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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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