’s a bully idea!” Martin was at -once enthusiastic. “Herb would like it fine and so -would Mrs. Herb. I’ll get some good old Burgundy -and pour it into him and feed him some Corona-Coronas -and he’ll just expand like a night-blooming -cereus.”</p> - -<p>And on this happy plan, still with an arm about her, -her head pillowed on his shoulder, they drifted off to -sleep.</p> - -<h5>§ 6</h5> - -<p>Some six weeks after her return to New York from -Atlantic City, Jeannette arrayed herself in her braided -broadcloth tailor suit, drew on her tan silk stockings -and tan shoes, set the gray hat at a smart angle upon -her head, added the touch of a fine meshed veil that -brought the curling gray cock’s feather close to her -hair, and paid her long-deferred visit to the office.</p> - -<p>As she turned in at the familiar portals she was -astonished at the difference between her present feelings -and those of old. A year before she had entered -the building with a hurried step, a preoccupied manner, -her mind busy as she hastened to her work with -ways of attacking and dispatching it. She had been -conscious then that she was the “president’s secretary,” -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_262">[Pg 262]</span> -and had borne herself accordingly as she made -her way through the groups of gossiping girls, aware -they thought her haughty and unapproachable. To-day, -she was Mrs. Martin Devlin,—a matron, smartly -dressed,—come to pay a visit to the publishing house -with the air of a lady who had perhaps arrived to -select a book in the retail department or to enter a -subscription. The dusty office atmosphere was alien -to her now; the bustling, eager clerks, intent upon -their affairs, seemed pettily employed; there was something -ridiculous about it all to her. Yet less than three -months ago this had been her world; all the vital -interests of her life had been centered within these -square walls. She still loved it, loved the building, the -cold cement floors, the bare ceilings studded with -sprinkler valves, loved what evidences of her own -handiwork she recognized: the window-boxes, and the -miniature close-clipped trees that stood in the entrance, -the name of the house in neat gold lettering on -the street windows.</p> - -<p>Ellis, the colored elevator man, was the first to -recognize her; he grinned, flashing his white teeth out -of his black face, chuckling largely.</p> - -<p>“Well, it certainly is good to see you; it certainly -is like old times to see you ’round,” he said, rolling -back the clanging door.</p> - -<p>She stepped out upon the familiar fourth floor. It -was the same—no different: the old racket, the old -hum and confusion. A minute or two passed before -she was seen; then there was a general whispering, -machines stopped clicking, heads turned; there were -smiles and nods from all parts of the big room. Mrs. -O’Brien, Mr. Kipps’ stenographer, rose and came to -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_263">[Pg 263]</span> -greet her; Miss Sylvester and Miss Kate Smith followed -suit. Presently there was a small crowd around -her with questions, laughter, little cooing cries of -pleasure, a feminine chatter. She caught Mr. Allister’s -eye as he was leaving Mr. Corey’s office.</p> - -<p>“’Pon my word!” She could not hear him say it, -but she saw his lips form the phrase and noted his -pleased surprise. He came forward at once, smiling -broadly, pushing his way through the women who gave -place to him.</p> - -<p>“Glad to see you, Miss Sturgis,” he said beaming. -“Only, by Jove, you’re not ‘Miss Sturgis’ any more! ... -‘Devlin,’ isn’t it? ... Does Mr. Corey know -you’re here? He’ll be delighted, I know. Wants to -see you badly. Two or three matters have come up -he’d like to ask you about; nobody ’round here seems -to know a thing about them.... Come in; he’ll be -mighty glad to see you.”</p> - -<p>He pulled back the swing gate in the counter and -walked with her towards Mr. Corey’s office.</p> - -<p>As Jeannette passed within a few feet of Miss Holland’s -desk and as their eyes met she mouthed:</p> - -<p>“See you in just a minute.”</p> - -<p>“Here’s an old friend of ours,” said Mr. Allister, -opening Mr. Corey’s door.</p> - -<p>The white head came up, and immediately a pleased -flush spread over the face of the man at the desk.</p> - -<p>“Well—well—well,” he said, getting to his feet and -coming to take both her hands. “Miss Sturgis! It’s -good to see you again.”</p> - -<p>“She’s not Miss Sturgis any more,” laughed Mr. -Allister.</p> - -<p>“That’s so—that’s so; it’s ‘Devlin’ of course. Well, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_264">[Pg 264]</span> -Mrs. Devlin, you surely look as though marriage agreed -with you.”</p> - -<p>They were all laughing in good spirits. A few moments -of inconsequential remarks, and then Allister -withdrew while Mr. Corey made Jeannette sit down.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I must have a talk,” he insisted, “and hear all -about you.”</p> - -<p>The door opened, and young Tommy Livingston -came in with a question on his lips. His eyes lighted -as he recognized the caller.</p> - -<p>“My new secretary,” said Corey smiling.</p> - -<p>“Oh, is that <i>so</i>?” Jeannette was pleased; the boy -had always been a protégé of hers. “Well, Tommy, -this <i>is</i> a step up for you!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed,” he said grinning. “I’m doing the -best I know how....”</p> - -<p>“Tommy does very well,” approved Mr. Corey.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t know you understood dictation,” said -Jeannette.</p> - -<p>“I don’t very well. I’ve got a stenographer in my -office,—’member Miss Bates?—and I’m going to night -school and learning shorthand; I can run a machine -fairly decently now.”</p> - -<p>“Well, isn’t that splendid!”</p> - -<p>Presently she was alone with Mr. Corey again. He -asked about her, about Martin, about her married life. -She was frank with her answers.</p> - -<p>“I shall never thank you enough,” she said, “for -persuading me to accept Mr. Devlin. I never would -have married if you hadn’t made me, and I never would -have known what I missed. I guess I’d’ve been here -for the rest of my days.”</p> - -<p>She was eager for his news, too.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_265">[Pg 265]</span></p> - -<p>Yes, he and Mrs. Corey were quite reconciled. She -was very sorry she had maligned Jeannette. He was -going to England in ten days and was taking her with -him. Babs was about the same; she would never be -any better; they had an excellent trained nurse for -her and she was to spend the rest of the summer at a -camp in the Adirondacks. Willis had written a most -interesting letter from Johannesburg; he and Ericsson -were trekking north through Matabeleland and Bulawayo; -Mr. Corey did not expect to hear from him again -for three months. Affairs at the office were about as -usual; they expected to publish a big novel in the fall -by Hobart Haüser; Garritt Farrington Trent had left -his former publishers and come over to them; advertising -was bad; there was some talk of a printers’ -strike; <i>The Ladies’ Fortune</i> had been selling excellently -on the stands; the pattern business was booming.</p> - -<p>There were one or two matters he wanted to ask her -about: What was the arrangement with Hardy as to -the dramatic rights of <i>Harnessed</i>? No record could -be found of the agreement. And did she recall -from what concern they had bought that last stock -of special kraft wrapper? And the folder containing -all the correspondence with the Electrical Manufacturing -Company had disappeared. What could have -become of it? She answered as best she could. When -she got up to go, he accompanied her to the door of -his office.</p> - -<p>“I can’t begin to tell you how we all miss you here,” -he said gravely, “and how much <i>I</i> do especially. It’s -been hard sledding without you. I’ve thought a hundred -times,—oh, a <i>thousand</i> times!—of how much you -did for me to make the work easier and how much you -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_266">[Pg 266]</span> -lifted from my shoulders. I got used to it, I’m afraid, -and took a good deal for granted.... But I’m glad -you’re married; that’s where you belong: making a -home for yourself and leading your own life.”</p> - -<p>There was moisture in Jeannette’s eyes as she -turned away. She loved Chandler Corey, she said to -herself; he was a wonderful man; she knew she was -the only person in the world who truly appreciated -him; and she knew he loved her, too. It was this -glimpse of his affection for her that moved her. -Theirs had been a rare comradeship, a fine communion, -a beautiful relationship. It was ended; it was past -and done; they could no longer be together or even -find an excuse to see one another without having their -actions misinterpreted. It had been the business, the -common interest, that had wrought the tie between -them, and now that there was no longer any office, the -intimacy and companionship was at an end, the bond -sundered,—soon they would have but a casual interest -in one another!—and she had been closer to him than -anyone else in the world, like a daughter, and he a -father to her. It was sad; a matter to be mourned; -each going a different way, only memories of a splendid -coöperation and friendship remaining to remind -them of happy years together.</p> - -<h5>§ 7</h5> - -<p>Jeannette stopped at Miss Holland’s desk and made -her promise to take lunch with her at the noon hour -when they could have a good talk.</p> - -<p>As she left the scene of her former activities, her -progress through the aisles between the desks was -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_267">[Pg 267]</span> -once again a succession of hand-clasps, congratulations, -well-wishes, nods and smiles. It touched her -deeply; she had no idea she had been so well liked: -everyone there seemed to be her friend.</p> - -<p>Miss Holland joined her at half past twelve in the -lobby of the Park Avenue Hotel, and they had a delightful -luncheon together at one of the little tables -edging the balcony about the court. News was exchanged -eagerly. Jeannette’s was scant, but her companion -had endless gossip to retail. Miss Holland’s -nephew, Jerry Sedgwick, was a midshipman now, and -on his summer cruise in Cuban waters aboard a big -battleship. She and Mrs. O’Brien had a little apartment -down on Waverly Place and managed quite comfortably. -The office was getting dreadfully on Miss -Holland’s nerves; it was so different from what it -used to be; in the old days everyone had done the best -that was in him or her to make the business a success; -no one had cared what the returns were to be; -the idea of doing more and better work had been the -thought actuating all. Now that the Corey Company -had become one of the largest and most prosperous -publishing houses in the country, the spirit had -changed; everyone thought about “profits.” They -had conferences of all the heads of departments each -week and no one was interested in learning what was -going on in the different branches of the business; -what commanded their attention was how much -“profit” was to be shown. It disgusted Miss Holland; -there was no “Get Together Club” any more. Mr. -Kipps was becoming more and more critical and -fault-finding; he had headaches all the time; Miss -Holland believed he was a sick man; he never took -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_268">[Pg 268]</span> -any exercise. The pattern business had grown enormously; -Mr. Cruikshanks had done wonders with it; -they had had to lease a whole big building over on -Tenth Avenue to take care of it; <i>The Ladies’ Fortune</i> -had a circulation of nearly half a million; Horatio -Stephens had had a very substantial raise, and had -grown awfully opinionated and disagreeable.</p> - -<p>There was more gossip of lesser significance. Miss -Hoggenheimer of the mailing department had gone -on the stage, and had a part now in <i>It Happened in -Nordland</i>, while Miss Gleason had married that big -George Robinson of the Press Room, and Tommy Livingston -would soon be engaged,—if he wasn’t already,—to -Mrs. O’Brien’s little sister, Agnes, who worked in -the Mail Order Department.... Oh, yes! and had -Jeannette heard what had happened to Van Alstyne? -It was terrible! He was in the penitentiary at Atlanta -for using the United States mail for fraudulent -purposes; he had become involved with some unscrupulous -men who advertised worthless stock and the -Federal authorities had put them all in jail.... And -poor Mrs. Inness was dead; she died at her brother’s -house in Weehawken.</p> - -<p>Jeannette devoured these details. She sat absorbed, -fascinated, listening to every word that came from -her companion’s lips; she could not get enough of this -chatter about her old associates; she was hungry for -every scrap of information, fearful that Miss Holland -might neglect to tell her everything.</p> - -<p>She walked back with her friend to the office and -would not let her go for another ten minutes until she -had heard the final details of a violent quarrel between -Miss Reubens and Mr. Cavendish.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_269">[Pg 269]</span></p> - -<p>Miss Holland promised to dine with her and Martin -soon, and Jeannette promised in return to come with -her husband to dinner with Miss Holland and Mrs. -O’Brien in the Waverly Place apartment. They -parted with many such assurances.</p> - -<p>Jeannette walked all the way home in a daze of -memories, thoughts of the old times crowding upon her -brain, her interest in business affairs and personal -happenings in the Chandler B. Corey Company awake -again, stirring with all its former keenness.</p> - -<h5>§ 8</h5> - -<p>The dinner to which Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Gibbs -were invited and to which after various postponements -they ultimately came was a dismal failure -from Jeannette’s point of view. First of all, she was -late with the meal itself, and in hurrying, spattered -grease on her gown; the yeast powder biscuits would -not rise, and the leg of lamb was underdone, the meat -pink when Martin carved it. Then Martin, himself, -was nervous and excited, and the cocktails he had with -his guest before they sat down went to his head and -made him talk and act sillily. Lastly, and most important, -the Gibbses were hopeless! Herbert Gibbs -was flat-headed and there was no curve at the back -of his neck, while the hair grew down under his collar -sparse and short; he had an expressionless, stupid face -and it was impossible to tell whether he was being -bored or amused at the attempt of young Mr. and -Mrs. Devlin to entertain him and his wife. Mrs. Gibbs -was even less prepossessing. She was a plump German -girl, with thin yellow hair done up in a knob on -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_270">[Pg 270]</span> -top of her head which frankly showed her white scalp -through wide gaps. She was irritatingly voluble, had -a piercing sharp nervous laugh, and exclaimed shrilly -about whatever Jeannette said or did. She chatted -unceasingly about her child, little “Herbie,” who, it -seemed, was only ten months old but could already -both walk and talk, and she embarrassed Jeannette by -asking in a whisper how soon there was going to be -a little Devlin. There was nothing spontaneous in the -conversation during the whole evening, neither while -they sat at table nor later in the living-room, where -Mr. Gibbs sat stolidly puffing at cigars, sipping the red -Burgundy with which Martin kept his glass filled, and -Mrs. Gibbs rattled on about how they had found their -home at Cohasset Beach on Long Island, and the involved -circumstances connected with its eventual purchase. -Mercifully they were obliged to take an early -train home on account of “Herbie,” but did not depart -until they had warned their young hosts they would -soon be expected to spend a Sunday with them in the -country.</p> - -<p>That night, going to bed, Martin and Jeannette had -their first quarrel. It left her shaken and unhappy all -the next day. She ridiculed their guests and Martin -defended them; she declared they were stupid and -common; he, that she didn’t know them, that they were -a very good-hearted sort, that she had been cold and -patronizing with Mrs. Gibbs, that her husband had -noticed it, and become awfully “sore”; it would have -been a “damn sight better,” Martin concluded stormily, -if they had never been asked.</p> - -<p>“And after all the trouble I went to!” raged -Jeannette to herself, hugging her side of the bed, rebellion -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_271">[Pg 271]</span> -strong within her, “cooking all day long, planning -everything out, going over to Columbus Avenue -twice, getting flowers for the table, working myself -dizzy and ruining my organdie, just so he could make -a good impression on them and perhaps help himself a -little at the office!”</p> - -<p>A tear trickled down her nose, and she wiped it off -with a finger-tip. She would never give in to him,—never! -She would make him beg and beg and beg for -her forgiveness! It would be a long, long time.... -With head aching and trying to choke down a sniffle -that threatened to betray her, she fell asleep.</p> - -<p>There was an eager reconciliation the next night; -promises, vows, assurances, harsh self-accusations, -and Martin carried her off after dinner to two dollar -seats at the <i>Broadway</i>, where Jeannette whispered -penitently, hugging his arm in the dark of the theatre, -that if the Gibbses <i>did</i> ask them to visit them some -Sunday, she would go and be her nicest to both.</p> - -<h5>§ 9</h5> - -<p>The occasion when Sandy MacGregor had the young -Devlins to dine with him in style on the roof garden -of the new Astor Hotel was another affair that turned -out unfortunately. The lady whom Sandy asked to -be fourth in the party,—a Mrs. Fontella,—was not the -type with whom Jeannette had been accustomed to -associate. She was boldly handsome with great round -black eyes, masses of auburn hair, a cavernous red -mouth, and a large, prominent bust. She was noisy -and coarse, and when she laughed she showed a great -deal of gum and rows of glittering gold-filled teeth. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_272">[Pg 272]</span> -Jeannette froze into her most rigid and uncommunicative -self. Just before dessert was served, Martin -and Sandy excused themselves from the table and disappeared, -leaving her sitting for almost half-an-hour -alone with her noisy and conspicuous companion. It -was evident when the men returned they had been -downstairs to the bar where they had had drinks and -had been shaking dice. Jeannette was thoroughly incensed, -and although Sandy had seats for the theatre, -she complained she was ill and insisted upon going -home.</p> - -<p>There was another quarrel between her husband and -herself that night, but before they went to sleep he -won her forgiveness, abused himself for treating her -shabbily, told her again and again he was sorry, and -promised never to be guilty of neglecting her again.</p> - -<p>He could be irresistibly winning when he wanted -to be.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_273">[Pg 273]</span></p> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II_IV">CHAPTER IV</h4> -</div> - -<h5>§ 1</h5> - -<p>On the Fourth of July the Gibbses asked Martin and -Jeannette to spend the holiday and Sunday with them -at Cohasset Beach. Jeannette contemplated the visit -in the gayest of spirits. She spent fully two hours -carefully packing her own and Martin’s suitcases. -She had some very smart clothes for such an outing -which she had had no opportunity of wearing since -the happy honeymoon days at Atlantic City. The idea -of appearing in these again at such a well-known summer -resort as Cohasset Beach delighted her. She was -anxious to be cordial to Mrs. Gibbs for Martin’s sake, -and meant to dispel any unpleasant impression of herself -that either Mr. Gibbs or his wife might have been -harboring. To exert herself particularly in her host’s -direction, “draw him out of his shell”—as Martin expressed -it,—and make him like her, was part of her -resolution.</p> - -<p>Late Friday afternoon she manfully struggled with -the two suitcases to the Thirty-fourth Street ferry and -met Martin as agreed at the entrance of the waiting-room. -They had been anxious to catch an early train -from Long Island City, and it had been arranged that -Mr. Gibbs and Martin should come to the station directly -from the office and meet her at the ferry station.</p> - -<p>“My God, Jan!” Martin exclaimed after he had -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_274">[Pg 274]</span> -swung himself off the trolley-car and come running -up to where she was waiting. “My God, you look great! -Say,—I never saw you look so—so swell!” Mr. Gibbs -was pleasantly cordial, though suffering much discomfort -from the excessive heat. Sweat trickled down his -expressionless face, and continually he removed his -straw hat to mop his forehead with a drenched handkerchief.</p> - -<p>It was indeed hot, but the vistas up and down the -river as the ferry-boat blunted its way toward the -Long Island shore were all of cool pinks, palest greens -and lavenders in the late summer afternoon, while the -sun, setting through a murky haze, cast an enchanted -light over the scene. In the train, Mr. Gibbs took -himself off to the smoking car, leaving Martin and -Jeannette alone. They sat beside a raised window, -their hands linked under a fold of her silk dress, and -the air that reached them was rich with the scent of -the open country. The girl’s heart was overflowing -with happiness as Martin whispered endearments in -her ear: she was a wonder, all right; she looked like -a million dollars; gosh! he was proud of her; there -was no girl in the world like his wife! The holiday -that was beginning for them, and the knowledge that -they were not to be separated for two whole days—nearly -three!—filled both with great felicity.</p> - -<p>Cohasset Beach is a little village of two or three -thousand inhabitants on the Sound side of the Island, -some twenty-five or thirty miles from New York. The -Gibbses lived in an unpretentious, white, peaked-roofed -house, with plenty of shade trees about it, and -a rather patchy, ill-kept lawn, bordered with straggling -rosebeds. There was a lattice-sided porch covered -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_275">[Pg 275]</span> -with a clambering vine. The place was attractive -though shabby; the house sorely in need of paint, the -front steps worn down to the natural color of the -wood, the edges of the treads frayed and splintery. -A sagging hammock hung under scrawny pepper trees, -and a child’s toys were scattered about, while close -to the latticed porch was a pile of play sand hauled up -from the neighboring beach.</p> - -<p>Jeannette was disappointed. She had pictured the -Gibbses’ house more of an establishment. Cohasset -Beach was a fashionable summer resort; the Yacht -Club there was famous; she had thought to find her -hosts living in some style. But she was not to be -daunted; she had come prepared to have a good time -and to make these people like her; she reminded herself -of her determination not to spoil this visit for Martin.</p> - -<p>But on encountering Mrs. Gibbs she realized afresh -how little in common she had with her hostess. The -woman was devoid of poise, restraint, or dignity; Jeannette -had forgotten her volubility and harsh, unpleasant -laugh. Mrs. Gibbs welcomed her guest eagerly, -keeping up a running fire of remarks, loosing her -squeaks of mirth in nervous fashion. She slipped her -arm about Jeannette’s waist and before showing her -to her room or giving her a chance to remove her hat, -led her to the nursery to view little Herbie in his crib. -Mr. Gibbs followed for a peep at his son before the child -went off to sleep and he brought Martin with him. -They all hung over the sides of the crib and exclaimed -about the baby, who rolled his solemn, perplexed eyes -from face to face. Jeannette noted he was exactly like -his father: flat-headed, expressionless, with no curve at -the back of his neck, but Martin seemed quite taken -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_276">[Pg 276]</span> -with him and when he tickled him with a finger, the -baby opened wide his little red mouth, displayed his -toothless red gums and crowed vigorously. Jeannette -was sure she detected in the sound the shrillness of -his mother’s senseless laugh.</p> - -<p>The guest room was on the third floor in one gable -of the roof, a big room with sloping ceilings; it was -equipped with a washstand on which stood a basin and -ewer; the bathroom was on the floor below. Hattie, -the colored cook, would bring up hot water, Mrs. Gibbs -said in her excited way as she left them, urging her -guests to make themselves comfortable. Jeannette -had carefully packed Martin’s dinner clothes, and her -own prettiest dinner frock, but there would evidently -be no formal dressing in such a household. She stood -at an open latticed window that jutted out above the -vine-covered porch and looked out over a rippling -billow of tree-tops, softly green now in the fading -evening light, that tumbled down to the water’s edge. -The Sound was dotted with little boats riding at anchor -and there was one private yacht, gay with lights -and fluttering pennants. The lambent heavens in the -west touched the shimmering water delicately with -pink. She pressed her lips resolutely together, and -stared out upon the scene unmoved by its beauty.</p> - -<p>“Great,—isn’t it?” Martin said, coming to stand beside -her and putting his arm about her. “We’ll have -a home like this of our own, some day,—hey, old girl? -And you’ll be the boss of the show and be cooking -me some of your fine dinners when I come home, and -I’ll take you out sailing in the yacht on Sundays.” He -laughed his rich buoyant peal and caught her in his -arms.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_277">[Pg 277]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, Martin,” she breathed tremulously, sinking -her face against his shoulder, “I love you so,—I love -you so!”</p> - -<p>As she had foreseen, there was no change of costume -for dinner at the Gibbses’ table. The meal itself had -as little distinctiveness as the host and hostess: soup -and vegetables, a large steak followed by apple pie -and the usual accessories. Martin, Mr. Gibbs and his -wife drank beer; it appeared that it was imported, and -Martin was eloquent in its praise. There were cookies -too, which made a special appeal to him; <i>küchen</i>, Mrs. -Gibbs called them, but Jeannette thought them hard -and tasteless. After dinner, the men walked down -to the water and back, smoking their cigars, while -Jeannette sat and listened to a long tale by Mrs. Gibbs -of how she had happened to meet her Herbert, how -her parents had objected, how they had tried to separate -them, and how love had finally triumphed.</p> - -<p>But Jeannette went to sleep that night with a happy -prospect for the morrow awaiting her: they were to -have lunch at the fashionable yacht club.</p> - -<h5>§ 2</h5> - -<p>Disappointment lay in store for her again. At noon, -the next day, perplexed by the picnic baskets and shoe-boxes -of lunch with which they were laden as they left -the house, she learned it was the Family Yacht Club -and not the imposing Cohasset Beach Yacht Club for -which they were headed. Oh, no, Mr. Gibbs explained, -only the swell New Yorkers and the rich nabobs who -lived down on the “Point” patronized the Cohasset -Beach Yacht Club; the dues there were fifty dollars -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_278">[Pg 278]</span> -a month; the nice folk in Cohasset all belonged to the -Family Yacht Club; she would see herself how pleasant -it was there; the steward served hot coffee and -everybody brought their own lunches. Jeannette -looked straight ahead of her to hide the blur of disappointed -tears that for a moment blinded her. Martin -was behind with Mrs. Gibbs carrying Herbie in his -arms. The resolve to try and be pleasant and make -these people like her died hopelessly in the girl’s -heart. Oh, it was no use! It had been dreadful from -the moment they arrived; it would remain dreadful -till the end!</p> - -<p>The club-house of the Family Yacht Club was a low -spreading, wind-blown, sand-battered, gray building -that squatted along the shore, separated from the lisping -wavelets of the Sound by a strip of white, sandy -beach; a long pier ran out into the water and a number -of small sail-boats and row-boats were tied to the float -at its further end. The pier, the beach, the wide veranda -of the club-house were all crowded to-day; flags -flew or were draped everywhere, and bathers ran up -and down along the wet sand or congregated on the -raft anchored a hundred yards from shore.</p> - -<p>“Whew!” exclaimed Martin when he viewed the -scene, “isn’t this great!”</p> - -<p>His wife threw him a look; it did not seem possible -he was serious, but a glimpse of his delighted face -showed her he was indeed.</p> - -<p>There were no chairs nor benches on which to sit, -but the newcomers found a clean space on the sandy -shore and prepared to establish themselves there. -Jeannette thought of her spotless new white fibre-silk -skirt, and in sad resignation sank into place. About -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_279">[Pg 279]</span> -them were a dozen or so of similar groups, preparing -for the midday meal or already enjoying it. They -were all neighbors of the Gibbses, residents of Cohasset -Beach, who knew one another intimately, and -hailed each new arrival, bandying Christian names. A -man some distance away shouted in the direction of the -Gibbs party, brandishing a bottle of beer.</p> - -<p>“Hey, Gibbsey,” he yelled, “hey there! How’s the -old stick-in-the-mud?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Gibbs shrieked across the stretch of sand at the -woman beside him.</p> - -<p>“How’s the baby?”</p> - -<p>“Fine,” came the answer. “Mama’s got him.”</p> - -<p>“That’s Zeb Kline over there,” Mrs. Gibbs informed -her husband; “it’s the first time he’s been out since he -was sick.... And those folks with Doc French certainly -look like his sister-in-law and that cousin of hers, -Mrs. Prentiss.”</p> - -<p>A burst of music and the report of a cannon came -distinctly from farther down the shore. Jeannette, -craning her neck, could see a large, glistening white -building with a red roof, gaily decorated with flags; -there were loops of bunting about the railings of its -porches.</p> - -<p>“That’s the Cohasset Beach Yacht Club,” said Mr. -Gibbs; “the Commodore’s just come to anchor; that’s -his yacht out there; there’ll be some fine racing this -aft; the Stars are going out.”</p> - -<p>“Ham or cheese?” Mrs. Gibbs inquired, proffering -sandwiches. She was busy with the lunch, snapping -strings, opening boxes, squeezing wrapped tissue-paper -packages with her fingers, shaking them, hazarding -guesses as to their contents.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_280">[Pg 280]</span></p> - -<p>“I wonder what Hattie’s got in here,” she kept -saying.</p> - -<p>“Do have some sauerkraut; I made it myself. I -thought maybe you’d like it. Don’t you fancy mustard -dressing? ... Well, try the stuffed eggs. Hope you -think they’re good. The cake’s Hattie’s; I think her -chocolate’s splendid.... Mr. Devlin, some mustard -pickles? Some eggs? ... Goodness gracious, papa! -Look out for Herbie! He’ll get himself all sopping!”</p> - -<p>“Say, Mr. Gibbs, this beer is great! How do you -manage to have it so cold?” Martin asked.</p> - -<p>“I bring it down a day or two ahead of time and -the steward puts it on the ice for me; just half a dozen -bottles, you know; doesn’t put him to too much -trouble.”</p> - -<p>“Well, this is a great little Club all right.”</p> - -<p>“<i>We</i> think it’s nice. Just a few of us that have children -got together and organized it. The Cohasset -Beach has a big bar, and there always is a good deal -of drinking going on down there. The New Yorkers, -you know, come down for a good time. No place for -young folk.”</p> - -<p>“No, you bet your life.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette, in spite of herself, found she was hungry. -The fried chicken in the oiled tissue paper was delicious, -and she loved the liverwurst sandwiches. Mrs. -Sturgis and her girls had always been extremely fond -of liverwurst; Kratzmer kept it, and many a luncheon -Jeannette, her mother and sister had made with little -else. The hot cup of coffee, that Mrs. Gibbs poured -from the tin pot the Club steward brought and set -down in the sand, put life into her. The pleasant heat -of the day, the sunshine, the life and frolicking in sand -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_281">[Pg 281]</span> -and water, forced enjoyment upon her. But she would -not go in swimming when Martin urged her. One -glance at the crude bath-house with its gray boards -and canvas roof was sufficient to decide her on this -point. She sat stiffly beside Mrs. Gibbs, who had -rocked Herbie to sleep in her arms, and now moved -so her shadow would keep the sun off the child’s face, -while she watched Mr. Gibbs and her husband disport -themselves in the water. Martin’s swimming always -attracted attention and when he made a beautiful swan -dive from the end of the pier, there was a ripple of -applause. She felt proud of him, proud of his fine -figure, the beauty of his young body, his prowess, his -unaffectedness.</p> - -<p>“Who’s that young fellow doing all the fancy diving -out there?” a man sauntering up asked Mrs. Gibbs.</p> - -<p>“S-ssh,” breathed that lady, indicating her sleeping -child. “His name’s Martin Devlin,” she whispered; -“he works for Herbert in the city.”</p> - -<p>Works for Herbert in the city! Jeannette felt the -blood rush to her face. Works for Herbert! Indeed! -Well, he wouldn’t be <i>working</i> for Herbert much longer. -She’d have something to say about <i>that</i>. The idea! -The impertinence! Giving the impression that her -wonderful Martin was merely an employee of Herbert -Gibbs!</p> - -<p>Her husband, wet and dripping, came up to her and -flung himself down panting upon the sand.</p> - -<p>“Gee,” he said boyishly, “that water’s great! -Never had a better swim in my life. It’s a shame -you didn’t go in, Jan.”</p> - -<p>He looked at her, sensing something was amiss, but -she smiled at him and pressed his wet, sandy hand.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_282">[Pg 282]</span></p> - -<p>Late in the afternoon they prepared to go home. -As they were about to leave the Club, a man climbing -into his automobile offered a lift. Martin and Jeannette -begged to be allowed to walk and persuaded their -hosts on account of the baby to take advantage of the -car. Left to themselves, they commenced a leisurely -return.</p> - -<p>Along the tree-bordered roads that fringed the -shore, other groups in white skirts and flannels were -wending their way homeward; flags flew from poles -or were draped over doorways; the strains of a waltz -drifted seductively from the Cohasset Beach Yacht -Club; the blue water of the Sound was dotted with -glistening triangles of sails, heeled over and headed -in one direction.</p> - -<p>“Those are the Stars,” Martin exclaimed; “the race -is finishing; number seven seems to have it cinched. -That steam yacht over there with all the flags is the -judges’ boat.”</p> - -<p>They watched for a moment longer. Far out in midstream, -one of the Sound steamers was passing; already -lights were beginning to twinkle in her cabins.</p> - -<p>“Wonderful day,” commented Martin, giving his -wife’s hand, as it rested in the crook of his elbow, -a squeeze with his arm. They wandered onward. “I’d -love to have a home with you in a place like this, with -the sailing and swimming and tennis and all this outdoor -fun. It’s my idea of living. A fellow Mr. Gibbs -introduced me to out on the raft belongs to the Cohasset -Beach Club, too. He told me they’ve got some -swell tennis courts over there and he was after me to -play with him to-morrow.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_283">[Pg 283]</span></p> - -<p>“And will you?” Jeannette asked, listlessly.</p> - -<p>“Well, I guess I can’t. Mr. Gibbs said something -about some friends of theirs asking us all to go sailing -to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“That will be nice,” said his wife, still in a lifeless -tone, but Martin did not notice.</p> - -<p>“By George, I think this is a great place. I was asking -Mr. Gibbs about rents, and he tells me we could -get a fine little eight-room house for forty a month, -and it’s only three-quarters of an hour from town.”</p> - -<p>“And what would you do without your theatres and -your shows and your little dinners downtown?” smiled -Jeannette.</p> - -<p>“Oh—they could go hang!”</p> - -<p>The smile upon his wife’s face twisted skeptically. -She knew Martin better than he knew himself.</p> - -<p>“And don’t you think the Gibbses ’re awful nice -folks? They don’t put on any airs but ’re friendly -and simple. They’d take us under their wing and ’d -be darned nice neighbors.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette shut her mouth. It was not the time to -shatter his enthusiasm; he was having a good time, -imagined these people wonderful; it wouldn’t be kind -of her to show him now how vulgar and cheap and -horrid they and their friends and their little ridiculous -Club were. No,—it would only hurt him, and -under the influence of the day and the good time, it -would lead to a quarrel,—and she was sick of quarrels. -She reminded herself she was out of sorts from -the long day of boredom and disappointment; it would -be madness to say a word now. The time when she -could make him see the Gibbses, their house, their -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_284">[Pg 284]</span> -friends, their tiresome pleasures and cheap environment -as she saw them would come, and she must bide -her time.</p> - -<p>“... not so particularly interesting,” Martin was -saying, “but a darned good sort, and he’s got a shrewd -business head. I think he likes me first-rate, and I -was mighty glad to see you and Mrs. Gibbs pulling -together. She told me she thought you were great, -said all manner of nice things about how swell you -looked. She’s not much of a looker, herself, but she -certainly has got the right feeling of hospitality. -Know what I mean, Jan? She gives you the best -she’s got, and makes you feel at home and that she’s -glad you’re in her house. I think that’s bully.... -And isn’t that kid a corker? Golly, I think he’s slick! -You know, I carried him all the way down from the -house to the Club and he had his arms round my neck -the whole way. He made funny little sounds in my ear, -you know, as though he was kind of enjoying himself! ... -Gee, he’s a great baby!”</p> - -<p>That flat-headed, vacant-faced child? ... Well, -Martin was <i>hopeless</i>! He must be crazy; there was -no use talking to him!</p> - -<h5>§ 3</h5> - -<p>In the morning Jeannette vigorously renewed her -resolution not to mar her husband’s pleasure. For -the first time, since her marriage, she felt oddly estranged -from him. There was a rent somewhere in -the veil through which he had hitherto appeared so -handsome, so considerate, so wonderfully perfect, and -the glimpse she had of him now through the rift was -disconcerting and a little shocking. While they were -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_285">[Pg 285]</span> -dressing, he smoked a cigarette although he well knew -the fumes of it before breakfast made her giddy; at -the table he was unnecessarily noisy, laughed too -loudly, with his mouth wide open and full of muffin, -and after breakfast on the ill-kept lawn, he rolled about -with the Gibbs baby, making a buffoon of himself and -streaking his white trousers with grass green and -dirt. They were to go sailing at ten o’clock,—the -Websters were to call for them,—and it was thoughtless -of Martin, and indicated all too clearly his utter -indifference to her feelings. He looked a sight in his -dirtied flannels! ... But she <i>would</i> be sweet! She -<i>would</i> be amiable! She would <i>not</i> undo whatever good -had been accomplished. At four o’clock they would -take the train back to the city; there remained less -than seven hours more of this dreadful visit! Martin -had completely captivated Mrs. Gibbs; his enthusiasm -for the baby had been the last compelling touch; she -shrieked at everything he said, thought him “perfectly -killing.” Both she and Mr. Gibbs had been cordial -to Jeannette. Grimly, the girl determined she would -hold herself in leash for the few short hours that remained, -would smile and smirk and simper and do -whatever they wanted!</p> - -<p>But it was the ten-forty train that night which she -and Martin were able to catch back to town. The Websters’ -yacht had been becalmed, and all day the boat -had rocked upon the slow oily swells of the Sound, the -sail flapping dismally, the ropes creaking and straining -in the blocks. The women had huddled together -in the scant shade of the sail, while the men sprawled -helplessly in the flagellating sun. Herbie had wailed -and whimpered for hours before his mother had been -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_286">[Pg 286]</span> -able to quiet him off to sleep. She had kept repeating -in a sort of justification for his ill temper: “Why, he -wants his bottle; the poor darling wants his bottle; -’course he’s cross, he wants his bottle.”</p> - -<p>At four in the afternoon a motor-boat had come -within hailing distance and generously offered a tow. -Fifteen minutes later they were underway in its wake, -when something suddenly went wrong with the motor-boat’s -engine, and both vessels slowly heaved from -side to side on the oily swells. Mrs. Webster frankly became -seasick. The men shouted to one another across -the strip of water between the boats, but none of the -suggestions of either party brought results. The -motor-boat being equipped with oars, it was decided -to row for assistance,—a matter of two miles’ steady -pull. Martin had wanted to go along and lend a hand, -but Jeannette tugged at his arm and sternly forbade -him to leave her.</p> - -<p>Effective aid finally appeared towards eight o’clock -in the evening when the gathering darkness had begun -to make their position really perilous, and an hour -later the party clambered out on the float in front of -the Family Yacht Club, cramped, hungry, but profoundly -thankful. By the time Martin and Jeannette -had reached the Gibbses’ house and made ready for -their return to town, the ten-forty had been the earliest -train they could catch back to the city. Their hosts -begged them to remain for the night, but Jeannette -was inflexible in insisting upon returning home. She -feared another hour spent at Cohasset Beach would -drive her stark, raving mad.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_287">[Pg 287]</span></p> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II_V">CHAPTER V</h4> -</div> - -<h5>§ 1</h5> - -<p>When Martin went on his honeymoon to Atlantic -City, he had taken his annual two weeks’ vacation. -During the hot weather of summer, therefore, he and -Jeannette were obliged to remain in the sweltering -city. But Jeannette did not mind the heat. Adventuring -in married life was too utterly absorbing; she loved -her new home, and each day found new delight in -managing it. She and her husband considered themselves -deliriously happy. Nights on which they did not -go to the theatre, they roamed the bright upper -stretches of Broadway, sauntered along Riverside -Drive as far as Grant’s Tomb, or meandered into the -Park, where electric lights cast a theatrical radiance -on trees and shrubbery. On Sundays they made excursions -to the beaches, and one week-end they went -to Coney Island on Saturday afternoon and stayed -the night at the Manhattan Beach Hotel. Jeannette -long remembered the glorious planked steak they enjoyed -for dinner on that occasion, sitting at a little -table by the porch railing, listening to the big military -band, while all about them a gay throng chatted and -laughed at other tables, and crowds surged up and -down the boardwalk as the Atlantic thundered a dull -rhythmical bourdon to the stirring music of trumpet -and drum.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_288">[Pg 288]</span></p> - -<p>Her mother departed the first of August for Canada. -The concert tour having been finally decided upon,—without -the violinist,—every day or so cards arrived -from Mrs. Sturgis post-marked “Montreal,” “Quebec,” -“Toronto.” The venture could hardly be considered -a financial success, she wrote, but she and the -girls were having just too wonderful a time! The -Canadians were extraordinarily hospitable!</p> - -<p>Alice, Roy, and the baby returned from Freeport the -last of September; she expected to be confined early in -November. The Devlins visited them one Sunday during -the last weeks of their stay on Long Island, and -Jeannette wondered how her sister could be happy in -such an environment. The room the Beardsleys occupied -was under the roof and, during the day, like an -oven. Etta, Alice told her, woke up sometimes as early -as five or five-thirty, and nothing would persuade the -child to go to sleep again. As soon as she was awake, -she began to fret, and her wails disturbed the other -boarders at that hour. Either father or mother would -find it necessary to get up, dress, and wheel the child -out in her carriage, pushing her around and around the -block until she could be brought safely back to the -house. On Sundays when breakfast was not until nine -o’clock, these hours of the early silent mornings were a -long, wearisome, hungry trial. Jeannette thought the -food at the boarding-house was markedly meager, and -Alice had to admit that as the season was drawing to a -close, there were evidences of retrenchment on the part -of the landlady, but at first, she assured her sister, the -table had been plentiful and good. The effect of all this -upon Jeannette had been a determination to order her -own life along safer lines. Two or three times Alice -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_289">[Pg 289]</span> -had come up to the city during the summer to spend the -night. On these occasions Roy slept at his own flat -in the Bronx, as there was only a narrow couch available -at the Devlins’. To this Martin had been relegated, -and the two sisters occupied the bed together. -Alice was very large. It worried Jeannette; she was -once more full of apprehensions. She made up her -mind that for herself she did not want a baby for a -long time, not until she and Martin were out of debt, -and had saved something so that she could be sure of -a certain amount of comfort and care.</p> - -<p>Martin’s attitude about money distressed her. He -did not seem to take the matter of their finances with -sufficient seriousness. He was ever urging her to -engage a maid to attend to the dish-washing and clean -up after dinner. He hated kitchen work, himself, and -equally hated to have his wife do it. When he finished -his dinner and rose from the table, rolling a cigar about -between his teeth and filling his mouth with good, -strong inhalations of satisfying tobacco smoke, he felt -contented, replete, ready for talk and relaxation. To -have Jeannette disappear into the kitchen and begin -banging around out there with pans and rattling dishes -annoyed him. He could not bring himself to help her; -something in him rebelled at such work. His wife -readily understood how he felt; she sympathized with -him, and did not want him to help her, but she had her -own aversion to letting the dishes stand over night and -having them to do after breakfast the following day. -It took the best part of her morning, and meant she -could never get downtown until afternoon. But Martin -was willing to concede nothing; he answered her -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_290">[Pg 290]</span> -arguments by reiterating his advice to her to hire a -girl.</p> - -<p>“Good God, Jan,” he would say in characteristic -vigorous fashion, “she would cost you fifteen or twenty -dollars a month, and then you could get out as early as -you wanted to in the mornings and we could have our -evenings together.”</p> - -<p>It was just that fifteen or twenty dollars a month -which Jeannette wanted to save to pay on her bills. -She had inherited a sense of frugality; it worried her -to be in debt. Martin, on the other hand, was blandly -indifferent. He was willing to deny himself very little, -his wife often felt, to help her contribute to the “till.” -They had many arguments about the matter but never -reached a conclusion. Their creditors,—they owed a -little less than three hundred dollars,—were kept satisfied -by a small remittance each month but something -more always had to be charged. Jeannette was baffled. -She talked it over with Alice. The Beardsleys lived -more simply than the Devlins; they did not entertain -nor go out to dinner so often nor to the theatre, and -they paid only half as much rent. Their whole scale -of expenditure was more economical. That was the -answer, of course. When Jeannette told Martin they -were living beyond their means, he grew angry.</p> - -<p>“Damn it,” he answered her, “if there is one thing -I hate more than another, it’s a piker! What do you -want to crab about the bills for? Haven’t we got -everything we want? Aren’t we getting along all -right? Who’s kicking?”</p> - -<p>Jeannette heaved a sigh of weariness. Some day -before long she would have to persuade him to her way -of thinking.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_291">[Pg 291]</span></p> - -<h5>§ 2</h5> - -<p>Alice’s boy was born in October and was christened -Ralph Sturgis Beardsley by the Reverend Doctor Fitzgibbons, -much to Mrs. Sturgis’ tearful satisfaction. -Alice had a comparatively easy time with the birth of -her second child, but again there was an aftermath -which kept her weak and anæmic and necessitated an -operation just before Christmas.</p> - -<p>It was just before Christmas that Jeannette urged -Martin to ask for a raise. Several circumstances encouraged -her: she had learned through Miss Holland -that Walt Chase was getting eighty-five dollars a week,—a -big mail order concern out in Chicago had made -him an offer and Mr. Corey had been obliged to raise -his salary in order to keep him; Martin had met John -Archibald of the Archibald Engraving Company, the -largest color engravers in the city, and Mr. Archibald -had bought Martin a drink at the bar in the Waldorf -and presented him with a cigar; lastly, her husband -had landed a new engraving account a few weeks before -and had brought in considerable holiday business. -Martin heeded her advice and had a talk with Herbert -Gibbs, who promised to take the matter up with his -brother, Joe, and seemed disposed to recommend the -increase. In the wildest of spirits, Martin came home, -waltzed his wife around the apartment, kissed her a -dozen times, told her again and again she was a wonder, -insisted she stop her preparations for dinner, and -carried her off to a café downtown where he ordered -a pint of champagne and toasted her.</p> - -<p>His elation, however, was not fully justified. Martin -had asked for a substantial increase and a commission -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_292">[Pg 292]</span> -on all new accounts. It was evident that in discussing -the matter, the brothers had decided this was too much. -They agreed to give him three thousand a year on a -twelve months’ contract.</p> - -<p>“I always detested that flat-headed pig,” Jeannette -exclaimed inelegantly when Martin brought home the -news. “Think of how we tried to entertain him and -that stupid wife of his, and how we went down to visit -them and let them bore us to death! I knew he was -that kind of a creature!”</p> - -<p>“Aw, come, come, Jan,” Martin remonstrated; “you -want to be fair. Herb did the best he could; it was old -Joe who kicked. Three thousand a year isn’t so bad; -that’s two hundred and fifty a month. Not so rotten -for a fellow twenty-seven.... Now I hope to God -you’ll get a girl in here to help run the kitchen.”</p> - -<p>“Well,—all right,” Jeannette conceded, “only -you’ve got to go on helping me save. I want to pay off -every cent we owe.... I suppose I get my half as -usual.”</p> - -<p>“Sure. I’ll be paid now twice a month: first and -fifteenth.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s see; ... that’s a hundred and twenty-five. -I get sixty-two fifty; that’s really five dollars more a -week, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“You’re a little tight-wad,—do you know that, -darling?”</p> - -<p>“No, I’m not,” Jeannette defended herself. “I’m -only trying to run things economically and systematically, -and to do that you’ve <i>got</i> to plan ahead. The -trouble with you, Mart, is that you never do!”</p> - -<p>The raise led to the appearance of Hilda in the -kitchen. Hilda was a big-boned, good-natured Swedish -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_293">[Pg 293]</span> -girl, willing, but a careless cook, often exasperatingly -stupid. Jeannette paid her fifteen dollars a month, and -established her in the vacant bedroom not hitherto -furnished, which involved an outlay of nearly a hundred -dollars.</p> - -<p>In spite of the additional income, money continued to -be a problem. Jeannette still felt that she and Martin -were living too extravagantly, and that her husband -did not do his share in helping to retrench. She had -been entirely satisfied in the old days before she married -to go to the theatre in gallery or rear balcony -seats, but Martin scorned these locations. When he -went to a show, he said, he wanted to enjoy himself, -and sitting in the cheap seats robbed him of any pleasure -whatsoever. It was the same whenever they went -downtown to dinner; he preferred the expensive hotels -and restaurants; when he bought new clothes he went -to a tailor and had the suit made to order; he tipped -everywhere he went far too generously. If there was -any economizing to be done, it was always Jeannette -who must do it, and what made it all the harder was -that he did not thank her for the self-denial. He spent,—his -wife had no way of knowing how much,—a great -deal for drinks, and for the gin and vermuth he brought -home. Once a week, sometimes oftener, he would arrive -with a bottle of each, carefully wrapped up in -newspaper, under his arm. Every time they entertained, -she knew it meant more gin and more vermuth -for cocktails. Martin was not a tippler. Frequently -several days or a week would go by without his even -suggesting a cocktail. He did not seem to want one, -unless there was company, or he happened to come -home specially tired. Jeannette had never seen him -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_294">[Pg 294]</span> -intoxicated, although on the last day of the year a -number of the men at his office had gathered in the -late afternoon at a neighboring bar, and wished each -other “Happy New Year” over and over. Martin arrived -home, glassy-eyed and noisy, wanting her to kiss -and love him. She hated him when he had been drinking; -she even loathed the odor of liquor on his breath; -it made it strong and hot like the breath of a panther. -Another expense was his cigars of which he consumed -half-a-dozen a day. She knew they cost money, and -she knew Martin well enough to feel sure that the kind -he liked was not the inexpensive variety.</p> - -<p>There was also his card playing to be taken into account. -Sandy MacGregor had a circle of friends who -played poker together generally once a week, on Friday -nights. At first Jeannette had urged Martin to go -when Sandy had rung him up, asking if he would like -to “sit in.” She considered it part of a good wife’s -rôle: a man should not be expected to give up masculine -society, or an occasional “good time with the boys” -merely because he was married. She did not entirely -approve of poker, but Martin loved it. Whenever he -won, he woke her up when he came home and announced -it triumphantly; when he lost he said nothing about it, -and she felt she had no right to ask questions. She suspected -he did not tell her the truth about the size of -the stakes for which he played, realizing she would -worry, so she never inquired, and if Martin came home -and put seven or eight dollars on her dressing-table, -exultingly telling her that it was half his winnings, she -thanked him with a bright smile and a kiss for his -generous division, even though she was confident he -had won a great deal more.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_295">[Pg 295]</span></p> - -<p>On the first and fifteenth of the month he gave her -sixty-two dollars and fifty cents. She had to apportion -the money among the tradespeople, the bills “downtown,” -and keep enough for Hilda’s wages and incidental -table expenses for the ensuing fortnight. It left -her very little to spend on herself, for clothes and -amusements,—far from enough. For years she had -been independent, her own mistress, with the disposal -of her entire earnings; it was hard for her now to have -to economize and compromise and resort to makeshifts -because of her husband’s indifference and improvidence. -It brought back disturbing memories of old -days when she and Alice and their mother had had to -skimp and struggle in order to eke out the simplest -order of existence. It was just what she feared might -happen when she had considered marrying.</p> - -<p>A month arrived when Jeannette found upon her -grocer’s bill a charge for gin and vermuth and for -half a box of cigars: nine dollars and twenty-five cents! -It precipitated an angry quarrel between her husband -and herself. Martin had been encroaching in various -ways upon her half share of his salary, and she proposed -now to put a stop to it. He argued that the -cocktails and cigars had been for her friends when -invited to dinner; she retorted that neither cocktails -nor cigars had had any share in the entertainment she -provided, and if he chose to have them on hand and -offer them, it was his own affair. She taxed him with -the whole score of his extravagance, while Martin -chafed and twisted under her sharp criticisms, swore -and grew sulky. He hated unpleasantness and tried to -evade the issue: he’d pay for the booze and cigars and -buy her a hat or anything else she fancied, if she’d -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_296">[Pg 296]</span> -only “forget it” and quit “ragging” him. But Jeannette -felt that the question of an equal division of their -financial responsibility was vital to the success of their -marriage, the happiness of both, and she refused to be -deflected. He finally stormed himself out of the apartment, -viciously banging the door shut behind him. Two -days of misery followed for them both, when they met -with the exchange of monosyllables only, though their -thoughts pursued one another through every hour. -Their reconciliation was terrific, each willing to concede -everything, eager to make promises and to assure -the other of utter contriteness.</p> - -<p>From Jeannette’s point-of-view matters improved. -Twice Martin gave her an extra ten dollars out of his -half of his salary.</p> - -<h5>§ 3</h5> - -<p>When the year’s lease on the apartment neared its -end, Martin was not for renewing it. Herbert Gibbs -had been talking to him about Cohasset Beach, urging -him to move there. Summer was approaching, Gibbs -pointed out, with all its good times of swimming and -boating, and even in winter, he assured Martin, there -was plenty of outdoor sport: skating, tobogganing, -even skiing. In particular, his employer counselled, -there was a remarkable little house,—a bungalow,—with -floors, ceilings and inside trim of oak that had just -become vacant through the death of its owner, which -could be had for fifty dollars a month. It was a great -bargain for the money. Martin was enthusiastic. -Gibbs had promised he would be at once elected to the -Family Yacht Club, and had described the good times -its members had: dances every Saturday night and in -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_297">[Pg 297]</span> -summer, swimming, yachting, picnics. The “bunch,” -he assured the young man, was a “live” one,—the pick -of “good fellows.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette listened to her husband’s glowing recital -with a cold tightening at her heart.</p> - -<p>“He says, Jan,” Martin told her eagerly, “that -every once in awhile they have masquerade parties -down at the Club, and everybody goes all dressed up, -with masks on, you know, so nobody recognizes you, -and they just have a riot of fun. Then about a dozen -or fifteen of the fellows are going to get sail-boats this -year. There’s a ship-yard near there, and the ship-builder -has designed the neatest little sail-boat you -ever saw in your life. He calls it the A-boat, and -they are only going to cost ninety dollars apiece. Just -think of that, Jan: ninety dollars apiece! A sail-boat,—a -little yacht,—for that sum! Gee whillikens! Can -you imagine the fun we’ll have? Everybody, you know, -starts the same with a new boat. Gibbs was crazy to -have me order one,—the Club is anxious to give the -ship-builder as big an order as possible so’s to get the -price down,—so I fell for it and told him to put me -down. I thought maybe I’d call her the <i>Albatross</i>?”</p> - -<p>“You—<i>what</i>?” asked Jeannette blankly.</p> - -<p>“Sure, I told him to put me down. You know, it -made a hit with him; he’d ’ve been awfully sore if I -hadn’t; and it’s up to me to keep in with old Gibbsey. -I can sell it if we don’t like it. Gibbs put my name up -for membership in the Yacht Club.”</p> - -<p>“He <i>did</i>?” Jeannette said blankly again.</p> - -<p>“Well, darling, it’s only thirty dollars a year and I -guess that’s not going to break us; the initiation fee is -twenty-five,—something like that. Why the Club is -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_298">[Pg 298]</span> -just intended for young married folks like us; there’re -the dances for the ladies, and the card parties and picnics, -and there’re the sports for the men. Gee,—I think -it will be great! And Gibbsey tells me that by special -arrangement this year the Cohasset Beach Yacht Club -is going to let us use its tennis courts!”</p> - -<p>Jeannette looked into his excited eyes, and a dull -exasperation came over her.</p> - -<p>“The poor, poor simpleton,” she thought. “He -thinks he’ll like it; Gibbs has filled him full. He’ll hate -it as I hate it now inside of a fortnight. He never -would be contented in such a place; what would he -do without his theatres and the gay night life he loves? -It’s hard enough for us to live as we are,—we have to -struggle and struggle to make ends meet,—and here -he is mad to try an even more expensive method of -living, involving clubs and club dues, yachts and commutation -fares! ... And in such a community with -such people! The flat-headed Gibbses and their awful -friends picnicking there on the sand that terrible -Fourth of July! And Martin proposes I exchange them -and their vulgar dreadful society, their masquerades -and card parties, for my beautiful little apartment -which I’ve tried to make perfect, which everyone admires, -and which is my joy and delight!”</p> - -<p>There was a dangerous, fixed smile on her face as -she rose from the dinner table where they had been -lingering over their black coffee, and rang the little -brass bell for Hilda to clear away.</p> - -<p>“Well, what do you think, Jan? Don’t you believe -we’d both come to love the country? Don’t you think -we’d have a pack of fun down there?”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_299">[Pg 299]</span></p> - -<p>She eyed him with a cold stare a moment before she -answered slowly:</p> - -<p>“I won’t consider it.”</p> - -<p>His face fell.</p> - -<p>“What’s more,” she added briefly, “I think you’re -a fool.”</p> - -<p>His expression darkened; he glowered at her, hurt -to the quick. She ignored him and went about the living-room -straightening objects, lowering shades, adjusting -lights. All the time she was steeling herself -to the wrangle she knew was coming. She would be -equal to it; she would give him straight talk; she’d let -him have a piece of her mind and make him realize how -absurd he was, how utterly insane. Buying yachts and -joining clubs! What did he think he was, anyway? A -millionaire?</p> - -<p>The storm when it broke was the most violent they -had yet known; it was even worse than she had anticipated. -Martin, usually noisy, cursing, was quick -to recover, while she rarely lost control of speech or -action. But now the thought of giving up her little -home, as he calmly proposed, infuriated her. He had -not the faintest conception of how she loved it; he had -never done one single thing to improve or beautify it -beyond buying those frightful Macy daubs!</p> - -<p>For the first time in their quarrels she could not -control her tears. Convulsed with sobbing, Martin -thought she had capitulated. He waited several minutes -in distressed silence and then came to where she -lay upon the couch to put his arms about her and draw -her to him, but she turned on him with a fury that was -shocking. Rebuffed, he stared at her savagely, then -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_300">[Pg 300]</span> -snatched his hat and coat and left her with a violent -bang of the door.</p> - -<p>Jeannette never for one moment thought she could -not swing Martin to her wishes. She could not conceive -of herself weakening; Martin had always been -easy-going, good-natured. But she had forgotten how -purposeful he could be when his intent was hot; she -had forgotten his perseverance, his patience, his indefatigability -when he wooed her; she had forgotten -his winningness, his persuasiveness. He brought all -these qualities into play now; there was no side-tracking -him, no gainsaying him. His mind was locked -against the renewal of their lease, and set upon Cohasset -Beach. He argued, he cajoled, he pleaded, he -coaxed. Never had she known him so irritating or -so winning. If she grew cross, he was amiable; if -she grew sorrowful, he was consoling and tender; -if she advanced arguments that brooked no reply, -he was loving and answered her with kisses. But -he was determined; nothing swerved him from his -purpose.</p> - -<p>Once again, Jeannette found no comforting support -in anybody. Her mother said she ought to give in to -her husband if he was so set upon the plan; it was the -wife’s place to give way. Alice thought it would be -delightful to live in the country, and assured her sister -she would come to love it; she and Roy had been talking -all winter about moving to some place on Long -Island or in New Jersey, but it was hard to find anything -really nice for twenty-five dollars a month within -commuting distance of the city; they were going to -board at Freeport again for the summer and they intended -to look around and see what they could find -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_301">[Pg 301]</span> -there. It would be ideal for the children.... Was -there any hope ... any prospect ...?</p> - -<p>“No, thank Heaven,” Jeannette answered fervently. -She had enough to bother her without the complication -of a baby just now.</p> - -<p>On the anniversary of her wedding day she surrendered. -Martin had been so sweet and gentle with -her, so anxious to please, so considerate, every impulse -within her prompted her to do the thing he wanted. -She could see how eager he was for his sail-boat, his -new club and the country; he was mad to have them; -her heart was full of love for him. She reminded herself -that when she had entered into this marriage she -had been determined to give more, if need be, than he -did, to make their union a success. Here was an opportunity. -It meant a great sacrifice for herself; she -had no faith in the experiment, but felt sure she would -learn to hate all the people and the place, and Martin -would soon tire of it and them and share her feelings. -But now it was the thing above all else he wanted, and -it was her chance to be generous.</p> - -<p>She extracted from him two promises, however. It -was a foregone conclusion, she told him, that she -would not be happy at Cohasset Beach, but if she -agreed to go and live there with him, it must be understood -between them that she was to be free to come -into New York as often as she pleased, to shop or to -visit her mother and Alice, or do anything she liked. -He must also understand that he was to keep a closer -watch upon their finances. With commutation, railroad -fares and club dues added to their expenses -they would have to practise a much more rigid economy. -She wanted to get the table expenditures down to -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_302">[Pg 302]</span> -fifteen dollars a week, and that would be out of the -question if he expected her to entertain. As soon as -they were out of debt and had a little ahead, she would -be more than willing to have him invite people to visit -them.</p> - -<p>He promised everything. He was only too anxious -and willing, he said, to agree to all she asked, to show -his deep gratitude.</p> - -<h5>§ 4</h5> - -<p>The bungalow at Cohasset Beach, at first sight, -consoled her in some degree for giving up the apartment. -The little house was charming, and charmingly -situated. It had been built a few years before by a -rich old lady, an invalid, who had been compelled to -pass her days in a wheel-chair which she operated herself. -Because of the chair, the house had been planned -bungalow-fashion, though there was an upstairs of -two small bedrooms and an extra bath, and the doorways -between rooms had been made particularly wide -to permit the easy passage of the chair. Inside there -were oak floors throughout, a spacious fireplace, and an -oak-timbered ceiling in a generous-sized living-room, -off which opened two bedrooms and, opposite, the dining-room. -There was an acre or so of unkempt ground -about the house with some gnarled old apple trees, in -blossom when Jeannette first saw them, and at the rear -the ground sloped down to a rush-bordered pool in -whose rippleless surface all the colors of the sky, blossoming -trees and bordering reeds were intensified in -glorious reflection. A white cow stood upon her own -inverted image at the farther side. There was no view -of the Sound,—the bungalow was a good mile from the -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_303">[Pg 303]</span> -water,—but it was picturesquely set, and Jeannette -felt, since she had been forced to abandon the city, she -could not have found a home in the country that suited -her better.</p> - -<p>The move from town was accomplished without a -hitch; even Hilda was successfully transplanted. Jeannette -set herself determinedly to work to fit herself and -her furniture into the new environment, and was surprised -to discover how easily both were accomplished. -Expenses alone distressed her. The vans which -brought down the household effects cost more than she -had expected, and she was obliged to order more furniture -and rugs to make the new home attractive. Unfortunately, -the bungalow had casement windows and -this necessitated cutting and remaking all her curtains. -Some in addition, too, were needed for the living-room, -and Jeannette had decided that scrim would be both -practical and economical, but the clerk in the store had -shown her a soft, lovely material, stamped with a -design of long green grasses and iris, which he assured -her was “sunfast.” The pale purple and green -in the goods had appealed to her as so unusually beautiful -and effective that she had not been able to resist -getting it. She decided to plant iris about the house in -the long narrow strips of flower-beds, and to carry iris -as a <i>motif</i> throughout the place. In a Fifth Avenue -shop there was some china that had a pattern of <i>fleur-de-lis</i> -in its center, and her heart was set on some day -acquiring it for her new home.</p> - -<p>Martin was immediately elected to the Family Yacht -Club; the Gibbses had him and his wife to dinner and -invited the Websters and another couple to make their -acquaintance; Mrs. Rudolph Drigo and Mrs. Blum, who -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_304">[Pg 304]</span> -were neighbors, called, also Doctor Vinegartner of the -Episcopal Church. Alice, Roy, and the children spent a -Sunday with her sister and Alice was enthusiastic -about everything. She told Roy they would have to -find a house of their own at Cohasset Beach without -delay. Summer had arrived before Jeannette was half -aware of its approach.</p> - -<p>The weather turned glorious; the dogwood came and -went; the country was full of sweet scents; robins and -thrushes sang with open throbbing throats in the apple -trees and hopped about in the shade; the frogs shrilled -musically at evening in the pool, but Jeannette did not -find the happiness for which she hoped. She tried to -be content; she sought for joy in her new life and -surroundings. She found none. Too many things -were wrong. Over and over again she decided it was -hopeless.</p> - -<p>First of all, there was the Family Yacht Club which -Martin loved and she despised. She had known beforehand -what it was going to be like, and closer acquaintance -proved her premise to have been correct. All-year-round -residents of Cohasset Beach made up its -membership. There were less than three thousand people -in the Long Island village during the winter; it was -only in summer that the place became fashionable. -Among those who belonged to the little yacht club, -Jeannette soon discovered, were Tim Birdsell, the village -plumber; Zeb Kline, a contractor, hardly better -than a carpenter; Fritz Wiggens, who kept an electrical -equipment store on Washington Street; Steve Teschemacher -and Adolph Kuntz, who were real estate agents -and were interested in a development known as “Cohasset -Park”; then there were the local dentist and his -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_305">[Pg 305]</span> -wife, the local attorney and his helpmate, and the local -doctor, who seemed to be of a better sort than the rest -and was fortunately unmarried. The ladies took an -active part in the social life of the yacht club and ’Stel -Teschemacher, Chairwoman of the Entertainment -Committee, went early to call upon the new member’s -wife to invite her to come to the “Five Hundred Club” -meeting on the following Friday afternoon. There -was a sprinkling of others who boasted of a slightly -more exalted social status: Mrs. Drigo’s husband -operated a large ice plant in New York City. Mrs. -Blum was the wife of the well-known confectioner, and -Percy Webster was connected with an advertising -agency. If there were more interesting members they -kept themselves aloof,—at least Jeannette did not meet -them. Once when she was describing to her mother -with a good deal of relish the type of people who belonged -to this club, and was referring to the list of -members in the club’s annual booklet, she was surprised -to come upon the name of Lester Short and that -of a prominent magazine editor well-known to her.</p> - -<p>She asked Herbert Gibbs about these people at an -early opportunity but elicited nothing more satisfactory -from him than: “Oh, they come round occasionally.” -If such was the case, Jeannette was unable to -identify them. She was interested to learn later that -Lester Short and his wife had six children and lived -about half-a-mile beyond the village in the region -known as the “Point.”</p> - -<p>Martin had no fault to find with his new friends. He -was welcomed into their hearts; he charmed them all; -he was acclaimed immediately the most popular member, -and was appointed by the Commodore, old Jess -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_306">[Pg 306]</span> -Higgenbothen, affable, decrepit and rich, and owner -of most of the acres Teschemacher and Kuntz were trying -to sell as choice lots in Cohasset Park, to serve on -the entertainment committee with ’Stel Teschemacher. -Martin was enchanted with the cordiality with which -he was accepted; he thought Zeb Kline, Fritz Wiggens, -young Doc French “corking good scouts”; Zeb and -Fritz were a little rough perhaps but they were regular -fellows; Steve Teschemacher was as “funny as a -crutch” and his partner, Adolph Kuntz, had about as -sharp and shrewd a mind as Martin had ever encountered.</p> - -<p>“Why, you ought to hear Adolph talk politics!” he -told his wife enthusiastically. “He knows more about -what’s going on up in Albany right this minute than -all the newspapers in New York. You ought to hear -him tell some of his experiences in the Republican -Party!”</p> - -<p>He might be interesting and clever, everything Martin -said of him, but to Jeannette he seemed uncouth, -ill-bred, a spitter of tobacco juice.</p> - -<h5>§ 5</h5> - -<p>When the Yacht Club formally opened its summer -season, Jeannette put on her prettiest frock and went -with her husband to the dance with which it was inaugurated. -It was one of the efforts she made to adapt -herself to the village life. She loved to dance. Swimming, -sailing, tennis did not appeal to her, but from -the dances in the club-house she hoped she might derive -a certain amount of genuine pleasure. On the night -of the affair, after studying the reflection in her mirror -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_307">[Pg 307]</span> -she had decided she had never looked so well; with -truth she could say she was a beautiful woman, and in -this estimate of herself, she found ample confirmation -in Martin’s eyes. They hired a hack and drove over -to the club.</p> - -<p>But for the young wife it proved a dismal experience. -The yokels,—the plumber, the electrician, the -carpenter, the dentist and real estate agents,—were -afraid to approach her,—not that she wanted them to,—and -she had been left to the favor of Herbert Gibbs, -Doc French, and the old Commodore. The women -eyed her covertly, whispered about her and her -gown, and made no advances. Herbert Gibbs danced -with her once, twice; Martin was three times her partner; -Commodore Higgenbothen had passed his “gallivanting” -days; Doc French, whom she liked and to -whom she would have been glad to be cordial, did not -dance at all. The floor was rough and uneven; the -music lugubrious; three small boys kept up a fearful -racket playing with some folding chairs stacked in a -corner. She watched Martin whirling and wheeling -about the floor, his face a broad grin, his eyes and -teeth flashing, talking, laughing, exchanging an endless -banter with other couples, answering here, there and -everywhere to calls of “Martin” and “Mart.” At -half-past ten she could stand no more of it. She -knew she was dragging her husband away from a -hilarious good time, but she was bored, disgusted with -the whole evening and the hoidenish, loud-voiced village -folk. She would never make the mistake of going -to another of their wretched dances. Martin could go -if he wanted to; if he liked to hobnob with such people, -he could do so to his heart’s content: she wouldn’t -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_308">[Pg 308]</span> -raise one word of objection, but wild horses wouldn’t -drag her there again!</p> - -<p>In a fortnight, there was another dance at the club, -and this time Martin took himself to the party alone, -while Jeannette went to bed with a magazine. He -woke her up when he came home a little after twelve, -and told her he had had a wonderfully good time, and -that Lester Short, his wife and their two older children -had been present. But Jeannette had no regrets. The -Shorts and her husband could enjoy the society of the -plumbers and carpenters and their wives if they chose -to do so; she felt satisfied that if she had gone she -would have been miserable.</p> - -<h5>§ 6</h5> - -<p>Besides the Yacht Club there were other things in -the new order of existence that proved annoying. Meat -and vegetables cost considerably more at Cohasset -Beach than in the city, and everything else was proportionally -dearer. Jeannette had thought she might -save a little on her marketing in the country, and it -was discouraging to discover that this was quite impossible. -She certainly had not expected to find that -prices were actually higher. Then there was not nearly -the same variety from which to choose in the stores -here as there had been in the groceries and particularly -the meat markets of Amsterdam and Columbus Avenues. -She and Martin were especially fond of lamb -kidneys which she used to buy at the rate of three for -five cents in New York. Pulitzer’s at Cohasset Beach -never seemed to have them. And even more exasperating -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_309">[Pg 309]</span> -was the fact that fish could only be had on Thursdays -when the fish-man came around blowing his horn.</p> - -<p>The neighborhood, too, was a source of discomfort. -Jeannette discovered, within a few days after they had -moved into the bungalow, that the reason so attractive -a house had been for rent at such a figure, with its -acre and more of ground, its apple trees and pond -and picturesque setting, was that it was situated on -the wrong side of town, beyond the railroad tracks, a -mile from the water. The desirable, residential section -of Cohasset Beach was that in which the Herbert -Gibbses lived, on the hill overlooking the Sound. A -block from the bungalow, their rear yards abutting -upon the railroad tracks, was a row of shabby cottages -occupied by laborers, Polacks mostly, who worked in -the quarries down on the “Point.” Here fences -sagged and refuse littered the roadway, dirty children -scrambled about and screamed at one another, drying -laundry fluttered from clothes-lines, and fat dark -women in calicoes and shuffling shoes gossiped from -doorstep to doorstep. On Saturday nights there -were invariably celebrations among these people at -which, from the singing and general racket, it was evident -that red wine flowed freely, and the doleful -whine of an accordion accompanying hoarse masculine -voices rose dismally from sundown until the early -morning hours, interrupted by shouts of rollicking -laughter. Martin assured his wife that these people -were simple creatures, peasants transplanted but a -few years from their native soil, celebrating after a -week of toil, in a harmless jovial way after the fashion -to which, in the old country, they had been accustomed. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_310">[Pg 310]</span> -But Jeannette found it disturbing, not a little -frightening, especially on those nights when Martin -went off to the Yacht Club and left her alone with -only Hilda in the house.</p> - -<p>Lastly mosquitoes, germinated in the pond within -a hundred yards of her own door, made their appearance -in hungry numbers early in July. The pool was -practically stagnant,—without visible outlet,—and the -neighbor who owned it and who operated a small dairy, -refused to oil it as his cows watered there. The bungalow -windows were unscreened. Jeannette did not understand -how she had failed to notice the fact when -she first inspected the premises. The matter had to -be remedied immediately, or life would be insupportable. -The landlord declined to do anything; Martin -thought perhaps they could endure the nuisance until -cold weather came, but his wife declared that unthinkable. -If the windows were shut with the lights -on, the bungalow became insufferably hot and stuffy; -if left open, moths, winged bugs, every kind of flying -insect of the night together with the pests bred in -the stagnant pool, flew in to buzz about the globes -and torment those beneath them. Zeb Kline agreed -to equip the bungalow with screens,—the frames would -have to be fitted to the insides of the windows on account -of their being casement,—for sixty-five dollars, -and Jeannette, angered by Martin’s complacent acceptance -of the circumstances, and his indifferent -attitude towards that for which she felt him largely -responsible, told the carpenter to go ahead.</p> - -<p>There were days when in the seclusion of her own -bedroom she gave way freely to her tears. She -wanted to be happy; she wanted to be a good manager -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_311">[Pg 311]</span> -of her house, a good wife to Martin. Life often seemed -to demand more from her than she was capable of -giving. Concede—concede—concede! It was all concession -for her; Martin gave nothing.</p> - -<h5>§ 7</h5> - -<p>There came another Fourth of July, one year from -the time of the visit to the Gibbses. Doc French was -a member of the Cohasset Beach Yacht Club as well as -of the Family Yacht Club. There was to be a wonderful -party at the former on the evening of the -Fourth; it was the Club’s annual show. A dinner was -to be followed by a vaudeville entertainment provided -by a number of talented actors from the Lambs Club, -and after that a dance which would probably last all -night. Doc French invited Martin Devlin and his wife -to be his guests; he was giving a little dinner party -for his sister-in-law, Lou, and her cousin, Mrs. Edith -Prentiss, who were spending the holiday with him.</p> - -<p>Jeannette was overjoyed at the prospect. She spent -a day shopping in New York, and bought herself silver -satin slippers, a pair of gray silk stockings to wear -with a silver dress,—part of her trousseau,—which she -had had no occasion to put on since she moved to the -country. It promised to be a delightful affair and -Martin shared her excitement.</p> - -<p>It turned out to be all she expected. The spacious -dining-room, the dancing floor, even the awninged -porches were crowded with tables, gay with flowers -and patriotic decorations. There was a beguiling atmosphere -of soft lights, color and music, smart and -lovely women, elaborate costumes, attractive men. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_312">[Pg 312]</span> -Jeannette felt that she herself bloomed with beauty, -that she appeared tall, statuesque, superb. People at -other tables threw appraising glances and occasionally -she saw a lorgnette levelled in her direction. Doc -French was admiring and attentive; she liked his sister-in-law -and particularly Mrs. Prentiss; the vaudeville -show on an improvised stage at one end of the -long room was one of the best she had ever witnessed. -Some of the actors were head-liners in their profession; -with songs and stories, they kept the audience rocking -with laughter and stirred it to roars of applause. One -of the entertainers particularly drew Jeannette’s interest,—a -young actor, named Michael Carr. An unusually -attractive youth, renowned for his good looks, -a matinée idol, he had held the boards on Broadway all -winter as the leading attraction in a Viennese opera. -Jeannette thought he sang delightfully, and had a most -charming personality.</p> - -<p>Towards midnight the chairs and tables were cleared -away and the dancing began. Doc French did not -dance, himself, but he had no difficulty in securing partners -for his guests, and Jeannette floated around the -gaily decorated ball-room through the soft colors of -calcium lights thrown upon the dancers, in an intoxication -of pleasure. Men, young and old, seemed anxious -to know her and ask her to dance; she was in demand -every moment, and in one of these dizzying whirls she -was interrupted by Doc French to introduce Michael -Carr. The actor had asked to be presented; could he -have a dance? The next was promised, but he could -have it just the same, she said with shining eyes. She -drifted away in his arms presently, a sweet giddiness -enveloping her senses, rocking her in sensuous delight. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_313">[Pg 313]</span> -They glided from the dance and wandered out upon -the long pier over the water. The lisping waves -lapped the piles and rhythmically beat upon the pebbled -shore, the music of the dance reached them plaintively, -yachts white and ghostly stood sentinels at their -moorings, their cabins pin-pricked with lights, their -starboard lanterns glowing green. The night air was -caressing, gay voices floated toward them, there was -smothered laughter from hidden corners, the heavens -were a myriad of golden stars. Quite simply Michael -Carr took the slim silver figure in his arms, she melted -into his embrace and their lips clung to one another’s -long and lovingly. It was a night of love, a night for -lovers.</p> - -<p>The brilliantly lit ball-room, the music drew them -back. Jeannette had no sense of guilt; the mood of the -hour still wrapped her; for the moment she loved this -man whole-heartedly; he was divine, a super-man, a -god. No thought of Martin came to distress her. She -was supremely content, supremely happy; it was rapture, -bliss, enchantment. In her ear he kept whispering:</p> - -<p>“You are wonderful, you are beautiful, you are -adorable.”</p> - -<p>Doc French was beckoning to her, but she only -smiled amiably at him as she passed and floated on -in Michael’s arms, bending and undulating with him -in perfect symmetry of motion. There was no such -thing as time or space; she shut her eyes, and seemed -to be floating—floating—floating—— Doc French -stopped them with a hand on the actor’s arm.</p> - -<p>“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but I fear I must. -Your husband, Mrs. Devlin.... May I speak to you -a moment?”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_314">[Pg 314]</span></p> - -<p>Carr said, “Oh, I beg pardon,” and stepped aside, -but Jeannette’s thoughts followed him.</p> - -<p>“What is it, Doc?”</p> - -<p>“Martin had better go home, Mrs. Devlin. He’s -been downstairs at the bar, and I guess he’s had a bit -too much. I was going to take him home myself but -I didn’t know how to get into your house.”</p> - -<p>“Martin?”</p> - -<p>“He’s been downstairs at the bar, and I’m afraid -the fellows there wouldn’t let him get away.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Martin?</i>”</p> - -<p>Reality came blindingly upon her with a glare of -hideous white light. Her dream shattered. Ugliness -obtruded,—things naked and angular, harshness and -cold cruelty! She felt as if she were being jerked from -enchanted slumber by a rude and horrid hand.</p> - -<p>She clutched at her heart as if to tear out the pain -that had already stabbed her there.</p> - -<p>“Martin!” she breathed again, gasping a little, the -blood draining from her face.</p> - -<p>“He’s all right, Mrs. Devlin,—quite all right, I assure -you. Nothing’s happened to him—nothing -wrong. There’s been no accident.”</p> - -<p>“Accident?” Her eyes widened with sudden fear.</p> - -<p>“No—no; it’s all right. He’s just drunk a little too -much, and I thought he’d better go home.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, surely—right away. Where is he?”</p> - -<p>“Well, we’ve got him out in my car.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s go—let’s go then; let’s go quickly. I’ll get -my wraps.” She started for the dressing-room.</p> - -<p>“Good-night,” Michael’s voice called after her but -she did not turn her head.</p> - -<p>Doc French led her to the motor car. Martin lay -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_315">[Pg 315]</span> -huddled in the back, insensate, a long string of saliva -trailing from his under lip. A strange man supported -him.</p> - -<p>A trembling, whispered exclamation escaped Jeannette. -Her companion kept on reassuring her.</p> - -<p>“There’s nothing—nothing the matter,” he repeated. -“He’s had too much to drink, that’s all.... -Get in the front seat with me and I’ll drive you straight -home and we’ll put him to bed.”</p> - -<p>They bumped over the car-tracks in Washington -Street and the dusty uneven ground in front of the -station. The dawn was coming up angry and on fire -in the east.</p> - -<p>Before the bungalow, Jeannette jumped from the -motor car and struggled to insert the twisted latch-key -in the lock, but her fingers shook so much it took her -some time to manage it. Behind her, Doc French and -the strange man were lifting Martin from the car. As -they wrenched him free he groaned painfully.</p> - -<p>Jeannette flew into the house, flung on lights, tore -back the gay-figured cretonne cover of the bed. Her -underclothes lay upon the chair where she had tossed -them when she had been so happily dressing. She gathered -these with one swift reach and threw them to -the floor of a closet. The stumbling feet were coming; -the men were carrying Martin head and feet. -With a concerted effort they heaved him upon the -bed and he lay there inertly, sprawling, just as he -had fallen.</p> - -<p>“Can I help you, Mrs. Devlin?” asked the Doctor, -dusting off his hands.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no,—thank you very much,” Jeannette answered -in a strained voice.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_316">[Pg 316]</span></p> - -<p>“Don’t you think we’d better undress him? He’s -pretty heavy for you to manage alone.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette looked at the helpless figure flung out -across the bed, ungainly postured like a child’s discarded -doll, purple lips parting with each breath, the -hair damp and tousled. One of his garters had -loosened and dangled now from the wrinkled hose -that covered a patent-leather pump.</p> - -<p>“No,” she said again slowly, “thank you very much -for all your kindness, Doc,—but it’s my—my job; he -belongs to me; I’ll take care of him.”</p> - -<h5>§ 8</h5> - -<p>Three hours later she walked out on the back porch. -The heat of the Sunday morning was moist and tropical, -giving promise of a scorching day. The bells of -the Catholic Church on the “Point” road were ringing -sweetly for the children’s mass. Her eyes felt -burnt out from lack of sleep: two black holes in her -head. Hilda was making a small fuss in the kitchen, -rattling pans, droning hoarsely to herself. Jeannette -stood at the porch railing and looked off across the -quiet country, misty with the early heat. Emotions -were at war in her heart, and there was pain—pain—pain.</p> - -<p>She had not been to bed; she had not even lain down. -The silver gown had been put away, her finery discarded, -and now she wore the striped velveteen wrapper -in which she usually did her morning’s work. She -had undressed her husband, removed his shoes, drawn -off his dress suit, tugging at its arms, rolling him from -one side to another to free the clothing. She had -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_317">[Pg 317]</span> -washed his face with a cold wet rag and brushed the -rumpled hair from his eyes. Then she had put the -room in order, opened the casement windows, drawn -the shades, closed the door and left him to peace and -sleep. The house had needed straightening and to this -she had turned her attention, adjusting rugs, pushing -chairs into position, emptying ash receivers, carrying -away newspapers, arranging magazines and books in -neat piles, using broom and dust-pan, wiping the furniture -with a dust cloth. Hilda had given her some -coffee at eight o’clock and she had drunk it black and -crunched some thin slices of buttered toast. Now nothing -remained to be done and the thoughts to which -she had resolutely shut her mind clamored for admittance -to her weary brain. Remorse and reproach, -censure and repugnance, disillusionment, humiliation, -grief and regret,—they swarmed upon her like so many -black flies.</p> - -<p>The hours of the morning ticked themselves away. -She could not sleep; she could not rest. Over and over -her thoughts turned to the incidents of the night, giving -her no peace, no surcease. Every little while she -would go softly to Martin’s door and silently look in -upon him; he lay as she had left him. In spite of the -opened windows the room reeked of alcohol.</p> - -<p>Towards noon she fell asleep on the couch in the -living-room, and the afternoon light was waning when -she opened her eyes. The sound of water woke her; -Martin was running a bath, and when presently she -entered the bedroom, she found him shaving. She was -shocked at his appearance; his face was dead white, -the eyes bloodshot, and his hand trembled as he held -the razor, but it was Martin, restored to life and sanity.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_318">[Pg 318]</span></p> - -<p>They avoided one another’s glance, and constraint -held them silent. She could see that physically he was -weak, his nerves still shattered and that his mind was -sick with remorse, and fear of her displeasure. He -could not guess she wanted only to take him in her -arms, to kiss and comfort him, wanted only to be kind -and good to him, to restore him to health and strength -again, wanted to utter no word of reproach but to -give him all the love she could and so ease the pain -and shame within herself.</p> - -<h5>§ 9</h5> - -<p>Three weeks later, Doc French drove up in front -of the bungalow door in his lumbering motor car. It -was late in the afternoon. There had been a heavy -thunderstorm about two o’clock but now the sun was -glittering on all the dripping trees and drenched shrubbery -and the air was fragrant with sweet grassy and -woodland smells.</p> - -<p>There was to be another dance at the Cohasset -Beach Yacht Club the following Saturday night. -Doc’s sister-in-law and Mrs. Prentiss were coming -down for it and would stay with him over the week-end; -it happened to be Lou’s birthday and he wanted -Martin and Jeannette to help celebrate the event at a -small dinner he was arranging at the Cohasset Beach -club-house before the dance.</p> - -<p>Jeannette thanked him and said that, no, she was -sorry but she and Martin had another engagement; -Doc was very kind to think of them but it would have -to be another time.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_319">[Pg 319]</span></p> - -<p>When her husband came home on the five-twenty, -she told him about it.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you bet you,” he agreed. “No more of that -kind of stuff for this young fellow. We’re out of our -class at that club, Jan.”</p> - -<p>“I thought,” suggested Jeannette, “we might go to -the other club that night. There’s always a dance -there, and it would be our excuse to Doc French. It -occurred to me that perhaps after we got to know -those people a little better, we might like it.”</p> - -<p>Martin’s face beamed with pleasure.</p> - -<p>“Would you? Would you really go?” he asked -eagerly. “Say, Jan, that’ll be fine. Say, if you only -wouldn’t be so standoffish and proud, you’d learn to -like that gang and they’d learn to like you. They’re -awfully good-hearted.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll try,” said his wife.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_320">[Pg 320]</span></p> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II_VI">CHAPTER VI</h4> -</div> - -<h5>§ 1</h5> - -<p>It was quite an undertaking to go from Cohasset -Beach to Freeport, on the opposite side of Long Island. -One had to take the steam train to Jamaica and change -cars there; the connections were bad; it took the -better part of two hours. But Alice had written her -sister week after week begging her and Martin to -spend a Sunday with them and finally a date had been -set. It was the end of the Beardsleys’ stay at Freeport, -and the visit could not be further postponed if -the Devlins were to accomplish it at all. Jeannette -was eager to go, but to Martin it meant the loss of -his one day in the week of yachting. There were -races every Sunday afternoon and since Martin had -acquired his little A-boat, there was no joy in life -for him equal to the pleasure of sailing it. But it -held no joy for Jeannette; she resented the boat and -everything connected with it; to her it only meant -ninety dollars’ worth of extravagance and it took her -husband away from her every week-end. He spent -Saturday afternoons “tuning up,” as he described it, -for the race on Sunday. She saw little of him on these -days; he was always at the yacht club and would often -be half-an-hour to an hour late for dinner. He never -had had any sense of time.</p> - -<p>So she had patiently urged the expedition to Freeport -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_321">[Pg 321]</span> -and had made him promise weeks in advance that -this particular date should be dedicated to the visit.</p> - -<p>The day was a glorious success. Martin was in his -sweetest, merriest mood and no regret over his lost -sport lingered in his heart. There was only a faint -stirring of wind and little indication that it would -freshen, as previous days had been marked by calm; -he was consoled, therefore, in thinking that in all probability -there would be no race that afternoon.</p> - -<p>Alice, Roy, and the children met them at the Freeport -Station. They were all going on a picnic over -to the beach it was announced; a launch would take -them to a sandy reef that was their own discovery; -it left a little after eleven; they just had time.</p> - -<p>The beach when they reached it was totally deserted. -No one ever came there, Alice explained; it was a narrow, -hummocky strip of sand, a mile or more in length -with no habitation on it but a gray weather-beaten -shack falling into ruins. A rickety one-board pier -jutted out into the lagoon that separated this reef from -the island shore and the launch stopped there a moment -to let the little party disembark before it went -chug-chugging on its way to Coral Beach farther along -the coast, where a small tent colony was springing -into being. The launch would return for them about -five o’clock.</p> - -<p>A sandy tramp of a few hundred yards over the -dunes and sparse gray sea-scrub brought them to the -lunching spot. Here, half covered over with drifting -sand, was a long padlocked pine box. Roy produced -a key and opened it. This was the cache, the Beardsleys -explained; they and the children came here every -Sunday and they kept a few things stowed away in -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_322">[Pg 322]</span> -the box. Nobody ever disturbed them. This was their -own little sandy domain, and they referred to it always -as San Salvador. The box disclosed a tall faded, -beach umbrella which was immediately unfurled and -planted upright in the sand; then there was a piece -of clean canvas, some straw cushions, and an iron grill. -The canvas was spread under the umbrella; Roy made -Jeannette seat herself on one of the cushions, and he -propped a board at an angle behind her so that she -might lean back against it and be comfortable; then -she was given Ralph to hold and to feed from his bottle. -The others proceeded to busy themselves with -preparations for lunch. Etta was quite able to look -out for herself, Alice assured her sister, and the baby -would be off in ten minutes.</p> - -<p>An expedition for driftwood was inaugurated and -presently a large pile of smoothly rounded bleached -sticks, branches and blocks of wood was heaped near -at hand. The lunch consisted of hot cocoa and chops -which were to be grilled, and some round flat bakery -buns to be split in half and toasted. In a few moments -there was a brisk, snapping fire leaping up through -the bars of the grill; a large saucepan and the milk -appeared, the buns impaled on the points of sticks -were set to toasting; at the last moment the chops -were to be put on to broil.</p> - -<p>A heavenly felicity stole over Jeannette as she sat -in the shade of the umbrella, the baby in her arms, -watching the scene. The Atlantic thundered in in great -arcs of green water, foamed-crested, which crashed -magnificently in round curling splathers of spray, and -slid swiftly, smoothly, reachingly up the flat beach to -slink back again upon themselves as if deriding these -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_323">[Pg 323]</span> -harmless, picnicking people were not the victims for -which they sought. Seaweed littered the beach in long -whip lashes and bulbous bottles, and seabirds picked -their way about in it, and pecked at sand fleas; gulls -soared in wide circles above their heads, squawking -ugly cries, or skimmed the wave-tops hunting fish. -Far out upon the bosom of the ocean a steamer left -a long scarf of smoke against an azure sky. The salt -air from the sea was scented with the fragrant odor -of the beachwood fire.</p> - -<p>Little Ralph lay inertly in Jeannette’s arms sucking -greedily at his bottle until the last of it had to be tilted -up against his mouth. At this stage his eyelids began -to drift shut and his head to hang heavily in the crook -of her elbow. He was a cunning child, his aunt -thought, critically studying him. He resembled his -father with a closeness that was ludicrous: a small -replica, with the same small mouth, the same whimsical -smile and unruly, tawny hair. His skin was like -satin,—delicately tinted,—and against its faint pinkness -his long-fringed lashes lay like tiny feathery -fans. His weight against her breast felt pleasant to -her; he seemed so trusting, so certain of protection, as -he lay sleeping thus, a scrap of humanity confident of -the world’s love. A sudden tenderness came to the -woman; she bent down and kissed the damp forehead -at the edge of the child’s yellow hair.</p> - -<p>The entrancing smell of crisply broiling meat and -toasting bread assailed her.</p> - -<p>“Uuum—m,” she said hungrily, and raising her -head she observed Martin watching her. Puzzled a -moment by the intentness of his gaze, her eyes widened -inquiringly, but he only shook his head at her pleasantly -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_324">[Pg 324]</span> -and grinned. There was love in his look and it -thrilled her as evidence of any affection from him -never failed to do.</p> - -<p>She gently laid the baby on the strip of canvas, arranged -a rumpled little pillow beneath his head, spread -a square of netting over him to keep flies from -bothering him, weighing down its corners with a few -beach pebbles, and joined the others about the fire, -where presently they were all munching with gluttonous -cries of delight. Never was there better food! -Never was there anything so delicious! A bite of -grilled chop and a bite of crisp buttery bun! Their -appetites were on edge; they grunted in satisfying -them. Another cup of hot cocoa, please,—and, yes,—another -chop,—just one more,—but this must positively -be the last!</p> - -<p>As the fire died away, they lay back upon the sand, -replete, heavy with food, bathed in pleasant warmth. -Etta, stripped of all clothing but a diminutive under-shirt, -played in the sand and squatted on her heels -on the edge of the wave-rips, uttering gurgling cries -of fright when her toes were wet. Drowsiness and -bodily comfort wrapped the others’ senses; a feeling -of openness,—sky, land and ocean,—beguiled them; -the breakers pounded and swished musically up the -beach; sea-birds lifted plaintive cries; the faint breeze -was redolent of salt and kelp; the sun’s heat warm and -caressing.</p> - -<p>Jeannette awoke deliciously; Martin was bending -over her; he had kissed her, and now he was smiling -down at her.</p> - -<p>“Come on,” he said, “we’re all going swimming.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_325">[Pg 325]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh,” protested Jeannette, yawning, with a great -stretch of limbs, “must we?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, Janny,” Alice urged, coming up, “we always -go swimming; that’s the best part of the fun.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t bring a bathing suit,” objected Jeannette, -sleepily.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got an old one of mine for you and Roy borrowed -a suit at the boarding-house for Martin.”</p> - -<p>They dragged her to her feet and as she looked at -the emerald waves curling toward her, they suddenly -seemed inviting.</p> - -<p>In a few moments they were into their bathing suits -and ran down to the water together,—the four of them,—holding -hands, laughing and shouting. The rushing -tide swirled about their knees and leaped up against -their thighs.</p> - -<p>“Come on!” urged the men, dragging their wives -into the frightening turmoil.</p> - -<p>A wave engulfed them, quickening their breath, sending -their hearts knocking against their throats with its -cold sharpness.</p> - -<p>“Oh-h-h!” screamed Jeannette, “isn’t it <i>glorious</i>?”</p> - -<p>Martin caught her, lifted her high, as a comber -crashed down upon them, burying him in white foam. -The water fled past.</p> - -<p>Jeannette caught him about the neck and they -pressed their lips and wet faces together.</p> - -<p>“Mart—Mart!” she cried. “It’s just like our -honeymoon, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>He strained her to him, kissing her dripping hair -and cheeks, his arms entwined about her, his face -stretched wide with laughter and excitement.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_326">[Pg 326]</span></p> - -<p>“My God, Jan,” he said with almost a groan of feeling, -“my God, I love you when you’re this way! -You’re just <i>wonderful</i>!”</p> - -<p>Her shining eyes were his answer, and he caught -her to him again to kiss her fiercely.</p> - -<p>A wave suddenly plunged over them. Jeannette -felt herself wrenched from his embrace, felt him -stumbling on the sand in the big effort he made to -keep his footing. Even in that brief frightening moment, -when she was totally submerged and they were -being dragged apart, she was conscious of the great -strength of the man, of arms suddenly taut as steel -cables, of fingers and hands that gripped her like grappling -hooks of iron and pitted their might against the -might of the sea. The tumultuous plunge of water -rushed headlong on its course, but Martin stood firm -and pulled her to him.</p> - -<p>They clung together once more, and laughing like -children faced another menacing attack of the ocean.</p> - -<h5>§ 2</h5> - -<p>Later as she lay prone upon the hot, hard sand, -baking in the sun’s delicious heat, her hair spread out -behind her on a towel to dry, she watched her husband -with Etta in his arms again encountering the waves. -The little girl’s arms were tight around his neck and -she screamed with excitement whenever the water -foamed and welled up about them. The child was not -frightened; it was remarkable to observe the unusual -confidence the little girl had in her uncle. A fine figure -of a man, mused his wife; his limbs had the form of -sculpture and his body, shining now with the glitter -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_327">[Pg 327]</span> -of wet bronze, showed every muscle rippling beneath -the skin like writhing snakes. He was indeed a husband -to be proud of, a husband any woman might envy -her. She must never let his love for her grow less; he -must always be <i>in</i> love with her, not merely have an -affectionate regard for her as most men had for their -wives. He was lying on the beach, now, and Etta was -covering him with sand, screaming shrilly each time he -stirred and cracked the mold she was patting into -shape about him.</p> - -<p>“You bad, Uncle Martin,” came the child’s piping -voice; “you be a good man and lie still.”</p> - -<p>He had the child on his back presently and on hands -and knees crawled a hundred yards down the beach, -sniffing at whatever came into his path and growling -fiercely. Etta’s shrieks reached them above the roar -of the surf. She had a stick now and was belaboring -her steed vigorously.</p> - -<p>“No, no, Etta, no—no!” called her mother. Martin -waved a reassuring hand and pretended to suffer -death. “It’s wonderful the way Martin has with children,” -commented Alice; “they seem to take to him -naturally.”</p> - -<p>Everyone did, thought his wife affectionately. He -was truly exceptional; children,—boys and girls,—men -and women,—everybody felt his irresistible attraction.</p> - -<p>A shrill tooting announced the arrival of the launch. -There was a mad scramble; no one was dressed. Roy -went off to tell the boat to wait while the others hurried -into their clothes, gathered plates, forks and other -accessories of the lunch into baskets, and flung umbrella, -canvas, grill and cushions back into their keeping-place. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_328">[Pg 328]</span> -Everyone was laughing helplessly when -Roy came springing back to tell them to take their time -as the old captain had admitted he was half-an-hour -early.</p> - -<p>Fifteen minutes later they clambered aboard the -puffing motor-boat, and Martin and Jeannette found -themselves sitting side by side in the stern. His hand -found hers as it lay upon the seat between them and -their fingers linked themselves together; their eyes -shone as they looked at one another.</p> - -<p>“Wonderful day, Jan.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, wonderful indeed,” she answered.</p> - -<h5>§ 3</h5> - -<p>It was late that night after they were in bed that -Martin said to her:</p> - -<p>“Jan, old girl, wouldn’t you like to have a baby? -You looked so sweet to-day sitting there under the -umbrella with little Ralph in your arms,—really you -made a beautiful picture: mother and child, you know; -I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind since.... -I think it would be a lot of fun to have a kid.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette was silent. She had often thought about -having a child. Martin continued:</p> - -<p>“Seems to me, Jan, you’d love a baby after it came. -I know it’s a pretty tough experience, and you don’t -want one so awfully badly, but Gee Christopher! <i>I</i> -think a baby would be swell; one of our own, you know, -one that belonged to us, that was ours,—and you -would, too. I often look at Herbert Gibbs’ kid and -wish to goodness he was mine. Herb’s always talking -about him and I know damn well I’d be just as looney -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_329">[Pg 329]</span> -about a son of my own.... Now take Roy and Alice, -for example: see what fun they get out of their children, -and that Etta sure’s a heart-breaker! And she’s -so jolly, too! Did you ever see a pluckier kid than -that? You’d like a little daughter like her, wouldn’t -you, Jan? I think a baby would be a lot of fun, don’t -you?”</p> - -<p>Still she said nothing and he asked his question -again, giving her a little squeeze in the circle of his -arm.</p> - -<p>“I was just thinking about it,” she said vaguely. -“It means a good deal for a woman.”</p> - -<p>“That’s right, of course. I know it does,—but you -wouldn’t be scared, would you, Jan?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, that wouldn’t bother me—much,” she said -slowly. “It’s the ties that bind one afterwards that I -was thinking of.”</p> - -<p>“Well-l, you want a baby some time, don’t you? -You don’t want to grow old and be childless, do you?”</p> - -<p>“No; certainly not.”</p> - -<p>“Then what’s the good of waiting?”</p> - -<p>“A baby’s an expense, and we’re terribly behind. I -think we ought to be out of debt first, don’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes-s,—I guess so.”</p> - -<p>They went off to sleep at this point, but Martin -brought the subject up again a few days later. During -the interval, however, Jeannette had made up her -mind: they were over five hundred dollars in debt and -until that was cleaned up or at least very materially -reduced, it would be very foolish indeed for them to -consider having a child. If Martin wanted a baby, -he must do his share in getting out of debt.</p> - -<p>“But Jan, don’t you think that a baby would help -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_330">[Pg 330]</span> -us save? I mean if there was one in the house, I don’t -believe you and I would want to gad so much.”</p> - -<p>His wife eyed him with a twisted smile and an elevated -brow.</p> - -<p>“Oh—hell,” he said, disgustedly, and went to find -a cigar.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_331">[Pg 331]</span></p> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II_VII">CHAPTER VII</h4> -</div> - -<h5>§ 1</h5> - -<p>September brought an end to the yacht-racing and -a few weeks later Martin’s beloved A-boat was towed -with a number of others a mile or two down the Sound -to be housed in winter quarters. Jeannette earnestly -hoped that this would mean her husband would spend -more time with her at week-ends. He was gone from -Monday till Friday all day, and she felt that at least -part of his Saturday afternoons and Sundays should -be hers. But Martin always wanted to <i>do</i> things on -these days; he wanted some active form of amusement, -some excitement, a “party,” as he called it; -he was never content to sit at home and read or go -for a walk with his wife. He asserted he needed the -exercise, and if he missed it between Saturday noon -and Sunday night, he was “stale” for the rest of the -week. Sometimes Jeannette came into the city by -train on a Saturday, met him after the office closed at -noon, and together they went to lunch and later to -a matinée. Then the alternative presented itself of -either remaining in town for dinner and going to another -show or of taking a late afternoon train back to -Cohasset Beach. Such a program, of course, cost -money, but unless Jeannette did this, Martin would go -off to the Yacht Club Saturday afternoon, and return -there in the evening after dinner to play poker. The -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_332">[Pg 332]</span> -Saturday night dances gave place at the close of the -yachting season to “smokers” which only the men -attended. A certain group called itself “the gang,” -and prominent in it were such club lights as Herbert -Gibbs, Zeb Kline, Fritz Wiggens, Steve Teschemacher -and Doc French. Martin Devlin was warmly hailed -as one of them. They played poker every Saturday -night and the “session” lasted until an early hour -Sunday morning.</p> - -<p>Jeannette came to hate these men; she resented their -taking her husband from her; she begrudged his -gambling when he could not afford to lose. When she -protested, the only answer from him was a testy: -“Quit your crabbing.” He almost invariably won -and divided his winnings with her, or at least divided -what purported to be his winnings. His wife despised -herself for taking the money; it made her want him -to win, though she wished to be indifferent to his card-playing, -since she did not approve of it. She tried to -justify her acceptance of the money on the ground -that it went to pay off some of their bills. But sometimes -she bought a small piece of finery for herself -with it. She was becoming very shabby in appearance. -She reminded herself almost daily that she had -not bought any new clothes since she was married, and -the bride’s wardrobe, though ample, was now worn -and much depleted.</p> - -<h5>§ 2</h5> - -<p>It was towards the end of summer, when already -there was a brisk touch of fall in the air, that Roy -Beardsley fell ill with typhoid and for three weeks -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_333">[Pg 333]</span> -was a desperately sick man. Martin, who had various -talks with the physician, told Jeannette that there -was small hope of his recovery; certain phases of the -case made it appear very grave.</p> - -<p>Jeannette took Etta and Ralph to stay with her in -the country and Mrs. Sturgis moved out to the flat in -the Bronx to help Alice fight for Roy’s life. Jeannette, -from the first, believed he was going to die; destiny, it -seemed to her, had ordained it. For the first time in -many years she got down on her knees in her bedroom -and prayed. She realized more clearly than anyone -else in the family what a tragedy Roy’s death would be -to them all,—to helpless Alice and his helpless children, -to her little mother, to Martin, to herself. She did not -know what would become of Alice and her babies! -How would they live? She and Martin would have to -shoulder the responsibility, and they had difficulty in -making ends meet as it was! Where would Martin get -fifty or even twenty-five dollars a month to send Alice? -And how could Alice and the children manage on so -small a sum? Roy, she knew, had a three thousand -dollar life insurance policy,—hardly more than enough -to bury him decently! Alice could not go to work; she -had not the faintest notion of how to earn a living. She -was clever with her needle, but that was all. It was -impossible to imagine her a seamstress! But she -would either have to go into that work and let Jeannette -keep the children, or she would have to live with -her mother, while Mrs. Sturgis and Martin,—between -them,—would have to contribute what they were able -to their support! It was a terrible prospect in any -case. Jeannette was ridden with fear of the catastrophe. -How different it would be, she reminded herself, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_334">[Pg 334]</span> -were she in Alice’s situation,—she with her profession -and her experience in business! She had nothing -to fear on that score; she could always take care -of herself. Poor Alice!—poor little brown bird!—there -would be nothing for her to do; she could not support -<i>herself</i>, not to mention her two children! Jeannette remembered -that once she had begged to be allowed to -follow her sister’s example and go to work, and she -recalled how she and her mother had vigorously opposed -her. She wondered now if that had been right. -Perhaps every woman ought to have a profession or -at least a recognized means of earning her livelihood. -How secure Alice would feel now in that case if Roy -died! Grief-stricken, yes, but with the comforting -knowledge that neither she nor her children need be -dependent on anyone!</p> - -<p>All day long as Jeannette watched Etta and Ralph -playing under the apple trees, which had begun to shed -their yellow leaves and the scant weazened fruit from -their scraggy branches, she thought of Roy’s possible -death and her sister’s plight. Any one of the family -group could be spared better than he! Yes, even Alice! ... -Oh, it would be a calamity,—a dreadful, horrible -calamity if Roy died! ... Twenty times a day -she closed her eyes and thought a prayer.</p> - -<p>She enjoyed having the children with her. Etta was -an affectionate, ebullient child, always ready with hugs -and kisses; little Ralph placidly viewed the world with -reposeful solemnity, made no demands, was amiably -satisfied with any arrangement his elders or even his -big sister thought wise, and in his gentleness was -extraordinarily appealing.</p> - -<p>Late in the afternoons, Jeannette would dress them -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_335">[Pg 335]</span> -in clean rompers, pull on their sweaters and set them -out on the lower step of the front stoop to wait for -Martin. There they would sit for sometimes an hour, -or even longer, watching for him and at the first -glimpse, Etta would run screaming to meet him with -arms flung wide, Ralph following as best he could. -Martin was particularly in love with the boy, and he -would hold the baby in his lap for long periods, neither -of them making a sound; or the child would grasp his -finger and toddle beside him, see-sawing from one -slightly bowed leg to another, to inspect the pool and -perhaps capture a frog.</p> - -<p>Only a miracle would stay Death’s hand, the doctor -had said, but the miracle happened; very slowly the -tide began to turn and inch by inch the flood of life -came back to the wasted body of Roy Beardsley. Jeannette -shed tears of gratitude when it was definitely -asserted he would get well. She left the children in -Hilda’s care and went to the city to rejoice with her -mother and sister. They clung together the way they -used to do before either of the girls was married, wept -and sniffled and kissed one another again and again. -Roy’s blue eyes seemed enormously large and dark -when his sister-in-law saw him; his lip was drawn -tight across his teeth and these protruded like the fangs -of a famished dog. His cheeks were sunk in great -hollows beneath his cheek-bones, and his hands were -the hands of the starved. He was a living skeleton, -but his great eyes acknowledged her presence and her -smile, and there was a faint twitching of the tight-drawn -lip. Although she had been prepared, she could -not keep from betraying the shock his altered appearance -gave her; he was indeed ghastly.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_336">[Pg 336]</span></p> - -<p>The averted tragedy sobered them all. Roy would -be many weeks getting back his health and he must -take particular care of himself during the approaching -winter, the doctor cautioned. No one ever whispered -the word “tuberculosis” but each knew it was that -which Roy must guard against. If it could be managed, -he ought to be taken to a warmer climate, the physician -advised, and he must make no effort, but rest, drink -milk and eat nourishing food for a long time until he -had entirely regained his strength. His father eagerly -wrote him to come to California; Jeannette and Martin -asked to keep the children; everyone urged Alice to -take her husband to the Golden State. So just before -the first snow of the year, she and Roy departed westward, -waving good-bye through the iron grill at the -station to the little group behind it, who waved vigorously -in return until “All aboard” was shouted, the -porter helped Alice up into the vestibule and the train -began slowly to move.</p> - -<h5>§ 3</h5> - -<p>The winter was hard. It was unusually cold and -snow lay heavy in great mounds along the edges of the -village streets, and beaten trails of it meandered -through the frozen fields. Soot from the trains blackened -the white drifts and the road-beds were rutted in -sharp ridges, and gray ice, that crackled and shivered -like glass underfoot, formed in the hollows. The leafless -trees spread their branches in black nakedness -against the bleak sky and the wind blew chilly across -the bare countryside from the icy waters of the Sound.</p> - -<p>Yet Jeannette knew her first happiness at Cohasset -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_337">[Pg 337]</span> -Beach. Her days were full of the care of her small -niece and nephew. They were endearing mites, exacting, -but warmly affectionate. She had had no experience -in bringing up children but her mother came down -to stay with her for a while, and Mrs. Drigo, who lived -a hundred yards or so down the street, and had four -healthy youngsters of her own, gave counsel in emergencies. -Jeannette devoted herself to her task. She -attacked the problem much as she would have met some -untoward circumstance in business. She considered -herself efficient, set great store by efficiency, and proposed -to apply it to the care of her sister’s children. -She devised a system and adhered to it.</p> - -<p>In the cold mornings when the children woke, they -might look at their picture-books until she came in to -dress them. They must not make any noise and Martin -must not go in to play with them or even open their -door to say “Hello” when he got up early to fix the -furnace. They had their “poggy” and milk at eight -and immediately thereafter were bundled into their -woolly leggings, sweaters, hooded caps and mittens and -sent out to play in the snow. They were to amuse themselves -until eleven, when, furred and properly shod, -their aunt appeared to take them with her to market, -wheeling Ralph in his go-cart, while Etta trailed along -beside them. Upon returning, the children had their -luncheon, always a good full meal of baked potato, -cut-up meat and vegetables, and a little dessert. Jeannette -believed small children should have light suppers, -and that their “dinner” should come at midday. -After they had eaten, it was nap-time, and this was the -blessed interval of relaxation for herself. Her charges -must stay in bed until three o’clock, when they were -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_338">[Pg 338]</span> -re-dressed in their woolly leggings, sweaters and caps, -and permitted to go out again to play in the snow. For -the rest of her life, bits of watery ice stuck to the fine -hairs of woollen garments always brought back to -Jeannette with poignant emotion the memory of these -days. When the children stamped into the house at the -end of their play, their skins hard and coldly fresh, -their breaths puffs of vapor, their cheeks crimson, the -little sweaters and leggings would be encrusted with -hard, icy snow. Jeannette would have a log fire going, -and she would undress them before its crackling blaze -and hang their damp outer garments on the fire screen -to dry. The little naked figures dancing in the warm -room in the flickering firelight was always a delightful -sight to her. They were their merriest at this hour -and said their cutest things with which she remembered -later to regale Martin. Upstairs the oil heater -would be warming the bathroom which Hilda had made -ready and presently there would come a mad dash -into the dining-room and up the cold stairway to the -grateful temperature of the little room. And here -began a great splashing with shrieks and admonitions, -and here Jeannette dried their sweet little bodies and -slipped them into their cotton flannel double-gowns. -Then downstairs once more before the replenished log -fire to sit on either side of her and empty their warmed -bowls of crackers and milk and listen to the story she -either read or told them until Martin came in to find -them so. Then followed kisses and hugs all round and -immediately thereafter the children were dispatched -to bed with a final warning from their aunt that there -must positively be no talking.</p> - -<p>Thus it was day after day, always the same, relentlessly -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_339">[Pg 339]</span> -the same, undeviating monotony. Martin -always praised Jeannette, her mother praised her, -even the neighbors praised her. Alice wrote loving -messages of deep gratitude. She responded to the -general approval, delighted in the applause. The -thought that she was proving herself equal to this -unfamiliar rôle, that she was doing her job efficiently, -comforted and inspired her. Revelling in her righteous -duty, she threw herself passionately into its perfect -execution. She gave it all her energy, thought and -time. She told her husband and mother with much -emphasis that Etta and Ralph were far better behaved -now than they ever had been with their own father and -mother.</p> - -<p>“It’s routine, I tell you,” she would say. “Children -respond to routine and this business of deviating from -a strict schedule is demoralizing. A little firmness is -all that is necessary in making children good. They -really are very adaptable. I confess I was surprised. -They learn so quickly! The minute Etta and Ralph -saw when they first came that I wouldn’t stand for -any foolishness, they were as meek as lambs.... -I declare! Alice is so soft and easy-going with them, -I hate to think of their being spoilt when they go back.”</p> - -<p>It was another surprise to Jeannette to discover -how little the presence of the children in the house -disturbed Martin. She had thought he would grow -restless after a time and that they would be certain -to annoy him. She had been sure he would soon object -to ties which would chain her to the house. Martin -loved children—loved them particularly well for a -man, perhaps—but he was often unreasonable where -her time and movements were concerned, and had -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_340">[Pg 340]</span> -always rebelled at restraint. Now he mildly accepted -the new element in their lives without protest and as -time passed continued amiable. If she could not -go out with him or accept an invitation, he did not -reproach or even urge her, but praised her for her -devotion, and often stayed at home to keep her company. -Saturday nights, however, when the “gang” -gathered at the Yacht Club, he went off to join them, -but since the children were with her, Jeannette did -not mind being alone in the house.</p> - -<p>“Come home early,” she would say to him. “It’s -such fun to have you in the house on Sundays and the -children love it. I hate to have you wake up tired and -hollow-eyed, and you know, Martin, when you get only -two or three hours’ sleep you are sometimes a little -cross and the children notice it.”</p> - -<p>“You’re dead right,” he would agree with her -readily. “I’ll tell the boys I’ve got to quit at midnight. -They can begin the rounds then; there’s no -sense in our sitting up until three or four o’clock in -the morning.”</p> - -<p>And often he kept his word.</p> - -<h5>§ 4</h5> - -<p>Alice and Roy had planned to stay six months in -California, but in April Jeannette received a letter -from her sister with the news that they had decided -to return the first of May; Roy was in fine shape,—he -was even fat!—they both were mad to see their -children.</p> - -<p>The letter left Jeannette feeling strangely blank. -What was she to do without Etta and Ralph? She -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_341">[Pg 341]</span> -had talked a great deal about the fearful responsibility, -the exacting care these youngsters involved and what -a relief it would be to her when their mother came -home to take them off her hands. She had aired these -views to her own mother and to Mrs. Drigo, Mrs. -Gibbs, and particularly to Martin. Yet now that Alice -was coming a month, even six weeks sooner than she -intended, she had none of the expected elation. A -sadness settled upon her. She wondered how she -would occupy herself when the babies were gone.</p> - -<p>“What do you suppose Roy intends to do?” she -asked Martin one day. “He hasn’t got a job. I don’t -see how he’s going to manage for Alice and the children.... -He might leave them with us for awhile.... -No,—I suppose Alice will want them back immediately! ... -It will be some time before he gets -settled.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he’ll find something to do, right away,” Martin -answered her cheerfully.</p> - -<p>That was one of Martin’s irritating qualities, reflected -his wife. He was always so optimistic, so -confident, never appreciating how serious things sometimes -were. Roy and Alice were facing a grave situation; -it might be desperate. Martin refused to regard -it as important.</p> - -<p>“I wonder if Mr. Corey would take him back at the -office?” Jeannette hazarded. Very probably he would. -It was a brilliant idea and, acting upon it at once, she -went the following day to see her old employer.</p> - -<p>The visit to the publishing house was strangely disquieting. -She was struck by the number of new faces, -the many changes. The counter which formerly defined -the waiting-room on the fourth floor had been -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_342">[Pg 342]</span> -removed and now the space, walled in by partitions, -was converted into a retail book store with shelves -lined with new books and display tables. A gray-haired -woman inquired her name with a polite, indifferent -smile, and when she brought back word that Mr. -Corey would see Mrs. Devlin, undertook to show Jeannette -the way to his office!</p> - -<p>There were changes behind the partitions as well. -It was amazing the differences two years had wrought. -There was none of the flutter of interest her appearance -had caused at her previous visit. One or two of -her old friends came up to shake her hand and to ask -about her, while a few others nodded and smiled. She -did not see Miss Holland anywhere, and Mr. Allister -of whom she caught a glimpse in a distant corner accorded -her a casual wave of the hand. She was forgotten -already, she, who had once enjoyed so much -respect, even affection, who had been the president’s -secretary, had been known to have his ear and often -to have been his adviser! Miss Whaley, whom she -remembered as having been connected with the Mailing -Department, she met face to face on her way to Mr. -Corey’s office, but the girl had even forgotten her -name!</p> - -<p>But there was nothing wanting in her old chief’s -reception. Mr. Corey rose from his desk the instant -she entered his room, and reached for both her hands. -He was the same warm, cordial friend, eager to hear -everything about her. How was she getting on? How -was that good-looking husband of hers? Where were -they living? He reproached her for not having been -in to see him, appeared genuinely hurt that she had -neglected him so long. He had changed, too, Jeannette -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_343">[Pg 343]</span> -noticed; his face sagged a little and he no longer -bore himself with his old erectness. She observed he -still dyed his mustache; a little of the dyestuff was -smeared upon his cheek.</p> - -<p>News of himself and his family was not particularly -cheerful. Babs was in a private sanitarium at Nyack; -Mrs. Corey was badly crippled with rheumatism,—a -virulent arthritis,—and, in the care of a trained nurse, -had gone to Germany to try to get rid of it; Willis -had picked up an African malarial fever while he had -been exploring, and although he was home again, recurrent -attacks of it kept him in poor health. Jeannette -noted a gentleness in Mr. Corey’s voice as he -spoke of his son; he blamed himself for Willis’ condition; -that African trip on which he had sent him was -responsible for the boy’s broken constitution. As for -business, things were in bad shape, too. The public -did not seem to be buying books any more; they -weren’t interested; <i>The Ladies’ Fortune</i> was doing -pretty well, but the increased cost of production -knocked the profits out of everything; the office was -demoralized, the “folks” did not seem to coöperate as -they had done in the old days; he, himself, found daily -reasons to regret the hour when Jeannette had ceased -to be his secretary; he hadn’t had any sort of efficient -help since she left; recent secretaries all had proven -a constant source of annoyance to him. Tommy Livingston -had got married and asked for one raise after -another until Mr. Corey was obliged to let him go; -he believed he was doing very well for himself in the -news photograph business; Mr. Corey finally had had -to take Mrs. O’Brien away from Mr. Kipps, but even -she was far from competent. There were other details -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_344">[Pg 344]</span> -about the business that awoke the old interest in -Jeannette. Something in this office atmosphere fired -the girl; it brought buoyancy to her pulse, it stimulated -her, it put life into her veins. How happy she -had been here! Never so contented, she said to herself.</p> - -<p>She hastened to tell Mr. Corey the object of her -visit, and he promised to find a place somewhere in -the organization for Roy.</p> - -<p>“I have only a hazy recollection of the young man,” -he said, “but I’ll do whatever you want me to, on your -account, Miss Sturgis.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette smiled. She would always be “Miss -Sturgis” to Mr. Corey. She liked it that way; her -married name meant nothing to him, never would. She -thanked him warmly and promised to come to see him -again.</p> - -<p>As she made her way out through the crowded aisles -of the general office, amid the familiar rattle of typewriters -and hum of work, past old faces and new, her -heart tugged in her breast. She was still part of it; -some of herself was implanted eternally here in this -tide of work, in the busy, preoccupied clerks, in the -hustle and bustle, in the smell of ink and paste and -pencil dust, in the very walls of the building.</p> - -<h5>§ 5</h5> - -<p>The good news she had to tell Roy of the job she -had secured for him warmed her heart. There was -no time to write, but she treasured it to herself and -imagined a dozen times a day, as he and Alice were -speeding homeward, how she would break it to him.</p> - -<p>Martin was unable to be present when they arrived -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_345">[Pg 345]</span> -at the Grand Central Station, but Mrs. Sturgis, Jeannette -and the two children were there waiting for them -to emerge from the long column of passengers that -streamed in a hurrying throng from the Chicago train. -There were screams of joy and wet lashes as the parents’ -arms caught, hugged and kissed the children -again and again. Mrs. Sturgis had a cold luncheon -prepared at home, and with bags and children, the -four adults bundled themselves into a taxi and drove -to Ninety-second Street, laughing excitedly, interrupting -one another with inconsequences after the manner -of all arriving travellers.</p> - -<p>Roy indeed had put on weight; the emaciated look -had entirely disappeared. His plumpness altered -his expression materially and his sister-in-law was -not quite sure she liked it. There could be no -question about his splendid health. His face was -round and there were actually folds in his neck where -it bulged a trifle above his collar. Alice looked prettier -than ever and as Jeannette studied her, she realized -how much she had missed her sister during the past -few months and how much she loved her. Yet when -the children climbed into their mother’s lap and tried -awkwardly to twine their short arms about her neck, -Etta announcing shrilly that she loved her “bestest -in all the world,” Jeannette experienced a cruel pang -of jealousy. Now Alice would immediately begin to -spoil them and undo all her good work! ... It was -going to be very hard,—very hard, indeed.</p> - -<p>She was anxious to tell her good news. Roy must -be worrying about the future and it was not fair to -keep him in the dark. But when she told him triumphantly, -he and his wife only looked at one another -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_346">[Pg 346]</span> -with a significant smile. They had good news of their -own: they were going back to California and meant to -take the children with them; they intended to live out -there for a year or two in a place called “Mill Valley,” -just across the bay from San Francisco, with Roy’s -father. Dr. Beardsley was a dear old white-headed -man,—the dearest on earth, Alice declared,—and he -was rector of a little church in Mill Valley and lived -in the most adorable redwood shake house up on the -side of a mountain just above the village. The house -was a roomy old place and Dr. Beardsley had talked -and talked to them about coming to California and -making their home with him for two or three years -until Roy had gained a start, for it appeared that Roy -wanted to write,—he had always wanted to write,—and -while he had been convalescing out in California under -the big redwoods, he had written a book,—not a big -one,—but a story about an old family dog the Beardsleys -had once owned, and he had sent it to a magazine -and they had paid three hundred dollars for the serial -rights and there was a very good chance that some -publisher would bring it out in book form! The money -was not very much of course, but it was unquestionably -encouraging and Dr. Beardsley felt that he and Alice -ought to combine forces and give Roy a chance at the -profession he hungered to follow. He had never had -an opportunity to show what he could do with his pen, -and it was not fair to have him give up this ambition -merely because he had a wife and two children on his -hands. Dr. Beardsley had three or four thousand dollars -in the bank and he declared he had no particular -need of the money and was ready to invest it in his -son’s career as a promising speculation in which he, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_347">[Pg 347]</span> -himself, had faith. He believed, he had said, he would -get a good return on his money! He had urged Alice -and Roy to come with their two children and make -their home with him for a while, live the simplest kind -of life,—living was extraordinarily cheap in Mill -Valley; Mama wouldn’t believe how cheap after New -York!—and wait until Roy was on his feet with a well-established -market for his work.</p> - -<p>“So we talked it over and said we would,” concluded -Alice with her soft brown eyes shining confidently at -her husband, “only it’s going to be awful hard to leave -you Mama, and Sis.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sturgis promptly grew tearful.</p> - -<p>“No—no, dearie,” she said between watery sniffles -and efforts to check herself, “I don’t know <i>why</i> I’m -crying! It’s quite right and proper for you and Roy -to accept his father’s kind offer. There’s no question -in my mind he’ll be a great writer, and I think you’re -very wise, and it will be lovely and healthy for the -children and I approve of the whole idea thoroughly, -only—only California seems so terribly far away!” -A burst of tears accompanied the last. Jeannette felt -irritated. Her mother would soon be reconciled to -Alice and the children being in California,—but in -her own heart there was already an ache she knew -would not leave it for many months.</p> - -<h5>§ 6</h5> - -<p>The end of May, when the dogwood was again powdering -the new-leafed woods with its white featheriness, -when the Yacht Club had formally opened its -season, and Martin had towed his adored A-boat out -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_348">[Pg 348]</span> -of winter storage, had pulled it with a row-boat the -two-and-a-half miles to its summer moorings, Alice, -Roy and the children departed, and Jeannette faced an -empty home with what seemed to her an empty life.</p> - -<p>It was inevitable she should reach out for distraction. -During the spring, Doc French had married Mrs. -Edith Prentiss, a rich widow, whom Jeannette had -liked from their first meeting. The new Mrs. French -was her senior by only a year or two, and much the -same type: tall and dark with beautiful brows and skin -and masses of glistening black hair. She had a great -deal of poise, and dash, and dressed handsomely. At -the opening of the season for the Cohasset Beach -Yacht Club, when there was a dinner and dance, the -Devlins were Doctor and Mrs. French’s guests and -had a particularly good time. Jeannette bought herself -a new dress for the occasion. She would not have -been able to go otherwise, she told Martin, as she had -absolutely nothing to wear! All the pretty clothes -that had formed her trousseau were completely gone -now; she did not have a single decent evening frock -left!</p> - -<p>The affair led to the young Devlins being asked to a -Sunday luncheon on board the new Commodore’s -sumptuous yacht and this had been another happy -event. Martin had been in high feather, and had -proven himself unusually amusing and entertaining. -The Commodore’s wife had singled him out for attention; -the Commodore, himself, and Doc French had -urged him to allow his name to be put up for membership -in the Yacht Club.</p> - -<p>It was a great temptation for both the young husband -and wife, but it was out of the question for them -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_349">[Pg 349]</span> -to belong to two yacht clubs, and Martin resolutely -refused to resign from the Family. No, he said, there -were too many “good scouts” in the little club, and -he wouldn’t and couldn’t “throw them down.” Jeannette -did not urge it, although it was hard to decline -the invitation to join the Cohasset Beach Club. Yet -she felt that membership in it was beyond their means -and would lead to other extravagances, while specially -was she afraid of the free drinking that went on there. -Martin had a mercurial temperament; one drink excited -him; more made him noisy and silly; he was not -the type that could stand it. Better the Family Yacht -Club as the lesser of the two evils. She would have -been satisfied if he never entered either.</p> - -<p>She voiced her complaint to her mother, with a good -deal of vexation:</p> - -<p>“It makes me so mad! Martin <i>won’t</i> economize, -<i>won’t</i> help me save and insists upon being a member of -that cheap little one-horse organization with its cheap -common members, spending his time and money in a -place he knows I detest and where I never set my feet -that I don’t regret it. And if he would only help me -get out of debt and would behave himself when there -was liquor around, we might be able to join the -Cohasset Beach and associate with nice, decent people -of our own class and enjoy some kind of social life. -It’s unfair—rottenly unfair! I’ve been struggling all -winter taking care of my sister’s babies, and of course -it’s been expensive and we haven’t been able to put by -a cent. I’ve done my level best to economize; I haven’t -bought myself so much as a pair of shoes since last -year, ... and look at me!”</p> - -<p>She held out her foot and showed her mother where -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_350">[Pg 350]</span> -the stitching along the sole had parted. Mrs. Sturgis -shook her head distressfully, and made “tut-tutting” -noises with her tongue.</p> - -<p>“And what does he expect me to do?” Jeannette -went on, her voice rising as her sense of injustice grew -upon her. “Here’s Doc French and his wife, Edith,—she’s -really a stunning girl, Mama, and I like her so -much!—anxious to be nice to me, wanting me to go -with them to the smart Yacht Club all the time, asking -me to their house for dinner and cards, or to go motoring -with them in their beautiful new car, and Commodore -and Mrs. Adams inviting me to luncheon on -<i>The Sea Gull</i>, and I haven’t a decent stitch to my back! -If I complain to Martin, he says I’m ‘crabbing’ or tells -me to get what I need and charge it! And that’s just -madness, Mama,—you know that. He denies himself -nothing and expects me to do all the self-sacrificing. -I declare I’m sorely tempted sometimes to take him at -his word, to go ahead just as I like, get whatever I -need and let him meet the bills as best he can. That’s -what most wives would do! I’ve never known such -humiliation since I went to that Armenian dance with -Dikron Najarian. In all the time I was supporting -myself, I was never so shabbily dressed as I am right -this minute! It does seem to me that Martin could -manage better. I know <i>I</i> did when I was earning -my own money and financing my own problems. -Martin makes just about what you and I used to have -when we were living together, and you know perfectly -well, Mama, we had money to <i>throw away</i> then. Why -we used to go to the theatre and everything! I haven’t -been inside a theatre in—in—well, since last September -and that’s nearly a year! <i>I</i> don’t know what he -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_351">[Pg 351]</span> -does with his money! He swears he doesn’t gamble -any more, but he’s always broke and I have the hardest -time getting my sixty-two fifty out of him on the first -and the fifteenth. He tried to borrow some of it back -from me last month! I tell you, he didn’t get it! He -never takes me into his confidence about money matters -and he never comes and gives what’s coming to -me out of his pay envelope of his own accord! I -always have to <i>ask</i> him for it! Think of it, Mama, -having to <i>ask</i> him to give me what’s my right! I never -had to go to Mr. Corey and <i>ask</i> him for my salary on -Saturday mornings, and I work ten thousand times -harder for Martin Devlin than I ever did for Mr. -Corey! ... I was no shrinking violet when Martin -married me! I was a self-supporting, self-respecting -business woman and when we married we made a -bargain, and I intend he shall live up to it. I don’t -propose he’s going to welch on me merely because I’m -a woman. He’s got to give me just as much consideration -as he would a man with whom he’s made a -contract. Our marriage was an honorable agreement -with certain specified provisions, and if he doesn’t live -up to them, neither shall I!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Janny, Janny!” cried her mother in alarm; -“don’t talk so reckless, dearie! What on earth do -you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Walk out on him!” flashed Jeannette. “I’ll go -back to my job and run my own life the way it suits -me!”</p> - -<h5>§ 7</h5> - -<p>Martin spent every Saturday afternoon at the Family -Yacht Club, “tuning up” his boat. He loved to -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_352">[Pg 352]</span> -tinker about her, adjusting this, tightening that; he -was never finished with her; there was always something -still remaining to be done. He and Zeb Kline -sailed the <i>Albatross</i> together in the races; they constituted -her crew.</p> - -<p>As soon as Martin reached Cohasset Beach from the -city on the last day of the week, he hurried directly -from the station to the yacht club. He kept his outing -clothes,—they consisted of little more than a shirt, a -pair of duck pants and “sneakers,”—in a locker at the -club. By two o’clock he was squatting in the cockpit -of the teetering little boat, busy with wrench, knife, -or rag, thoroughly happy. If there was sufficient wind -later in the afternoon, he and Zeb might take a short -sail up the Sound, round the red buoy, and home -again, or over two legs of the course. The afternoon -was all too short; it was six,—seven, before a realization -of the passing time came to him. He wanted a -quick swim then before re-dressing himself, and if -someone did not give him a lift, there was the long -hike homeward.</p> - -<p>He would be sure to find one of three situations when -he opened the door of the bungalow upon reaching -home: Jeannette would be there, coldly unresponsive, -resentful of his tardiness; she would be dressing for -a dance at the Cohasset Beach Yacht Club in frivolous -mood, or she would have already departed to dine with -Doc and Edith French, having left word with Hilda -for him to follow if he cared to. He came to accept -these circumstances. He did not particularly like them -but he did not know how to go about changing them. -To dress and join his wife was generally too much -effort after his long afternoon on the water. He either -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_353">[Pg 353]</span> -found his own amusements or else, thoroughly weary, -went to bed.</p> - -<p>At an early hour on Sunday he was usually astir and -often left the house while Jeannette was still asleep, -or else they breakfasted together about nine o’clock -and made polite inquiries as to one another’s plans -for the day. Every Sunday afternoon during the -summer there was a race and Martin would not have -missed one for any consideration. As soon as he -could leave the house, he was off to the club and Jeannette -did not see him again until he came stumbling -home late in the evening, sunburnt and thoroughly -exhausted.</p> - -<p>One Saturday night it was nearly eight o’clock when -the flickering acetylene lamps of Steve Teschemacher’s -big brass-fitted motor car swept into the circular driveway -before the Devlins’ home, and Martin got out, -called “Good-night and many thanks!” and opened -the door of his house. Dishevelled, his hair blown, his -shirt open at the throat, carrying his cravat and collar, -he walked in upon a dinner party his wife was giving. -The four people at his table were all in immaculate -evening dress. He recognized Doc French and Edith, -but the remaining person in the quartette was a man -he had never seen before.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Kenyon, my dear,” said Jeannette, introducing -him. “Our little party was quite impromptu. I -didn’t know how to get you. I telephoned the club -twice but Wilbur said you were out on the water.”</p> - -<p>Doc French welcomed him, clapping him on the back.</p> - -<p>“Get a move on, Mart,” he said, jovially, “your -cocktail’s getting cold.”</p> - -<p>Martin hurried. The blankness passed that had -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_354">[Pg 354]</span> -come to him as, unprepared, he arrived upon the scene. -His good-nature asserted itself; he was always ready -for a good time. In fifteen minutes he was entertaining -his wife’s guests with an Irish story, told with inimitable -brogue, and had them all roaring with laughter.</p> - -<p>Kenyon he did not fancy. The man was too perfectly -dressed, his white silk vest had a double row of -gold buttons and fitted his slim waist too snugly; the -movements of his hands were too graceful, too studied; -his heavily lashed eyes squinted shut when he laughed, -and the eyes, themselves, were glittering and glassy.</p> - -<p>Martin went with the party to the Cohasset Beach -Yacht Club for the dance to which they were bound. -Since he had declined to become a member he felt -he ought not to go at all to the club, but Doc French -on this particular night would not listen to him, and -carried him off with the others. There were the usual -drinks, the usual gay crowd, the usual music and the -usual dance; Martin, pleasantly exhilarated, had his -usual good time. He saw his wife here and there upon -the dancing floor during the evening, and thought her -unusually vivacious and pretty, but it was not until -three or four days later that a casual happening -brought back to him a disquieting recollection that -each time he had caught a glimpse of her that night, -her partner had been Kenyon.</p> - -<p>The incident that stirred this memory was the -chance discovery of two cigarette stubs in a little glass -ash tray on the mantel above the fireplace. Jeannette -did not smoke. She explained readily that Gerald -Kenyon had been to tea the previous afternoon. But -Martin was not satisfied. Kenyon was a type of rich -man’s son,—idler and trifler,—whom Martin thought -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_355">[Pg 355]</span> -he recognized; Jeannette had said nothing about having -had him to tea and the circumstance was too -unusual for her to have forgotten to mention it; now -he recalled the matter of the dance.</p> - -<p>One of their old angry quarrels followed. It left -both shaken and repentant, and in the reconciliation -that followed, much of their early warm love and confidence -in one another returned. Many differences -were settled, many concessions and promises were -made, and better harmony existed between them thereafter -than they had known for a long time.</p> - -<h5>§ 8</h5> - -<p>It was then that Jeannette seriously considered -having a baby. Martin was anxious for a child, and -she knew how happy one would make him, how grateful -and tender he was sure to be to her. She dreaded -the ordeal more than most women; she was fearful -of the agony that awaited her at the end of the long, -dreary, helpless nine months; Alice’s hard labor, and -the following weakness from complications that had -kept her practically bedridden for half-a-year, had -made a grave impression on Jeannette’s mind. She -shuddered at the idea of being torn, at being manhandled -by doctors, at being pulled and mauled and -treated like an animal. It represented degradation to -her, but she was prepared to go through with it. She -wanted a child; she wanted one as much as Martin did; -she wanted more than one. Her husband had accused -her once of not loving children, but after the devotion -she had lavished upon Etta and Ralph during the long -months of the past winter, she felt she had convinced -him that such a reproach was wholly unjustified. Far -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_356">[Pg 356]</span> -more than the agony of childbirth, Jeannette apprehended -the fetters that maternity would forge about -her feet. Once a mother she knew her liberty was over. -She would be bound then by the infant at her breast, by -ties of duty and maternal instinct, and above all by -love. She hated the thought of restriction; she hated -the thought of giving up her independence; she rebelled -at inhibitions which would prevent her from -going her own way, living her own life, being her own -mistress.</p> - -<p>Once again the question of money obtruded itself. -What did the years ahead hold in store for her as -Martin’s wife? How would she fare at her husband’s -hands when she was thirty, forty, fifty? The infatuation -of the bride for the man she had married, was -gone now; she saw him in a cold, critical light. She -loved him; she loved him truly and honestly; she loved -him more than she had ever thought to love any man. -Never was she so happy as when they two were alone -together and in sympathy. She liked often to recall -the happy day they had spent with Alice and Roy on -the sand reefs off Freeport. Martin had been so sweet, -and splendid and dear that day! No woman could love -a man more than she did, then; he had been everything -that stirred her admiration. But that was a year ago -and he wasn’t the same; he and she had drifted apart. -Perhaps it was as much her fault as his; perhaps their -grievances against one another were no more than -those of any average couple. She realized that both -were strong-willed and opinionated; it was inevitable -that they should sometimes clash. But if Martin differed -with her, he could pursue his own way independent -of his wife, while she must wait upon his -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_357">[Pg 357]</span> -pleasure. She did not—could not trust Martin with -the old confidence he had once inspired. Perhaps that -was the experience of all wives. Most women put up -with it, <i>had</i> to put up with it, made the best of conditions, -lay with what equanimity they could in the bed -they had chosen in the first flush of love. But with -her,—and always with this thought ever since she had -been a wife, Jeannette had breathed a prayer of gratitude,—there -was a way out! The girls that had -married blindly out of their father’s and mother’s -house had no alternative if their marriages proved unsatisfactory -but to endure them or seek divorce. But -she and all other women who had achieved a livelihood -of their own in the world of business, who had won -for themselves an economic value that could be -measured in dollars and cents, could go back to work! -They did not have to appeal to the law, the disreputable -divorce courts, to free them from an intolerable -alliance, or compel a reluctant man to support them -with alimony gouged from his unwilling pocketbook!</p> - -<p>Ever since she had become Martin’s bride, Jeannette -realized she had hugged this thought to herself -and always found consolation in it. It had even been -in her mind when she considered marriage; she had -said to herself in those uncertain days, that if the -experiment did not prove satisfactory, there was a -stenographer’s job waiting for her somewhere in the -world. Now this knowledge that she could be independent -again if she chose had a vital bearing on the -question of her having a child. Once a mother, the -door of escape from a situation which might some day -become intolerable would be forever closed. She could -not leave a baby as she could leave a husband.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_358">[Pg 358]</span></p> - -<p>Should she risk it? Should she take the plunge, -leave the safe return to shore behind her and strike -out into unknown waters, placing faith in her husband’s -devotion and his ability to take care of her? -Ah, if she could only be sure! If she could only be -convinced of Martin’s dependability! She did not -care a snap of her finger for Gerald Kenyon, Edith -French or the Cohasset Beach Yacht Club or anything! -All she wanted was that Martin should be good to her, -should protect and provide for her with as much -thought and care as she had given herself when she -had been a wage-earner and her own mistress! If -Martin would stand back of her, she would welcome a -baby, she would bear him half-a-dozen,—all that her -strength was equal to! She would banish her fear of -the ordeal!</p> - -<p>She told him so passionately. She showed him the -reasonableness and righteousness of her stand, and he -admitted the truth of what she said. He promised to -do anything she wanted.</p> - -<p>“You’re dead right, Jan,” he said with a gravity -that went straight to her heart, “I see your point. -I’ll do the best I can. And golly! won’t it be great -when there’s a kid in the family,—you know,—a kid -that’s our own? Why, you were never so happy or -so pretty, and you never were so good to me and I -never loved you more than when Etta and Ralph were -toddling round here.”</p> - -<p>But she would agree to nothing until he had demonstrated -to her that he had changed and was as much -in earnest about the matter as she proposed to be.</p> - -<p>“Mart, you’ve got to show me; you’ve got to convince -me you’ve turned over a new leaf. I want to -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_359">[Pg 359]</span> -be satisfied that I am always going to be glad I’m your -wife before I anchor myself to you for the rest of my -life. Now we’re in debt. While I’ve been out of -sympathy with you, I’ve done some charging in town,—new -clothes I had to have in order to go about with -Edith French. If we have a baby it’s going to cost -money, and we’ve <i>got</i> to be out of debt first,—don’t -you think so? You can reëstablish my faith in you by -showing me now how you can help me save. If we cut -down and put our minds to it, we can save a thousand -dollars by the first of the year. Now I’ll let Hilda go -and do my own work, if you’ll resign from the Family -Yacht Club!”</p> - -<p>It was a challenge and Martin’s startled eyes found -hers.</p> - -<p>“And sell my A-boat?” he asked blankly.</p> - -<p>“And sell your A-boat,” Jeannette repeated firmly.</p> - -<p>“Well-l, my God,—that’s kind of tough,” he said -slowly. “But all right,—if you say so, I’ll get out, -I’ll sell it and quit.”</p> - -<p>“Do you really mean it, Mart?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I’ll—I’ll resign.... Only, Jan, can’t I finish -the season? Zeb and I’ve got a swell chance for the -cup and all the A-boats have been invited over to -Larchmont for their annual regatta, and Zeb knows -that course, and we’re all going to be towed over the -day before....”</p> - -<p>He was like a little boy pleading for a toy. She -could not find it in her heart to refuse him.</p> - -<p>“Very well,” she conceded slowly, “only as soon as -the season’s over you’ll positively resign?”</p> - -<p>“Sure. I’ll tell the fellows to-morrow that it’s my -last year, and I’ll quit after the final race.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_360">[Pg 360]</span></p> - -<h5>§ 9</h5> - -<p>June, July and August passed, Labor Day came and -went, the yachting season closed with gala festivities, -special boat races, a big dance at each of the clubs, -and one day Martin announced that Zeb had paid him -sixty dollars for the <i>Albatross</i>, and that he had sent -in his letter of resignation to the board of directors. -It was then that Jeannette told Hilda she would be -obliged to let her go. She had grown fond of the girl -and was sorry to lose her, but in the face of this evidence -of her husband’s good faith, she felt she must -begin to carry out her part of their bargain.</p> - -<p>Apart from this, there were other considerations -which made her welcome this new régime of curtailment -and self-denial. She was not satisfied with the -recent order of her life; her conscience troubled her; -there had been certain evenings during the past summer, -memories of which were not altogether pleasant.</p> - -<p>Hardly a week had gone by without Doc and Edith -French inviting her to go with them to a dance at the -Cohasset Beach Yacht Club or on a jaunt to some road-house -on Long Island, and Gerald Kenyon invariably -had been along. He had made love to her, flattering -love to her, and she had been diverted. She liked him; -he danced well, he was rich and a prodigal host, he -was agreeably attentive. She would have early sent -him to the right-about had it not been he proved a -convenient escort. Martin was rarely on hand to -accompany her; Gerald was eager to go with her anywhere -she wished. She suffered his attentions, reminding -herself that it was only for a few weeks,—just -until the end of the summer,—and it was her last fling -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_361">[Pg 361]</span> -at gaiety. She would rid herself of him by September -and prepare her household and her life for the time of -retrenchment. Nothing of serious significance had -happened on any of these merry evenings; Martin -could not have found fault with her; Gerald had never -so much as kissed her cheek, but the atmosphere that -had prevailed was disturbing to Jeannette. Gerald -often imbibed too freely, but he was never offensive. -He and the Frenches sometimes grew noisy and there -was a good deal of loose talk. A drink or two had a -marked effect on Edith, and Jeannette wondered sometimes -at the things she said and did. Not that her -words and actions were in themselves particularly -shocking, but coming from a woman of her graciousness -and refinement they sounded rough. Jeannette -was ready, now, to be quit of these intimates. Their -society was not healthy, and in her soul she was conscious -she did not belong in it. Her innate sense of -rectitude took offense at such behavior.</p> - -<p>Thus it was that she turned to the period of self-denial -with willingness, even zeal. She threw herself -whole-heartedly into the program of her new existence. -She wanted to clean her soul as well as her life.</p> - -<p>She was happy in the changed order of her days; -she liked doing her own work since it meant penance -for her as well as saving; she liked to think she was -preparing herself for her child. She figured out -how long it would take them to be out of debt: less -than a year if they saved only fifty dollars a month.</p> - -<p>“Now, Martin,” she reminded her husband, “I’m -not going through with this unless you stand back -of me. You’ve got to save penny for penny with me, -and you’ve got to show me you’re deadly in earnest.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_362">[Pg 362]</span></p> - -<p>She said this because he did not seem as enthusiastic, -now, as he had been when the plan was first discussed. -The eagerness was missing, and he was rather sour -about it. She knew he grieved over the sale of his -boat, and it was bitter hard for him to give up his club. -But this time she was determined. She had renounced -her frivolous, expensive friends; he must renounce -his; she proposed to get along without the luxury of a -servant, he must deny himself, too.</p> - -<p>“Well, damn it!” he growled at her implied reproach, -“ain’t I doing everything you want? The -boat’s gone, and I’ve sent my letter in to the club! -What more do you want me to do?”</p> - -<p>“Martin! that’s no way to speak to your wife! -You’re not doing it for <i>me</i>!”</p> - -<p>She sighed in discouragement. He had a long way -to go.</p> - -<p>His efforts to divert himself about the house on -Saturday afternoons and Sundays were pathetic. He -started vigorously to spade up a bit of ground which -he declared would make an admirable vegetable bed -in the spring. The spading lasted half a day and all -winter Jeannette saw the snow-covered shovel sticking -upright in the ground where he had left it. He was -bored by inactivity. Books did not interest him; he -scorned the solitaire she suggested and in which she -herself could find amusement; likewise he grew impatient -at walks in the woods now full of autumn tints. -Jeannette tried her best to entertain him. Several -times she asked the Drigos over for auction bridge -but Mrs. Drigo and her husband quarrelled so much -when the cards ran against them, that Martin declared -he did not care to play with them. Jeannette tried -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_363">[Pg 363]</span> -“Rum” but that, too, bored him; there was no pleasure -in the game, he told her, without stakes and one -couldn’t gamble with one’s wife. At the end of her -resources, she shrugged her shoulders and let him seek -out his own amusements as best he could. His attitude -nettled her. He ought to face the new life, she felt, -with the same fortitude, conscientiousness and willingness -that she displayed. She told him so with a good -deal of rancor one day: he was acting like a spoiled -boy; he wasn’t being a good sport about it. He only -glowered at her in reply and stalked out of the house.</p> - -<p>She had her own suspicions where he went, but she -did not reproach him. In her heart she was sorry -for him; his empty evenings and his week-ends hung -heavy on his hands. She hoped he would get used -to the idea and by and by be moved to follow her -example.</p> - -<p>But as the weeks and then the months began to go -by, and she saw that it was only she who was making -the sacrifices,—cleaning, cooking, washing dishes, denying -herself clothes and even trips to the city to see -her mother,—a dull anger kindled within her. This -burst into flame when she learned by chance that Martin -was still a member of the Yacht Club. ’Stel -Teschemacher telephoned her one day to remind her -to be sure and come to a bridge tournament the ladies -of the club had arranged for the following Wednesday -afternoon. Jeannette explained with some relish that -she feared she was not eligible to participate since her -husband was no longer a member of the club, but ’Stel -Teschemacher assured her that such was not the case.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, you’re mistaken, Mrs. Devlin. He’s still -a member and a very valued one. The Directors refused -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_364">[Pg 364]</span> -absolutely to accept your husband’s resignation; -they just positively made him reconsider it.... Why, -we couldn’t get along without Mr. Devlin! He’s just -the life of the club!”</p> - -<p>Jeannette said nothing to Martin. She was bitter, -feeling he had tricked her, was not playing fair. She -decided she would go to New York and pour out her -grievance in a stormy recital to her mother. It would -relieve her mind. On the train she met Edith French -and when the city was reached, her friend triumphantly -carried her off to lunch at the Waldorf.</p> - -<h5>§ 10</h5> - -<p>Not very long after this, she learned that Martin had -been playing poker, and had lost. He had had a bad -streak of luck and was obliged to confess to her he did -not have enough money to pay the rent without making -a levy upon her share of his salary; she must count -on only forty dollars when his next pay-day fell due.</p> - -<p>At that her resentment burst forth. She had denied -herself consistently since the first of September. With -her own hands she had made the little Christmas presents -she had sent Alice and the children, and even -what she had given her mother, in order to save a few -dollars, and here was Martin gambling away at the -card table money that was hers!</p> - -<p>“You’re no more fit to be a father than a husband,” -she told him, her anger blazing. “You expect me to -bear a child to a man like you! You’re no better than -a common thief!”</p> - -<p>“Aw, cut that out, Jan,” he answered, a dull crimson -reddening his neck; “I’ll admit I’m in wrong and -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_365">[Pg 365]</span> -that you’ve got every right to be sore at me, but what’s -the use in accusing me of being dishonest?”</p> - -<p>“Dishonest?—dishonest?” she repeated furiously, -her hands clenched. “Half of every dollar you earn -belongs to me,—and don’t you forget it! It’s mine -by right of being your wife; it’s mine by right of your -definite promise when I married you that we should -share and share alike. I made a financial sacrifice -then because I thought you and I were going to build -a house and rear a family. I used to earn a hundred -and forty dollars a month,—let me tell you,—and -every cent of it I spent as I chose and for what I chose. -I’ve never seen that much or anything like that much, -since I married you. Don’t fool yourself you <i>give</i> -me a penny! You work in your office and I work here -and we both earn your salary. When you take my -money and gamble with it and lose it, you’re doing -exactly the same as if you put your hand in Herbert -Gibbs’s cash drawer and helped yourself! It’s just -plain thievery!”</p> - -<p>Martin was on his feet, his face congested.</p> - -<p>“If you were a man, I’d knock your damned head -off.”</p> - -<p>“If I were a man,” retorted his wife, “you’d be -afraid to!”</p> - -<h5>§ 11</h5> - -<p>It was in this mood of fury, with her grievance seething -within her, that she gladly agreed to accompany -Edith French on a day of shopping in the city. Edith -telephoned she had been invited by a certain famous -Fifth Avenue importer to witness, at a private showing, -the opening of some sealed trunks just received -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_366">[Pg 366]</span> -from Paris containing the new spring models. She -wanted Jeannette to go with her, and the two women -arranged to leave for town on an early morning train.</p> - -<p>It was a cold, glittering winter’s day when the crispness -in the air set the blood tingling; snow was piled -in the street and there was a general scraping of iron -shovels on stone and cement. Edith and Jeannette -feasted their eyes on the new styles as they eagerly -discussed clothes and fashions. Edith, stimulated by -her privileged glimpses, bought herself a new hat, -which Jeannette declared to be the most beautiful -thing she had ever seen in her life! Edith, it seemed -to her companion, was free to purchase anything that -took her fancy. If a garment or bauble attracted her, -she got it without hesitation. Jeannette’s heart was -sick with longing. She watched her companion enviously. -In a reckless moment, urged by her friend -to whom she had confided at luncheon the tale of Martin’s -perfidy, and who had been gratifyingly sympathetic, -she selected and charged a long woolly, loose -tan coat that had a deep collar of skunk. The coat -had been “on sale” and Edith had been so full of -admiration for the way Jeannette looked in it, that -she offered to buy it and give it to her as a present. -To this Jeannette would not agree, but later, wrapped -in its soft ampleness and with a glowing satisfaction -that it was the most becoming garment she had ever -owned, she did not press an objection when Edith -proposed to telephone Gerald Kenyon and ask him to -take them to tea. At five o’clock sitting against the -crimson upholstered wall-seats of a glittering café, -sipping her hot tea and nibbling her thin, buttered -toast, listening to the music and the pleasant chatter -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_367">[Pg 367]</span> -of her companions, conscious of Gerald Kenyon’s admiring -eyes, Jeannette decided that it was the first -happy moment she had known in months, and that if -Martin chose to go his way, she had ample justification -to go hers.</p> - -<p>A madness descended upon her. She was near to -tears most of the time but went dry-eyed upon her -way, shutting her ears to the voice of conscience, -refusing to allow her better nature to assert itself. On -and on she stumbled into the forest of imprudence, -allowing herself to give no heed to the gathering -shadows, taking no thought of how she should ever find -her way out of the gloom when the hour came for her -to turn back,—for, of course, she must some time turn -back!</p> - -<p>Little by little she was beguiled into doing the things -she had foresworn. She allowed Edith to persuade -her into going almost daily with her to the city; she -spent here and there the dollars she had so hardly -saved; she began heedlessly to charge again: shoes, -silk stockings, a smart French veil, gloves. The two -friends fell into the habit of lunching or taking tea -with Gerald Kenyon and sometimes going to a matinée -with him, and the day came—as he had carefully -planned it should come,—when Jeannette lunched -with him alone. And over the small table at which -they sat so intimately, still in the grip of the insanity -that fogged her sense of righteousness and values, -she confided to his eager, understanding ears the story -of her husband’s selfishness, and listened to his persuasive -voice as he offered to help her out of her -difficulties.</p> - -<p>“Why, listen here, Jeannette,” he said, bending toward -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_368">[Pg 368]</span> -her earnestly across the littered luncheon cloth, -“I can make five thousand dollars for you over night. -There’s no sense in your troubling yourself about -money matters. If you’re in debt, I can show you a -way that will pull you out of the hole and give you -all the spending money you need! The old man, you -know, is in steel. He’s on the inside and there’s nothing -that goes on down in Wall Street that he doesn’t -know. He gave me a tip the other day: a sure-fire tip. -Did you ever hear of Colusium Copper? Well, it’s one -of the subsidiary companies of the United States Steel -Corporation, and its stock’s going right up. The old -man telephoned me to come down and see him, and he -says to me: ‘Gerald, put what you can lay your hands -on on Colusium Copper; it’s due to go to seventy-five -and you want to get out about seventy-two or three.’ -It was fifty-eight then; it’s about sixty-six to-day. -Why, look here,—it went up a couple of points yesterday.” -He showed her the figures convincingly in -a newspaper he drew from his pocket. “Now you just -let me buy a few of those shares for you this afternoon -before the market closes, and I’ll hand you a -check for five hundred to-morrow when you meet me -for lunch. You don’t have to put up the money; I -can fix that for you; I’ll just telephone my brokers -you want to buy a few shares and that I’ll O.K. the -deal. It’s a sure-fire proposition, Jeannette. You -won’t be risking a cent.”</p> - -<p>He was very earnest, very persuasive; his voice -was gentle and so kindly. Five hundred dollars! -thought the girl; it would wipe out all those little purchases -here and there that she had had charged to her -account about which Martin knew nothing!</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_369">[Pg 369]</span></p> - -<p>Gerald was a <i>dear</i>! He was really a most generous, -warm-hearted friend! It was wonderful of him to take -such an interest in her trifling financial problems.</p> - -<p>And the next day he showed her the check: $515.60 -beautifully made out,—W. G. Guthrie & Company, -Stock Brokers,—and it was drawn in her name. Her -fingers trembled a little as she took the stiff bank -paper in her hands.</p> - -<p>“You see what I told you!” Gerald said with a -triumphant smile. “Why, say, I could have made it -five thousand just as easy if you had only said the -word. The old man knows when anything like this is -coming off in the Street. You have to laugh at the -way the public runs in and lets the big guns fleece -them. The big fellows stick up the bait and the poor -fools rush after it and then chop—chop go the axes! ... -Any time, Jeannette, you want a bit of change -just let me know and I can fix it for you. I’ll just -give the old man a ring and ask him what’s good.... -Now, for Heaven’s sake don’t get the idea that what -I’m able to do for you on a little flier down in Wall -Street is anything in the nature of a present or anything -like that. I’m just slipping you a little piece of -inside information,—savvy, dearie?”</p> - -<p>The endearment was unfortunate. It suddenly reminded -Jeannette of her mother and she remembered -she had not been to see her in weeks. Besides, it was -the first time Gerald had addressed her with any such -familiarity.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think I’d better take this,” she said -abruptly, tossing the folded check at him. She leaned -back in her chair and drew her hands close to her -breast.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_370">[Pg 370]</span></p> - -<p>He picked it up, tapped his fingers gently with it -and began to argue. He argued long and eloquently: -the money did not belong to him, it was hers, it represented -the profits of her own little deal, he hadn’t -a right to a cent of it, it was impossible for him to -touch it. But now no word from him could reach -Jeannette. Fear was awake in her; she began to be -very frightened; her panic grew. Suddenly she -wanted to get up from the table and run into the -street. She wanted to go to her mother; she wanted -her mother badly. She felt she must get out of the -restaurant, must get into the air, must get away from -that table and this man at any price. She was like -one who stands with her back to a precipice and, turning -around, finds herself within a few inches of its -edge, a chasm yawning at her feet. Fright made her -giddy, her mouth was dry, her throat closed -convulsively.</p> - -<p>“If I can only stand it for ten minutes more,” she -said to herself, gripping tight her folded hands beneath -the table, “and keep my head and not let him suspect! ... -I must go on and pretend.... Just ten minutes -more.”</p> - -<p>She managed it badly. The experienced eye of her -companion guessed all that was passing in her mind, -and he cursed himself for having been too precipitous. -The wary hare that he had been at such pains to coax -to his side for so many months had taken flight at the -first lift of his finger. He would have to begin all over -again, and this time proceed more leisurely. For the -present, he knew his cue was to withdraw.</p> - -<p>He let her make her escape without remonstrance. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_371">[Pg 371]</span> -He asked if she would not allow him as a friend to -mail her the check, and when with more vehemence -than she meant to display, she refused, he tore the -paper neatly into bits and let the fragments flutter -from his finger-tips to the table.</p> - -<p>“Well,—it’s too bad,” he said with a shrug that eloquently -expressed his hurt. “Sorry. My only object -was to try and help a bit.”</p> - -<p>He left her at the door of the restaurant with a -graceful lift of his hat, saying he hoped to see her -soon again. It was lost upon the girl. She hurried -to a telephone booth in a drug store at hand and tried -to reach the apartment on Ninety-second Street, but -there was no answer. She thought of Martin but there -was the uncomfortable confession she would have to -make to him of her recent extravagances. Her recklessness, -she realized, had robbed her of the righteousness -of her quarrel with him; reproach he could meet -with reproach.</p> - -<p>She longed then for her sister,—her quiet, brown-eyed -sister,—who had never judged her harshly in her -life, but Alice was in far-away California. There was -nobody, nobody in the world to whom she could turn -for comfort, for sympathy and counsel, and then coming -toward her with a pleased and smiling recognition -in his face she saw Mr. Corey. She fluttered to him -with almost a sob, and put both her hands in his; as he -greeted her affectionately she wanted desperately to -lay her head against his shoulder and give way to the -fury of tears that fought now to find escape. In that -moment, everyone seemed to have failed her,—mother, -sister, husband,—but this staunch, loyal, rock-solid -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_372">[Pg 372]</span> -friend who believed in her, who knew only the best of -her, whose faith in her was unbounded, who knew her -as she really was.</p> - -<p>He was talking but she listened not to his words -but to her own heart that told her here was the haven -for which she sought, here was the counsellor, -the friend who would help her without cavil or reproach.</p> - -<p>“Tell me about yourself,” he was saying. “You -promised you’d come in to see me once in awhile,—and -that brother-in-law of yours? I thought we were -going to find a job for him? What happened?”</p> - -<p>Jeannette attempted to explain: Roy was trying to -become an author, his first story was appearing as a -serial and he and his wife and babies were in California. -As she spoke of Alice, her voice suddenly -grew husky and when she tried to clear her throat, -the hot prick of tears sprang to her eyes, and she -was obliged to stop and press her lips together. Mr. -Corey’s brows met sharply.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter? You’re in trouble?” He -waited for her to speak but she could only shake her -head helplessly and blink her swimming eyes.</p> - -<p>“Come in here with me,” he said in the old authoritative -voice she still loved to obey. They turned from -the crowded street where they were being jostled, into -the drug store she had just quitted. It was crowded -in here, too, with a swarm of elbowing people before -the soda fountain. Corey guided the girl to the rear -and they stopped by a deserted counter.</p> - -<p>“Now what is it? Tell me about it,” he said shortly. -“Can I help you?”</p> - -<p>She tried again to answer him but she was still -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_373">[Pg 373]</span> -too shaken; at any effort to speak her tears threatened.</p> - -<p>“Please,” she managed, gulping.</p> - -<p>He left her, went to the soda counter and returned -with a glass of water. She drank it gratefully; the -cold drink steadied her.</p> - -<p>“I’ve just been acting foolishly,” she said at last, -dabbing her eyes with a corner of her handkerchief. -“It’s all my fault, I guess.”</p> - -<p>By degrees he pried her story from her: Martin -had been treating her badly; he had been very unfair -to her; their marriage was a hopeless failure; she -couldn’t make it a success alone; she had struggled -and struggled and she didn’t believe it was any use; -he was fearfully extravagant and she had to do all the -saving to keep them out of debt; she had done without -a servant just so they could get a little ahead, but try -as she would, they kept falling behind, and Martin -didn’t care....</p> - -<p>She had no intention of misrepresenting her case -to Mr. Corey, but hungered for his sympathy, for his -justification and approval, for his censure of her -husband.</p> - -<p>He heard her with furrowed brows, his keen eyes -watching her face, and when she fell silent, he waited -a long moment.</p> - -<p>“Life’s hard on young people,” he said at length -with a deep breath and a dubious shake of his head. -“It’s hard enough for them to get adjusted to one -another without having to worry over money matters. -I’m sorry your marriage has not turned out well. I -feel particularly badly because I urged you into it. -Devlin seemed a likely fellow to me.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_374">[Pg 374]</span></p> - -<p>They both considered the matter, studying the floor. -Jeannette felt as she stood there her life was breaking -to pieces.</p> - -<p>“If you’re in debt,” said Mr. Corey at length, “and -it’s merely a question of money to tide you over -present difficulties; you must let me lend you what you -need.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, thank you,” she said quickly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, but you must,” he insisted.</p> - -<p>With firmness she declined. She wasn’t begging; -she just had had one man try to give her money; she -couldn’t accept financial assistance from anyone. No, -it was her own problem,—she could work it out herself -without anyone’s help.</p> - -<p>“Very well, then,” he suggested, “come back and -work for me awhile. I’ve an abominable person as -secretary now; I intended to fire her anyhow, and it -will give me tremendous satisfaction to do so at once, -for I never needed efficient help more desperately than -now.”</p> - -<p>The words of polite thanks on Jeannette’s lips died. -She raised her eyes and fixed them on the face of the -man before her, a light breaking slowly in them.</p> - -<p>“You mean ...?” she began. Her face was like -radiant dawn.</p> - -<p>“I mean exactly what I say: come back for as long -as you wish. Stay until you’ve earned what you need, -and be free to go when you’re ready: three months, -six months, whenever you like.... It will be good to -see you back even for a short time at your old desk.”</p> - -<p>Her intent gaze leaped from pupil to pupil of his -smiling, earnest eyes. Her thoughts raced: there was -Martin; he would say “No” of course; he wouldn’t -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_375">[Pg 375]</span> -consider letting her do this; he’d be furious, but Martin -would have to be won over, and if not ... well -then ... there was her mother and her own old room -waiting for her in the apartment on Ninety-second -Street!</p> - -<p>“Well?” said Mr. Corey amused, at the glowing -color in her face.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Corey?” Jeannette faltered.</p> - -<p>“She’s in Germany and a very sick woman. It’s -rheumatism, you know, and she’s been crippled a long -time. I doubt anyhow if she’d care.”</p> - -<p>Somewhere up above like pigeons fluttering forth -from heaven’s dome came happiness winging down -upon the girl.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,—if you’ll have me,—indeed I’ll come back.... -I’ll be there Monday morning! ... Oh, it will be -<i>wonderful</i>!”</p> - -<p class="center"><small>END OF BOOK II</small></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p> - <span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_377">[Pg 377]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_III">BOOK III</h2> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> - <span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_379">[Pg 379]</span></p> - <h3 class="nobreak" id="BREAD">BREAD</h3> - <h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III_I">CHAPTER I</h4> -</div> - -<h5>§ 1</h5> - -<p>The cat was crying to get in. Jeannette, deep in -slumber, was irritated by persistent mewings. Every -once in awhile the outside screen door at the back of -the apartment shut with a small clap as the animal, -sinking its claws into the wire mesh, tried to pull it -open. The noise awoke Jeannette finally and she sat -up with a start.</p> - -<p>It was morning. Gray light filled the room. She -peered at the alarm clock, blinking her eyes, and saw -there were still twenty minutes before she had to get -up. In the next room, the sound of a closing window -announced that Beatrice Alexander was already -astir.</p> - -<p>“She’s put Mitzi out,” thought Jeannette, drawing -the bed clothes over an exposed shoulder. “I -wish she’d remember to leave the door ajar.”</p> - -<p>Presently Beatrice’s steps passed in the hall and -in another moment the annoyance ceased. Jeannette -dropped gratefully back to sleep. But it seemed she -had hardly lost consciousness when the whirring clock -bell aroused her again. Though still drowsy, she immediately -got up; she never permitted herself to remain -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_380">[Pg 380]</span> -in bed after the moment arrived for rising; indulgence -of this kind was weakness of character, and -she despised weakness in herself or in others. As -she dressed, she heard Beatrice in the kitchen busy -with breakfast preparations. From the window a -glimpse of the street showed the sun’s first rays striking -obliquely through the haze of early morning.</p> - -<p>The apartment in Waverly Place had now been her -home for seven years; she and Beatrice Alexander -had taken it together a month after her mother’s -death, and life for the two women as time rolled on -had become undeviating in its routine. There was -small variation in their days.</p> - -<p>It was Beatrice’s business to prepare breakfast. -She rose at seven; Jeannette half-an-hour later. The -meal was always the same: fruit, boiled eggs, four -pieces of toast, and a substitute for coffee,—cubes of -a prepared vegetable material dissolved in hot water. -Beatrice set the table daintily, with a small Japanese -lunch cloth and a yellow bowl filled with bright red -apples in its center. Knives, forks and spoons were -nicely arranged and she never neglected to put tumblers -of drinking water beside the triangularly folded, -fringed napkins, and finger-bowls at each place with -a bit of peel sliced from the bottoms of the grapefruits -or oranges which began the breakfast. Beatrice -was a fastidious person, Jeannette often thought -gratefully; she liked “things nice.”</p> - -<p>While her friend was busy in kitchen and dining-room, -Jeannette dressed with her usual scrupulous -carefulness. She gave but meager attention to household -affairs; these were Beatrice’s province; it was -Beatrice who did the ordering, paid the bills and managed -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_381">[Pg 381]</span> -the small establishment. Jeannette’s companion -was much like Alice and these duties came naturally -to her. Besides, during the years Mrs. Sturgis and -her daughter had lived together, it had been her -mother who attended to such matters; Jeannette had -grown accustomed to leaving household details to -someone else. She took pains to explain this to Beatrice -when they discussed the project of an apartment -together and the latter had assured her it would be -quite satisfactory. There had never been the slightest -friction between the two women; Beatrice Alexander, -with her soft, whispery voice and shy manner, was one -of the sweetest-tempered persons in the world.</p> - -<p>The years had dealt not unkindly with Jeannette. -At forty-three, she was still a handsome woman,—no -longer graceful and willowy, perhaps,—but erect, aggressive, -substantial-looking. There was a solidarity -about her now; her arms were big and round, her -shoulders broad and plump, her bosom well-developed; -she was thirty pounds heavier, and walked with a -sturdy tread. There was gray in her hair, too, and a -certain settled expression about her mouth that proclaimed -middle age, but she was a fine looking woman -with clear eyes and skin, an impressive carriage, and -much that was commanding in poise. She dressed -smartly and was always meticulously neat. Every -morning she donned a fresh shirtwaist, crisply laundered. -It was a matter of concern to her that this -should set so snugly and correctly where it joined the -plain dark tailored skirt that closely fitted her back, the -effect should be of the skirt holding the blouse trimly -in place. When she had completed her toilet, she was -the embodiment of trigness and trimness, from her -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_382">[Pg 382]</span> -dark lusterless hair with its streaks of gray, which -she now wore in a smooth sweep encircling her head -like a bird’s unruffled wing, to her tan-booted feet in -sheer brown silk stockings. She always had taken a -great deal of pains in the matter of attire, and her -hats, shoes and garments were of the latest approved -styles and the best materials, and came from the most -exclusive shops in New York. She still observed the -strictest simplicity in the matter of clothes when she -dressed for the office.</p> - -<p>She surveyed herself now in the mirror with approval, -and as she noted her fine tall figure, the breadth -of her shoulders, the round, neat, firm waist line, her -calm, strong face,—shrewd, capable, resourceful,—she -could understand the awe and respect with which -the girls in her department regarded her. A hint of a -smile touched her resolute lips as she thought that to -them she must appear a super-woman, a sort of queen, -the fount of all wisdom, justice and power. She liked -the idea.</p> - -<p>She flung back the covers to let her bed air during -the day, and righted the flagrant disorder in her room -with a few effective movements. As she opened her -closet door or bureau drawers, the scrupulous neatness -of their contents pleased her; the row of dresses in the -closet suggested the orderliness of a company of soldiers; -her shoes and slippers, each pair equipped -punctiliously with boot-trees, ranged themselves on -a shelf in effective array, her lingerie was carefully be-ribboned, -folded in piles, and a scent of sachet arose -from its lacy whiteness.</p> - -<p>As she busied herself she came upon a muss of face -powder that had been spilled upon the glass top of -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_383">[Pg 383]</span> -her bureau. A small sound of annoyance escaped her. -She crossed the hall to the bathroom, returned with -the moistened end of a soiled towel, resurrected from -the laundry basket, and wiped up the offending litter -vigorously.</p> - -<p>About to quit the room she paused a moment with -her hand on the door-knob for a final inspection, and -turned back to make sure the lower bureau drawer -was locked and that she had put the key in its hiding -place under the rug; she raised the window an inch -higher; a white thread on the floor attracted her eye -and she picked it up with thumb and finger to deposit -in the waste-basket before she joined Beatrice Alexander -in the dining-room. A glance at her wrist watch -assured her she was on time to the minute.</p> - -<p>“Morning, Beat,” she said saluting her companion. -“What was the matter with Mitzi this morning?”</p> - -<p>“I let her out early; she was clawing the carpet and -growling. She wouldn’t stop, so I just had to get up -and put her out.”</p> - -<p>“Strange,” commented Jeannette, eyeing the cat -who blinked at her comfortably from beside an empty -soup plate that had held her bread and milk. She -began to talk baby talk to the pet:</p> - -<p>“Mitzi-witzi! Yes, oo was,—oo went out to see a -feller,—ess oo did....”</p> - -<p>The two women sat down to the breakfast table together. -Jeannette spread her <i>World</i> out before -her; Beatrice propped the <i>Times</i> against a water -pitcher. They picked at their fruit, raised egg spoons -to their lips delicately, broke off bits of toast and inserted -them in their mouths, sipped their coffee with -little fingers extended. Silence reigned except for the -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_384">[Pg 384]</span> -small noises of cup and spoon, and the crackle of -newspapers.</p> - -<p>“I <i>do</i> think France ought to be more lenient with -Germany,” Beatrice remarked at length, adjusting her -eye-glasses.</p> - -<p>“I’d make her pay to the last mark she’s got,” asserted -Jeannette. She folded back her newspaper -carefully to another page.</p> - -<p>“They had quite an accident in the subway,” Beatrice -observed.</p> - -<p>“So I see.... Does seem to me the papers are -awfully hard on the Interborough. I should think -they ought to be permitted to charge an eight-cent -fare; everything else is going up in price.”</p> - -<p>“Do you suppose that Hennessy woman will get -off?” asked Beatrice after an interval.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’d like to see her.”</p> - -<p>“Senator Knowles died, they think, from drinking -whiskey that had wood alcohol in it.”</p> - -<p>“Served him right. I wish they all would.”</p> - -<h5>§ 2</h5> - -<p>At twenty minutes past eight, Jeannette put on her -hat carefully before the mirror, drew about her shoulders -her tipped fox scarf, jerked her hands vigorously -into stout tan gloves, and proceeded down the two -flights of stairs to the street. As she descended she -noted with customary pleasure the effect of the cream-painted -woodwork in the halls, the width of the stairs, -and the flood of light from the skylight above the stair-well -which effectively illuminated the interior of the -house. She and Beatrice had indeed been fortunate in -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_385">[Pg 385]</span> -finding a home in such a pleasant, well-arranged building. -It was the same apartment Miss Holland and -Mrs. O’Brien had occupied for so many years, until -the latter married again, and the former went to live -with her nephew, Jerry,—who was a Commander now, -had a wife and babies, and was stationed at the Brooklyn -Navy Yard. The trend of Jeannette’s thoughts -reminded her she had not been to see Miss Holland -for nearly two months; she resolved upon a visit in -the immediate future.</p> - -<p>The street was filled with morning sunshine as Jeannette -stepped out upon the stone flagging of the lower -hall, closed the inner door behind her, and felt in her -purse with gloved fingers for the key to the mail-box.</p> - -<p>She found two letters for herself: one from Alice -saying that Etta was going to town on Saturday, -would love to lunch with Aunt Jeannette and be eternally -grateful to her if she’d help her pick out the -dress; the other was a circular from Wanamaker’s. It -was the latter rather than the former communication -that started the train of thought which occupied Jeannette’s -mind as she firmly stepped along the Avenue. -Her walk to the office took twenty-three minutes and -as she passed Fourteenth Street she noted by a clock -in front of a jeweller’s store that she was a minute -ahead of time. The Wanamaker circular set forth the -advantages of a sale of women’s suits, yet it was not -the attractive prices nor the smart models that occasioned -Jeannette’s thoughts. The envelope containing -the circular was addressed to “Mrs. Martin Devlin.” -No one called her by that name any more. -When she went back to work as Mr. Corey’s secretary, -she had been welcomed as “Miss Sturgis.” “Miss -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_386">[Pg 386]</span> -Sturgis” had meant something in the affairs of the -Chandler B. Corey Company; no significance was attached -to “Mrs. Devlin.” It seemed wiser to drop -her married name,—and after the break with Martin, -she had no desire to keep it.</p> - -<p>Odd to have been a man’s wife, to have belonged -to someone! It would be hard to think of herself as -a “Mrs.” again, to call herself “Mrs. Martin Devlin.” -How many years ago had it been? Fifteen? Sixteen? -Something like that. Had there really ever been an -interval of four years in her life when she had been a -married woman? It seemed to her she had always -been part of the Chandler B. Corey Company,—or the -Corey Publishing Company as it now was called,—part -of it without a break since those days of long ago -when it had occupied three floors in a clumsy old office -building and had looked out, with Schirmer’s Music -Store and Tiffany’s, upon Union Square. What a -slim, tall, ignorant, ill-equipped young thing she had -been that day she went eagerly to meet Roy at the office -and had watched Miss Reubens looking at photographs -in the reception room! Jeannette smiled now -at the memory of herself. It strained the imagination -to believe that the present Miss Sturgis of the Mail -Order Department had been that awkward girl so long -ago.</p> - -<p>The years—the years! The changes they had -wrought! Jeannette thought of her last painful interview -with Martin and the shadow of a frown came -to her brow. She had gone over every detail of it a -million times. It had indeed been harrowing. Poor -Martin! He had pleaded so hard for her to come back -to him, he had offered to do anything she wanted, but -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_387">[Pg 387]</span> -it was too late then; she couldn’t make him see it. She -reminded him again and again that he had talked just -the same way when he begged her to marry him; she -had doubtfully agreed then, had consented to give -their union a trial, and it had turned out a failure,—a -hopeless failure. No, she didn’t blame him; she told -him so over and over and admitted it was as much her -fault as his; she was no more fitted to be a wife than -he a husband; many people were constituted that -way; they weren’t suited to married life. She pointed -out to him that unless a marriage was happy, it was -a mistake, and neither he nor she had been happy as -man and wife. Why, she had never been for one minute -as happy married to Martin Devlin as she had been -since she became her own mistress again! She loved -her independence, she told him, too much to surrender -it to any man. And he? Well, it had been clearly -demonstrated that he liked the society of men and enjoyed -outdoor sports more than he did being a husband. -She tried hard not to reproach him, had even -said she saw no reason why they, two, could not go -on being friends, occasionally seeing one another, but -at that point Martin got angry,—a sort of madness -seemed to take hold of him and he had said all sorts -of terrible things to her, even called her names,—unforgettable -ones. It had ended in a dreadful scene, -a terrible scene,—dreadful and terrible because in -spite of the fury and bitterness that gripped them, they -knew love still remained. Jeannette would never forget -the storm of tears, the abject grief that had come to -her at their parting. Love Martin though she did, she -realized she loved her re-won independence more, and -she would not,—<i>could</i> not return to him. Mr. Corey -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_388">[Pg 388]</span> -had taken her in; she had promised to work for him -for a while at least, and it was utterly impossible for -her to tell him, after he had discharged his other secretary, -that she was going back to her husband again. If -Martin had only given her a year or two she might -have been willing to be his wife once more, and she had -told him as much, but Martin refused to listen; he had -thrown down his challenge and forced her then and -there to choose between her job and himself. There was -nothing else for her to do; she had made her decision, -and Martin had gone his way. She had never regretted -it, she said to herself now; she was far better -off to-day, far happier and more contented than she -ever would have been as Mrs. Martin Devlin. As his -wife she would have had ties and known sickness; she -and he would have quarrelled and there would have -been everlasting recriminations; she would have lost -her looks, and her clothes would have become shabby; -she would have grown familiar with poverty and have -had to fight for herself and family the way Alice did,—poor, -deserving, hard-working Alice, with her five children -and unsuccessful husband! No doubt she, Jeannette, -had missed much in life, but hers had been the -safe course, the prudent and sure one. She was now -in charge of the Mail Order Department of the Corey -Publishing Company, she was earning fifty dollars a -week, had five Liberty bonds all paid for, and was beholden -to no one.... Of Martin she had not heard -for years. On a visit to Alice at Cohasset Beach, -she had one Sunday encountered ’Stel Teschemacher -and that lady had informed her that Zeb Kline, while -on a brief visit to Philadelphia, had seen Martin, and -Martin had an agency for a motor-car there and was -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_389">[Pg 389]</span> -doing quite well. Jeannette would have liked to hear -more, but she did not care to have ’Stel Teschemacher -suspect she was interested.</p> - -<p>It was ’Stel’s husband who sold the Beardsleys their -home at Cohasset Beach. The purchase had followed -the death of Roy’s father and the return of Roy and -his family to New York. Dr. Beardsley had not lived -long enough to make a writer’s career for his son -possible. His death had sadly broken up the small -home in Mill Valley, and Roy and Alice had deemed -it wiser to put the little money the clergyman left them -into a home of their own than spend it in paying rent, -butchers’ and grocers’ bills on the chance that Roy’s -pen might some day earn a livelihood sufficient for -their needs. He had been only moderately successful -as an author. His dog story had been published and -he had placed several short stories but these had been -few and far between and then little Frank had come -to add his chubby countenance to the family circle and -his parents decided a writer’s career was too precarious -for a man with a family. A job on a newspaper -or magazine would insure a steady income. So with -grief over their bereavement and disappointment in -their hearts for the abandoned profession, Roy and -his wife returned to New York and then in quick succession -had come the finding of his position on the -<i>Quart-z-Arts Review</i> which carried with it a moderate -salary, the purchase of the house at Cohasset -Beach, and in time the arrival of the small Jeannette,—’Nettie -she was called to distinguish her from her -aunt,—and Baby Roy, who was seven years old now -and had recently asserted his manhood by resenting -the identifying adjective by which he had been known -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_390">[Pg 390]</span> -since birth. Jeannette paused a moment in her retrospective -thoughts to calculate: Twenty-two years! -Yes,—Alice and Roy had been married twenty-two -years! They were an old married couple now.</p> - -<h5>§ 3</h5> - -<p>She realized abruptly she had reached the office. -Men and women, up and down the street, were converging -in their courses toward the doors of the publishing -company. The great concrete block of eight -stories, crowded now to the limit of its capacity, with -the thundering presses on the lower floors, had often -seemed to her a monster that sucked in through its tiny -mouth each morning a small army of workers, mulled -them about all day between its ruminating jaws, fed on -their juices and spewed them forth at evening to go -their ways and gather new strength during the night -to feed its hungry maw again upon the morrow.</p> - -<p>Though the picture was grim and repellent, she -cherished no hostility toward the institution that employed -her. With the exception of the four-year interlude -of adventuring in matrimony, she had been an -employee of the self-same concern since she was -eighteen; for nearly twenty years her name had appeared -upon its pay-roll; in November she could make -that very boast. More than any building in the world -this block of steel and concrete was bound up with her -destiny; she had spent most of the days of her life -within it; she had seen its beginnings, had watched it -spring into being, had had a hand in altering and -adapting it to the needs of business, had observed its -almost barren floors slowly fill year after year with -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_391">[Pg 391]</span> -human activity until now the use of every square foot -of space was a matter of debate; she was one of the -half dozen still gleaning a livelihood within its walls -to-day who could speak of a time before its existence -had even been conceived.</p> - -<p>Most of those early associates on Union Square -were gone now,—dead or following other lines of endeavor. -Old Kipps still pottered about in the manufacturing -department, Mr. Cavendish white-haired, -gray-moustached and rosy, still edited <i>Corey’s Commentary</i>; -Miss Travers, her merry face now lined -with many criss-crossed wrinkles, had succeeded Mr. -Olmstead and while not accorded the title of Auditor, -which he had enjoyed, was known as the Cashier. Then -there was Sidney Frank Allister, who, while he did -not date back to the Union Square days, was still to -be reckoned among those early associated with the -fortunes of the publishing company, and now very -much identified with them since he had become President -and sat in the seat of Chandler B. Corey.</p> - -<p>For Mr. Corey was dead. He had died the year -Jeannette lost her mother and had followed his son, -Willis, to the grave after a few months. Mrs. Corey -had left him a widower many years before. There remained -only his daughter, Babs, in an Adirondack -sanitarium for the insane, to inherit his wealth and -fifty-one per cent of the stock of the business he had -created. He died a rich man and his will provided -that his worldly possessions should be divided equally -between his two children, their heirs and assigns, and -of these last there were none, for Willis had never married -and Babs could not. Jeannette often used to -muse upon the futility of human ambition when she -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_392">[Pg 392]</span> -thought of the man she had served so long as secretary. -She knew it had been the great desire of his -life to found a publishing house that should become -identified with the growth of American literature and -pass on down the years in the hands of the Corey -family, father and son succeeding one another after -the fashion of some of the great English houses.</p> - -<p>One day while sitting in his office intent upon affairs -of business, his head dropped forward and -banged on the hard surface of his desk before him, -and he was dead. His heart had suddenly grown -tired of its work. Even before he was laid away at -Woodlawn, there had begun the mad scramble for the -control of stock which would elect his successor. Jeannette -never learned how Mr. Allister succeeded in obtaining -it, but Mr. Featherstone had shortly been -eliminated entirely from the affairs of the company -and it was whispered that Mr. Kipps had played a -double game. However that may have been, Sidney -Frank Allister was by far the best man to fill Corey’s -place, in Jeannette’s opinion. He was not so shrewd -nor so far-seeing, but he had certain literary -qualifications which fitted him for the position. Mr. -Featherstone, Jeannette had early come to regard as -a blustering blow-hard, while Mr. Kipps was hardly -grammatical in speech or in letters, and had grown -into a fussy old man. Francis Holm or Walt Chase -might have proven themselves even better material, -but three years prior to Mr. Corey’s death, both these -young men had broken away from the old organization; -Holm had launched forth into the publishing business -for himself, and Walt Chase had gone to Sears, -Roebuck & Co. in Chicago at a salary, it was rumored, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_393">[Pg 393]</span> -of ten thousand a year, and Jeannette had succeeded -him as head of the Mail Order Department.</p> - -<p>Much as she had enjoyed being secretary to Mr. -Corey, she was forced to realize as the years rolled -by, that the position held no future for her. She would -always be the president’s secretary as long as Mr. -Corey lived but against the congenial work and easy -rôle her ambition had protested. Recollections of -early resolutions she had made on entering the business -world returned to disturb her complacency. She -remembered vowing then she would go to the very top -and some day become herself an executive instead of -a secretary. She saw no reason why she should not -follow in Walt Chase’s footsteps and be worth ten -thousand a year, if not to the Corey Company then to -some other. She had great confidence in herself, felt -especially qualified to do mail order work, and was sure -she could increase sales and manage the department -better than Walt Chase. It was a pet idea of hers that -women, not men, bought books by mail, and she was -confident that attacks directed at women, written from -a feminine standpoint, would show results. When the -offer from Chicago came and Chase announced he was -going, she determined suddenly to seize the opportunity -and asked Mr. Corey for Chase’s place; she had -played secretary long enough, she told him,—she -wanted her chance at bigger work.</p> - -<p>There had been a great deal of demurring and discussion -before she was allowed to try her hand. Mr. -Kipps and Mr. Featherstone had vigorously opposed -the plan, arguing that while Miss Sturgis had proven -herself an incomparable secretary, there was no indication -she would be equally successful in charge of -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_394">[Pg 394]</span> -the Mail Order Department. Walt Chase had built -up a steady sale for the company’s publications, and -had been, doing many thousands of dollars’ worth of -business a year. Mr. Kipps and Mr. Featherstone -shared the opinion that a woman was not competent -to manage affairs involving so much money,—they -were too large for the feminine mind to grasp. They -contended, too, that she had had no experience in mail -order affairs, and that a young man, named Owens, -who had been Chase’s assistant for over a year, was -his logical successor, and had been led to expect the -promotion; it was doubtful, they said, whether he and -Mr. Sparks, and old Mr. Harris and the one or two -other men who had been under Walt Chase would consent -to remain if a woman was placed in charge of -them; this particular branch of the business had become -exceedingly profitable and it was pointed out to -Mr. Corey that he was in great danger of demoralizing -it by permitting a girl to assume its management.</p> - -<p>Jeannette had stood firm and resolutely pressed her -request in the face of opposition which she considered -stupid and which angered her. Mr. Corey finally -agreed to give her a trial although it was clear he had -his misgivings. But during the nine years in which -Jeannette had filled the coveted position, she had amply -demonstrated to everyone’s satisfaction her faith -in herself to be warranted, and this in spite of the fact -that Owens and Sparks had promptly resigned as predicted -by Mr. Featherstone and Mr. Kipps, and for a -time the work had been demoralized indeed.</p> - -<p>Yet she triumphed, as she knew she would, and the -ideas she had long cherished for conducting mail order -campaigns had borne fruit. Last year she had the -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_395">[Pg 395]</span> -satisfaction of stating in her annual report that the -business of her department had doubled in size since -she had taken it in charge. It had been a long struggle -fraught with interference and constant criticism of -her methods. It had been particularly hard at first -when Mr. Kipps supervised everything she did and -vetoed some of her pet projects. He had hampered her -in every way he could, not because he had any personal -feeling against her but because she was a woman and -he had no faith in a woman’s judgment. That was -the way he had always treated Miss Holland; but now -since Miss Holland had resigned and gone to live with -her nephew in Brooklyn, he was willing at any minute -to wax eloquent in praise of her extraordinary ability: -ah, yes,—yes, indeed,—Miss Holland was a remarkable -woman,—fitted in every way for business,—brain -like a man’s,—wonderfully clear-sighted, excellent -judgment; they didn’t “make” many women -like Miss Holland,—she was the exception, one in a -million!</p> - -<p>Jeannette had to contend against such prejudice for -the first year or two, but eventually she overcame it. -Mr. Corey helped her whenever possible. She strove to -keep the affairs of her department to herself and when -forced to seek higher authority, made a practice of -going directly to the President who had been the first -to be convinced of her ability. As time went on, Kipps -and the other members of the firm inclined to question -her gradually allowed her to go her way. It had -taken nearly a decade to win their confidence but there -was satisfaction in the thought that at last it was hers, -the victory was complete. Of course old Mr. Kipps -would always purse his lips and frown dubiously about -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_396">[Pg 396]</span> -anything she proposed for he would never be completely -convinced of her ability until she followed in -Miss Holland’s footsteps, but Kipps was stooped and -aged now and little attention was paid to what he said -or did. The Board of Directors was satisfied with -the generalship of Miss Sturgis whose monthly reports -of sales and profits confirmed their confidence. -When some other department reported a loss, or when -business in general was poor, the Mail Order Department -could be depended upon to show a consoling -profit.</p> - -<h5>§ 4</h5> - -<p>One section of the sixth floor was Jeannette’s domain. -She had tried for years to have her department -walled off by partitions but the best she had been able -to obtain for herself and her girls was a line of -screens and bookcases. She had twenty-four clerks -under her now, although the number fluctuated, particularly -during October when the fall campaign was -in progress. Then her force often swelled to over a -hundred and the extra help was quartered temporarily -in neighboring vacant lofts and offices, rented for a -few weeks. She then had her lieutenants to superintend -the work, which for the most part consisted -merely of folding and inserting circulars in envelopes, -sealing and stamping.</p> - -<p>Her department was well organized; the work had -been so systematized that it now moved with perfect -smoothness. Old Sam Harris,—who represented all -that was left of Walt Chase’s régime,—supervised the -card catalogues; Miss Stenicke was in charge of the -girls; the “inquiries” were checked and answered by -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_397">[Pg 397]</span> -Mrs. M’Ardle, while orders were entered and forwarded -to the stock room for filling by little Miss -Lacy. Jeannette devoted herself to the preparation -of copy for letters, circulars and advertisement. This -was the most important part of the work, and she believed -her time and brains could not be better employed. -She kept huge scrap-books in which she -pasted circulars and letters issued by other mail order -houses and spent hours poring over them.</p> - -<h5>§ 5</h5> - -<p>Her desk stood on a low platform and from this -vantage-point she could overlook her department as -a school teacher surveys her schoolroom. She -prided herself she could tell at a glance what any particular -girl ought to be doing; if ever in doubt she -promptly summoned Mrs. M’Ardle to her desk and -inquired. All the girls respected and admired her; -they knew her to be fair-dealing and straightforward, -though swift in censure where merited. She liked to -have them think of her in this way and cultivated the -idea.</p> - -<p>“You’re conscientious and you try hard,” she would -say in admonishing some unfortunate bungler. “I -want to be just to you. In conducting the affairs of -this department, I want to be as lenient as I can. I -strive to forget personalities and think only of my -assistants,—or perhaps I had better say ‘associates,’—as -co-helpers in a big machine, each one functioning -to the best of her ability at her particular piece -of work. I’ve explained my ideas to Mr. Allister repeatedly. -I want the girls in the Mail Order Department -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_398">[Pg 398]</span> -to be every one her own boss, to come and go -as she pleases, and feel responsible—not to me but to -the work.... I want to be a ‘big sister’ to every -girl under me. I’m placed here to help, advise and -direct, not to scold. But if you fail to perform properly -the work assigned you, if you’re clumsy and careless -and haphazard in your methods, then it is my -duty to call the fact to your attention.... I want to -be fair to everyone; I have no favorites....”</p> - -<p>The lecture might continue at some length particularly -if Miss Stenicke, Mrs. M’Ardle or little Miss -Lacy was within earshot.</p> - -<p>For a long time this Mail Order branch of the business -of which she was the head had called forth Jeannette’s -great pride. She had felt it was all hers,—her -work. But of late, she had been stirred less and less. -After all what had been accomplished? For nearly -ten years she had bent her energies to making this -phase of the activities of the Corey Publishing Company -aboundingly successful. There no longer remained -any question as to whether or not she had -achieved her purpose. A year or two ago a recalcitrant -spirit among her girls had immediately aroused -in her a determination to break it; the discovery of -an error at once had challenged her to trace it to its -source; the questioning of her authority or trespassing -upon her prerogatives had stirred her upon the instant -to battle. One of the keenest pleasures of her -days had been to draft laws that should govern her -girls and to see that these were enforced. She had -begun to detect in herself within the last year or two -an increasing indifference to all such things,—she did -not care as she once had cared. She was no longer -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_399">[Pg 399]</span> -hampered or troubled by those “downstairs”; her assistants -and her girls gave her small occasion for -supervision; the work of the department ran on well-oiled -wheels. With opposition eliminated, the task of -organization perfected, the maximum volume of business -attained, there remained nothing to fire her spirit -or brain, to stimulate fresh effort. And she was distressed -by a suspicion that more and more persistently -obtruded itself upon her consciousness that perhaps -she was getting old, that the indifference to what -went on about her and to her work was merely a sign -of approaching age!</p> - -<p>She rebelled at the idea; she put it from her vigorously; -she refused to entertain it. Why, she was only -forty-three! She was in the heyday of her powers. -Her judgment, her mind, her capacities were never -so keen as now. She was equal to far more exacting, -more difficult work. Disturbed by this fear, she decided -to look about her for fresh fields of endeavor. There -was no higher position in the Corey Publishing Company -open to her; more important places were all -filled by members of the firm, and it was not likely that -any one of them would step aside and give her a chance -at his work. No,—though proud of her long years of -service and her record with the publishing company,—she -decided that neither was of sufficient importance -to keep her indefinitely on its pay-roll until she was -ready to follow in Miss Holland’s footsteps. She let -it be known in mail order circles that she was looking -for a job.</p> - -<p>Of Walt Chase she continued to think enviously. -She had heard he was now one of the big men in Sears, -Roebuck & Company, a fact that exasperated her, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_400">[Pg 400]</span> -because she felt herself to be cleverer than he, more -able in every respect. He was getting ten thousand—twelve -thousand—fifteen thousand,—whatever it was,—a -year and climbing the ladder of success rung after -rung, while she was doing the work he had left behind -him at the Corey Publishing Company in a far more -efficient, economical, and profitable way and was being -paid fifty dollars a week!</p> - -<p>One day she learned of a vacancy in the American -Suit & Cloak Company, where they were looking for -someone familiar with mail order work. She wrote -and applied for the position. A conference with the -General Manager followed. It developed he was in -search of a man,—a woman, it was feared, was not -qualified to do the work,—but the Manager admitted he -knew Miss Sturgis by reputation and would be glad -to make a place for her in his organization if she was -dissatisfied where she was,—and he could promise her,—well, -he could pay her thirty-five dollars a week. -Jeannette declined and eased her mind by writing a -coldly worded letter of thanks and regret; the General -Manager of the American Suit & Cloak Company -must have a poor opinion of her sense of values, if he -expected her to resign from a position where she was -the head of a department and receiving fifty dollars a -week to accept an underling’s place at a smaller -salary! But fifty dollars a week from the Corey Publishing -Company was far below what she was worth, -Jeannette considered. It infuriated her to think that -while Mr. Allister and those “downstairs” were glib -with their commendation of her work, there was never -any talk of expressing this appreciation by a raise in -salary.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_401">[Pg 401]</span></p> - -<h5>§ 6</h5> - -<p>Her first business in the mornings upon reaching -her desk was to fasten a sheet of paper about each -of her wrists and pin another to the front of her shirtwaist -as a protection against dirt. It was almost impossible -to go through half a day and keep one’s linen -clean without these shields. Dust from the street filtered -in through the windows, that must be kept open -at the top for ventilation and occasionally little feathery -balls of soot made their appearance. Contact with -office furniture always held the risk of a smudge. Jeannette -had her desk and chair thoroughly wiped off by -one of her girls before she reached the office in the -morning and again when she went to lunch but in an -hour or two after these protective measures, she would -begin to feel grit under the tips of her fingers and -observe a fine gray layer on the surfaces of white -paper.</p> - -<p>She usually arrived five or ten minutes before nine -o’clock at which hour the business of the day was supposed -to begin. Never late herself, she had trained -her girls to be equally punctual. It was a matter of -pride with her that in the Mail Order Department -work began promptly on the stroke of the hour. There -was no formality about the way it commenced. Without -sign or sound from Jeannette the girls set about -their various duties with simultaneous accord, the -noise of chatter and laughter died away, there was a -general scraping of chair legs on the cement floor, and -the buzz of typewriters, like the chirping of marsh -frogs, began slowly to gather volume.</p> - -<p>First Jeannette turned her attention to her “Incoming” -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_402">[Pg 402]</span> -basket, neatly stacked the clipped correspondence, -memorandums and communications before her, -and, armed with a thick blue pencil, began their disposal, -marking certain letters and papers a vigorous -“No” or “O.K.-J.S.”—pinning a sheet of scratch pad -to others and scribbling thereon a brief direction or -query. Most of the pile before her disappeared into -her “Outgoing” basket, but in an upper corner of her -desk was a folder inscribed: “Mr. Allister,” and into -this she would occasionally slip a letter or memorandum. -Its contents would go to him by boy later in the -day; once in a while she carried some important matter -to him herself but she troubled him as little as -possible. She tried to keep the affairs of her department -to herself; the less she attracted the attention of -the Directors, the less they were likely to ask for reports -or feel called upon to supervise or investigate -her work; she preferred to let the monthly statements -of sales speak for her.</p> - -<p>By ten o’clock the “Incoming” basket would be -empty, and she could begin the preparation of copy for -an advertisement, a circular letter, or the arrangement -of a leaflet setting forth the features of a new set of -books. This was the work she loved best to do, knowing -she was unusually good at it; there were daily evidences -her copy “pulled,” that the touches she gave -her advertisements were productive of sales. No one -“downstairs” appreciated how clever she was, though -there were the reports of sales to attest to her ability.</p> - -<p>She often wished there was more of this particular -kind of ad-writing and circular-preparing to be done, -but the books of the Corey Publishing Company sold by -mail, year after year, varied little in type: These were -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_403">[Pg 403]</span> -a standard dictionary, a Home Library of Living Literature, -a set of handbooks for Garden and Kitchen, -and then there were the dressmaking books issued in -connection with the pattern department: “How to -Sew,” “How to Knit,” “How to Embroider.” In -addition to the circularizing for these was that for subscriptions -to the magazines, offered in conjunction -with some particular premium.</p> - -<p>When a special letter had to be prepared, Jeannette -preferred to write it at home or come back to the office -at night when she could be alone and undisturbed. -There was continual interruption during the day; she -rarely enjoyed five minutes of consecutive thought. -One source of distraction and a great annoyance was -having personally to initial every request for supplies, -no matter how trifling. This was one of Mr. -Kipps’ schemes. He had made it a rule that heads of -departments must O.K. all such requisitions. A paper -of pins, a pot of paste, a pad of paper could not be issued -by the stock clerk to any of her girls without -Jeannette’s initials being affixed to the request. All -day long she was interrupted by: “C’n I have a pencil, -Miss Sturgis?” “Please O.K. my slip for some -paper, Miss Sturgis.” “’Xcuse me for interruptin’ -you, Miss Sturgis, but I need some pen points.” Mr. -Kipps’ idea was to prevent waste, but Jeannette frequently -realized with exasperation that her time was -of a great deal more value to the company than pencils, -pens or paper, and there was a far greater waste -in interrupting a line of constructive thinking than in -trying to conserve the supplies of the stock room.</p> - -<p>The telephone at her desk was continually at her -ear: the composing room wanted the cut for Job 648; -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_404">[Pg 404]</span> -the engraver didn’t have the “Ben Day” she had -specified; Mr. Sanders, Mr. Kipps’ assistant, wished -to know if she could use a Five-and-a-quarter envelope -just as well as a Number Six; she had requisitioned -five thousand two-cent stamps and they had not been -delivered; she needed a hundred thousand more “Dictionary” -circulars, and would like Stamper & Bachellor -to submit her some “m.f. laid, 24 by 36” in various -tints; the stencil machine was out of order and she -wanted to borrow one from the mailing department.</p> - -<p>One thing followed another all day long.</p> - -<p>“If we insert that return postal, we can’t mail this -attack under two-cent postage.”</p> - -<p>“Hello, Miss Sturgis,—say, <i>Events</i> can only give -us a half page; will you prepare new copy for the -smaller space? They’re waiting to go to press.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Sturgis, we’re running short on ‘<i>How to -Knit</i>.’”</p> - -<p>“Miss Sturgis, we’ll have to get in some extra girls -if you want those letters signed by hand.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Sturgis, do you want these mimeographed or -printed?”</p> - -<p>“Miss Sturgis, Mr. Allister’d like to see you.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Sturgis, c’n I have some pins?”</p> - -<p>At a quarter past twelve she went to lunch. She -made a point of going promptly. There was a time, -some years back, when she had fallen into the habit -of letting her lunch hour lapse over into the afternoon, -allowing the demands upon her further and further -to postpone it, and it had been two o’clock, sometimes -three before she went out. As a result, indigestion -and headaches commenced seriously to trouble her, -and the doctor advised a regular hour for lunch. At -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_405">[Pg 405]</span> -twelve-fifteen, therefore, she compelled herself to drop -whatever she had in hand and leave the office; one of -the girls was instructed to call her attention to the -time.</p> - -<p>She always went to the Clover Tea Room for her -luncheon. This was a little basement restaurant operated -by two elderly sisters. It was prettily appointed -with yellow lights, yellow candles, yellow embroidered -table doilies and yellow painted furniture. -Jeannette had her own special table daily reserved for -her. Lunch cost sixty-five cents and consisted generally -of a small fruit cocktail, a chop, a little fish, or an -individual meat pie, with an accompanying dab of -vegetable, and a dessert.</p> - -<p>She was accustomed to enter the Tea Room at -twelve-twenty almost to the minute: a tall, fine-figured, -handsome woman in her dark tailor-made, her modish -hat and fur scarf. She would proceed directly to her -table, exchanging a smile and a word of greeting with -the elder Miss Hanlon as she passed her desk. Unbuttoning -her gloves and drawing them from her -hands, she would study the handwritten menu:</p> - -<p>Minnie would presently come for her order.</p> - -<p>“Morning, Miss Sturgis; what’s it to-day? Stew -looks good.”</p> - -<p>“Good morning, Minnie. Well, if you say so, I’ll -have the stew. And don’t forget to bring lemon with -my tea.”</p> - -<p>The Tea Room would be but partially filled when -Jeannette entered, but as she waited for her lunch -other people began to arrive. Ah, here was Miss -Hogan of Lyman & Howell, and here was that pretty -Miss Thompson of Altman’s; Mr. Crothers of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_406">[Pg 406]</span> -Stationers’ Supply was late,—no, here he was; Mrs. -Diggs had that funny looking hat on again; this person -was a stranger and that couple, busily talking, -were quite evidently shoppers. A gray-haired woman -in the corner appeared at the Tea Room several times -of late; Jeannette decided she must ask Miss Hanlon -who she was, and find out where she was employed.</p> - -<p>At quarter to one or perhaps ten minutes before the -hour, Jeannette would pour a little drinking water -from her tumbler over her finger-tips into her empty -dessert saucer, moisten her lips, wipe them on the little -yellow napkin, and draw on her gloves nicely. She -always left ten cents for Minnie and paid her check at -Miss Hanlon’s desk on her way out. Usually she had -the better part of half-an-hour before it was time to -return to the office. Between the Tea Room and the -corner of the Avenue, she almost invariably encountered -Miss Travers, the Cashier, who likewise patronized -the little restaurant. They would nod and smile -at one another as they passed but neither had time to -pause for words. Jeannette frequently had a small -errand to perform: gloves to get at the cleaners’, her -shoes polished, a bit of shopping, a book to exchange -at the library. When there was nothing specially -pressing, she would pay a visit to a bustling Fifth -Avenue store, where she would make her way through -crowds of jostling women, and inspect counters, examining, -even pricing the merchandise that attracted -her. In the long years she had been an office-worker, -she had spent many a luncheon hour in this fashion; -she never grew tried of such visits, nor of acquainting -herself with the new fads, novelties and latest styles -in feminine apparel.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_407">[Pg 407]</span></p> - -<p>Just one hour after she had left it, she would be -back at her desk, readjusting her paper cuffs, and re-pinning -the sheet at her breast. At once the demands -upon her would recommence:</p> - -<p>“Miss Sturgis, while you were out, engravers -’phoned and said they can’t find that cut.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Sturgis, Mr. Kipps wants to know how many -copies of <i>Garden and Kitchen</i> we sold up to November -first last.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Sturgis, Miss Hilliker went home sick.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Sturgis, will you sign my requisition for a box -of clips?”</p> - -<p>“Miss Sturgis, c’n I have a pencil?”</p> - -<p>Thus it would continue for the rest of the day. The -afternoon light would shine bleak and garish through -the fireproofed windows with their meshed wire embedded -in the glass, the dust would settle on desks and -papers, the thundering presses on the lower floors -would send fine vibrations through the building, -typewriters would maintain a clicking droning, -a buzz of small noises would harass the ear, there -would be a continual flash of paper and of white hands -at the folders’ tables, while pervading everything -would be the thick sweet smell of ink emanating from -stacks of new print matter fresh from the press-room.</p> - -<p>Five o’clock always surprised Jeannette. Her work -absorbed her; if she threw a hasty glance at the neat -small mahogany-cased clock on her desk, it was to -ascertain if there was time enough to complete one -more task that day, or to begin preparations for a -new one. The ringing gong that sounded “quitting -time” invariably startled her into a blank sensation -of discouragement. She would wish at that moment -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_408">[Pg 408]</span> -for another hour to finish the matter in hand,—just -a little longer and she would have it out of the way! -The commotion among the girls which instantly followed -the gong never failed to annoy her. In less -than five minutes,—save for Mrs. M’Ardle, little Miss -Lacy, Miss Stenicke, and old man Harris,—her department -would be empty. These assistants remained -a little later to clean up the day’s work and prepare -for the morrow’s. In another quarter of an hour, -they too would begin to bang desk drawers shut, and -prepare to depart. Presently Jeannette would be -alone. She usually was the last to leave. It was then -that a feeling of fatigue, a weariness of soul, a distaste -of life would begin to assert themselves. Reaction -from the racing events of morning and afternoon -would close down upon her and of a sudden her work, -her days, her whole life, would seem drab, colorless, -profitless. What did it matter if a few more copies of -the Dictionary were sold, what difference did it make -if the new attack was a success, whether or not little -Miss Lacy was inclined to be careless, or that Mr. -Kipps had attempted to interfere with her again? Of -what importance was the Mail Order Department of -the Corey Publishing Company anyway? Or the concern -itself? Mr. Corey had worked hard all his life -and then had died and left it behind him! What good -had it ever done him? This racketing building represented -such trivial enterprise after all! It seemed -ridiculously trifling.... She would get to her feet -with a great sigh of apathy, disgust for her work and -life rising strong within her. Frequently with a sweep -of an impatient hand she would scoop the papers before -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_409">[Pg 409]</span> -her into the top drawer of her desk, or thrust -them back into her “Incoming” basket. They could -wait until the morrow; to-night they bored her; she -wanted to get away; to shut them out of her mind! ... -Ah, it was all so petty! No one would thank -her for working after hours! She was sick to death -of it!</p> - -<p>She would adjust her hat with her usual care before -the mirror in the dressing-room, tucking her hair -neatly beneath its brim, don fur and gloves, and proceed -to the elevator.</p> - -<p>On the way out she might encounter Mr. Kipps or -Mr. Allister.</p> - -<p>“Good-evening, Miss Sturgis.”</p> - -<p>“Good-evening, Mr. Allister.”</p> - -<p>The street would be blue with gathering dusk, and -crowded with dark hurrying figures homeward bound. -Lights here and there streamed from office windows, -dabs of brilliant yellow in the purple scene. Motor -trucks and delivery wagons backed to the curb were -being piled with crates and packages by hustling, calling -men and boys. The tide of workers let loose from -desk and counter set strongly in conflicting currents. -Long lines of traffic filled the congested thoroughfare -and waited for the signal to move forward. A dull -clamor, a pulsing bass note, a sound of feet, voices, -motor horns, a banging and bawling, a thumping and -hubbub, clatter and rumble, throbbed persistently. -There was a sense of hurry and dispatch in the air. -No one had any time to waste; it was the hour of -home-going, the end of the day’s toil, the feeding time -of the great army of workers.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_410">[Pg 410]</span></p> - -<h5>§ 7</h5> - -<p>Dinner had still to be prepared by the time Jeannette -reached the apartment in Waverly Place. Beatrice, -who was employed by a manufacturer of soaps -and toilet waters a few blocks from where she lived, -was usually in the kitchen when her friend arrived. -Beatrice did the marketing at her lunch hour, or in -going to and from her office. Mrs. Welch, who lived -downstairs, obligingly took in packages and kept an -eye on Mitzi, well qualified, however, to look after -herself. The cat mysteriously disappeared during the -day to present herself bright-eyed, hungry and affectionate -the instant Jeannette’s or Beatrice’s steps -sounded in the hall.</p> - -<p>The dinners the two working women shared were -usually simple. Very seldom they ate meat. Eggs in -any form were popular and the evening meal,—nine -times out of ten,—began with a canned soup served in -cups. From the delicatessen on Sixth Avenue a -variety of canned food was obtainable. Jeannette and -Beatrice were particularly fond of canned chicken <i>á -la King</i>, which had merely to be heated, seasoned and -poured over toast. Sometimes they made their dinner -of soup, a can of asparagus tips, tea and crullers. -The asparagus tips made frequent appearances. -Beatrice kept in the ice-box a little jar of mayonnaise, -which she usually whipped together on Sundays. -Macaroni salad was another prime favorite, and there -were also tuna fish, creamed or made into a salad, and -fish balls whenever they could be obtained.</p> - -<p>Once in a while on a Sunday or on one of those -rare occasions when company was expected Beatrice -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_411">[Pg 411]</span> -struggled with meat and potatoes for a three-course -meal, but in these ventures she received small encouragement -from Jeannette. The latter was forever proclaiming -she “despised” to cook and was therefore -averse to betraying any interest in plans for an elaborate -meal; the odor of meat cooking in the house -smelled the place up horribly, she declared.</p> - -<p>Punctiliously, however, she performed her share of -the work in cleaning up after dinner. She dried the -dishes, gathered the small luncheon cloth by its four -corners and gave it a quick shake out of a rear window, -put away the silverware, and restored to the sideboard -drawer the two fringed napkins in their red lacquer -rings, rearranged the table and pushed back the chairs -against the wall. Beatrice meanwhile would be busy -fussing in the kitchen, washing the one or two pans -she had used, the tea-pot and few dishes, feeding Mitzi -the remnants of the can of soup and perhaps a bit of -fish or a little fried liver. By half past seven dinner -would be a thing of the past and the little home in -order again.</p> - -<p>Jeannette made it a practice to spend the ensuing -hour or two in the seclusion of her own room. In many -ways, this was the happiest time of the day for her. -She was alone finally and could count upon being unhurried -and undisturbed. First she made her bed with -care: the undersheet must be stretched tight and tucked -well under the mattress, there must be no wrinkles -and the covers must be folded in loosely at the bottom; -she affected a baby pillow which twice a week must be -slipped into a fresh embroidered case. Five minutes -followed with the carpet sweeper; the room was tidied,—everything -put in its right place. When all was -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_412">[Pg 412]</span> -done, she would feel free to turn her attention to herself. -If there was mending, she next disposed of it; -distasteful though sewing had always been to her, she -had grown dexterous with her needle. She spent -fifteen minutes manicuring her nails, and an equal -time brushing her hair and rubbing a tonic into her -scalp. The gray was very thick over the right temple -and Beatrice had urged her to have it “touched up” -but Jeannette rather liked it as it was; she considered -it added a distinguished touch. There were other intimate -offices she performed at this hour with great thoroughness, -her vigorousness increasing as time carried -her into middle age. Twice a week, sometimes oftener, -she took a hot bath about nine o’clock. Great preparations -were attached to this performance, and she indulged -herself in perfumed bath salts, perfumed soap, -and delicately scented powder. When Mehitable -brought home the “wash” on Friday nights, Jeannette -devoted half-an-hour to running pink satin ribbons -through her chemises and brassières. The ribbons -she carefully steamed herself once a month and -pressed with the electric iron in the kitchen. But those -nights on which she did not bathe, when her room was -in order and her toilette completed, she would don a -kimona, and, with hair hanging in pig-tails down her -back, her feet in Japanese wicker sandals, shuffle her -way to the front room, with a book under her arm, to -join Beatrice for perhaps an hour’s chat or reading -before finally retiring. Neither she nor her companion -ever went to the movies, and seldom to the theatre. -Saturday afternoons Jeannette spent in tours of -shrewd and calculated shopping, and on Sundays she -went to Cohasset Beach to spend the day with Alice -and the children.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_413">[Pg 413]</span></p> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III_II">CHAPTER II</h4> -</div> - -<h5>§ 1</h5> - -<p>Jeannette, on her way to Cohasset Beach, let her -Sunday newspaper drift indifferently into her lap, and -turned her attention to the October landscape through -the car window. The train was filled with Sunday visitors -like herself, bound for friends and relatives in the -suburbs. They would enjoy a hearty meal around a -crowded table at one o’clock, would inspect the local -country club for a view of the links or the golfers -in their “sports” clothes, indulge, perhaps, in a motor -trip to gain further aspects of the autumnal foliage, -or, complaining of having over-eaten and demurring -at any effort, establish themselves at the card table to -while away the rest of the afternoon at bridge. At five -o’clock the swarm that had filtered into the country all -morning through the Pennsylvania Station would decide -with one accord to return to the city, the cars -would be jammed and every seat taken long before the -westbound trains reached Cohasset Beach. It was -always a noisy crowd with crying, tired babies wriggling -in parents’ laps, golfers arguing about their -scores and the adjustment of their bets, silly girls -convulsed at one another’s confidences or lifting shrill -pipes of mirth at the hoarse whispered comments from -slouching male escorts, returning ball teams of youthful -enthusiasts who banged each other over the head -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_414">[Pg 414]</span> -and vented their high spirits in rough jibes or horse-play.</p> - -<p>Sunday travel was a bore, thought Jeannette in -mild vexation. Even the outbound trains during the -morning, which were never more than comfortably -filled, stopped at every station along the line, no matter -how insignificant. It took ten minutes longer to -get to Cohasset Beach on Sundays than on any other -day of the week; the express trains that left the city -late in the afternoons from Monday to Saturday -landed Roy home in nineteen minutes. It used to take -a weary forty-five, Jeannette remembered, when the -East River had first to be crossed by ferry and the -rest of the way travelled in the old racketing, shabby, -plush-seated, puffing steam trains from Long Island -City.</p> - -<p>She fell to musing as she idly watched the country -flying past. She recalled the time when she and Martin -had paid their first visit to Cohasset Beach as -guests of the Herbert Gibbses and had gone picnicking -on the shore at the Family Yacht Club. The Gibbses -owned a handsome home on the Point to-day, and the -little Yacht Club had been merged into the Cohasset -Beach Yacht Club, which, since the fire that had laid -it in ashy ruins, was now housed in a large, imposing -edifice of brick and stone. The town itself,—then -hardly more than a summer resort for “rich New -Yorkers,” a few hundred houses scattered carelessly -over some wooded hills,—had grown within the last -dozen years into a flourishing community with banks, -brick business blocks, and fireproof schools, with paved -streets, and rows upon rows of white painted houses -with green shutters and fan-shaped transoms above -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_415">[Pg 415]</span> -panelled colonial doorways. The woods were gone; the -sycamores and gnarled old apple trees had given place -to spindling elms set at orderly intervals on either -side the carefully graded streets and to formal little -gardens and close-cropped patches of lawn. The dilapidated -wooden station had been supplanted by a -substantial concrete affair, surrounded with cement -pavements, and provided with comfortable, steam-heated -waiting-rooms. The whirring electric trains -swept on to other thriving villages further down the -Island, and paused, coming or going, but a minute -or two at the older town which had once been the terminal. -There were now blocks and blocks of these -trimly-built, neatly-equipped houses at Cohasset -Beach, each with its garden, its curving cement walks -and contiguous garage, and Messrs. Adolph Kuntz and -Stephen Teschemacher had built stone mansions for -themselves in the center of Cohasset Beach Park, to-day -the “court” end of town.</p> - -<p>Alice and Roy lived in humbler quarters: the old -frame house Fritz Wiggens and his paralytic mother -had once occupied. It was yellow and gabled, rusty -and blistered, and spread itself out in ungainly fashion -over a none-too-large bit of ground. It had, by no -means, been a poor investment, although the building -had needed a steady stream of repairs since the -Beardsleys acquired it. Roy had been offered three -times what he paid for it on account of its desirable -location overlooking the waters of the Sound. Every -now and then he and Alice discussed selling the place -but invariably reached the same conclusion: Rents -were prohibitive and no other house half as satisfactory -could be purchased for the money without assuming -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_416">[Pg 416]</span> -a mortgage, an additional financial burden not to be -considered; their problem was to devise ways of reducing -expenses rather than increasing them.</p> - -<h5>§ 2</h5> - -<p>Jeannette had decided to walk to her sister’s house, -but on the platform as she descended from the train -she unexpectedly encountered Zeb Kline and his wife, -awaiting the arrival of Sunday guests. Zeb had married -Nick Birdsell’s daughter and gone into partnership -with his father-in-law; Birdsell & Kline, General -Contractors, had built most of the new houses in Cohasset -Beach, and now Zeb had a fine stucco one of -his own, and his wife drove about in her limousine -and kept a chauffeur.</p> - -<p>At the time Jeannette and Martin separated, the -former had been aware that the sympathy of the community -was with her genial, amusing, good-looking -husband. The townsfolk considered she had treated -him “shamefully”; only Edith French and the Doc -were acquainted with the true facts of the case and had -defended her, but the Doc and his wife had moved -away within a year after Jeannette returned to work, -and she had lost touch with them. Word reached her -that they had settled in St. Louis, that the Doc had -had his right hand amputated as the result of an infection -from an operation, and that he was running -a drug store there. Later Jeannette heard that Edith -had left him and married an actor.</p> - -<p>Suspecting a hostile attitude among these friends -and acquaintances of her married years, Jeannette had -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_417">[Pg 417]</span> -kept herself carefully aloof from all of them when -Roy and Alice selected Cohasset Beach for their home. -She would avert her eyes when passing any of them -on the street, or would bow with but a brief, unsmiling -inclination of the head when forced to acknowledge -recognition.</p> - -<p>Now, as she came face to face with Zeb Kline and -his wife, Zeb, a trifle flustered, lifted his cap and -greeted her by name, and Jeannette, also taken unawares, -responded with more cordiality than she felt. -She was somewhat perturbed by the incident and was -conscious of Kitty Birdsell Kline’s appraising eye following -her as she made her way across the station -platform.</p> - -<p>It was this trifling occurrence that induced her to -alter her intention and ride to Alice’s. Mrs. Kline -might be admiring her,—her clothes and carriage,—or -she might be sneering. In either case, the scrutiny -was unwelcome, and, straightening her shoulders, -Jeannette directed her steps toward one of the shabby, -waiting Fords, and climbed in. She had no intention -of letting the Klines sweep by her in their limousine -while she trudged along the sidewalk.</p> - -<p>Established in her taxi and rattling over the familiar -route to her sister’s home, a pleasant thought of Zeb -came to her. After all, he was the best of that rough -and common group; he had always been polite to her, -honest and straightforward; she remembered how kind -he had been about the construction of the screens for -the bungalow’s windows, hurrying their making and -charging her practically no more than they had cost. -She wondered if he had been to Philadelphia recently -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_418">[Pg 418]</span> -or had heard anything more of Martin. If she should -chance to meet Zeb in the street some day, she debated -whether or not she should ask him for news.</p> - -<p>Baby Roy, clad in his Sunday corduroy “knickers” -and a white shirt, which Jeannette knew well had been -put upon him clean that morning, was sprawled on the -cement steps of the Beardsleys’ home as her vehicle -stopped before it. The cleanly appearance had departed -from Baby Roy’s shirt, the trousers had become -divorced from it, his collar was rumpled, and the -bow tie, which his aunt suspected Etta’s hurried fingers -had tied before church, was bedraggled and askew -over one shoulder. He lay on his back, his head upon -the hard stone, his fair hair in tousled confusion, gazing -straight upward into the sky, his arms waving -aimlessly above him. He made no move at the sound -of the motor-car and only stirred when Jeannette -reached the steps.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Aunt Jan,” he drawled in his curious, indolent -voice.</p> - -<p>“Well, I declare,” said Jeannette, surveying him -with puzzled amusement, “will you kindly tell me what -you’re doing there? What are you looking at? What -do you think you see?”</p> - -<p>Baby Roy smiled foolishly, and with open mouth, -twisted his jaw slowly from side to side.</p> - -<p>“Aw,—I was just thinking,” he answered in awkward -embarrassment. He got to his feet and put his -arms around his aunt’s neck as she stooped to kiss -him.</p> - -<p>His cheek was soft and warm, and he smelled of -dirt and sunburn.</p> - -<p>“You’re a sight,” she told him; “your mother will -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_419">[Pg 419]</span> -be wild. Why don’t you try to keep yourself clean -one day a week at least?”</p> - -<p>“Ma won’t care,” the youngster observed, “and Et -won’t say nothin’.”</p> - -<p>“Pronounce your ‘g’s, Baby Roy,—say ‘noth-<i>ing</i>.’ -Why will Etta say nothing?”</p> - -<p>“’Cause she’s got her feller.”</p> - -<p>“Who? That pimply-faced Eckles boy?”</p> - -<p>The child nodded and then irrelevantly added:</p> - -<p>“Nettie’s got appendicitis.”</p> - -<p>“Good gracious!” exclaimed Jeannette. “Where -did she get that?”</p> - -<p>Further information was not forthcoming. The -woman’s mind flew to the possible complications such -a calamity would precipitate as she opened her bag -and felt among its contents for the nickel package of -lemon drops she had purchased at the Pennsylvania -Station while waiting for her train. She shook three -of the candies out into Baby Roy’s dirt-streaked palm, -and was admonishing the recipient that they were to be -eaten one by one, when there was a clatter of hard -shoes on the porch and a boy of thirteen catapulted -out of the house.</p> - -<p>“Dibs on the funny paper!” he yelled.</p> - -<p>Jeannette eyed him with assumed disapproval.</p> - -<p>“There’s no necessity for such a racket, Frank; it’s -Sunday, remember, and your sister’s sick and everything.”</p> - -<p>She proceeded at once, however, to unfold her newspaper -and to hand him the comic section.</p> - -<p>“I brought you one out of the <i>American</i>, too.” -Frank seized the papers and grunted his thanks.</p> - -<p>“How is Nettie?” inquired his aunt.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_420">[Pg 420]</span></p> - -<p>She had to repeat her question for the boy’s attention -was already absorbed by the colored pictures.</p> - -<p>“Oh, she’s all right, I guess,” he answered carelessly.</p> - -<p>“Is she really sick?”</p> - -<p>“I dunno.”</p> - -<p>Reproof was on Jeannette’s lips but she checked -herself. Frank was her favorite among her sister’s -children; he was the only one of them, she was at pains -to declare frequently, who had any “gumption.” The -rest were like their easy-going, amiable parents. -Frank had some of her own energy; he was like her -in many ways. It was clear he was destined to be -the mainstay of his father’s and mother’s old age. He -was sure to get on, make money, be successful no -matter in what direction he turned his energies. A -fine, clever boy, she considered him, with some “get-up-and-get” -in his composition.</p> - -<p>She left the two brothers seated side by side on the -steps, poring over the “comics.” Their voices followed -her as she entered the house.</p> - -<p>“Go on, read it to me;—go on, read it to me. Don’t -be a dirty stinker.”</p> - -<p>“Aw, shut up, can’t yer? Wait till I get through -first.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette met Alice in the hallway and her first -question was of the sick child. Alice kissed her with -affection and hugged her warmly.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think anything’s the matter,” she said reassuringly. -“Nothing in the world but an old-fashioned -stomach-ache; something she’s eaten,—that’s -all. I thought it wiser to keep her in bed for to-day,—give -her insides a good rest.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_421">[Pg 421]</span></p> - -<p>“Why, Baby Roy said it was appendicitis!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, nonsense! The child isn’t any more sick than -I am!”</p> - -<p>“Well, it gave me quite a turn.”</p> - -<p>“Of course!” agreed Alice.</p> - -<p>Jeannette eyed her sister a moment in suspicion. -Allie’s vehement rejection of the idea that anything -might be seriously the matter suggested Christian Science. -Jeannette had heard Mrs. Eddy’s teachings discussed -more or less frequently of late by her sister -and brother-in-law. She suspected they both leaned -toward that faith but lacked courage to come out -openly and declare themselves. She wondered how far -these idiotic principles had laid hold of them, and now, -with a searching glance, she asked:</p> - -<p>“Has error crept in?”</p> - -<p>Alice blushed readily and laughed.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know anything about that. If she’s any -worse to-morrow, I’ll send for the doctor.</p> - -<p>“I should hope so,” Jeannette approved warmly.</p> - -<p>“Etta’s delighted with her dress,” Alice said with -an abruptness that suggested a desire to change the -subject. “You were a dear to help her out.”</p> - -<p>“It was nothing at all,—less than five dollars. It -seemed a shame not to get something that was becoming, -and there’s real value in that garment.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, indeed. I could see that.”</p> - -<p>Great thumping, banging and scraping were going -on somewhere down below.</p> - -<p>“Roy and Ralph are cleaning the furnace,” explained -Alice in answer to her sister’s puzzled look. -“It hasn’t been fired,—oh, I don’t think since last -March.... Come upstairs and lay your things on -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_422">[Pg 422]</span> -Etta’s bed. I’ve got Nettie in mine; it’s so much -pleasanter in our room.”</p> - -<p>The two women mounted the creaking stairs. In -the front room a little girl was propped up in bed -with several pillows; she was cutting out pictures from -magazines and the bed clothes and carpet were littered -with scraps and slips of paper; a thin, plaid shawl -was about her shoulders, fastened clumsily across her -chest with a large safety-pin. She was not a particularly -pretty child; her face was too long and too pale, -but her hair, soft and rippling, had the warm brown -color that had distinguished her mother’s, and her -eyes were of the same hue.</p> - -<p>“Look, Moth’, I put a new hat on this lady and -she looks a lot nicer.” The child held up a wavering -silhouette for inspection. “Oh, hello, Aunt Janny,” -she cried as her aunt appeared in her mother’s wake; -“was that you in the taxi?”</p> - -<p>There was a note of real pleasure, Jeannette felt, -in the little girl’s greeting, and she put some feeling -into her kiss as she bent down to embrace her.</p> - -<p>“I brought you some lemon drops, Nettie, but since -you’re upset perhaps you’d better not have them.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m quite all right,” said the little girl brightly. -“I’m not the least bit sick.”</p> - -<p>Here was the cloven hoof of Christian Science again, -thought her aunt darkly; the child had been coached, -no doubt! It was a great pity if that rigmarole was -going to be taken up by Alice and Roy to make them -all miserable!</p> - -<p>“Well, I think I wouldn’t eat candy till to-morrow,” -advised Jeannette. “What I think you need is a good -dose of castor-oil,” she added firmly with a glance at -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_423">[Pg 423]</span> -her sister. “But here,—I have something here, I -know you’ll like much better,” she went on, searching -in her bag. She brought to light a gold-colored, -metal pencil about three inches long with a tiny ring -at one end, and gave it to the child.</p> - -<p>“Oh, thank you, Aunt Janny,—thank you awfully,” -cried the invalid, immediately beginning to experiment -with the cap which, in turning, shortened or lengthened -the lead.</p> - -<p>“Where’s Etta?”</p> - -<p>“Gone to church,” Alice replied.</p> - -<p>“Heavens! ... What for?” Jeannette turned inquiring -eyes upon the girl’s mother. It was not that -she lacked sympathy with any religious observance -on her niece’s part, but church-going for Etta was unusual. -The younger children were sent dutifully to -Sunday school but the rest of the family were rather -casual about attending divine services. Alice smiled -significantly in answer to the query, elevated a shoulder, -and indulged in a slight head-shake.</p> - -<p>“I suppose that means a boy again,” Jeannette said, -interpreting the look and gesture. “Doesn’t she see -enough of them afternoons and evenings? I declare, -Alice, I don’t know what you’re going to do with that -girl. Yesterday afternoon, all she could talk about was -the movies, and she even stopped me in front of a -photographer’s show-case to ask me if I didn’t think -a man in it was perfectly stunning! ... He was old -enough to be her father!”</p> - -<p>“Well, all the girls are like that nowadays.”</p> - -<p>“It was decidedly different when we were that age.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, indeed it was,” agreed Etta’s mother. “I was -thinking only yesterday how we used——”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_424">[Pg 424]</span></p> - -<p>“You made a great mistake,” interrupted Jeannette, -“in letting her bob her hair. It’s affected her -whole character. She was never quite so frivolous -before.”</p> - -<p>“That was her father’s doing,” said Alice mildly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, well,—he’d let her do anything she wanted! -She has but to ask! ... What do you intend to do -with her? Let her run round this way indefinitely? -I’d make her take up sewing or cooking or learn some -language.”</p> - -<p>“Etta can sew quite nicely,” said her mother -loyally, “and she’s a good cook. She wants to go to -work,—you know that. She thinks you’d have no -difficulty in getting her a position at the office.”</p> - -<p>“Well, perhaps I would, and perhaps I wouldn’t. -But I don’t approve of the idea! She’d much better -go to Columbia or Hunter College.”</p> - -<p>“But, Janny dear, we’ve been all over that, time -and time again. That costs money. It would take several -hundred a year to send Etta to college, and we -haven’t got it. Roy thinks it’s much more important -that Ralph should follow up his engineering at some -university.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette tapped her pursed lips with a meditative -finger.</p> - -<p>“When’s he ready?”</p> - -<p>“This is his last year in High School.”</p> - -<p>“It would be wiser to send him to business college.”</p> - -<p>“Roy’s heart is set on Princeton, but if we can’t -afford that,—and I don’t see how we possibly can!—then -Columbia. He could commute, you know.”</p> - -<p>Voices and the sound of feet on the porch announced -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_425">[Pg 425]</span> -arrivals. Jeannette drew aside a limp window curtain -and gazed down at the front steps.</p> - -<p>“It’s that pimply Eckles youth,” she announced.</p> - -<p>“His dog has nine puppies and he’s promised one to -me,” came from the bed.</p> - -<p>“I hope Etta doesn’t ask him to stay to dinner,” -Alice remarked, “it’ll make Kate furious.”</p> - -<p>“No, he’s going.... I must take off my things.”</p> - -<p>Etta running upstairs a moment or two later found -her aunt before the mirror in her room, powdering -her nose.</p> - -<p>“Oh, darling!” The girl rushed at her and flung -her arms about her enthusiastically.</p> - -<p>“Careful,—careful, dearie,—I’ve just fixed myself.” -Jeannette held Etta’s arms to the girl’s sides -and implanted a brief kiss on her forehead. The -enthusiasm of her niece was in nowise crushed.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t we have fun yesterday, Aunt Jan? Oh, I -just love going shopping with you! You know <i>everything</i>!”</p> - -<p>Jeannette smiled complacently. She was a dear -child, this! So responsive and appreciative!</p> - -<p>Suddenly she glanced at her sharply, whipped a -handkerchief from the bureau, and before unsuspecting -Etta could guess what she was about, gave the -girl’s lip a quick rub. There was a tell-tale smudge -of red on the white linen. Jeannette held forth the -evidence accusingly and her niece began to laugh, -hanging her head like a little girl half her years.</p> - -<p>“I tell you, Etta, it doesn’t become you! Your lips -are red enough without putting any of that Jap paste -on them! When you rouge them, it makes you look -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_426">[Pg 426]</span> -cheap and common.... I don’t care <i>what</i> the other -girls do!”</p> - -<p>She surveyed the girl critically: a handsome child -with a lovely mop of dark brown hair that clung in -rich clusters of natural curls about her neck and ears; -her eyes were unusually large and of a deep, velvety -duskiness, though there was a perpetual merry light -in them, and her mouth, too, had a ready smile; her -teeth were glistening white, but her complexion was -bad, given to eruptions and blotches.</p> - -<p>“And I wish,” continued Jeannette, “you’d stop -eating candy and ice-cream sodas, and leave cake and -pastry alone. Your skin would clear out in no time. -It’s a shame a girl as pretty as you has to spoil her -looks by injudicious eating.”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t it the limit?” agreed Etta. Her face clouded -and she went close to the mirror to study her reflection -narrowly.</p> - -<p>“I never knew it to fail!” she said in disgust. -“Wednesday night, Marjorie Bowen’s giving a bridge -party, and she’s invited a boy I’m just dying to meet! -And there’s a blossom coming right here on my chin! -I always break out if there’s anything special doing!”</p> - -<p>“Well, I tell you!” exclaimed her aunt. “You -wouldn’t have those things if you’d diet with a little -care. Massaging won’t help a bit; you’ve got to remember -to stop eating sweets.... Who’s the new -beau you’re ‘dying to meet’?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he’s a high-roller,—lives down on the Point,—drives -a Stutz and everything! The girls are all mad -about him. He’s been at Manlius for the last two -or three years, and now he’s freshman at Yale.... -Name’s Herbert Gibbs!”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_427">[Pg 427]</span></p> - -<p>“Goodness gracious!” ejaculated her aunt.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?”</p> - -<p>“Well, ... nothing....”</p> - -<p>“Oh, tell me please, Aunt Jan!—Please tell me!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be foolish! I knew his father, that’s all, and -I once saw your ‘high-roller’ in his crib when he was -less than a year old.... Isn’t he rather expressionless -and flat-headed?”</p> - -<p>“No; I think he’s perfectly stunning. He wears -the best-looking clothes and he’s an awful sport!”</p> - -<p>“Well, you’d never expect it, if you’d known his -father,” her aunt said dryly.</p> - -<p>There was an ascending tramp of feet on the stairs, -and Roy with his eldest son appeared, dishevelled -and sooty.</p> - -<p>“That was a dirty job, all right,” declared Roy after -he had greeted his sister-in-law and kissed her with the -tips of his lips for fear of contaminating her. “I -don’t think she’s been cleaned for years. We shovelled -out a ton of soot. Ralph did all the hard work.”</p> - -<p>He seemed a little ridiculous, a little pathetic to -Jeannette, as he stood before her with his smirched -and blackened face, and his tight, wan smile, the upper -lip drawn taut across his row of even teeth. His -stuck-up hair was still unruly, and had begun to recede -at the temples and to thin on top; his face was -lined with tiny wrinkles and he wore spectacles with -bifocal lenses and metal rims,—an insignificant man, -industrious, conscientious, weighed down with the -cares and responsibilities of a large family. Life had -dealt harshly with him, and somehow, remembering the -boy with the whimsical smile who had once made such -earnest love to herself in the flush of youth, Jeannette -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_428">[Pg 428]</span> -could not but regard the result as tragic. She was -fond of Roy, nevertheless; he was always amiable, -always good-tempered and cheerful, but she wondered -at this moment as she took stock of him what sort -of a man he would have become if she, and not Alice, -had married him. Different, no doubt, for she would -have pushed him into material success; she would not -have been as easy-going with him as Alice; he had -wanted to write; well, if she had been his wife, he -would probably have turned out to be a very successful -author for he had ability.</p> - -<p>Roy’s oldest son, Ralph, was in many ways like his -father. He had the same sweet, obliging nature and -was even gentler. His voice had the quality of Baby -Roy’s: indolent, drawling, dragging, and he spoke -with a leisureliness that was often irritating. He was -slight of build, narrow-chested and stoop-shouldered, -a student by disposition, forever burrowing into a book -or frowning over a magazine article. Jeannette would -have considered this highly commendable had Ralph -ever shown any evidence of having gleaned something -from his reading, or displayed any knowledge as a result -of it. What he read seemed to pass through his -mind like water through a sieve.</p> - -<p>She had brought down an advanced copy of the -forthcoming issue of <i>Corey’s Commentary</i> for him, -and he accepted this now, with an appreciative word.</p> - -<p>She always made a point of bringing presents to -her sister’s children whenever she visited them; she -liked the reputation of never coming empty-handed. -The gifts, themselves, might be trifling,—indeed she -thought it becoming that they should be,—but she -strove to make them sufficiently appropriate to indicate -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_429">[Pg 429]</span> -considerable thoughtfulness in their selection. -She regarded herself as very generous where her nieces -and nephews were concerned. Yesterday she had -enabled Etta to buy a more expensive dress than was -possible with the money her mother had given her, and -last week she had sent Frank a fine sweater from a sale -of boys’ sweaters she happened upon in a department -store. Of all her sister’s children, Frank baffled her. -He treated her casually, almost with indifference. -While the other children swarmed about her with -effusive gratitude and affection, whenever she gave -them anything, Frank either grunted his thanks or -failed to express them at all. She loved him by far the -best, and was continually making him presents or defending -him from criticism. Her partiality was so -noticeable she was mildly teased about it by the rest of -the family; but it drew no recognition from the boy. -His aunt, eyeing him with great yearning in her heart, -would often wonder how she could bribe him to put his -stout, rough arms about her neck and kiss her once with -warmth and tenderness. She was never able to stir -him to the faintest betrayal of sentiment.</p> - -<p>Her benevolence toward her sister’s family frequently -went further than presents for the children. -At Christmas-time she was munificent to them all, and -she never forgot one of their birthdays. Once a year -she took Nettie, Frank and Baby Roy to the Hippodrome, -and on the occasional Saturdays that Alice or -Etta came to the city, she always had them to lunch -with her, accompanied them on their shopping trips, -and contributed, here and there, to their small purchases. -Not infrequently when she knew Alice was -worrying unduly about some vexatious account, she -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_430">[Pg 430]</span> -would press a neatly folded bill into her hand. She -liked the power that money gave her where they were -concerned; she delighted in their gratitude and deference -to her opinions; she was an important factor in -their lives and she enjoyed the part.</p> - -<h5>§ 3</h5> - -<p>At one o’clock dinner was announced. There was -little ceremony about the Beardsleys’ meals; the important -business was to be fed. Kate, the cook and -waitress,—a big-bosomed, wide-hipped Irish woman, -with the strength of a horse and the disposition of a -bear,—had scant regard for the preferences of any -one member of the family she served. Her attention -was concentrated upon her work; indeed, it required -a considerable amount of clear-thinking and planning -to dispatch it at all, and she brooked no interference. -Roy, Alice, and the children were frankly -afraid of her; even Jeannette admitted a wholesome -respect.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Kate’s in an awful tantrum!” the whisper -would go around the house and the family would deport -itself with due regard to Kate’s mood.</p> - -<p>She piled the food on the table, rattled the bell and -departed kitchenward, leaving the Beardsleys to assemble -as promptly or as tardily as they chose. There -never were but two courses to a meal: meat and dessert. -Kate had no time to bother with soup or salad. -Her cooking was good, however, and there were always -great dishes of potatoes and other vegetables as well -as a large plate of muffins or some other kind of hot -bread. Jeannette firmly asserted that Kate’s meat -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_431">[Pg 431]</span> -pie with its brown crisp crust could not be surpassed -in any kitchen.</p> - -<p>To-day there were but seven at table as Nettie remained -upstairs in bed. She would have crackers and -milk later, her mother announced.</p> - -<p>“Milk toast,” Jeannette suggested. But Alice shook -her head and made a motion in the direction of the -kitchen.</p> - -<p>“She doesn’t like anyone fussing out there,” she -whispered, “and I don’t like to ask her to do it herself; -it’s extra work no matter how trivial. The -Graham crackers will do just as well; Nettie’s quite -fond of them.”</p> - -<p>It was a cheerful scene, this gathering at the table -of Roy, his wife, and their children. Tongues wagged -constantly; there was happy laughter and loud talk, -much clatter of china and clinking of silverware. Roy -stood up to carve and he served generously; plates -were passed from hand to hand around the table to -Alice who sat opposite him and she added heaping -spoonfuls of creamed cauliflower or string beans, and -mashed potatoes. The pile of food set down in front -of each seemed, by its quantity, unappetizing to Jeannette, -but the others evidently did not share her feeling, -for they cleaned their plates, while Frank and -Baby Roy almost always asked for more. The remarks -that flew about the board had small relevancy, -but she found them interesting, liked to lean back in -her chair, with wrists folded one across the other in -her lap, and listen comfortably.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Kuntz tells me he’s sold the Carleton place; -the Hirshstines bought it,” Roy might observe.</p> - -<p>“Oh, golly,—those kikes!”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_432">[Pg 432]</span></p> - -<p>“Frank, you mustn’t speak that way; Mrs. Hirshstine’s -a nice woman, and Abe Hirshstine’s very -public-spirited.”</p> - -<p>“They may be Jews all right, but I wouldn’t consider -them ‘kikes’; there’s a lot of difference.” -Ralph’s drawl often had that irritating quality his -aunt disliked.</p> - -<p>“Well, <i>she’s</i> certainly a dumb-bell, if there ever was -one.” Jeannette would infer this was of the daughter.</p> - -<p>“That’s because Buddy Eckles’s after her!”</p> - -<p>Etta with curling lip would dismiss this without -comment.</p> - -<p>“He likes to drive her Marmon,—that’s what <i>he’s</i> -after.”</p> - -<p>“She spoke about taking us all over to Long Beach, -Saturday, and Buddy’s going to drive.”</p> - -<p>“Hot dog!”</p> - -<p>“You can’t go, smarty!”</p> - -<p>“<i>Why?</i>—Why can’t I go?”</p> - -<p>“’Cause you’ve got to go to the dentist’s.”</p> - -<p>“Aw,—cusses!”</p> - -<p>“Do you think I’d better have the storm windows -put up to-morrow, Roy, when that man comes to fix -the radiators?”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t hurry about it; it isn’t November first -yet.”</p> - -<p>“I know, but it keeps the house so much warmer, and -I was thinking about Nettie....”</p> - -<p>“Ralph and I can do it when you need them.”</p> - -<p>“We get Barthelmess at the Plaza Friday and -Saturday!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, c’n I go, Moth’?”</p> - -<p>“We’ll see; perhaps your father will take you.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_433">[Pg 433]</span></p> - -<p>“Do you let the children go to the movies much, -Alice?”</p> - -<p>“Depends on the picture. Barthelmess is always -clean and good.”</p> - -<p>“Friday I’ll be late coming home, and Saturday -night I’m afraid I’ll have to go to the Civic Improvement -meeting.”</p> - -<p>“Bet I’m gypped!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t worry, Baby Roy; I’ll let you go by yourself, -Saturday afternoon, if you’re a good boy.”</p> - -<p>“Pulitzer’s closing out his meat market; going to -handle nothing but groceries from now on.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I guess he’s made money. He’s a good citizen, -all right. He subscribed two hundred and fifty for -the district nurse.”</p> - -<p>“Did you get on to my classy hair part, Aunt Jan? -All the women-getters at school do their hair this way -now.”</p> - -<p>“Really, Frank! Your language ...! I don’t -know where or how you pick up such phrases.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be too critical, Alice. He attaches no significance -to them. You know what boys are.”</p> - -<p>There was an endless stream of such talk, Roy and -his wife frequently maintaining one conversation between -ends of the table, while their children carried -on another across it.</p> - -<p>Kate crammed the soiled dishes on the oval, black, -tin tray, piled them high, and grasping the tray with -strong arms, bore it to the kitchen, kicking the swing -door violently open as she passed through.</p> - -<p>Dessert made its appearance, usually a deep apple -pie, a chocolate pudding or a mound of flavored jelly -in which slices of banana careened at various angles. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_434">[Pg 434]</span> -Kate refused flatly to bother with ice-cream. Once -in a while she condescended to make a layer cake.</p> - -<p>During the meal it was customary for the telephone -to ring several times. Instantly at each summons, Etta -would be upon her feet and make a quick dash for -the instrument. Long conversations would ensue in -which Etta’s voice would drift down to the dining-room.</p> - -<p>“Well, I didn’t.... Well, you tell him I didn’t.... -Well, you tell him I didn’t say anything of the kind.... -I never did.... He’s just crazy.... I never -said anything of the kind.... Well, you tell him I -didn’t....”</p> - -<p>“Etta!” her father would call presently. The voice -would continue unfalteringly, and Roy at intervals -would repeat her name until finally the long-winded -parley would be brought to an end.</p> - -<p>By two o’clock on this particular day the meal was -over, and there was a general breaking-up of the -group. Alice went out into the kitchen to prepare Nettie’s -tray. Frank vanished in pursuit of his own -affairs, which usually took him to the house of “Chinee” -Langlon, whose parents were wealthy and had -lavished everything they could think of on their one -son, including an elaborate wireless outfit. Buddy -Eckles arrived a few minutes past the hour, planting -himself on the front steps, and waited ostensibly for -Etta to go walking with him. Jeannette had her own -ideas as to where they actually went. She suspected -they made their way without delay to the home of -some girl friend, whose parents were absent or had -lax ideas about the Sabbath, and there, having carefully -pulled down the window-shades, out of deference -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_435">[Pg 435]</span> -to the possible prejudices of passers-by, they rolled -back the rugs, turned on the Victrola, and with other -couples as frivolous as themselves, danced until within -a minute or two of the time when it was necessary to -return to their respective families. Ralph disappeared -up into his den,—a wretched, ill-lighted, -cramped chamber he had built himself in the attic. -He kept the door of this apartment carefully locked -at all times, and when within by the light of a kerosene -lamp, read what his aunt earnestly hoped was -entirely edifying literature, and where, she was thoroughly -persuaded, he indulged secretly in cigarettes. -Baby Roy wandered amiably and uncomplainingly -about, listening to his elders’ conversation, or took -himself off into the scraggy garden where he hid in -strange nooks and told himself stories in a droning -voice which always ended in frightening him. Jeannette -regarded him the strangest of her sister’s children; -she frankly declared she did not understand him -and thought Alice outrageously lenient where he was -concerned.</p> - -<h5>§ 4</h5> - -<p>To-day’s visit was an unusually happy one for Jeannette. -Nettie drifted off to sleep while her mother -and aunt established themselves in shabby grass-rockers -on the side-porch and had a long, comfortable -talk. The day had turned unexpectedly warm and -there was a reviving touch of dead summer in the air. -In a neighbor’s garden, chrysanthemums and cosmos -were still in bloom, and the brilliant colors made the -Beardsleys’ own unkempt little yard appear gay and -luxuriant. A mechanical piano tinkled pleasantly -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_436">[Pg 436]</span> -somewhere, and every now and then there came the -vibrant hum of a passing motor-car. Kate marched -past her mistress and her mistress’s sister presently, -clad in sober town clothes and wearing one of Jeannette’s -discarded hats which the giver thought, at the -moment, became her nicely. Kate was off for the rest -of the day, and Alice with Etta’s help would manage -the cold supper for the family at half-past six. A -stillness on this midafternoon settled about the house -usually teeming exuberantly with life. Through an -open window near at hand, the women on the porch -could hear an occasional rustle of papers as Roy, -prone upon the leather-covered couch in the living-room, -read the Sunday news.</p> - -<p>Alice drew a deep sigh of weary comfort.</p> - -<p>“I ought to get at my sewing, I suppose, but I don’t -like bringing it out on the porch Sunday; people can -see you from the street.... It’s so pleasant out here, -I hate to go in.”</p> - -<p>“Sit awhile,” encouraged Jeannette. “You’re always -worrying yourself about something, Alice.”</p> - -<p>“I have to. Frank’s stockings have <i>got</i> to be darned -or he can’t go to school to-morrow; Baby Roy’s cap is -torn and I noticed his school suit needs cleaning.”</p> - -<p>“You ought to make Etta do these things.”</p> - -<p>“Etta does enough,” her mother defended her; -“she’s only young once, you know, and Sunday ought -to be as much of a holiday for her as it is for other -young folks.... And there’re some letters I must -write, one to Nettie’s teacher for Frank to take to -school with him in the morning.... Mercy! there’s -never any let-up to it. I’ve got to go over this month’s -bills with Roy some time to-day and decide what we’re -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_437">[Pg 437]</span> -going to do about them. You know, I just <i>won’t</i> bother -him about money matters when he comes home all -tired out at night, and I have to wait until Sunday.”</p> - -<p>“How are you off this month? Any worse than -usual?”</p> - -<p>“Roy’s premium falls due. I’ve got the money all -right, but some of the monthly bills will have to wait.... -You know, Jan, I’m sick to death of this ever-constant -worry about money; I’ve had it all my life, -ever since I was a little girl. I wish to goodness I -could earn something on the side. When the children -were little, I couldn’t spare the time, but that isn’t -a consideration now. Etta could perfectly well take -care of the house, and I could devote several hours a -day to some kind of work that would bring in money. -I thought I’d knit a few sweaters and see if I could -induce some shop in the city to handle them; it would -only cost me the wool. If I’d learned typing, I think -I could get some copying to do. You know it makes -me ashamed to realize how little I could earn if I -was obliged to get out and seek my living. I’d be -worth about ten dollars a week. That would be what -they’d call my ‘economic value.’ ...”</p> - -<p>“‘Economic value!’” cried Jeannette. “What do -you mean? The mother of five children has an economic -value of ten dollars a week! Why, Alice, you -talk like a crazy woman!”</p> - -<p>“I may be worth a great deal more than that to the -nation, but that’s all I’d be worth to a business man.”</p> - -<p>“The Government ought to give you an annual income -the rest of your life for every child you bring -into the world; that would represent your economic -value!”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_438">[Pg 438]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, there’s no likelihood of their doing it,” -laughed Alice. “I wish I had a definite way of earning -money,—I mean a profession like a stenographer -or a nurse. I’ve always claimed, Janny, that every -woman, married or single, ought to learn a trade or -profession. You have no idea how I envy you, sometimes. -You’re independent, you’re beholden to no -one, you’re utterly free of all these cares and responsibilities -that harass me from morning to night.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette shook her head emphatically.</p> - -<p>“You don’t know, Alice,” she said. “If you envy -me my life, I envy you a hundred times more. I envy -you these very cares and responsibilities of which you -complain; I envy you your husband and your children -and all those things that go to make a home.... Oh, -I think sometimes, I was a blithering <i>fool</i> to have left -Martin!”</p> - -<p>His name had not crossed her lips for months, and -for a little time there was silence on the porch.</p> - -<p>“Do you ever hear from him?” asked Alice in a -lower key.</p> - -<p>“No. I understand he’s in Philadelphia in the automobile -business. You know as much about him as -I do.”</p> - -<p>“And he’s never married?”</p> - -<p>“We’ve never been divorced.”</p> - -<p>Again there was an interval of silence.</p> - -<p>“Would you go back to him, Jan?”</p> - -<p>Jeannette stared out into the warm sunshine, and -her rocker ceased its slow movement.</p> - -<p>“I’ve thought about it,” she admitted. “I’d like a -home. I’m so tired of the office. There’s nothing to -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_439">[Pg 439]</span> -work for in the business any more. I’ve got as far -as they’ll let me go; there’s no future for me.”</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you write him?” Alice suggested, -watching her sister’s serious face. “He may be as -lonely as you are.”</p> - -<p>“It’s fourteen years,” mused Jeannette. “We’ve -both changed. He may be very different.”</p> - -<p>“He may still be thinking of you and blaming himself -for having treated you so unkindly.... Why -don’t you write him and just say you’d be glad to -know how he’s getting on?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know his address.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that could be found out easily enough.”</p> - -<p>There was a sound within, and Roy came stumbling -out on the porch to stretch himself, luxuriously.</p> - -<p>“Whew!” he said, enjoying a great yawn. “I -nearly went to sleep in there.”</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you? A nap would have done you -good.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t like to miss a single minute of my one day -at home. It’s too pleasant out here.”</p> - -<p>Alice began to fidget, clearing her throat nervously.</p> - -<p>“Do you feel like going over some bills with me, -Roy?” she ventured with obvious reluctance.</p> - -<p>“Sure,” he agreed good-naturedly.</p> - -<p>He sat down on the steps, while his wife went indoors -and presently returned with a sheaf of bills, -a pad and pencil. She established herself next to him.</p> - -<p>“Now you see, Roy,” she began, “in the first place, -there’s the two hundred and forty that’s due on the -fifth. I’ve got one hundred and fifty saved up, and -that means I must take ninety out of next week’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_440">[Pg 440]</span> -salary. It’s going to leave me precious little, and -there’s your commutation for next month that’s got to -come out right away. I figure we owe about,—well, -it’s not over six hundred; I’m not counting Frank’s -teeth nor Gimbel’s; they can wait. But here’s the first -of the month coming and Pulitzer, you know, won’t -let you charge unless you pay up by the tenth. Now -I was thinking....”</p> - -<p>The voices went on murmuring, and Jeannette -mused. Here it was again: the eternal war against -want, the fight for existence, the battle for bread. -There was never any end to it; it was perpetual, incessant, -unending. In all the houses within the range -of her vision, in all the trim, orderly, little dwellings -that made up Cohasset Beach, in all the thousands and -thousands of homes that dotted Long Island, in the -millions that were scattered over the United States, -and over the world, this struggle was going on. It -was easy in some; it was bitter hard in others. Alice, -who was among the most readily satisfied and uncomplaining -of women, had protested against the everlasting -drudgery, a moment ago! ... Well, she, Jeannette, -had solved that particular problem for herself -pretty much to her satisfaction. It was many years -since she had had to worry about a bill; her income -more than covered her expenses; she had saved and -was going on saving; she had nearly enough money -in the bank to buy another bond. In a few years she -would have ten thousand dollars securely invested. -Then, she would resign from the Corey Publishing -Company,—they would pay her something, part salary, -as long as she lived, the way they did Miss Holland,—and -perhaps she would travel, or perhaps make her -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_441">[Pg 441]</span> -home with Roy and Alice. They would not want her -particularly, but theirs might be the only place to -which she could go; she knew their loyalty and affection -would make them urge her to come to them.... -And there was Frank! She would like to do something -for that boy: pay his way through college or -make him some kind of a handsome present that would -render him eternally grateful to her. But she supposed -he would be getting married as soon as he was -grown up and would have no eyes nor time for anybody -except the fluffy-haired doll he would select for -a wife! ... Love was a funny thing! ... Her mind -drifted to Martin,—Martin, with his youth, his charm, -his good looks, his winning personality. Ah, he was -a man of whom any woman might be proud! Well, -she <i>had</i> been proud of him; she had always admired -him; he had always had a particular appeal for her.... -It was the selfsame thing that was agitating Roy -and Alice to-day, that had caused her disagreement -with Martin,—this struggle for money, for the means -to pay bills, for the wherewithal to buy bread! ... -Ah,—and they had had enough, more than enough, -if Martin only had been reasonable! ... Undoubtedly -he was very successful now; an agency for a -motor-car in Philadelphia indicated success; he was, -in all likelihood, a rich man. She wondered what -would have happened to him and to her if she had -stuck to him! ...</p> - -<p>Her mind wandered into strange speculations. She -had once viewed the streets of Philadelphia from a -car window on her way to Washington. She thought -of the city as blocks and blocks of small brick houses, -with pointed roofs, standing close together, row after -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_442">[Pg 442]</span> -row, each with a little square bit of lawn beside brown -stone front steps. She imagined herself and Martin -in one of these; she was keeping house again, and she -had a cook and perhaps a maid, and of course she -would have an automobile, since Martin had the agency -for one. Her life was full of friendships; she was -able to dress beautifully; Martin’s associates admired -her, thought her handsome, regal; she took a keen -interest in her children’s schooling,—for, of course, -there would be children,—a twelve-year-old Frank, and -perhaps a younger Frank, as well, and one daughter, -a girl different from either Etta or Nettie, a tall girl -with a fine carriage, gracious, dignified, beautiful. -How she would enjoy dressing her, and how proud -Martin would be of his children, and of herself,—her -poise and beauty, her fine clothes and the way she -wore them, her graciousness to his friends and her -capable management of his home....</p> - -<p>“No man ever had a better wife than I have; no -man was ever prouder of his wife and children; no -man was ever more grateful. You’re a wonder, dear,—have -always been a wonder! Other men envy me,—envy -me your beauty and your goodness and your -devotion. Everything I’ve amounted to in this life I -owe to you; you’ve made me what I am; you’ve made -our home what it is! My friends look at you and -think how lucky I’ve been. I look back on all the -hard years we’ve been together, on all the tough -times we’ve had and somehow pulled through, and I -know it’s to you, and not to me, the credit belongs. -Oh, yes, it does! You’ve made my home for me, -you’ve given me my children, you’ve taken the burden -of everything on your shoulders, you’ve carried -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_443">[Pg 443]</span> -us both along and made our venture as man and wife, -as father and mother, successful. I owe everything -in the world to you, and to me you’re the loveliest -and dearest woman in the world....”</p> - -<p>It was Roy’s voice that she heard in the hush of -the warm Sunday afternoon, and it blended with the -queer thoughts of the woman who sat so still in her -rocker as to be thought asleep.</p> - -<p>“No—no, Roy,” Alice interrupted him. “We’ve -done it together. Money doesn’t count with me,—really -it doesn’t. Sometimes I protest a bit when I -think of what the children have to do without, but -there is nothing that can take the place of the love -we all share. We’re a little group, a little clan that’s -always clung together, and I’d rather be cold and -hungry and see the children shabby and needy than -have one less of them, or have discord amongst us. -You and I have had our trials and our disagreements, -but we’ve always loved each other and loved the -children....”</p> - -<p>Alice was crying now, softly crying with her head -against her husband’s shoulder and his arm about her, -and the hot prick of tears came to Jeannette’s eyes -and a burning trickle ran down the side of her nose. -She dropped her forehead into her hand and shielded -her face with her palm.</p> - -<p>“We’ll weather this difficulty as we’ve weathered -many another,” Roy said consolingly. “I’ll go into -the insurance company’s office to-morrow and fix it up -with them; we’ll pay them half on the fifth, and I’m -sure they’ll give me thirty days on the balance. Then -you can settle what’s most pressing and give the others -a little on account.... Why say,—we’ve faced worse -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_444">[Pg 444]</span> -times than this! Do you remember that Christmas -when Ralph was only three and we’d been out trying -to find the kids some cheap presents and I lost that -ten-dollar bill out of my pocket? And do you remember -when I was so rotten sick with pneumonia and -the doctor thought I was going to get T.B.? And do -you remember the time when Baby Roy was coming -and you fell downstairs and broke your collar-bone? ... -I tell you, Alice, we’ve <i>lived</i>, you and I! We -haven’t had very much to do it on, but we’ve <i>lived</i>!”</p> - -<p>“You’re such a comfort, Roy. You’re always so -sweet about everything and you always put heart into -me. You’re wonderful!”</p> - -<p>“It’s <i>you</i> that are the wonder, Alice,—the most wonderful -wife a man ever had!”</p> - -<p>Their heads turned toward one another in mutual -inclination and their lips met lovingly. They sat on -for awhile in silence, Alice’s head once more against -her husband’s shoulder, their hands linked, the man’s -arm about his wife.</p> - -<p>There came a faint sound from somewhere in the -house.</p> - -<p>“That’s Nettie,” Alice said, immediately arousing -herself and getting to her feet. “I’ll go up. The -child’s slept quite a while; it’s almost four o’clock.”</p> - -<p>She crossed the porch with careful tread not to disturb -her sister, and in another minute her voice and -her daughter’s, alternately, floated down from an upstairs -window. Roy produced a pipe from his coat -pocket, and proceeded to empty, fill and light it with -attentive deliberation. When he had it briskly going, -he rose and leisurely crossed the strip of lawn to his -neighbor’s yard, vaulted the low wire fence, and was -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_445">[Pg 445]</span> -lost in a moment beyond the cosmos and chrysanthemums.</p> - -<p>Jeannette remained as she was, head in hand, thinking, -thinking. The tears had dried upon her face, her -eyes were staring, and there was an empty hunger -in her heart that she recognized at last had been there -for a long, long time.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_446">[Pg 446]</span></p> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III_III">CHAPTER III</h4> -</div> - -<h5>§ 1</h5> - -<p>“Etta! Is that you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,—it’s me, Aunt Jan.”</p> - -<p>“Say ‘it’s I,’ dear. What brings you to the city, -Sunday?”</p> - -<p>“I stayed in town last night. There was a dance at -Marjorie Bowen’s cousin’s house and Moth’ said I -could go. We had a perfectly divine time! Her aunt -chaperoned us and I slept with Marj. I thought maybe -you’d be going down to Cohasset Beach this morning, -and we’d go together. So I got up, left the girls -in bed, had my breakfast, and took a ’bus to come -down to see you. I want to talk to you about something.”</p> - -<p>“But, dear,—I wasn’t going to the country to-day. -I promised an old friend of mine who lives at the -Navy Yard in Brooklyn, I’d go to see her this afternoon.”</p> - -<p>Etta’s face fell and she frowned disconsolately at -the carpet. Her aunt suspected something was troubling -her.</p> - -<p>“Couldn’t you tell me what’s on your mind, now?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it wasn’t anything particular; I wanted to ask -your advice, and I thought we’d have a talk as we went -down in the train.”</p> - -<p>A bright light suddenly came into the girl’s face.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_447">[Pg 447]</span></p> - -<p>“Is it Miss Holland you’re going to see, Aunt -Janny? Won’t you let me go with you? Remember -I met her that day she was here to lunch? She’s -perfectly <i>sweet</i>! I’d just love to visit the Navy -Yard!”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t think you’ll find many ensigns or -lieutenants hanging about on Sunday.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but it would be lots of fun, just the same! I’ll -‘phone Moth’ I’m with you and take a late train this -aft! Please say yes, Aunt Janny,—please say yes!”</p> - -<p>The girl was jumping up and down in eagerness.</p> - -<p>“Well-l,” her aunt said with an amused but doubtful -smile, “I don’t see what you’d get out of it, particularly.”</p> - -<p>“I’d just love the trip, and I’d like being with you, -Aunt Janny,—really I would!”</p> - -<p>Jeannette narrowed her lids and eyed her skeptically. -She was pleased, nevertheless. Her niece’s excessive -ebullition and high spirits never failed to divert -her; she liked the child’s company; the girl had a -great respect for her worldly judgment, much more -than she had for her mother’s or father’s, and the -older woman found it an engaging business to expound -her theories of life and her views of affairs to the -younger one.</p> - -<p>“I’m not going until after lunch,” she said, still -with a vague hesitancy in her manner.</p> - -<p>“I don’t mind waiting a bit.”</p> - -<p>“Can you amuse yourself until noon? I have some -office work to do that will take me about an hour. Miss -Alexander’s gone to church but she’ll be back directly.”</p> - -<p>“Could I make some egg muffins? We could have -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_448">[Pg 448]</span> -’em for lunch, an’ they’re awfully nice and I’m really -good at them.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette noted the child’s palpitant eagerness -again with mild amusement.</p> - -<p>“I think that would be lovely,” she consented, her -fine eyes twinkling. “But don’t get things out there -in a mess; Miss Alexander won’t like it if she comes -home and finds everything upset.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll be ever and ever so careful,” agreed Etta, already -skipping toward the kitchen.</p> - -<p>Jeannette took herself back to the cold front room, -seldom used by either herself or Beatrice, and brought -her thoughts once more to the construction of the -half-finished circular letter which must be ready for -the composing room early Monday morning.</p> - -<p>She heard Beatrice come in presently, and an hour -later, as she was completing the last revision of her -work, Etta appeared breathlessly to announce lunch.</p> - -<p>The egg muffins were excellent and received enthusiastic -praise. Jeannette ate them with the heated -canned tamales, and sipped her tea, one eye on the -clock, for she was anxious to make an early start if -Etta was to catch, at any seemly hour, a train back to -Cohasset Beach.</p> - -<p>It was after two before she and her niece found -themselves seated in the thundering subway.</p> - -<p>“Well, now, tell me your troubles, my dear,” Jeannette -began; “I want to hear all about them.”</p> - -<p>But Etta had to be coaxed before she would become -communicative.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s <i>this</i>!” she finally burst out, striking her -skirt with disdainful fingers. “It’s my clothes, Aunt -Jan! I was horribly ashamed last night. There -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_449">[Pg 449]</span> -wasn’t a girl there at Marjorie’s cousin’s party who -wasn’t a lot better dressed than I! I felt <i>awful</i> and -was so embarrassed! One of the girls’ older sister -was there and I saw her taking an inventory of everything -I had on! I just wanted to sink through the -floor! Moth’ does everything she possibly can to see -that I look decent, and I know better than anyone else -what she does without so that I can have things! But -I don’t want that! I don’t want Moth’ and Dad denying -themselves on my account. I want to be able to -take care of myself and buy my own clothes, earn my -own living and be independent! ... Aunt Jan, won’t -you get me a job at your office? Won’t you back me -up with Moth’ and Dad, and urge them to let me go -to work? I don’t want to stay at home and just help -Moth’ here and there with the housework and do nothing -else but go to the movies and dance jazz! They -call me a ‘flapper,’ and I suppose I am one,—but what -else is there for me to be? I hate it, Aunt Jan,—I -<i>hate being a flapper</i>! I want to be something different -and better; I want to make my own way in the -world and not be obliged to stick round home until -a man with enough money comes along and asks me -to marry!”</p> - -<p>It was the old familiar cry, the cry of youth calling -for self-expression, the cry of budding life eager for -experience, the cry of young womanhood demanding -independence, emancipation.</p> - -<p>The words rang familiarly in the older woman’s -ears, and she smiled sadly with a sorry head-shake.</p> - -<p>“Why, what’s the matter, Aunt Jan?” asked the -girl after a troubled scrutiny of her companion’s face. -“Don’t you think I have a right to earn my own living -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_450">[Pg 450]</span> -if I want to?” She renewed her arguments with characteristic -vehemence. There was nothing new in them -for Jeannette; she had voiced them all herself twenty-five -years ago. A memory of her patient, hard-working -little mother came to her, and she saw her once -again with the comforter over her knees, the knitted -red shawl pinned across her shoulders, thin of hair, -with trembling pendent cheeks, bending over the -canvas-covered ledger, figuring—figuring—figuring. -And she saw herself, the impatient eighteen-year-old, -striking her faded velvet dress with angry fingers, protesting -against the humiliation her shabby attire occasioned -her, asking to be allowed to work, to earn the -money that would permit her to dress as other girls -dressed, and be her own mistress, self-supporting. -How well, she, Jeannette, could now sympathize with -that earnest, tearful, little mother!</p> - -<p>She looked at Etta and, in her mind, saw her anxiously -taking dictation from some frowning business -man, saw her white flying fingers busy at some switch-board -disentangling telephone cords, pictured her -perched on a tall stool, bending over a great tome, -making careful entries, saw her folding circulars, writing -cards, filing letters, giving her youth, her eagerness -and beauty to the grim treadmill of business life, and -her heart filled with pain.</p> - -<p>“... and there’s no reason on earth,” Etta was -saying, “why I shouldn’t help out at home. Dad and -Moth’ have given all their lives to us children; they’ve -denied themselves and denied themselves just so we -can have clothes for our backs, enough to eat and go -to school! It isn’t fair. It’s time I helped. I could -go to business college, take a course, and in three -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_451">[Pg 451]</span> -months, I could learn to be a stenographer and earn -fifteen or twenty dollars a week....”</p> - -<p>“Hush, child,—hush! You don’t know what you’re -talking about!” Jeannette broke in, suddenly stirred -to speech. “I threw away my life, talking just that -kind of nonsense. To learn to earn her own living -is a dangerous thing for a young girl.”</p> - -<p>“Why, how do you mean, Aunt Jan?”</p> - -<p>“Its effect is poison; it’s like a drug, a disease! I’ve -paid bitterly for my financial independence. I sacrificed -everything that was precious to me because I -wanted to be self-supporting. Etta dear, life is a hard -game for women at best, but waiting within the shelter -of her own home for the man she’ll some day come to -love and who will love her is the best and wisest course -for a girl to follow.”</p> - -<p>“But I hate the kind of life I’m living! There’s -nothing ahead of me but marriage, unless I go to -work! You wouldn’t want me to marry just because I -was bored at home,—and I’ve known lots of girls to -do that! I never meet any attractive men,—only High -School kids and rah-rah boys out of college. Wouldn’t -I have a much better chance to meet a finer class of -young men around business offices,—I mean serious-minded, -ambitious young men? It seems to me I’d -have much more opportunity to meet a man I’d admire, -and who might want me to marry him if I went -to work than I ever will waiting stupidly at home.”</p> - -<p>“It doesn’t make any difference where you meet -him, whether it is in business or at a High School -dance,” Jeannette answered. “He’s bound to find -you, and you him.... I hate to see you go to work. -You pay a fearful penalty in doing so. It makes you -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_452">[Pg 452]</span> -regard marriage lightly, and prejudices you against -having children——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I shall want children!” exclaimed Etta, -promptly. She proceeded to outline just what were -her requirements in a husband, and to give her views -on the subject of having children. Her aunt was somewhat -disconcerted to discover that she had these matters, -as far as they concerned herself, entirely settled -in her own mind. “Oh, yes, indeed,” Etta repeated, -“I shall want children. Perhaps not such a lot of them -as Moth’ and Dad have. They would have had a much -easier time of it, if they’d had only one or two. Instead -of always being poor and having to struggle, -they could have lived in considerable comfort, and -now there would be no question about their being -able to send me to Bryn Mawr or Vassar. I think two -children are enough for any couple. Now, my idea, -Aunt Janny,——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, for Heaven’s sakes, Etta!” Jeannette interrupted -with impatience; “you don’t know what you’re -talking about! What does your education or Ralph’s -education amount to in comparison with the lives of -Frank, Nettie, and Baby Roy? You’ll have a great -deal more worth-while education pounded into you by -having brothers and sisters and by having to help your -mother take care of them, than you would ever get -at Bryn Mawr. More than that, just living in the -same house with them, being brought up with them and -learning to deny yourself, now and then, for their -sake has taught you unselfishness, forbearance that -will make you a far better wife and mother than ten -years’ of college education! ... Your father and -mother with you children about them, with the hard -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_453">[Pg 453]</span> -problems you present, with the ever-pressing question -of ways and means before them, with the solving of -these problems,—for there is always a solution,—are -among the most enviable people in the world. There -was a time when I used to feel sorry for your mother, -but now I look at her with only admiration and jealousy. -You think of her as poor! Well, I think of her -as rich! And I attribute much of the happiness she -has had out of life to the fact that she never went -into business.... Stay out of it, Etta my dear, whatever -you do! It’s an unnatural environment for a -girl, and in it her mind and soul as surely become -contaminated as if she deliberately went to live in a -smallpox camp.... Look at me, my dear! I’ve given -twenty years of my life to business and what have I -to show for it? Nothing but a very lonely and selfish -old age!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Aunt Jan!” cried the girl, shocked into protesting. -“How can you say such things! Why I think -you’re one of the handsomest, happiest, most enviable, -smartest-dressed women in the world!”</p> - -<p>Jeannette laughed.</p> - -<p>“Well, I didn’t mean to deliver a ‘curtain’ lecture! -I just hated the thought of your following in my footsteps. -It makes me actually shudder even to think of -it. But I didn’t mean to get started the way I did——</p> - -<p>“Here,” she suddenly cried, gathering her things -together and hurriedly getting to her feet, “this is the -Bridge! We have to get off here and change cars.”</p> - -<h5>§ 2</h5> - -<p>The house just inside the high iron fence of the -Navy Yard in which Commander Jerome Sedgwick -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_454">[Pg 454]</span> -lived was a three-story, square, dirty cream-painted -cement affair, which bore his name in a small, neat sign -on the third step of the front stairs. Across the street -from it, children racketed upon a city play-ground, and -in its rear some green-painted hot-houses leaned haphazardly -against one another, their backs turned upon -a quadrangle where several orderly tennis courts were -located. Jeannette had visited Miss Holland here -many times, and one summer a few years ago, had -spent her two weeks’ vacation keeping her old friend -company, while the nephew, Jerry, was enjoying a -month’s leave with his family, fishing among the -Maine lakes.</p> - -<p>A little girl of five, just tall enough to reach the -knob, opened the door a few inches and stared up -unsmilingly at the visitors.</p> - -<p>“How do you do, Sarah?” said Jeannette, recognizing -the child. “Is your mama at home?”</p> - -<p>Sarah continued to stare stolidly a moment, then -turned and disappeared, leaving the door hardly more -than ajar. Jeannette and Etta could hear the sound -of her shrill, piping voice, and her small running feet -within.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sedgwick came rustling to greet the callers -promptly, and in her wake limped Miss Holland.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you <i>dear</i>!” exclaimed the latter, catching sight -of Jeannette. “I’m so glad you came; I’ve been hungering -for a sight of you for weeks.” She kissed her -friend warmly on both cheeks. Etta was presented.</p> - -<p>“The child begged to be allowed to come,” explained -her aunt. “She wanted a glimpse of the Yard.”</p> - -<p>“Why, certainly,” exclaimed Mrs. Sedgwick cordially. -“I’m delighted you brought her. Jerry unfortunately -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_455">[Pg 455]</span> -isn’t home but I have to take Sarah and -Junior out shortly, and I’ll be charmed to show your -niece about, and leave you two to gossip by yourselves.”</p> - -<p>Miss Holland, her thin, knuckly, white hand on Jeannette’s -forearm, drew her into the sitting-room.</p> - -<p>“Take off your things down here, my dear; I can’t -climb stairs very well on account of my knees, and no -one’s coming in.”</p> - -<p>“How <i>is</i> your rheumatism?” inquired Jeannette.</p> - -<p>“’Bout the same; it keeps me rather helpless, and -the doctor is actually starving me to death. What with -the things he says I can’t eat and the things I don’t -like, my menus are rather limited.”</p> - -<p>The two women settled themselves before the small, -glowing coal fire in an old-fashioned grate, and began -talking in low tones. Mrs. Sedgwick excused herself -to make the children ready to go out, while Etta stood -at the window, gazing with absorbed interest at any -evidence of Navy life that came within the range of -her vision.</p> - -<p>“’Xcuse me, Miss Holland,” she interrupted presently -with her usual breathlessness, “do you happen -to know, or did you ever hear Commander Sedgwick -mention a young ensign named White?”</p> - -<p>Miss Holland looked doubtful.</p> - -<p>“My friend, Marjorie Bowen, knew him, or knew -his sister, I think, while he was at Annapolis.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m afraid ...” began Miss Holland.</p> - -<p>Etta proceeded hastily to another observation.</p> - -<p>“There was a destroyer in Cohasset Bay last summer,—anchored -right off the Yacht Club,—and I saw -two of the officers on shore one day.... I don’t know -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_456">[Pg 456]</span> -what their names were, of course, but during the war -I knew several of the boys in the reserves. Asa -Pulitzer was a boatswain’s mate; ... I think that’s -what he was.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette turned an indulgent smile upon Miss Holland.</p> - -<p>“Asa Pulitzer is the local grocer’s son.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t care if he is!” protested Etta. “He -made good——”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sedgwick rustled downstairs at this moment, -making a timely entrance. She carried Etta off, with -assurance of returning in time for tea.</p> - -<p>“Well-l,” said Jeannette comfortably, as the pleasant -hour of companionship and confidences began. -“You don’t <i>look</i> as if you’d been ill!”</p> - -<p>“Not ill exactly; it’s this wretched rheumatism that -will not get better.”</p> - -<p>Miss Holland’s tone was not complaining; indeed -she always spoke with remarkable placidity. Jeannette -regarded her with all her old admiration. There -was an unusual aristocratic quality about Miss Holland -that never failed to stir her. She was white-haired, -now, fragile and thin looking, and there was -an uncertainty about her movements, but she still bore -herself with distinction,—a gentlewoman to her finger-tips. -Even more than the air of gentility that surrounded -her, Jeannette esteemed the shrewd brain, -nimble wit and judgment of this woman. It seemed -a sad and sorry thing to her that so splendid a personality, -so fine an intellect should have had so little -opportunity for self-expression in the world, and that -at sixty, Miss Holland should be no more than what -she seemed: an old maid, growing yearly more and -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_457">[Pg 457]</span> -more crippled, passing what days remained to her -with her nephew and her nephew’s family, somewhat -of a problem, somewhat in the way! Of course they -loved her; Jeannette knew that Commander Sedgwick -was devoted to his aunt and treated her with as much -respect and affection as ever son did his mother, but, -after all, on the brink of old age, Miss Holland’s course -was run, and how little she had to show for all her -years of toil and faithfulness! She had spent her life -at an underling’s desk and given her wisdom and her -strength to a business that had paid her barely enough -to support herself and make it possible for her to -give her nephew his profession!</p> - -<p>“Miss Holland,” Jeannette asked impulsively, -“what did the Corey Company pay you towards the -end of your employment there?”</p> - -<p>“Fifty dollars a week for the last five years I was -with them.”</p> - -<p>“And altogether, you were there?”</p> - -<p>“Twenty-five years.... Why do you ask?”</p> - -<p>“I was thinking how little they appreciated you.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Kipps told me,” Miss Holland said with a -reminiscent smile, “that it would never do to pay -women employees more than fifty a week; they -wouldn’t know what to do with the money.”</p> - -<p>“He didn’t!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! He claimed it would demoralize them. -He used to say they would be sure to throw it away -on ‘fripperies.’ ‘Fripperies,’ you remember, was a -great word of his.”</p> - -<p>“It still is!”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Kipps’ attitude is typical, I think, of the -average employer of women. This is a man-made -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_458">[Pg 458]</span> -world, as perhaps you’ve noticed, my dear. Did you -ever stop to consider the injustice to which working -women are subjected? Do you realize there are about -twelve million working women on pay-rolls in the -United States, that twenty dollars a week is a very -high wage for any one of them to receive, and six -million of them, or half of the entire number, earn -between ten and twelve a week? ... I happen to -have the statistics issued by the woman’s bureau of -the Department of Labor.”</p> - -<p>Miss Holland pushed herself up erect from her chair, -and her face showed the pain the effort cost her.</p> - -<p>“Can’t I get it for you?” offered Jeannette hastily.</p> - -<p>“No—no; thanks very much; it’s right here. I can -put my hand on it in just a minute.” From a desk -near at hand she produced a government report.</p> - -<p>“I came across this the other day, and I saved it -because it proves what I have always felt about the -unfairness with which women are treated in business. -They may perform equal work with men but very few -of them are paid as well. The average annual earning -power of the male industrial worker now is at the -rate of a thousand dollars a year; that of the woman -industrial worker five to six hundred. Among office -workers the disparity is much greater. When I was -getting fifty dollars a week as Mr. Kipps’ chief assistant, -there was a youth helping me who was being paid -sixty.”</p> - -<p>“I know,” agreed Jeannette. “When Tommy Livingston -followed me as Mr. Corey’s secretary, he did -not do the work half as competently as I had done,—Mr. -Corey often told me so,—and yet he was paid more -at the very start, and asked for and received one raise -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_459">[Pg 459]</span> -after another, until Mr. Corey was paying him nearly -twice what he formerly had paid me; but when I went -back to work after I left Martin, Mr. Corey started -me in again at the old salary of thirty-five, and never -suggested a higher rate. Walt Chase was getting -eighty-five dollars weekly as head of the Mail Order -Department, and when I took charge, I received only -forty. Although I have doubled the amount of business -the Corey Publishing Company does by mail, I -am to-day being paid but fifty a week. Mr. Allister -told me when I asked for my last raise, that it was the -last he would ever give me.”</p> - -<p>“Almost all employers underpay their women -workers,” affirmed Miss Holland. “In general -women are receiving to-day from a half to two-thirds -what men are who do identically the same kind of -work. I was discussing this question once with Mr. -Kipps, and he defended himself by stating that the -majority of girls who fill office positions only work -for ‘pin money.’ ... ‘Pin money?’ What is ‘pin -money’? Dollars and cents, I take it, with which to -buy clothes and some amusement. Don’t men need -‘pin money,’ too? Doesn’t everyone? When the -Corey Publishing Company employs a young man,—a -High School or College graduate,—what he is paid -per week is never spoken of as ‘pin money,’ yet he -spends it for exactly the same things as girls do.... -I’ve often wondered if Mr. Kipps considered the salaries -he paid you and me, Mrs. O’Brien, and Miss Travers, -Miss Whaley, Miss Foster, Miss Bixby, Miss Kate -Smith, old Mrs. Jewitt, Mrs. M’Ardle, and Miss -Stenicke as ‘pin money!’ Most of those women not -only supported themselves but their old mothers and -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_460">[Pg 460]</span> -fathers, their younger brothers and sisters or some -helpless relative. Mrs. O’Brien had two daughters she -kept at Ladycliff for nine years; Miss Travers has a -bed-ridden sister; Miss Whaley, her mother; Mrs. -Jewitt, a tubercular husband; and Kate Smith is putting -her young brother through dental college——”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” interrupted Jeannette, “Mrs. M’Ardle has -two children of her own she is taking care of, and one -of her sister’s, and she’s getting only forty dollars -a week.”</p> - -<p>“How does she <i>do</i> it!” exclaimed Miss Holland.</p> - -<p>“I’m sure I don’t know.... Beatrice Alexander -has been sending thirty dollars a month to her helpless -old aunt in Albany for the past fifteen years.”</p> - -<p>“That’s where the ‘pin money’ goes!” declared -Miss Holland with a note of scorn in her voice. -“These silent, uncomplaining, hard-working women -who give their lives to the grind of business! I feel -keenly the rank injustice that is being done them!”</p> - -<p>There was a moment’s silence, and Miss Holland -continued:</p> - -<p>“Mr. Kipps’ great argument was always that girls -who came seeking employment did so with the intention -of working only a year or two, and then getting -married. He argued that a concern could not regard -these women as permanent employees to be trained -to fill important positions; they could not be depended -upon to remain with a business and grow up with -it——”</p> - -<p>“I must say,” broke in Jeannette with fine sarcasm, -“that great inducements are offered them to do so! -At the end of twenty and twenty-five years’ faithful -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_461">[Pg 461]</span> -and efficient work in such positions as you filled and -as I fill to-day, they are paid fifty dollars a week!”</p> - -<p>“I answered him,” Miss Holland went on, after an -appreciative nod, “that neither could the men he employed -be considered as fixtures. I reminded him of -Van Alstyne, Max Oppenheim, Humphrey Stubbs, -Walt Chase, Tommy Livingston and Francis Holm. -There are a hundred others. How many boys starting -in to business, do you suppose, stick for the balance of -their lives with the concern for which they first began -to work?”</p> - -<p>“Not many.”</p> - -<p>“Few indeed! It’s to keep and hold these same boys -and young men that the large corporations to-day are -offering to sell them stock at advantageous rates.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, it is the girls living at home,” observed -Jeannette, “partially supported by their fathers and -mothers or some relative, willing to work for small -salaries to buy themselves a few extra clothes and a -measure of amusement, that are keeping down the -salaries paid to women entirely dependent on their -earnings.”</p> - -<p>“During the war,” observed Miss Holland, “a hundred -thousand women were employed by the railroads -to perform the work which the men formerly did before -they went into the army. Women cleaned locomotives, -tended stock-rooms of repair shops, sold tickets, -took charge of signal stations, worked as carpenters, -machinists, and electricians; women took the places -of men in the steel mills, in the munition plants, in -the foundries and even in coal mines. The National -War Labor Board, headed by William H. Taft, undertook -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_462">[Pg 462]</span> -to protect the women workers, and laid down the -principle that women doing the work formerly performed -by men should receive the same pay. In other -words, the pay was to be fixed by the job and not by -the sex of the employee. Employers throughout the -nation followed the ruling of the Labor Board.”</p> - -<p>“But that was a war-time measure,” said Jeannette, -“and we all did things, then, that were altruistic and -patriotic.”</p> - -<p>“If women had the physical strength of men,” Miss -Holland asserted, “and could defend their principles -by force, there would be a speedy end of injustices. -Why do male waiters in our restaurants get higher -wages than waitresses? Certainly they don’t work -any harder, or give better service. Suppose all the -women workers in New York City formed unions, and -struck for what they decided adequate pay, a uniform -scale of salaries, and could use the same methods that -men would use in preventing women who had not -joined the ranks from taking their places! Think what -would happen! The work in every office, every bank, -every corporation in this city would come promptly -to a standstill; the strike would last forty-eight, -seventy-two hours, and then the demands of the women -would be conceded.... You want to remember one -thing, my dear: <i>women never banded together since -history began, and asked anything that was unfair or -unjust</i>!”</p> - -<p>“I was having a very interesting talk with my niece -as we were coming here,” broke in Jeannette; “Etta -wants to go to work, wants a position as stenographer -in some office, not only to earn extra money with which -to help out at home, but to acquire an interest in life -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_463">[Pg 463]</span> -that will fill her days. There are a hundred thousand -young girls like her in this city to-day. Consider what -effect a job would have on an immature character like -Etta’s! I’ve been all through the bitter mill, and I -speak from experience. Financial independence is a -dangerous thing for such young girls. It makes them -regard marriage with indifference. There is many a -girl who has declined to marry a young man to whom -she undoubtedly would have made a good wife merely -because his income, which would have to do for both of -them, was no more, or perhaps only a little more, than -what she was earning herself.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette’s lips closed firmly a moment and she -stared out of the window at the bleak prospect of the -Yard’s quadrangle bordered by closed and silent brick -warehouses.</p> - -<p>“But suppose the girl office-worker decides to give -matrimony a trial,” she continued, “as I did, her mind -has been distorted by having known what it means to -be financially her own mistress. Instead of bringing -to her job of wifehood the resolute determination to -make a success of it, from the first she is critical, and -on the constant lookout for hardships in her new life, -comparing them with the freedom of her old. I should -have made Martin a much better wife, Miss Holland, -if I had brought to my problem of being his partner -the passionate determination that was mine in wanting -to make good as Mr. Corey’s secretary. I always -hugged to myself the thought that if the time came -when I wouldn’t like Martin any more or like being a -wife, I could go back to my job,—and that is exactly -what this thought led me to do. Making any marriage -a success is the hardest work I know about both for -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_464">[Pg 464]</span> -men and women, and there should be no avenue of -easy escape from it for either of them. I’d never -have left Martin, I’d have endured his unkindness and -lack of consideration,—or at least what seemed his -unkindness and lack of consideration to me then,—if -there hadn’t been an easy way out for me, and we’d -have gone on together and made a home for ourselves -and our children. All I had to do was to walk out of -Martin’s house and go back to my job. That’s what -every wife who has once been a self-supporting wage-earner -says to herself from the day she marries. She -doesn’t even have the trouble of getting a divorce to -deter her.... It’s wrong, I tell you, Miss Holland! -It’s all <i>wrong</i>! The more I live, the more I am convinced -that women have no place in business. No,—please -let me finish,” she said earnestly as her friend -started to interrupt. “There’s one other angle to this -question: the girl who has once tasted independence -but who decides to give matrimony a trial may go so -far as to consent to be a wife, but she stops at becoming -a mother! She dreads children. And why? Because -she realizes that once a baby is at her breast, -she’s bound hand and foot to her husband and her -home. She can’t leave her child with the nonchalance -she can her husband. In the homes of women who -have achieved economic independence before they -marry, you will find few children, and in the majority -of cases, none at all. I know a score of girls, at one -time in office jobs, who quit them to be married, but -have drawn the line at babies.</p> - -<p>“It seems to me this is of national significance. The -country is being deprived of homes and children because -of this great invasion of women into business -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_465">[Pg 465]</span> -during the last twenty or thirty years. When I went -to work twenty-four years ago, it was the exception -for nice girls to go into offices. I remember how my -mother fretted over my wanting to do it and how bitterly -she opposed me. Now, every girl, rich or poor, -desires a year or two of business life. Women are -devised by Nature to be home-builders and mothers. -Anything tending to deflect them from fulfilling their -destiny is contrary to Nature and is doomed to failure -or to have bound up in it its own punishment. When -women compete with men in fields in which they do -not belong, they are acting against Nature, and as -surely as one gets hurt by leaning too far out of a -window, so surely do such women pay a penalty for -their deeds. Man was condemned in Genesis to ‘work -by the sweat of his brow’; there is nothing said about -women having to work; she was given her own punishment. -And here is an obvious fact, Miss Holland: -No man likes to work under a woman boss. When I -took charge of the Mail Order Department, three men -who had been with Walt Chase resigned rather than -work under me. I didn’t blame them. It was as repugnant -to me to give them orders as it was for them -to take them.</p> - -<p>“Now that is a biological obstruction in the way of -woman’s progress in business that you cannot get -away from, and which you cannot lay to man’s door. -Men don’t like to work for women, and women don’t -like to have men assistants, and since man is intended -by God and Nature to be the worker, and woman is -ordained to bear children, I say again that women -have no place in business.”</p> - -<p>“But Miss Sturgis, Miss Sturgis!” cried Miss Holland. -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_466">[Pg 466]</span> -“Do you mean to tell me that women have not -the right to earn their own living? Do you mean to -tell me that you and I and all the women in the world -must always look to some man to support us? Do you -mean to tell me that widows with children to take care -of, and women whose husbands are incapacitated or -who desert them or who turn out to be drunkards or -brutes, and women who are adrift in the world, and -perhaps have never married because they’ve never -been wooed, haven’t a right to turn their brains to -account and earn their livelihoods?”</p> - -<p>“Well, it might be a good plan to limit the women -workers to just the classes you mention,” Jeannette -answered. “Certainly I won’t concede to you that -every eighteen-year-old flapper like my niece or your -sweet young college-graduate has the right to plunge -into business and unfit herself for wifehood and -motherhood, driving at the same time some needy soul -of her own sex out of employment. Comeliness, a fair -complexion have much to do with securing a job for a -woman and with helping her to retain it. The plain -girl or, more particularly, the middle-aged woman with -two children to support, whose beauty has long since -deserted her, has small chance against the pink-skinned -eighteen-year-old with the bobbed hair and the roguish -eye who may only have one-tenth of her ability. No -employer ever hires a good-looking young man in preference -to a homely one whose years of experience and -ability are known. The more faded a woman becomes, -the less she is wanted about an office. Looks play an -important part in the rôle of the business woman. -She should be judged, I think, not by her appeal to the -eye, but by her industry. This is one more reason why -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_467">[Pg 467]</span> -I believe women under thirty should be debarred from -going to work. If women workers were limited, confined -to thousands, let us say, instead of millions, then -those privileged to work could earn a proper living -wage, and dictate the terms under which they should be -employed. There are certain professions and callings -to which women are recognizably better suited than -men; nursing and dressmaking are but two of them. -If the supply of women for these vocations were limited, -the demand would soon fix an adequate wage.</p> - -<p>“It has occurred to me many times,” persevered -Jeannette, “that it would perhaps solve the problem,—or -help solve it,—if certain professions and certain -kinds of work were restricted by law to women. I’ve -been told that in Japan only those who are blind may -be embalmers of the dead. It restricts this vocation -to a class of unfortunates which otherwise would have -great difficulty in earning its living, and as a consequence -there are no blind mendicants in Japan. I -would advocate legislation in this country that would -restrict certain occupations solely to women, and then -I would limit the women who were eligible to fill them -to widows or to those who could prove they must support -themselves.”</p> - -<p>“There is little doubt that becoming wage-earners -tends to keep women out of matrimony,” Miss Holland -said thoughtfully. “I know it did with me. -There was a young professor of archæology from Wesleyan -who wanted me very earnestly to marry him, and -I should have liked to have done so, but I was working -then, and had taken Jerry to live with me,—he was -only eight,—and the professor’s salary was not large -enough for the three of us.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_468">[Pg 468]</span></p> - -<p>“And think what a wonderful wife you would have -made!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know about that,” smiled Miss Holland, -“but I was interested in his work and I should have -enjoyed helping him.”</p> - -<p>“Exactly!” cried Jeannette. “I have no doubt you -would have helped him very materially, whereas you -gave your wits and your life in helping Mr. Kipps over -the rough parts of his business days for a consideration -of fifty dollars a week!”</p> - -<p>“He could have found somebody else who could have -helped him just as well.”</p> - -<p>“But that doesn’t make it any fairer,” insisted -Jeannette. “What have you got to show for your -twenty-five years of helping Mr. Kipps? ... This!” -She spread out her hands significantly.</p> - -<p>“Well, I have my old age provided for,” said Miss -Holland, with an indulgent smile. “I get my check -for half-salary from the office regularly the first of -every month. I suppose I’ll continue to get that until -my rheumatism or my heart carries me off.”</p> - -<p>“But is that any reward for twenty-five years of -slavery and drudgery? How many thousand and tens -of thousands of dollars have your brains saved the -Corey Publishing Company?”</p> - -<p>“That isn’t all of it. You must remember I have -Jerry.”</p> - -<h5>§ 3</h5> - -<p>Yes, she had Jerry, said Jeannette to herself, lying -awake that night for long aching hours of whirling -thoughts after she was in bed. Miss Holland’s old -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_469">[Pg 469]</span> -age was rich in the love this nephew, his wife and -children bore her.</p> - -<p>And it came to the sleepless woman in the bed that -it was not the love Miss Holland received that mattered; -it was what she gave and had given that made -her life, in spite of old age, rheumatism and growing -helplessness, glorious with complete and satisfying -happiness.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_470">[Pg 470]</span></p> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III_IV">CHAPTER IV</h4> -</div> - -<h5>§ 1</h5> - -<p>“Dent—Department—Derrick—Desmond—Deutsch—Deveraux—Deverley—De -Vinne—Devlin....”</p> - -<p>There it was: “Martin Devlin, Motor Cars,—North -Broad Street.” Jeannette’s polished finger-nail rested -beneath the name and her lips formed the words without -a sound. She closed the Philadelphia Directory, -turned from the telephone desk in the big New York -hotel, and walked slowly out into the bright autumn -glare of the street.</p> - -<p>Thanksgiving was next week; there would be no difficulty -in securing leave at the office to be absent from -Wednesday night until Monday morning.</p> - -<p>“I’d just like to see,” she kept repeating to herself. -“There’d be no harm in <i>seeing</i> what kind of a place he -has. I could learn so much just walking by.”</p> - -<p>An odd excitement took possession of her. She saw -herself in the train, she saw herself in a large, comfortable -room at the Bellevue-Stratford, saw herself -in her smartest costume, sauntering up Broad Street.</p> - -<p>“I’ve a good mind to do it,” she whispered. “It -could do no possible harm. I’d just like to see.”</p> - -<p>She was unable to reach any definite conclusion, but -she inspected her wardrobe carefully, deciding exactly -what she would wear if she went to Philadelphia, and -then did a very reckless thing: she bought herself a -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_471">[Pg 471]</span> -sumptuous garment, a short outer jacket of broadtail -and kolinsky, a regal mantle fit for a millionaire’s wife. -A giddy madness seemed to settle upon her after this; -her savings in the bank,—the savings which were to -buy another bond,—were almost wiped out, and she -deliberately drew a check for what remained. Some -power outside of herself seemed to take charge of her -actions; she moved from one step to another as if -hypnotized; she spoke to Mr. Allister about two extra -days at Thanksgiving, she bought her ticket and chair-car -reservation at the Pennsylvania Station, she wrote -the Bellevue-Stratford to hold one of their best outside -rooms for her, she explained with simulated carelessness -to Beatrice Alexander that there was a Book-Dealers’ -Convention in Philadelphia which the firm -had requested her to attend, and the four o’clock train -on the afternoon of the holiday found her bound for -the Quaker city.</p> - -<p>As she sat stiffly upright in her luxurious armchair, -staring out upon the dreary New Jersey marshes, -panic suddenly came upon her.</p> - -<p>What was she doing? Was she <i>crazy</i>? Was Miss -Sturgis of the Mail Order Department this woman, so -elegantly clad, speeding toward Philadelphia? And -on what mad errand? After years of careful living, -after years of prudent saving, was it actually she, -Jeannette Sturgis, who had recklessly flung to the four -winds the bank account of which she had been so -proud? Oh, she must be mad, indeed!</p> - -<p>She grasped the arms of her chair and instinctively -glanced from one end to the other of the palatial car. -She was seized with a violent impulse to get off. -There was Manhattan Transfer; she could take a -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_472">[Pg 472]</span> -train back to the city from there. Determinedly, she -gazed out upon the empty, cold-looking platform when -the train reached the station, but she made no move, -and as the wheels commenced to rumble beneath her -once more, she sank back resignedly into her seat, and -a measure of calmness returned.</p> - -<p>She was not committing herself merely by going to -Philadelphia and walking past Martin’s place of business! -Suppose she <i>did</i> meet him! Suppose they actually -encountered one another, face to face! What -then? There was nothing compromising in that! She -could explain her presence in Philadelphia in a thousand -ways should he be interested. She blessed the -judgment that had prompted her to confide in no one; -Beatrice believed she was attending a Book-Dealers’ -Convention, Alice that she was having her Thanksgiving -dinner with Miss Holland.</p> - -<h5>§ 2</h5> - -<p>As she left the overheated parlor car at Broad -Street Station her composure was thoroughly restored. -There was a tingling nimbleness in the air; -the clear, November day was bright with metallic sunshine. -Jeannette tipped the “red-cap” for carrying -her bags, climbed into a taxi-cab and with a casual air -that seemed to spring from familiarity with such proceedings, -directed to be driven to her hotel.</p> - -<p>The cold bare streets, deserted on account of the holiday, -the brilliant foyer of the Bellevue, the urbane -room-clerk, the gilded elevator cage, the large high-ceilinged -bedroom with its trim, orderly furniture, its -double-bed, glistening with white linen, its discreet engravings -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_473">[Pg 473]</span> -of Watteau ladies in the gardens of Versailles, -followed in quick succession. Then she was -standing at the window looking down into the wide, -dismal gray street far below, and the departing bell-boy -softly closed the door behind him.</p> - -<p>She was here; she was in Philadelphia; she would -have that to remember always. If nothing else happened, -she could never forget she had come this far.... -Somewhere in the city was Martin; he was preparing -to eat his Thanksgiving Dinner; it was a quarter -past six, he was probably dressing! ... Suppose -he elected to eat the meal with friends in the main -dining-room of her hotel! Her throat tightened convulsively -and her fingers twitched. Well, she would -be equal to facing him if he saw her; she would not be -frightened into abandoning the course that was -natural for her to follow. If it had been actually the -case that she was here in Philadelphia to attend a -Book-Dealers’ Convention, she would put on her black -satin dinner frock and go down to dinner with her -book; she did not propose to allow herself to do differently.... -It would be ridiculous to eat her -Thanksgiving dinner upstairs in her rooms!</p> - -<p>She bathed, she did her hair with unusual success, -she powdered her neck and arms, she donned the black -satin with the square neck and jet trimming, and with -her book beneath her arm, mesh bag in her hand, descended -to the dining-room at half past seven. There -was an instant’s terror as she stood in the curtained -doorway of the brilliantly-lit dining-room. There -rushed upon her impressions of flowers, music, the -odor of food, a wave of heat, the flash of napery, the -gleam of cutlery, faces, faces everywhere,—heads -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_474">[Pg 474]</span> -turning,—eyes following,—whispers,—a hush as she -made her way in the wake of the obsequious head-waiter.</p> - -<p>Steeling her nerves, measuring every movement, she -seated herself with deliberation, deliberately set her -bag and book at her right hand, deliberately turned her -attention to the menu, deliberately raised her eyes, -and gazed about the room as she deliberately ordered.</p> - -<p>But there was nothing! There was nobody! No -one was looking at her; no one had noticed her entrance! -The music was wailing in waltz measure, the -diners were talking and laughing, attendants hurrying -to and fro. He was not there; there was no one faintly -resembling him in the room.</p> - -<p>She cleared her throat and raised a tumbler of water -to her lips, but as she did so, her teeth chattered an -instant against the thin glass.</p> - -<h5>§ 3</h5> - -<p>Philadelphia awoke the next day with the bustle of -business. Feet clip-clipped on the pavements, taxies -chugged and honked, trucks bumped and rattled, -street-cars rumbled and clanged their bells. Life, -teeming, bustling, rushing, burst from every corner -and doorway.</p> - -<p>Mechanically Jeannette moved through her early -morning routine; she dressed, breakfasted, read her -newspapers; she drew upon her shoulders the handsome -fur jacket, as, gloved, hatted and gaitered, she -stepped out on the street.</p> - -<p>“Taxi, lady?” No, she preferred to walk. Her -number was only a few squares away.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_475">[Pg 475]</span></p> - -<p>An intent and hurrying tide of pedestrians set -against her, congested traffic choked the street. She -was an interested observer, and made but a leisurely -progress, stopping at the shop windows, studying their -displays. Nothing unusual in any of them attracted -her; New York was more up-to-the minute in fads and -fancies; the merchants there were more enterprising; -they knew what was what; these Philadelphia shop-keepers -merely aped their ways and followed their -leads. There was no city in the world, she thought -with pride, where merchandising was such a fine art -and where novelties so quickly caught on as in New -York. She wondered why people lived in Philadelphia -when they could just as well live in New York. She -passed a theatre and read the announcement on the -bill-board; the play had been in New York six months -ago!</p> - -<p>She captured her wandering thoughts and looked -about her, wondering how far she had walked.</p> - -<p>“Vine Garden?”</p> - -<p>“The next cross-street, Madam.”</p> - -<p>Her pulses stirred and unconsciously she quickened -her pace. She was presently in the neighborhood of -the number she sought. It ought to be right here.... -She edged her way towards the curb and gazed up at -the façades of stores and buildings. Strange,—there -was nothing here that resembled an automobile agency! -That building was a piano store, and in the next sewing -machines were sold.... Suddenly the name -leaped at her in a window’s reflection. It was across -the street! She wheeled about and there it was: -Martin Devlin—Motor Cars. The name was in flowing -script, the letters rounded and bright with gold, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_476">[Pg 476]</span> -and the sign tilted out slightly over the sidewalk. Her -heart plunged and stood still. That was her husband’s -place of business! There it was: Martin Devlin—Motor -Cars!</p> - -<p>The appearance of the agency impressed her. -Across its front were four large plate-glass windows, -two on each side of the entrance. On these also appeared -Martin’s name in the same style of flowing -script, and beneath, in Roman type, the name of the -automobile he handled. The show-room was spacious -and softly illuminated with reflected light from alabaster -bowls hung from the ceiling by brass chains. -There were a half dozen models of the motor car, -ranged within, three on a side, their noses pointing toward -one another obliquely. The high polish of nickel -and varnish, here and there, reflected the bright electric -radiance above. The place had the air of elegance.</p> - -<p>Curious, but with galloping pulses, Jeannette picked -her way across the street, and slowly strolled past. -Through the plate-glass windows she could see two -young men standing, their arms folded, talking. -Neither was Martin. She turned and retraced her -steps, swiftly inspecting. Every moment her confidence -increased. She noted the walls of the show-room -were of cream-tinted terra-cotta brick, the floor -of smooth cement with rich rugs defining the aisles; -in the rear was a balcony where she could see yellow -electric lights burning over desks, and make out the -faces and figures of two or three girls. That was -where the offices were located, no doubt, where Martin -would have his desk.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_477">[Pg 477]</span></p> - -<p>Was he in? Would she risk a meeting? Did she -have nerve enough to go inside and say: “Miss -Sturgis would like to see Mr. Devlin!” ... It was extraordinary, -amazing! ... How utterly overcome he -would be! ... To have his wife, whom he hadn’t -seen for fourteen years, walk in upon him that way! ... -It wasn’t fair to him, after all. She had better -go back to the hotel and write him,—or perhaps it -would be better to telephone.</p> - -<p>Emotions, impulses, strange and contradictory, -pulled her one way and another. The apprehension, -the misgivings of yesterday were absent now. There -was no longer any question in her mind as to -whether or not she wanted to see Martin; she knew -she wanted to see him very much; in fact, her mind -was made up, she must see him. It would be a thrilling -experience, after so many years.... When they -parted, it had not been because they had ceased to be -fond of one another. They had liked,—yes, even loved -each other, at the very moment of separation.... -How was it to be managed? How could she arrange -to meet him with propriety? Her appearance, she -was aware, would make an impression upon him; that -effect would be lost in writing or telephoning.... -Perhaps she had better go back to the hotel and think -it over, but then she might never again find the -courage which was hers at that moment.... She -must do something; she could not stand there indefinitely -gazing through the window at the motor cars -inside! The young men within, she observed, had noticed -her.</p> - -<p>With heart that hammered at her throat, she stepped -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_478">[Pg 478]</span> -to the heavy door; it swung back at her touch. There -was a pleasant warmth within. One of the young men -came hurrying forward, rubbing his hands, one over -the other, bowing politely, a beaming smile upon his -face.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, Madam. Interested in the -<i>Parrott</i>?”</p> - -<p>Jeannette swept the show-room with a quick look -before answering. There was no one there remotely -like Martin.</p> - -<p>“I was thinking about one,” she admitted.</p> - -<p>“Most happy to arrange a demonstration at any -time.... What model did you fancy?”</p> - -<p>Jeannette moved about the cars, peering into the -interiors of their tonneaus, commenting upon the upholstery -and finish, pretending an attention to the -young salesman’s glib explanations.</p> - -<p>“Shift here is automatic ... cylinders ... compression -... hundred-and-eighteen-inch wheel-base, -... equipment just as you see it, ... rear tire extra, -of course, ... lovely car for a lady to drive ... -rides like a gazelle ... just like a gazelle ... you -wouldn’t know you were moving.... Lovely engine, -isn’t it, Madam? ... A child could easily take it apart.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette nodded and appeared interested. All the -time she was thinking: “I wonder if he’s up there—I -wonder if he’s up there.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Devlin ...?” she hazarded.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you know Mr. Devlin?” The possibility -seemed to fill the salesman with rare pleasure; it was -a discovery, unexpected, delightful.</p> - -<p>“I—I used to know him years ago,” Jeannette -faltered.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_479">[Pg 479]</span></p> - -<p>“He’s a splendid man, isn’t he?” glowed the youth. -“Wonderful personality,—a regular ‘good fellow.’ -He’s made quite a record with the <i>Parrott</i>, you know. -Unfortunately he’s out just now, but he’s expected. -I’m sure he’ll be glad to know you called, and I’ll be -very pleased to tell him. You didn’t mention.... -May I ask the name?”</p> - -<p>Jeannette hesitated. This was not the way she -would have him hear of her.</p> - -<p>“No,—I’ll call again; I’ll come in later. I’m—- I’m -stopping at the Bellevue; it isn’t far.”</p> - -<p>“Couldn’t I arrange a demonstration for you this -afternoon? At any hour you say. I’d like to show -you the way the <i>Parrott</i> rides,—just like a gazelle. -I’ll have our driver come with the limousine, or perhaps -you’d prefer the landaulet model.... You -might like to pay some calls this afternoon; it would -give you a chance to test the <i>Parrott</i> and see how you -like it.... Ah, here’s Mr. Devlin!”</p> - -<p>The heavy glass front door opened. Jeannette felt -the cold air from the street. She gave a quick glance -as she turned her back, her heart plunging. It was -Martin all right, but what a changed and different -Martin! So much older, so much larger than she -remembered him! He wore a Derby hat and had a -cigar.</p> - -<p>The salesman had left her side and was communicating -her presence to his employer. Jeannette stood -with both hands pressed tightly against her heart -and fought for self-possession.</p> - -<p>She heard Martin speak. That voice ...! That -voice ...! It suffocated her. An avalanche of -memories and forgotten emotions swept down upon -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_480">[Pg 480]</span> -her.... He was coming! She even recognized his -step!</p> - -<p>“’Morning, Madam,”—there was the old briskness, -and alertness in his tone!—“what can I——”</p> - -<p>She straightened herself and turned regally.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, Martin,” she said smiling. Her -color was high, she was trembling, her pulses racing.</p> - -<p>There was a quick jerk of his head,—a well-remembered -mannerism,—and a lightning survey of her -features.</p> - -<p>“Good God! ... <i>Jan!</i>”</p> - -<p>Emotions played in his face, his eyes darted about -her, his color faded and flamed darkly. His confusion -gave her composure. He was handsome still, smooth-shaven -and clean; his cheeks were fuller, a trifle -florid, he had a well-defined double-chin, his black, -thick hair was streaked with wiry, white threads; he -had grown stouter, had acquired a girth, but his fatness -was robust and healthy. He had gained in presence, -in firmness of feature, in polish,—a man of business -and affairs, energetic, a leader.</p> - -<p>“Are you surprised to see me, Martin?”</p> - -<p>“Well, of course, ... well, ... I should say!”</p> - -<p>She was conscious that her beauty and stateliness, -her costume, her fashionableness overwhelmed him.</p> - -<p>“I’ll be ... I’ll be damned!” he enunciated. “Excuse -me, Jan,—but I’ll be ... I’ll be damned!”</p> - -<p>An amused sound escaped Jeannette. She was -smiling broadly; she felt she had the situation well in -hand.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry I startled you, Martin. I happened to -be passing and I saw your name and thought I’d drop -in.... How’ve you been after all these years?”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_481">[Pg 481]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh,—all right, I guess. Sure, I’ve been fine.... -And you? I guess there’s no need of asking.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve been quite well. I’m never sick. I came down -to Philadelphia to attend a Book-Dealers’ Convention.... -I’m stopping at the Bellevue.”</p> - -<p>“Well—er, you going to be in town long?”</p> - -<p>“Oh,—two or three days. I’m going back to New -York Sunday, I guess. I think I can get away by that -time.... This is a fine car you handle; its lines are -really very beautiful.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a good car, all right. I had a big year this -year,—and last year, too.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s good; I’m glad to hear it.... I never -heard of the <i>Parrott</i> before.”</p> - -<p>“You <i>didn’t</i>? ... Well, we think we advertise a -good deal. It ranks up among the best.... Are you—are -you married or anything like that?”</p> - -<p>Jeannette laughed richly.</p> - -<p>“Not since an experience I had some fourteen years -ago that didn’t take!”</p> - -<p>Martin echoed her amusement. He was regaining -his ease; she could see he was beginning to enjoy himself.</p> - -<p>“You know I took my maiden name when I went -back to work; everybody knew me there as ‘Miss Sturgis’; -it seemed easier.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I see,” Martin agreed.</p> - -<p>“I’m still with the old company.”</p> - -<p>“What,—the same old publishing outfit?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; I’m in charge of the Mail Order Department -now.... We do quite a business.”</p> - -<p>“Is that so? And how do you like it?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I like it all right. They think a lot of me there, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_482">[Pg 482]</span> -and I do about as I please.... I’m thinking of resigning -though; one of these days, pretty soon, I’ll -quit. It gets on your nerves after awhile, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I guess it does.”</p> - -<p>A momentary embarrassment came upon them.</p> - -<p>“Well, it was pleasant to catch a glimpse of you, -again, Martin. If you’re ever in New York, ring me -up. You know the office——”</p> - -<p>“Well, say,—I don’t like to have you go away like -this! I’d like to see something of you while you’re -in town,—and talk over old times. There’s a lot of -things I’ll bet we’d find interesting to tell one -another.”</p> - -<p>“I shouldn’t wonder,” she said lightly.</p> - -<p>“I got a business engagement for lunch unfortunately”; -he scowled in troubled fashion. “I can’t -very well get out of it.... You’re at the Bellevue? ... -Well, how about dinner? Couldn’t we get together -for dinner?”</p> - -<p>“Why, I guess so. Yes,—that would be lovely,” -said Jeannette with an air of careful consideration.</p> - -<p>“I’ll bring my wife; Ruthie will be glad to meet you. -You knew I married again, didn’t you?”</p> - -<p>Jeannette’s expression did not alter by the quiver -of an eyelash; she continued to regard Martin with -smiling eyes.</p> - -<p>“No, I hadn’t heard.... I didn’t suppose.... -So you married, again?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I married a widow,—a widow with two kids: -girl and a boy,—splendid youngsters.... Say, you -<i>got</i> to see those kids; they’re Jim-dandies!”</p> - -<p>“That’s ... that’s fine.”</p> - -<p>“And I think you’ll like Ruthie, too, Jan. She -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_483">[Pg 483]</span> -isn’t your style exactly, but she’s all right. There’s -no side to Ruthie. I think you’ll like her; she’s a -fine little woman and a great little mother. You’ll -like her, I’ll bet a hat.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure I shall.”</p> - -<p>“Then it’s all right for to-night? Ruthie’ll join me -downtown and we’ll come over to the hotel, and the -three of us will have a great little dinner together and -chew the rag about old times.... Say, d’you ever -see that old ragamuffin, Zeb Kline?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, indeed. I saw him two or three weeks -ago. He’s quite successful, now, you know; he’s made -a great deal of money; married Nick Birdsell’s -daughter.”</p> - -<p>“Is <i>that</i> so! Well, is <i>that</i> so! He was a card all -right, a great old scout.... And d’you ever see -any of the rest of the old gang: Adolph Kuntz, -an’ Fritz Wiggens, an’ Steve Teschemacher an’ old -Gibbsy?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, occasionally.”</p> - -<p>“Say, what’s old Gibbsy doing? He was a wormy -little rat, all right, wasn’t he?”</p> - -<p>“He’s got a very fine place, now, down on the Point,—quite -an estate.”</p> - -<p>“Well, wouldn’t you know it! He’d be just the -kind of a little tightwad that would build himself a -swell house! ... And what happened to old Doc -French?”</p> - -<p>Jeannette’s countenance changed and she shook her -head.</p> - -<p>“Don’t bother to tell me now. Save it up for to-night. -We’ll have a great talk-fest.... Ruthie -and I will show up at the hotel,—what time? Let’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_484">[Pg 484]</span> -make it early so we can have all evening. Six-thirty? -How’s that?”</p> - -<p>Jeannette smiled assent.</p> - -<p>“We’ll be there at six-thirty, and say, Jan, you -know this is going to be my party all right—all right.”</p> - -<p>He accompanied her to the door, knocking the Derby -hat nervously against his knee, his cigar gone out.</p> - -<p>“Then we’ll see you to-night, Jan. Six-thirty, hey? ... -Gee, I’m glad you dropped in! We’ll have a -great little old talk-fest.”</p> - -<p>“To-night, then.”</p> - -<p>“Sure. At the Bellevue. We’ll be there. Six-thirty.”</p> - -<h5>§ 4</h5> - -<p>Married? Married? It couldn’t be possible! Why, -they had never been divorced! ... How could he be -married again?</p> - -<p>A great weariness came over Jeannette. It was disgusting! -What had he wanted to get married again -for? Pugh! It was most disappointing.... Another -woman! ... She had never imagined anything like -this.... Was he living with her without a ceremony? -Probably. She must be a cheap sort of creature.... -But it didn’t make any difference whether she -was legally his wife or not; it was the same thing. -The fact remained he had taken up with someone else. -No doubt she was known as “Mrs. Devlin.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette went back to the hotel and upstairs to -her room, laid aside her beautiful fur jacket, her hat, -took off her dress, put on her kimona. Her mind, like -a squirrel in a cage, went around and around over the -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_485">[Pg 485]</span> -same ground. How <i>could</i> he be married? Why, they -had never been divorced!</p> - -<p>The prospect of the evening suddenly palled upon -her. Even though he <i>had</i> married, a dinner and chat -alone with Martin would have had some piquancy; it -would have been quite exciting and amusing to have -recalled old friends, old memories. But there would -be no spontaneity in their talk with another woman -beside them, a bored and critical listener! It would -be dreadful! An intolerable situation! ... She -thought of a hurried return to New York, a telephone -to Martin that she had been unexpectedly called home. -Yet that seemed undignified; he would be sure to -guess her reason, or if he did not, “Ruthie” could be -depended upon to enlighten him. She shook her head -in distaste. She was committed to this unpalatable -program, now; she would be obliged to see it through,—but -oh, how she was going to hate it! How she was -going to despise every moment of it!</p> - -<p>She considered the other woman, trying to imagine -what she would be like.... Well, Ruthie might be -comfortably established in her place, but she should -have no ground for believing she was envied!</p> - -<p>A reflection of herself at this moment in the mirror -forced a smile from Jeannette’s lips as she detected -upon her face a look of haughty condescension. She -had been fancying the encounter with Ruthie and had -unconsciously assumed the expression that would suit -that moment.... Well, Ruthie would have the benefit -of that withering, imperious glance; she would realize -the minute she saw Jeannette Sturgis that here -was a woman that would brook no patronizing airs -from her, and in the course of the evening she would -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_486">[Pg 486]</span> -have it pointed out to her, in a manner which would -leave no room for misunderstanding, that it was she, -Jeannette, who had left Martin; hers had never been -the rôle of the deserted wife; as far as “leavings” -were concerned, Ruthie had them and welcome! ... -Ah! She <i>hated</i> her!</p> - -<p>The telephone trilled. Jeannette’s heart plunged -as she heard Martin’s voice.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Jan! Say,—I ’phoned Ruthie and she says -for me to bring you out to our house to-night; she -says it will be much pleasanter there and we can talk -a whole lot better. I rang her up and explained about -our having dinner with you at the Bellevue, but she -insists that you come on out to our house. She said -by all manner of means to bring you. She said she’d -’phone you, herself, but I said I didn’t think that was -necessary.”</p> - -<p>“Why-y,—I’m afraid——”</p> - -<p>“You know we live out at Jenkintown; it’s an awful -pretty suburb. I’d like you to see it and I’m crazy to -have you see the kids. They’ll still be up by the time -we get there. I’ll call for you a little after six and -drive you out.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette’s mind worked rapidly. There was -nothing for her to do but to accept, and to accept -graciously.</p> - -<p>“That will be lovely, Mart. As you say it will be -much nicer in the country. I shall really like to see -your home and to meet—” she cleared her throat,—“Mrs. -Devlin.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that’ll be fine, Jan,—that will be great. Say, -you couldn’t make that five-thirty just as well, could -you? You see the office closes at five, and I’ll just -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_487">[Pg 487]</span> -have to bum ’round here doing nothing until it’s time -to call for you,—and then besides you’ll have a little -light left so you c’n see something of the country, and -I want to tell you, Jan, Jenkintown’s a swell little -suburb.”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, Martin. Five-thirty will be perfectly all -right for me.”</p> - -<p>“That’s fine then; I call for you at five-thirty.”</p> - -<p>She hung up the receiver and bent forward so that -her brow rested lightly against the mouthpiece of the -instrument, her eyes closed, and after a moment she -squeezed them tight shut.... Ah, what pain! ... -What heart stabs! ... The prick of tears stung her -eyeballs like needle points.</p> - -<h5>§ 5</h5> - -<p>She powdered her shoulders and did her hair; she -red-lipped her mouth; she hooked the black satin dress -about her; she hung her generous string of artificial -pearls around her neck and screwed the large artificial -pearl ear-rings upon her ears. At five o’clock she was -ready, and for the ensuing thirty minutes she studied -her reflection in the glass, turning first to one side, -then to the other, noting various effects. She wore -no hat, but to-night her hair, with its distinguished -touch of white, was dressed high, and thrust into its -thick coil at the back of her head were three large -brilliant, rhinestone combs.</p> - -<p>Promptly at the half-hour, Martin was announced, -and slipping on the marvellous jacket, rolling the fur -luxuriously against her neck, Jeannette descended in -the elevator and met him in the foyer. The glance he -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_488">[Pg 488]</span> -gave her satisfied her; she knew Martin; he had not -changed. There remained only Ruthie, and in that -instant it came to Jeannette a cold, disdainful manner -would put herself, bound and helpless, at Ruthie’s -mercy. They were two shrewd and clever women,—she -assumed Ruthie would be shrewd and clever,—meeting -one another under strange and difficult circumstances; -any hint of condescension, any suggestion -of a patronizing air, and Ruthie would be laughing -at her. No, the part for her to play was one of all -sweetness and amiability; graciousness was her only -salvation.</p> - -<p>Martin guided her out of the hotel, his fingers at -her elbow. A limousine swept up to the door. It was -a <i>Parrott</i>, and there was a liveried chauffeur at the -wheel.</p> - -<p>“Get right in, Jan.”</p> - -<p>He stooped through the doorway and sank heavily -against the upholstered cushions beside her. The -“starter” touched his cap, and banged the door. -Memories swept back upon Jeannette, memories of -another motor-car, a taxi-cab, and another “starter” -who had banged shut an automobile door upon the -two of them, and of a night pulsing with high emotions, -hopes and young love. Her little excited mother with -her pendent, trembling cheeks, dressed in her lavender -velvet, had been with them on that other night, -and she had sat beside her daughter where Martin -now was sitting, and Martin had occupied the small -collapsible seat opposite, and had balanced himself -there with his knees uncomfortably hunched up, to -keep his feet out of the way!</p> - -<p>“... what we call the <i>Parrott</i> Convertible; it’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_489">[Pg 489]</span> -just out this year,” Martin was explaining. “You -see with a little manipulation of the glass windows -and seats you can turn it from a limousine into a -Sedan and drive it yourself.”</p> - -<p>“How clever!” she said. “You know, Martin, it -delights me to think of your being so successful. It -was coming to you. You were born to be a good salesman, -and I’m glad you’ve gotten into a line of business -where your talents count for something. You -were entirely out of your element with that Engraving -Company; they didn’t begin to appreciate -you.”</p> - -<p>“They didn’t, did they? That younger Gibbs,—Herbert -Gibbs,—he was certainly a little rat, if there -ever was one. You know I had a terrible row with him -after—after....”</p> - -<p>“And I’m glad, too,” proceeded Jeannette hastily, -“that you’ve married again and ’ve got your son -and daughter. You were always crazy about children. -Remember how you used to rave about Alice’s Etta -and Ralph when they were babies?”</p> - -<p>“You bet you. How are——?”</p> - -<p>“And then you were much too fine and too good -for that Cohasset Beach crowd——”</p> - -<p>“They were a bunch of good scouts, all right.”</p> - -<p>“Weren’t they?” Jeannette said veering quickly. -“Every one of them has made good. Steve Teschemacher’s -quite wealthy.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me about him,—tell me about ’em all. Say, -do you ever go down to Cohasset Beach any more?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes; frequently. Alice and Roy bought there, -you know.”</p> - -<p>“The deuce they did! You don’t mean to say so? -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_490">[Pg 490]</span> -Well, say, Jan, who’s living in the bungalow? ... -Say, Janny, I often think....”</p> - -<p>They were busy in reminiscences, interrupting one -another, laughing, ejaculating, now and then arrested -by a memory that was not altogether mirth-provoking -and unexpectedly stirred them. At times Martin -swayed in his seat and pounded his knee.</p> - -<p>“By God!” he would shout gleefully, “by God, I’d -forgotten that!—by God, that was a hot one, all right! -Say,—that had gone completely out of my mind. -You’re a wonder for remembering little things, Jan! ... -By golly!”</p> - -<p>The car rolled smoothly out over the paved highway -that circled through the hills. Large, handsome -houses with lights shining here and there from windows, -and surrounded by tall, gaunt, leafless trees, -alternated on either side of the road and fled past. -Their own vehicle was but one link in a long chain of -nimble bugs with glowing antennæ which crawled hard -upon one another along the winding course.</p> - -<p>There came an abrupt turn, the motor car swung -up a steep driveway, slid on to crunching gravel, and -stopped.</p> - -<p>“Here we are!” exclaimed Martin. The chauffeur -leaped from his seat and attentively opened the car -door.</p> - -<p>A large frame house of gracious lines, with exterior -stone chimneys, many windows, and a precipitous -lawn that swept down to the roadway a hundred feet -or more below.</p> - -<p>“We get a splendid view of the valley here,” said -Martin, coming to stand beside Jeannette as she -looked out across the country. The landscape was -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_491">[Pg 491]</span> -shrouded in dusk, pricked with a myriad of lights; -there was a jagged silhouette of distant tree-tops and -beyond a pale, mother-of-pearl sky touched faintly -with dying pink.</p> - -<p>They turned to the house and as Martin stooped to -insert his latch-key there was the quick run of small -feet within, the door was flung open and a little girl -hurled herself upon him with a violent silent hug.</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” said Martin, “how’s my darling?” -He kissed her with equal vigor, his hat knocked at an -angle upon his head.</p> - -<p>“This is ‘Tinker,’” he said, smiling at Jeannette. -“Everybody calls her ‘Tinker,’ but her real name’s -‘Elizabeth.’ Where’s your brother, Tinker?”</p> - -<p>An answering clatter and rush came from an interior -region, and a small boy flung himself upon the man.</p> - -<p>“And this is Joe, Janny. He has a nickname, too; -sometimes we call him ‘Josephus,’—don’t we, old blunderbuss?”</p> - -<p>There was another vigorous embrace.</p> - -<p>The two children regarded Jeannette with shy but -friendly glances. The little girl was about nine, the -boy two or three years younger. Tinker was brown -of skin and brown of eye; her hair was short and -tawny and swept off her face in an old-fashioned way, -held back by an encircling comb that reached from -one temple to the other. She was freckled and had an -alert, engaging expression, while her brown eyes were -sharp as shoe buttons, and twinkled between long -tawny eyelashes. Simply, she approached Jeannette -and held up her brown arms as she offered her lips. -The boy was diminutive and wiry with furtive glance -and grinning mouth that displayed a gaping hole left -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_492">[Pg 492]</span> -by two missing front teeth. He hung his head as he -held out his small hand, but as Jeannette took it, he -darted a quick upward look into her face and gave her -a friendly elfish grin.</p> - -<p>Jeannette was moved, captivated at once by the -charm of both.</p> - -<p>“They’re darlings!” came involuntarily from her, -and then there was the sound of descending feet upon -the stairs and Jeannette straightened herself from the -crouching position in which she had greeted the children -to face their mother.</p> - -<p>“A pretty woman—and sweet—younger than I expected,” -went Jeannette’s thoughts; “nothing to fear -here.”</p> - -<p>Ruthie was in truth a pretty woman, pretty without -being either beautiful or handsome. Her expression -was bright, alert, eager, her manner friendly and -effusive. She resembled her small son.</p> - -<p>“This is Ruthie, Jeannette——” began Martin.</p> - -<p>“How do you do?” said Ruthie, hurrying forward, -leaving no doubt of her cordiality. “It was very nice -of you to come to us to-night.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all,” Jeannette responded with her best -smile. “It was nice of you to want me.”</p> - -<p>“I was anxious to know you,” said Ruthie.</p> - -<p>She could afford to be gracious thought Jeannette. -She had everything: the home, the children, money, -position,—she had Martin! ... Was it possible they -were really married? Or did Ruthie merely <i>think</i> she -was his wife?</p> - -<p>Jeannette was piloted upstairs to a large, pleasant -bedroom. The chairs, the tables, the bureau and -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_493">[Pg 493]</span> -chiffonier, the twin beds were all of bright bird’s-eye -maple; rose hangings were at the windows, rose silk -comforters were neatly folded at the foot of each bed, -rose shades on the wall lights diffused a soft rosy -radiance. The dressing-table glittered with silver -toilet articles, and Jeannette noticed they were all -monogramed “R.T.D.” Flanking them were large -silver-framed photographs, one of Martin,—a handsome, -fierce-looking Martin in evening dress,—the -other of the two children, Tinker with her arm about -her brother. Domesticity radiated everywhere.</p> - -<p>“I never looked better,” Jeannette thought consolingly -as she caught a full-length reflection of herself -in the long mirror impanelled in the bathroom door. -Her hair pleased her; her high color was most becoming; -she knew herself to be beautiful. She went downstairs, -serene and confident, sure of being able to carry -off the evening with lightness and ease.</p> - -<p>“I thought it would be quieter and perhaps a little -pleasanter without the children at table,” said Ruthie -brightly as Jeannette joined her, “so I arranged to -give them an early supper, and now Martin’s been -scolding me. He thinks you’ll be disappointed.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” Jeannette murmured.</p> - -<p>“Martin’s almost unreasonable about them; he -wants them all the time,” continued Ruthie. “I tell -him if he had them on his hands all day, perhaps he -wouldn’t be quite so enthusiastic!” She laughed an -amused little laugh like the twittering of a bird. “He -couldn’t be fonder of them if they were his own,” she -added.</p> - -<p>There was a moment’s pause.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_494">[Pg 494]</span></p> - -<p>“You see, I’d lost my first husband before I met -Martin,” Ruthie continued thoughtfully. “My first -marriage wasn’t very successful.”</p> - -<p>She <i>did</i> think she was married then!</p> - -<p>“You were divorced?” asked Jeannette. If there -was a barb to the question it failed in effect.</p> - -<p>“No; Mr. Mason was killed. He was—was rather -intemperate, and there was an accident. I met Martin -some time afterwards and he was wonderful to me.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve known him long?”</p> - -<p>“Let me see. About seven years. Joe was only a -baby, and we were living in Scranton. Martin and I -married about a year after my husband’s death. I -was having a very hard time of it; Mr. Mason carried -but very little life insurance and I took up manicuring; -I had to; there was no other way for us to get along.”</p> - -<p>She smiled at the last.</p> - -<p>He was sorry for her, thought Jeannette; that was -the way of it.</p> - -<p>“That had been your—your profession formerly?” -Jeannette asked with an innocent air.</p> - -<p>“No, I had to learn it,” Ruthie said, unruffled. “I -had to do something. I only did private work, you -know.” She cast a quick glance at Jeannette’s face. -“Martin and I didn’t meet in a barber shop!” she -added with a bright laugh.</p> - -<p>Jeannette could think of nothing to say to this, so -she nodded, and gazed into the red coals of the grate-fire -before which the two women were standing.</p> - -<p>“Here he is!” Ruthie said, suddenly.</p> - -<p>Martin’s step could be heard approaching and in -a moment he entered the living-room. Jeannette noticed -he had changed into dinner clothes.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_495">[Pg 495]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, Jan, it’s mighty darned nice to see you here,” -he said advancing, rubbing his hands. He appeared -well-groomed, was freshly shaved, his clothes fitted -him to perfection, his thick neck and swarthy skin -seemed clean and wholesome.</p> - -<p>“Have a little cocktail?” he suggested. “I’ve got a -cracker-jack bootlegger that brings me the stuff direct -from New York,—real old Gordon! If this damned -governor of ours has his way, we’re not likely to get -any more of it. This prohibition stuff makes me sick, -doesn’t it you?”</p> - -<p>“It doesn’t bother me, Martin,” Jeannette answered -lightly. “I never drink anything.”</p> - -<p>“Well, how about having a little cocktail to-night? -Just by way of celebration? Huh? What d’you say?”</p> - -<p>“No-o, thank you, Martin; not to-night. I really -never touch it, but don’t let me stop you two.”</p> - -<p>“Ruthie doesn’t drink either. She’s a plumb tee-totaler,—believes -in it! What do you know about -that?”</p> - -<p>Martin laughed good-naturedly. His mirth had the -old-time extraordinary infectious quality.</p> - -<p>“Don’t bother about mixing a cocktail to-night, -Martin dear,” Ruthie said in a persuasive voice. “It -takes you so long with the ice and everything, and -dinner’s late, now.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll have a little of the straight stuff, then,” he -said, still rubbing his hands in high good humor.</p> - -<p>They went together into the dining-room through -the double glass doors, curtained in shirred folds of -pink silk. The table was glittering with polished silverware -and sparkling glass; in the center was a low -fern in a metal fern-dish. Martin unlocked a door in -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_496">[Pg 496]</span> -the sideboard, took out a whisky bottle, held it up -a moment to the light to inspect the measure of its -contents, and poured himself an inch into a tumbler.</p> - -<p>“D’you remember that guy who used always to -say ‘Saloon’ when he was taking a drink?” asked -Martin, grinning at Jeannette. “He was a card all -right? ... Well, ‘saloon!’”</p> - -<p>He drained the drink in two gulps, followed it with -a draught of water, and sat down, smacking his lips.</p> - -<p>A maid appeared, bearing a tureen of soup, and -presently passed cheese straws. Jeannette observed -her spotless white bibbed apron and black dress, and -she took note of the fine sprays of celery and olives in -side dishes on the table, twinkling with ice. The dinner -proceeded comfortably,—well-served, well-cooked, -stereotyped: a roast of beef, with potatoes browned in -the pan, canned French peas, a salad of chopped apples -and nuts, a dessert of cake and ice-cream. She recalled -with a sharp twinge the “company” dinners -she had struggled so hard to prepare for Martin and -his friends, and the effort she had made to serve him -things he liked so as to make him want to stay at -home.... Ah, she had tried, she reminded herself, she -had really tried hard to be a good wife to him! ... -It was all so much easier for Ruthie; she had her cook, -her waitress, and there was even the chauffeur. So -easy to sit still and merely tell them what to do! ... -And Martin? ... Well, he had matured, he had -settled down, was more seasoned, more reasonable, -more disciplined.... She noticed for the first time -a jagged white scar on his right temple; it had not -been there when she had known him!</p> - -<p>Throughout dinner he was in the gayest of spirits; -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_497">[Pg 497]</span> -Ruthie turned bright alert eyes from one face to the -other; Jeannette felt the last vestige of constraint slip -from her. The talk was all of Tinker and Josephus, -of the good schools of Jenkintown, of motor cars and -the future of the automobile industry, of traffic laws -and Philadelphia and things in general. Every once -in awhile a chance remark would sound a personal note, -but the three with one accord would veer away from -it and pursue another topic. There was no telling -where rocks of disaster might be hidden.</p> - -<p>But after dinner, when Martin stood before the -sucking coal fire in the living-room, stirring his coffee, -a fresh cigar tilted up in the corner of his mouth, his -head twisted to one side to avoid the smoke, it was -evident the moment had arrived when he wanted to -hear news of his old friends and start recalling old -times. Tinker and her brother presented themselves -to say good-night and their mother made them an excuse -for leaving her husband and her guest together.</p> - -<p>“She’s far smarter than one would ever suspect -from that affected bright expression,” thought Jeannette -smiling at the children as they tumbled themselves -out of the room.</p> - -<p>Ruthie did not reappear until nearly ten o’clock, -and then came in with many apologies for having been -detained. Martin, by that time, had heard all the news, -had heard of Roy and Alice, of poor unfortunate Doc -French, of ’Dolph Kuntz, and Fritz and Steve, and -even of some of the changes in the publishing company -which interested him. He was far from satisfied, -however, and wanted to go over it all once more.</p> - -<p>“Say, do you remember that night, Jan, you and I -and that Scotch friend of yours and that awful fright -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_498">[Pg 498]</span> -he took along with him had dinner up on the Astor -roof? What became of that guy?”</p> - -<p>And——</p> - -<p>“D’you ’member that time we got stuck out in the -Sound aboard the Websters’ yacht? ... Say, do -they have any more racing down there? ... What’s -become of all the little A-boats?”</p> - -<p>But Jeannette knew the time for leave-taking had -come. She rose smiling.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, Martin; I shall have to say good-night. -I really must be going. My day’s very full -to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>He was loud in protest, a little unnecessarily loud, -Jeannette thought. She tried to dissuade him from -accompanying her back to the hotel, but he insisted.</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t <i>think</i> of you riding back all by yourself, -Jan! That wouldn’t do at all. The car’s right -here; the man’s waiting. He’ll run me in and run -me out again in less than an hour; I’ll be home again -in no time.”</p> - -<p>Ruthie urged, too.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” she insisted brightly. “You must let -Martin take you back to town; it won’t hurt him a -bit, and you two have such a lot to talk over together -about old times and everything.”</p> - -<p>The little woman’s face was wreathed with smiles; -she was confident, solicitous. She was sure of herself; -sure of Martin; her concern had every semblance of -sincerity. Jeannette felt baffled, vaguely irritated.</p> - -<p>The two women said good-night to one another with -appropriate phrases and amiability. Ruthie stood in -the shining arch of the doorway as the motor car swept -up to the steps, crunching on the fine gravel of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_499">[Pg 499]</span> -drive, and Jeannette and Martin got in. She even managed -a little wave of the hand as its door slammed and -the car started.</p> - -<p>Jeannette hated her. It was impossible to guess -what thoughts were behind that alert expression of -innocent pleasure.</p> - -<p>“You’ve come on in the world, Martin,” she observed.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I’ve made a little money, but I’m going to -make more,—a good deal more. You know, I often -think of the old man and the old woman up there in -Watertown settling down forty, or I guess it’s fifty, -years ago, to running that little grocery business of -theirs, and I can’t help wishing sometimes they were -round to see how good I’ve made. They’d get an -eyefull, all right! But I’ve worked for my success, -Jan,—that is, I’ve worked hard the last five years. -You know I was down and out for awhile?”</p> - -<p>“Were you? I didn’t know that. How did that -happen?”</p> - -<p>Martin cleared his throat and twisted a little in his -seat so as to talk more directly at her.</p> - -<p>“I was pretty badly cut-up, Jan, when you ran out -on me!”</p> - -<p>“Were you?”</p> - -<p>“You bet I was, and I began hitting her up there for -awhile; I let things go to the devil and I was boozing -a good deal. There were two or three years there -when I wasn’t much better than a bum.”</p> - -<p>“Martin!”</p> - -<p>“Well, I was sore at the world,—and sore, I guess, -at you. Yes, pretty damn sore. You know, Jan, I -didn’t think you treated me quite right, and then I -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_500">[Pg 500]</span> -blamed myself an awful lot for the way I treated you.”</p> - -<p>“It was too bad,” Jeannette said slowly. “I think -maybe we were both wrong. We were very young -and inexperienced, Mart.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s right. We pulled the wrong way.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry you took it so badly. I didn’t feel extra -good about it myself. I’ve often wished since....”</p> - -<p>“Oh, there’s no use going over the old ground now. -It’s all over and done with, but I was mighty fond of -you, Janny.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t, Martin.”</p> - -<p>“You bet I was. I took it pretty hard when you -left me; I didn’t care what happened to me.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry. It wasn’t easy for me either. If you’d -only come back,—or sent word....”</p> - -<p>“You don’t understand, Jan. I was down and out -then. I had nothing to offer you. I’d punched -Gibbsy’s face and I’d lost my job and I was driving -a truck,—that is, when I was working at all.”</p> - -<p>“Martin!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, what’s the use of going back over old times!” -he said with sudden harshness. “You’ve changed and -I’ve changed. I’m married now,—got a home and -family,—and I’m happy, Jan. Ruthie’s a good little -woman.”</p> - -<p>“When did you marry, Mart?”</p> - -<p>“In—let’s see!—in 1917; just before we got into the -war. I got a job as a salesman in an automobile agency -in Scranton. Tinker and her mother were living next -door to my boarding-house; it was Tinker that caught -my eye first; she and I used to have great times together; -I was crazy about that kid, and then I met -Ruthie.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_501">[Pg 501]</span></p> - -<p>“And after that you were married?”</p> - -<p>“Well, not right away. I had to get free first. You -were awfully decent about not contesting the suit, -Jan, but then I was pretty sure you wouldn’t.”</p> - -<p>“And was there a suit?”</p> - -<p>“Why, sure. I got a decree in New York. They -gave it to me. You never showed up.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t remember,” said Jeannette vaguely.</p> - -<p>“You were served with a summons; we had the testimony -of the process server! You let the case go by -default.”</p> - -<p>“Did I? ... I can’t ... I don’t seem to remember. -What were the grounds? I thought in New York -State you had to prove——”</p> - -<p>Martin leaned forward in his seat and stared at her -through the dimness in the car, trying to see her face.</p> - -<p>“Say, what is this?” he asked. “Are you trying to -kid me,—rub it in, or something like that?”</p> - -<p>“No, Martin,” she answered earnestly. “I don’t -know what you’re talking about. I never supposed -we’d been divorced.”</p> - -<p>“Good God! Did you think we were still married?”</p> - -<p>“Why, certainly.”</p> - -<p>The man dropped back against the upholstery with -a short explosion of breath.</p> - -<p>“Tell me about it, Martin.”</p> - -<p>“You make it damned hard, Jan. If you’re trying -to rub it in, you’re certainly doing a nifty job.”</p> - -<p>“No, Martin, truly. I’m quite honest.”</p> - -<p>He was silent and Jeannette had to plead again for -enlightenment.</p> - -<p>“I don’t understand this,” he said, troubled.</p> - -<p>“But tell me. I want to know.”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_502">[Pg 502]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, you know I was damned sore at you,” he -began at length. “I wanted to get married; Ruthie, -Tinker and the baby needed me. She was up against -it and was having a tough time trying to make ends -meet. I wanted to help out but she wouldn’t let me -and the only thing for it was to get married. So I -went to a lawyer there in Scranton and asked him if -he’d fix it so I could get a divorce from you. He got -in touch with a firm in New York and they dug up all -that rot about you and Corey——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my God!” gasped Jeannette in a whisper.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I knew it was the bunk; you’d told me the -story and I knew you’d given me the straight dope. -But there was the evidence and the sworn affidavits -of the hotel employees that Corey’s wife had secured. -It made enough of a case. I’m damned ashamed of it -now, Jan. I wish to God, I’d never done it, but I was -sore, remember, and I wanted to get married to -Ruthie.”</p> - -<p>There was painful silence in the swaying car. Jeannette -sat very still, two fingers of each hand pressed -against either cheek.</p> - -<p>“I was pretty certain you’d let it go by default,” -Martin went on after awhile in a distressed voice. -“It was no case you’d want to contest, and I thought -you probably wanted your freedom as much as I -did.... I thought surely you’d married long ago.”</p> - -<p>Silence reigned again, Jeannette struggling with -herself, Martin concerned at her voicelessness.</p> - -<p>“By God, Jan, I thought you knew all about it,—I -swear to God I did! The process server stated in -court he’d handed you the summons, and saw you pick -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_503">[Pg 503]</span> -it up; I heard him say it with my own ears. The referee -warned him about perjury, thought he smelled -collusion, or something of that sort; he ragged me -something fierce.... It was rotten the way it turned -out, for the case came up right after your friend Corey -died, and I felt pretty mean blackening a man’s character -when he wasn’t more ’an cold in his grave, ’specially -as I knew it was a frame-up.”</p> - -<p>A pent-up breath escaped Jeannette like a moan. -A scene flashed before her mind: a dark street,—the -street just in front of the office—it was late and the -crowd of clerks and workers was pouring out of the -doorway, hurrying homeward with gravity in their -hearts and the news on their lips that Chandler B. -Corey, the president of the company, had that day -dropped dead at his desk. And among these sobered -men and women walked herself, shocked and shaken, -trying to realize that the best friend she had in the -world was gone, and would never be at hand again -to advise her nor be interested in what befell her. As -she stepped into the street a man in a slouch hat -confronted her, demanding to know if she was Mrs. -Martin Devlin, thrust a folded paper at her, and disappeared. -She remembered drawing back, frightened -and affronted, and after the man had made off, rescuing -the paper from the sidewalk at her feet where it -had fallen. It was dark in the street,—too dark to -read. She recalled holding the paper up to decipher -what was printed on the first page, and then, indifferent, -her heart and mind heavy with the tragedy of -the day, had thrust it into her muff and sorrowfully -made her way homeward. Days later, when she remembered -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_504">[Pg 504]</span> -the incident and searched her muff, the -paper had disappeared. It had fallen out; it was gone; -and she dismissed the matter from her mind.</p> - -<p>Now she realized the folded paper had been the -summons bidding her come to court to defend herself -against calumny, and to show reason why Martin Devlin -should not be free to take unto himself another -wife!</p> - -<p>Suddenly something very precious died within her -dismally. The excitement of the night dwindled and -departed; the piquancy of her adventure drooped and -faded; her interest in a situation that had up to that -minute stirred pulse and imagination, shrivelled and -evaporated. She was weary and bored; she felt disgusted -and sick; she wanted to be quit of the whole -affair, of smiling, alert, complacent Ruthie, of the -homely, clumsy children, of this sleek, fat, selfish man -beside her! ... Ah, she had been a fool ever to think -... ever to imagine.... A woman of her position, -sensible, capable, independent,—stout, settled, middle-aged -and gray! ... Oh, it was detestable,—it was -humiliating,—<i>insufferable</i>!</p> - -<p>They were at the hotel.</p> - -<p>“You don’t want to let what I told you bother you, -Jan. I never stopped to think how you’d feel about -it. And you want to remember that those things never -get out; they’re all kept strictly Q.T. It happened six -or seven years ago and there isn’t a soul—Here, I’m -coming in with you.”</p> - -<p>“You needn’t bother, Martin.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right. I’ll see you inside.”</p> - -<p>They moved through the revolving glass doors and -mounted the steps into the brilliant lobby.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_505">[Pg 505]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, it’s been great to see you, and I surely have -enjoyed talking over old times. By God, it’s been a -great evening.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed. It’s been very amusing.”</p> - -<p>“I’m awfully glad you looked me up.... And -say, Jan, you like Ruthie, don’t you? Don’t you think -she’s a nice little woman? Not your style exactly,—no -side, or anything like that,—but she’s a damned -agreeable little person, hey? ... You’re not sore at -me now, are you, for that rotten trick I played on -you? I’d never have done it if it had been up to me. -It was the lawyers, you know. They dug up the story -and put it over. I’d never have done it,—I swear -to God, Jan, I wouldn’t! I’m—I’m sorry as the devil, -now; by God, I am!”</p> - -<p>“Let’s not talk about it, Martin; it’s all past and -forgotten.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s damned white of you, Jan,—damned -white! I always said you were a sensible woman.”</p> - -<p>Jeannette turned and held out her hand.</p> - -<p>“Aw, say,” Martin protested, “aren’t you going in -to the café with me and have some ginger ale or something? -I hate to say good-night so soon. There’s a -lot of things I want to ask you. I’d like to keep this -evening going forever.”</p> - -<p>But Jeannette’s one desire was to end it. She -wanted her room, to have the door shut and locked -behind her, to be alone.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, Martin——”</p> - -<p>“Just a small glass of ginger ale?” he pleaded.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, no, Martin; I think I’d better go up.”</p> - -<p>“Well, am I not to see you again? You’re not going, -until Sunday, are you?”</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_506">[Pg 506]</span></p> - -<p>“I shall be busy to-morrow; I’m engaged all day.”</p> - -<p>“How about to-morrow night?”</p> - -<p>“I’m not free then either.”</p> - -<p>A frown settled on the man’s face.</p> - -<p>“Damn it ...” he began disgustedly. She continued -to smile pleasantly but offered no suggestion.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll see you in New York some time soon,” -he asserted finally; “I have to go up there once in -awhile.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, do that,” Jeannette said without enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>“I’ll ’phone you? I’ll give you a ring at the office.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, do that,” she repeated.</p> - -<p>“Well, then, I guess I’d better say good-night.”</p> - -<p>“Good-night, Martin.”</p> - -<p>She turned toward the elevators, giving him a nod -and a brief smile over her shoulder. As the gate of -the cage slid shut, she caught another glimpse of him, -standing where she had left him, perplexed, frowning, -disconsolate,—staring after her.</p> - -<h5>§ 6</h5> - -<p>The train was crowded. Jeannette had chosen one -at midday, thinking to have her lunch in the dining-car -and so beguile away part of the tedium of the -trip. It was Saturday; she had decided to return home -at once rather than wait until Sunday; there was -nothing to hold her in Philadelphia and she was -anxious to get back to the little apartment in Waverly -Place. Many other travellers had apparently conceived -the same idea of having the noon meal on the -way, and Jeannette discovered there were no seats -left in the chair-car, so she was obliged to share one -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_507">[Pg 507]</span> -in a day coach with a short, plump lady with a prominent -bust and short fat arms who sat up very straight -beside her and wheezed audibly at every breath. -Jeannette’s heavy suit-case was stowed in front of -her, and pressed uncomfortably against her knees, -while there was no place for her hat-box except in -the aisle where it was stumbled over and cursed by -every passing passenger. There were cinders embedded -in the plush covering of the seat, the car was -badly ventilated and smelled of warm, crowded -humanity. At Trenton, feeling dirty and dishevelled, -she made a swaying progress toward the dining-car -only to find twenty people ahead of her. Disheartened, -she returned to her seat, concluding to wait until -she reached the city before she lunched. Perhaps she -would go directly home and persuade Beatrice to make -her some tea and toast.</p> - -<p>The day was leaden, the country forlorn and dreary; -the trees stood bare and black upon bare and blackened -ground; the houses seemed cold, desolate and -grimy. It began to rain as the train slowed down -through smoky Newark, and long diagonal streaks of -water slashed the dirty window-panes. Waiting travellers -on platforms huddled under station sheds or -bent their heads and umbrellas against the sharp wind -and driving drops as they struggled toward the cars. -The train grew steadily more crowded; people stood -in the aisles, swayed and were pitched against those -in the seats. Jeannette’s head began to ache dully -and at every knock or kick her offending hat-box received -she winced as though struck. In the tube beneath -the Hudson River, the train came to a standstill -and there was a long wait; women grew nervous, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_508">[Pg 508]</span> -a man said in a loud, laughing voice to a neighbor:</p> - -<p>“Say, Bill, it’d be some pickings, all right, if the -river came in on us while we were stuck here.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Jesus Mary!” gasped the woman next to Jeannette, -and for some minutes the wheeze of her breathing -rose to a higher key.</p> - -<p>Finally, with much whirring, jerking and dancing of -lights, the train rolled into the Pennsylvania Station.</p> - -<p>“I’ll go home and get into bed, and Beatrice will -bring me some tea and toast,” Jeannette whispered to -herself, cramped and weary, fighting the pain in her -head that grew steadily worse. She stumbled into a -taxi-cab and went bumping and racketing down Seventh -Avenue. The rain was now coming down in a forest -of lances, and was driven in through the three-inch -opening at the top of one of the windows. Jeannette -tried to close it; her attempt was pitiful. The taxi -skidded violently into Eighth Street and she was -thrown to her knees, her hat jammed against the opposite -side of the car.</p> - -<p>“That’s all right, lady; nothin’ happened!” yelled -the driver.</p> - -<p>“In five minutes!” breathed Jeannette, one hand -pressed hard against her breast.</p> - -<p>Ah, here she was! Here she was, at last!</p> - -<p>Her fingers shook as she fumbled with the key to the -street door.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, so much,” she said to the taxi-driver -who brought her bags up to the landing. She handed -him his fare. “Keep the change; I can manage the -rest.”</p> - -<p>Inside, she grasped her luggage with either hand, -and resolutely mounted the two long flights of stairs, -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_509">[Pg 509]</span> -forcing herself to go to the top without pausing. She -was panting, then, her head splitting.</p> - -<p>She tried the apartment door; it was locked.</p> - -<p>“Beatrice! Beatrice!” she called, rapping impatiently -upon the panels.</p> - -<p>A faint mewing came to her ears. There was no -other answer.</p> - -<p>“Oh, God,—she’s out!” Her cry was almost a sob. -Of course! it was still the Thanksgiving vacation; -Beatrice would be with her cousins in Plainfield; she -wouldn’t be home until Sunday night!</p> - -<p>Jeannette fumbled for her door-key. There was -little light and she was obliged to kneel before she -could find the hole in the lock. With a gasp she finally -threw open the door and stumbled into the flat. It was -cold, unaired, deserted. Mitzi, tail on end, welcomed -her with shrill, complaining cries.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you baby you,” Jeannette said aloud, blinking -through her own distress and eyeing the cat. -“You’ve been shut up in here since the day before yesterday -and you’re just about starving.”</p> - -<p>Mitzi confirmed this with a wail. Jeannette scooped -the animal up with a long arm and carried her into the -kitchen. It was cold and bleak in here, too, smelling -foully of Mitzi’s incarceration.</p> - -<p>A groan was wrung from Jeannette’s lips.</p> - -<p>In the ice-box she found only a bowl half full of -pickled beets, a plate of butter, two rather shrivelled -bananas, and a few pieces of dried toast. She -clapped the kettle on the stove, lighted the gas, and -stood caressing the cat until the water had warmed; -then she moistened the toast and set it in a soup plate -on the floor.</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_510">[Pg 510]</span></p> - -<p>“Here, you poor critter, eat that until I get you -something decent.” Mitzi leaped at the meal, jerking -the food into her mouth, growling gluttonously.</p> - -<p>Jeannette put her fingers to her head and watched -the performance, breathing hard.</p> - -<p>“I must,” she said aloud. “It won’t kill me.”</p> - -<p>She went into her own room, laid aside her fur coat, -put on an old mackintosh and felt hat, once more went -out into the rain, and presently dragged herself up -the stairs again with a bottle of milk and a bag of -provisions.</p> - -<p>Her temples throbbing and little streaks of pain -darting through her eyeballs, she moved resolutely -through the next few minutes. While the kettle was -heating, she got herself into her kimona, and braided -her hair. Then she returned to the kitchen, mixed a -large bowl of bread and milk for the cat, and dutifully -made herself tea which she drank, munching between -sips some saltine crackers warmed in the oven.</p> - -<p>Peace gradually descended upon her. Mitzi, replete -and satisfied, licked milk-stained whiskers, and eyed -her comfortably from the floor. The pain in Jeannette’s -head was less violent, but she was very cold.</p> - -<p>“I’ll get a hot-water bottle and go to bed,” she said. -“I think I’ll go crazy if I keep on this way.”</p> - -<p>She proceeded to her room, made her bed, then commenced -to unpack her bags and put away her things. -When she was about finished, she came upon the fur -coat where she had left it on a chair. She picked it up -and stared at it, observing its brilliant silk lining, its -smooth, plushy surface, the soft texture of its fur collar. -Suddenly she flung it from her into a far corner -on the floor, and for a moment stood a tragic figure -<span class="pagenum" id="Pgid_511">[Pg 511]</span> -with clenched hands, flashing eyes and heaving -breast.</p> - -<p>There was a diversion,—a sound close at hand that -startled her. Mitzi had jumped on the bed, and was -gazing up at her with head twisted to one side, glassy -eyes fixed inquiringly upon her face, long tail alert, -the tip waving gently. The cat opened her mouth and -mewed plaintively. Jeannette relaxed, gathered the -animal into her arms, and slowly sank down upon the -bed. Mitzi, nestling comfortably against her, began -to purr rhythmically. A slow trembling came to the -woman, and her fingers shook as they stroked Mitzi’s -back. She fought desperately to check the gathering -tempest within her, and for a moment struggled with -firm pressed lips and shut teeth as the tears welled -up into her eyes, rolled down her cheeks, and splashed -upon her hand. Then suddenly the floodgates of her -heart burst, grief overwhelmed her, and she sank sideways -on the bed, carrying the cat to her neck, cuddling -and stroking it, while burying her face against the -soft fur, and passionately sobbing:</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mitzi—Mitzi! I love you so—I love you so!”</p> - -<p class="center"><small>THE END</small></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote"> - -<h2>Transcriber's Notes:</h2> - -<p>A number of typographical errors have been corrected silently.</p> -<p>Second section numbered 11 of Chapter II of Book II renumbered to section 12.</p> -<p>Table of Contents was augmented with chapter numbers.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BREAD ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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