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THE
OLLIVANT ORPHANS

BY

INEZ HAYNES GILLMORE

Author of "Phoebe and Ernest," "Phoebe, Ernest, and Cupid/' Etc.

FRONTISPIECE BY

JAMES MONTGOMERY FLAGG

} * j > * > i * * ,

METHUEN & CO., LTD.

36 ESSEX STREET, W.C
LONDON

BY

THE METROPOLITAN MAGAZINE COMPANY

BY
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY

Published October, 1915

PBINTED IN THE U. S. A.

TO
KATIE AND JULIA

414924

CONTENTS

:hapter
I

The Home Coming .

PAGE
I

II

Standing By ...

• 2 3

III

Ann Takes Charge .

49

IV

7i

V

Roland's Friend

95

VI

Beckie's Job ....

■ ii7

VII

Ann's New Set ....

141

rai

Lainey and the Eternal Mascu

line

, 166

IX

Roly Comes Through

191

X

Matt Looks upon the Wine .

217

XI

Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voici

: 247

XII

The Pleasure of Your Company .

281

THE OLLIVANT ORPHANS

CHAPTER I
THE HOME COMING

THEY had expected to. return as they came,
Ed, Matt, Beckie and Lainey in the first
carriage, Ann and Roland with the aunts in the
second carriage. But at the last moment, shattered
by a fresh outbreak of weeping, Ann had thrown
herself between her sisters; and Roland, in what
was palpably panic at the thought of segregation,
had leaped in behind her. Now they sat huddled
close, the three girls facing the horses, the three
boys riding backwards. Ann's head, almost buried
under the rich disarray of her hair, lay on Lainey's
shoulder. They clung so close that they might have
been a sculptured group, Ann passionately relaxed,
Lainey tense and drawn. When the sobs burst from
Ann's writhing mouth, they seemed to run noise-
lessly up the long line of Lainey's translucent throat
until they died on her delicate lips. Roland had
settled back in the corner as though asleep, but his
swollen lids did not conceal the moist glitter that
oozed between his inky lashes.

" I don't want to go back to the house," Ann
burst out after the long silence which had been
interrupted only by her grief. " I don't want to

The Home Coming

go back there — I can't bear it." Ann's slim figure
shook as though her words were bullets, and
Lainey's slim figure vibrated to each shock.

" Would you like to go home with Aunt Ella? "
asked Beckie. Beckie did not give way although her
voice was harsh with strain, her face stiff with effort.
Her eyes alone showed havoc; they gleamed with
the frenzied protest of the wild creature on whom
life has unexpectedly thrust cataclysm.

" Oh no, no, no! )y protested Ann. "I couldn't
do that. I don't love Aunt Ella. I want to stay
with you. I'm afraid somebody'll die if I go away.
But I don't want to go back to the house — I don't
want to. I can't bear it."

" We've got to go back, Ann," Ed Ollivant said.
He withdrew his gaze from the spot in the door-
glass on which, from the beginning of the home-
ward journey, it had been fixed; it went to Ann
for an instant. Ed had not shed a tear. His
regular blonde face was as ever freshly-colored
and smoothly-handsome, but it looked frozen.
Only the lips, under his little golden mustache,
pressed so close that they seamed a straight gash
across his face. " You wouldn't like to go to a hotel,
would you? "

" Oh no!" Ann shuddered; and her shudder
overflowed into Lainey's tense body. " But I wish I
could go away forever. I can't feel that the house
is home any longer. I can't bear to think of living
there without mother. I know I shall never go
into mother's room without seeing the coffin there
and that dreadful black fur rug and those horrible
tuberoses Uncle Joshua sent."

"We'll lock up mother's room, Ann dear,"

The Home Coming 3

Lainey promised. " We won't go into it again for
years and years and years."

" But that won't make any difference to me,"
sobbed Ann. " Every time I go by the door, I'll
remember I can't endure to think of seeing it."

" We can go in by the back way, Ann," Matt
Ollivant said. " And if you go to bed up the back
stairs, you won't have to see mother's room to-
night." Matt was not so composed as his elder
brother. His skin was splotched; the clear red of
puffed; the blue of the pupil seemed to have run
into the white. All the sparkle had gone from his
crest of red hair. " Don't cry any more, Ann,"
he begged. " It makes us all feel so much worse."
Matt's voice came close to the breaking-point.

" I won't cry another minute," Ann said. " I
promise I won't." Nevertheless, she burst into the
fiercest paroxysm yet. But immediately she sat up
and began to straighten her hair. Weeping had
discolored and misshapen her face; but it was to
be seen that, normally, she was a pretty girl with
huge eyes of a burning gold, and hair chestnut
bright at the surface, but so shadowy in the depths
that it made incredible the whiteness of her skin.

For a long while nobody spoke. Ed's frigid gaze
went back to the door-glass. Roland continued to
try to look as though he were asleep. Matt folded
his arms, sank his chin onto his chest, fixed his
dull eyes on the little window in the back of the
carriage. The three girls sagged in various atti-
tudes of apathy. The horses began gradually to
take a smarter pace. Outside, a country landscape,
colored ardently by the fall, whirled past. The

4 The Home Coming

houses began to come closer together; they passec
through a town: again the streets melted away and
it was almost country again. Presently the houses
pressed in close and closer, changed to apartment
buildings. The clang of the trolley began to accom-
pany them now: they were riding through house-
packed suburb streets. The driver was openly
urging the horses on.

11 We'll be home in fifteen minutes/' Beckie of-
fered to their preoccupation.

The six pairs of eyes listlessly watched the fa-
miliar landmarks slide into view. " Here's Mar-
lowe Place," Beckie said after another long silence.

" Remember," Ann ordered, her hysteria visibly
returning. " Remember to go in the back way."

" We won't forget, Ann," Ed reassured her.
The carriage turned, slowed. Ed tapped on the
window; the wheel ground against the curb. Ed
opened the door, leaped out, held his hand up to
Ann.

Marlowe Place began in a narrow, alley-like en-
trance and then broadened into a horseshoe-shaped
inclosure which ran around a little elm-encircled
park. Half a dozen houses looked onto this park.
None of them were old, but they were all oldish
in a pleasant, ample, mid- Victorian fashion. The
Ollivant house was the least conspicuous : it was the
most bromidic. The front elevation was A-shaped;
it was elaborately bay-windowed and it was colored
an ugly dark maroon with white trimmings. Sy-
ringa and lilacs grew untended in the scrap of
front yard. A board-walk, some of the boards
gone, many of them rotting, and most of them
loose, led to a big back yard. There a huge wood-

The Home Coming 5

bine, doing its best to conceal the need of repainting,
cascaded over two sides of the house and along the
ell. Everything looked old and shabby and neg-
lected; the unkempt vine waving its autumn tatters,
the flower-plots with their few sticks of starved
plants; even the little summer-house standing be-
tween the lilac and the syringa and the elaborate
bird-house on the top of a pole. The Ollivants, in
their improvised funeral-black, filed down this walk,
Ed at the head, Ann bringing up the rear. Ed
unlocked the door. Beckie stepped in first. The
others followed her, crowding. But once over the
threshold, they all stopped stock-still as though they

But Beckie took charge. She tiptoed over to the
stove and lifted the cover. " Oh, the fire's still
going," she commented. " That's good."

Beckie's words were commonplace enough. But
she whispered.

Mechanically Beckie began to draw the pins from
her hat. Mechanically the two girls mimicked her.
The boys removed their coats, tugged off the stiff,
cheap black gloves, beginning already to pull white
in the seams. Then they all stood still as though
waiting.

" How neat it looks here," Beckie said in a dis-
jointed way and still in a whisper. " Everything's
back in place. Somebody's been cleaning up. My

hair must look like " She turned and made as

though to examine herself in the smoky mirror over
the kitchen sink, but her eyes passed unseeingly
across its surface. u We might as well put our
things in the dining-room."

" Yes," said Ed. " Sure ! " He too spoke in a

6 The Home Coming

low tone. But nobody moved. After a while, with
a convulsive jerk, Ed started into the back hall.
The little procession, hesitating, followed. The
door of the dining-room was open.

It was a big, plain room, palpably half living-
room and half dining-room. The carpeted floor,
the meager hair-cloth couch, the two morris-
chairs in oak, a combination-piece of desk, book-
case, and plate-rack, also in oak, contributed to its
living-room aspect. The pictures, still life in pastel,
the big oval table with its darned table-cloth and its
heterogeneous china, the ponderous sideboard of
black walnut carved with unnatural grapes, and cov-
ered with china, salts and peppers, glass vinegar
and oil cruets, a tarnished silver cake-basket, and
a big silver ice-water pitcher, brought it up to the
dining-room level again.

" How nice it looks here ! M Lainey said. " Every-
thing's dusted and put back into place. The table's
set. There's a fire going in the stove too. Some-
body's been working hard since we left. We must
find out who and thank her." Lainey spoke in quick
gasps, but she whispered too.

" The first thing to do now," Beckie explained,
articulating carefully, " is to get something to eat.
I'm going to cook dinner. I've ordered a steak.
I told them not to deliver it till we got back. I

didn't know how long it would take to I'll

make a big potful of coffee. We'll feel a great deal
better as soon as we've got something hot in us. 1

"That's right," approved Ed. "Want am
help, Beckie?"

14 Yes," said Beckie. " But first I want Roly t(
lie down and take a little nap. He looks tired-t(

The Home Coming 7

death. I'll wake you up just as soon as dinner's

heavier during the long drive. Now he stood star-
ing about him in the bewilderment of a child who
has been punished for the first time. He sat down
on the couch at once, however, and apathetically
watched Beckie mass the pillows. She had hardly
covered him with the ragged afghan before his
breathing dropped an octave.

"Now, Ed," Beckie went on in 'whispered com-
mand, " you go downstairs and get me some coal.
Matt, you go out into the woodshed and chop a
little kindling for to-morrow morning. And, Lainey,
you and Ann go upstairs and wash up. Then you
come down and I'll put you to work."

The five Ollivants followed her instructions im-
plicitly. The death-like stillness in the house broke.
From the cellar came — muffled — the sound of coal
shoveled into the hod; from the woodshed came —
subdued — the sound of wood smashing on the
block; from the kitchen came — muted — the clatter
of pans, the opening and shutting of drawers. But
all these sounds stopped dead at intervals and then
went on with an increasing effort towards quiet.

Lainey and Ann went into the big, back room on
the second floor which they had shared ever since
they were little girls. It had every earmark of the
chamber that is trying to be a living-room. Two
couches, coming together in a corner, covered with
effort not to look like beds. A table with big
drawers that, after use, swallowed up all the articles

8 The Home Coming

of the toilet, did its best not to look like a dresser.
A high screen at one corner concealed the washing
arrangements. A little spindly, slant-top maple
desk, over-furnished with writing utensils, lay open.
Its top was covered with framed photographs; they
marble mantel that it was like a shrine to friend-
ship. The walls were covered with pictures, pretty
girls from magazine covers and magazine illustra-
tions, all passe-partouted.

Lainey went behind the screen, poured the bowl
full of water. " You wash first, Ann," she directed.
11 And I want you to take off that dress and put
on something white. I hate you in black."

" All right," Ann agreed docilely. " I hate it
too. But," she burst into a sudden passion, " I
shall wear black for a while. I wouldn't for the
world have anybody think that I was lacking in
respect to my mother."

" Nobody will think that," Lainey protested in-
dignantly, unhooking Ann. " If they do, they're no

friends of ours. Everybody knows how we "

She did not attempt to finish. After a while, she
turned her back on her sister and Ann, with fum-
bling fingers, unfastened Lainey's dress.

"Why!" Ann exclaimed in almost a natural
voice a few moments later, emerging from behind
the screen, "what's become of the tea-table?"

Lainey turned from the mirror, her tiny sticks of
down; her little white face showed only as a cres-
cent under its long thick golden shower. "Why,
that's so! I don't know where it is. But the house
has been so upset. Perhaps they needed it during

The Home Coming 9

the — it's probably downstairs in moth " Again

she did not finish.

They still talked in whispers.

A door on the floor above opened softly. M Say,
Lainey," Ed's hushed voice floated down, M do
you know what's become of the bookcases in our
room? Somebody's taken them away and my
clothes are all on the bed. Matt says he doesn't
know where they are."

" I don't know, I'm sure, Ed," Lainey answered,
her voice lowered too. " They may have needed
them downstairs during the — it's probably in
moth though I can't think what for."

11 Well, I'll hunt them up later." Ed's whispered
tones were now carefully business-like. " It doesn't
make any difference. I only used them to hang my
trousers in. I only wondered "

Ann was now combing her hair in front of the
mirror. Ann's hair was very different from
Lainey's vapory mane; crisper, coarser, it made
halfway to her waist a bolt of solid shadow. Over
each ear, however, a lock of hair pulled free,
whirled into a flat spiral, lay like a bit of carved
flat to her neck after a few careless passes with the
comb; but Ann's hairdressing, even at this moment,
was not construction, it was architecture. Ann was
younger than Lainey, but she was not so small or
so slim. There was an incipient peach-like round-
ness to her contours which matched the peach-like
bloom of her colors and the peach-like softness of
her surfaces. The cold water had removed the
stains of weeping. Only the deep droop of her
wide red mouth remained. She pulled on a skirt

io The Home Coming

of white duck, unskilfully starched to a crackling
cylindrical stiffness. Over that came a middy-
blouse ; she knotted a black tie below the triangle oi
velvety neck.

too. And now the hair that she had so relentlessb
smoothed down began, by means of flying wefts an<
strays, to form the natural halo which always floated
Lainey's only beauty. Her skin was a little pasty,
her features nondescript; her eyes so small and
colorless and deep-set that it was only in conversa-
tion that you noticed them. But if she were talking
you noticed them all the time.

Although the boys' room was the biggest one
in the house, it made no effort to look like anything
else; it was unmistakably only a place to sleep in.
innocuousness. The chamber-set — drab, ornamented
with panels of sky-blue, in turn decorated with
bunches of pink roses — had been eked out with
derelicts from other rooms; an easy-chair from
the hair-cloth set, a broken spring protruding
through the seat; a tumble-down mahogany etagere
bearing the dusty minerals that Matt had so pains-
takingly collected in his young boyhood, a swinging
book-shelf covered with the cups that Matt had won
at tennis. A few rusty guns and swords, revolving
space ; another showed faded areas the exact shapes
of the missing bookcases. Small framed pictures
in ugly, haphazard frames, High School diplomas,
class-groups, Ed's hunting-crowd, his first deer, hung

The Home Coming n

at awkward intervals on the gaunt walls. Matt's
football regalia, his baseball mask, his class pennant
tried unavailingly to give character to the room.

the little rickety washstand. Now he was changing
his suit. He stood in front of the only modern piece
the room contained, a tall slim light-colored chif-
fonier spread with toilet articles in ebonized wood,
elaborately monogramed. Matt had ascended from
the woodshed after an interval. He too had washed
at the little rickety washstand. Now he was
shaving. He stood before the drab-blue-rose bu-
reau whose glass rippled like a small pond, sift-
ing shaving powder onto his brush. As yet no
word had passed between the brothers.

" Looks like good weather for the World Series,"
Ed dropped without expression after a while.

Matt cleared his throat. " Yes. I see Callahan
favors the Red Sox."

11 Well, I guess he's bound to stand by the Amer-
ican League," Ed suggested.

11 Sure ! " Matt's ripost came prompt on the
tail of Ed's comment. " Smoky Joe looks pretty
good to me," he hurried on.

11 Yes." Ed pulled his suspenders over his
shoulders by means of two contortions of his lithe
frame. He seized a brush in each hand and at-
tacked his head as though it were a wild beast. At
intervals he stopped short; then he slapped at it
again. "Yes, but he's up against Matty." This
came out with abruptness, as though he had sud-
denly remembered that there was a conversation to
sustain.

tt

12 The Home Coming

" Yes, of course, Matty's a great pitcher," Matt
interpolated quickly, " but they all get old som(
time." He lathered his face.

"That's right," agreed Ed. He dropped th<
brushes.

There came a pause. And into that pause drifte<
silence, a profound silence, a silence which took on
all the significance of noise and went echoing and re-
echoing through the stark house.

Matt stared at his reflection in the wavy mirror.
Stared back at him a white clown's face of which
the blue eyes were turned to black buttons and the
white teeth to yellow fangs by the snowy lather.
14 Do you think the Giants are faster in the paths than
the Red Sox?" that clown asked. His words, in
the terrible silence, crashed like bombs exploding
in an air-shaft.

Ed looked as though he were waiting for the
echoes to die down. M When a man goes faster
than Hooper, he's going some."

Matt slashed swiftly through the lather.
11 McGraw says that Carrigan's arm is weak"

" Well, for a poor old cripple — " Ed stopped
and with a nice precision selected a tie from the wad
which hung over the arm of the gas-jet. It seemed
an endless time that he crossed and recrossed it.
" — he can still throw out quite a number at second.
He doesn't let his arm out unless he has to."

They still talked in husky murmurs.

" Now let's go down and see what we can do to
help Beck," Ann said.

Hand in hand, the sisters left the room, walked
along the front hall. Ann's foot was on the top

The Home Coming 13

stair when Lainey said: "Oh, but, Ann, I forgot.
You don't want to pass mother's room."

" Oh no! " There came a recurrence of Ann's
shudder. "I don't. But look, the door's open!
Ed must close it — and — and — and lock it. But
what's that?" She pointed.

The wall opposite the open door of Mrs. Olli-
vant's room showed a reflection which rioted up-
wards in many shreds of red light.

14 Why, there must be a fire in the stove," Ann
continued. " But that wouldn't make such a blaze.
Why, what can it be? The house isn't on fire, is it?
Oh, Lainey, I'm afraid."

" I'm not," Lainey said in a resolute voice. And
dropping Ann's hand, she ran swiftly down the
stairs, crossed the hall, reached the doorway. A
moment she stood staring, her soft lips breaking
away from each other like the petals of an opening
flower. " Oh, Ann ! " she breathed. And her " Oh,
Ann ! " was an exclamation of delight. " Oh, Ann,
how lovely it looks ! Why, I can almost remember
when — Oh, Ann, come down! It's beautiful!
Come down ! Come down ! "

Ann did not hesitate ; she flew to her sister's side,
peered over her shoulder. " Oh, Lainey! " she said
in a wondering tone. And her tone was glad too.
"Oh! Oh! It's lovely! Who did it?" Suddenly
she raised her voice in a vibrating call. " Beck,
Beck, do come here! Something beautiful! Ed,
come down! Matt! Matt! Roly, wake up! Do
come, all of you ! Do come ! "

They came. Ollivants poured from all directions,
Beckie with a big kitchen-spoon in her hand, Ed in
his shirt-sleeves, Matt with a shaving-towel still

14 The Home Coming

tucked into his neck, Roly with the briery thatch
his inky hair standing up in all directions, his eyes
still heavy with sleep. " What is it? " they all asked
as they crowded into the doorway. " What is it,
Ann?" But their own eyes answered their ques-
tion and there followed an instant of paralysis.
Then they broke into another clamor and in it their
voices all went up or came down to a natural pitch.
" It's Aunt Lottie," said Beckie. " There's our
bookcases ! " This was from Ed. And " There's
the tea-table ! " That was from Ann. " How'd they
do it so quickly? " Matt asked.

The big front room — originally it had been the
parlor, but for years now it had been the
scene of Mrs. Ollivant's uncomplaining invalidism
— had undergone metamorphosis. The big double
black walnut bed had gone. The black walnut bu-
reau, the big black walnut table, the little black
walnut table, with their depressing marble slabs, had
gone. The glasses, the bottles, the powders — all
the paraphernalia of a chronic illness — had gone.
The tiny stove which supplemented their recalci-
trant old-fashioned furnace had vanished. The
night-lamp had disappeared. And in their places —

The fireplace had been reopened; all the brass
hearth ornaments had been reinstated; the lire-dogs,
the fire-screen, the shovel, tongs, poker, even the
old trivet, had been shined until they glittered. The
fireplace was piled with blazing logs that flirted
fan-shaped volleys of sparks. Over the mantel
hung the portrait of General Milliken, their great-
uncle. And on one side of General Milliken was
a picture of their mother in her warmly-tinted,
ripely-curved, blonde bridehood, and on the other a

The Home Coming 15

picture of their father in his magnificently-colored
virile prime. Mrs. Ollivant wore a slim, many-
buttoned gown of pale blue silk, trimmed with
ruffles of thread lace. She carried the fan of pale
rose-colored feathers and mother-of-pearl sticks
which the family still cherished as a souvenir of
her wedding-trip to Paris. Mr. Ollivant wore a
suit of fawn-colored broadcloth, the coat long and
full-skirted, the trousers wide. On the table beside
him lay a pair of fawn-colored gloves and a shining
fawn-colored beaver hat. He carried in his hand
the slender stick which the family still cherished as
a souvenir of the London part of the wedding-trip.
On the mantel, in place of the bottles, were a pair
of brass candelabra with prism pendants, two pairs
of mid- Victorian vases, and the little Parian marble
bust of Clytie. These were all that remained of
sofa — its wine-colored upholstery faded and moth-
eaten — had been brought down from the garret,
heaped with cushions and drawn up to the fire. At
one end, within reaching distance, glittered Ann's
tea-table. Pushed close to its back, also within
reaching distance, the big mahogany center-table,
opened to its full width, was piled with magazines
and with novels. An evening paper lay on top. On
either side of the mantel towered the tall old book-
cases that Ed had missed. All the old sets — Scott,
Dickens, Thackeray, Bulwer-Lytton, Cooper — had
returned to their shelves. The piano — it ran slant-
wise across the bay-window — wore a brilliant scarf
of Roman silk. For many months the piano had
stayed closed. Now it was open. A book of music,
open too, stood on the rack. Big puffy faded old

1 6 The Home Coming

chairs, long ago banished to the attic, had resumed
their places; old pictures, much tarnished as to elab-
orate gold frame and much spotted as to broad
white mat, had gone up on the wall.

" It is Aunt Lottie, of course," Beckie said as the
others still stood staring.

" Hark! What's that? " Ann asked suddenly.

Somewhere in the room a bell tinkled, continued
to emit a tiny chime.

Ann dropped to the floor, lifted the valance of
the couch. " Well, of all things! " she said. Half
of her disappeared for an instant. "A kitten!"
she called in a muffled tone, " with a bell on its col-
lar." She emerged holding a microscopic bunch of
gray fur, all terrified round eyes and terrified fat tail.
It spit vigorously at the assembled company. " Did
you ever see such a tiny one and so homely and such
an ugly little tyke — isn't it cunning, though." Ann
struggled to hold her prey. u Why, what's this? "

From the kitten's red leather collar hung a string
that ran to the couch leg. As Ann straightened up,
a big, square envelope tied to the string fluttered
from under the valance. " It's Aunt Lot's hand-
writing," Ann said. " ' To Ed and Matt and Beckie
and Lainey and Ann and Roly,' " she read. She tore
the envelope off the string, pulled the flap open.

The Ollivants still stood huddled in the doorway.

" It's a long letter," Ann explained. " Oh, may
I read it aloud? " she begged.

" We'd better sit down ! " Beckie said.

The Ollivants filed into the room, seated them-

"Here, Lainey, you take the kitty!" Ann or-
dered. Lainey obediently lifted the spitting bunch

The Home Coming 17

of fluff to her shoulder. After preliminary prod-
dings with a pair of vicious little claws, he fell asleep
there.

" ' My poor little chicks, 1 the letter began, ' I think
you must have wondered why I did not go to Mount
Holly with you. But if you did, you know the rea-
son why now. I stayed behind only to do what I
solemnly promised your dear mother I would do.
She and I have had many long talks in the last few
months, and she told me things that, for fear of
breaking your hearts, she could never talk over with
you. She made me promise that when the time
came I would stay at home and make the parlor
look as it used to look before she lost her health.
She said to me, " Lot, I can't bear to think of the
children coming home to this bleak room. Unless
it is changed immediately, they will always asso-
ciate my sickness with it. They may even grow td
hate it and the house. And I want them to love
the place where I have spent the happiest years of
my life." ' "

Ann stopped a moment. But she gathered her-
self together and went on.

" ' And so the instant you had gone, I took Eliza
and Ellen over, we went from cellar to attic picking
out the things that used to be in the parlor and put-
ting them back in their places. I knew them all and
just where they belonged. I cannot tell you how
much happier I felt when the room began to look
like itself again. You know, for I have told you
often enough, that I called on your mother the day
after she came out to this house a bride and that we
have been dear, dear friends ever since. I have
spent some of the gayest hours of my life in that

1 8 The Home Coming

room. Often in the last few months she has said to
me, " Lot, I want 'you to tell them all the funny
things that have happened. Ed and Beckie and
Matt will remember some of them, Lainey a few,
perhaps, but Ann and Roly won't recall any.
And I want my two babies to know how happy my
life with their father was." ' "

At the word " babies," Ann's voice faltered, but
she controlled it. Roland gulped too, but he fol-
lowed Ann's example.

" * And indeed, funny things did happen. Your
mother and I have laughed over them even in these
were happy because they loved each other genuinely.
And, oh, how they loved you ! Your mother wanted
all her children. That is the reason, I sometimes
think, that you are so beautiful and happy and well.
And, oh, she was always so proud of you. " I never
had a homely baby," she used to say. And it was
true ; you were all lovely babies. And so well ! All
except Ed — and he was, just as soon as they dis-
covered they were not giving him enough to eat. I
know what kind of babies you were, for I helped to
take care of all of you. Many a winter morning
I've given Ed his bath in a little tin tub in front
of the fire in the parlor. How he did splash!
Your mother used to say she would rather wash an
eel. Your mother was a beautiful woman in those
days. She was the picture of health and she had
such high spirits ! She always ran upstairs ; nobody
could induce her to walk and she always sang when
she was alone. One night we were playing whist
in the parlor, your mother and father, old Professor
Marshall and myself. Suddenly your mother ex-

The Home Coming 19

cused herself and went upstairs and your Aunt
Martha took her place. We heard the door open
and shut several times, but nobody paid any atten-
tion to that. It was such a lively house in those days ;
company was always coming and going. But about
midnight, down came old Nursey Simmons. She
marched up to your father and said, " Mr. Ollivant,
Mrs. Ollivant begs me to announce to you that at last
you are the father of a little daughter." It was
Beckie who broke up that whist-party. How old
Professor Marshall used to laugh about it.' "

11 Why, I never heard that story," exclaimed
Beckie. And for the first time that day she smiled.

" ' Your mother was crazy with delight to have a
girl after two boys. She was just as tickled when
Lainey came. She used to worry, though, because
Lainey was such a quiet child. M It doesn't seem nat-
ural for her to be so good," she said again and again.
Heaven knows Ann and Roly made up for it when
they came ; they were so mischievous they had to be
watched all the time. I've been going through my
letters in the last two or three days. We used to
be separated — your mother and I — in the summer;
but she used to write me beautiful letters. She was
one of those people who like to write letters and she
told me just the things I wanted to know. I have a
great many of them; they're almost like a diary. I
came across all kinds of things inclosed in them:
locks of hair (oh, Matt had such wonderful red
curls; your mother cried when they cut them off),
bits of lace that she had learned to do (she always
made her baby clothes, herself), samples of dresses
she was going to have (she was an awfully dressy

20 The Home Coming

woman, you know) . I inclose a picture that I don't
it myself.' '*

Ann shook the letter. " Where is it? " she said.

II Oh, I guess it's in the envelope. Oh, here it is."
She pulled out a small photograph, a tall slender
woman seated, a little girl standing beside her on
a chair. M Ann at three years and ten months," was
written underneath.

The Ollivants clustered about it. " Oh, isn't that
sweet of mother ! " Beckie exclaimed. " Mother
was a pippin, all right! " Matt remarked. "What
a quaint dress ! " commented Lainey. " I remem-
ber that dress," said Ed. " It was green."
"Wasn't I a cunning little girl?" Ann looked
pleased and she laughed a little self-conscious laugh.

II I never saw that picture. Don't I look cross,
though?"

The Ollivants returned to their seats. Ann re-
turned to the letter.

" ' I want to call your attention to the look on
Ann's face. You see the photographer told her to
watch the end of the camera to see the little bird
fly out. They always told lies to children in order
to keep them quiet; the exposure was longer in those
days. But in Ann's case, the photographer over-
reached himself. Ann insisted on seeing the bird
first. The photographer tried to take her mind off
the bird by showing her other things. Your mother
sang to her and told her stories. But it was no use.
See that bird, she would. She got sulkier and sul
kier. Finally, they had to take the picture with that
fully disappointed. But afterwards she said she

The Home Coming 21

liked it better that way because Ann was always so
cunning when she was naughty. 1 "

" You were cunning then," said Beckie, laughing.
" I remember perfectly. You were an awfully mis-
chievous baby."

" ' Now,' " the letter concluded, " ' if you will let
me, I would like to come over to-night and have
dinner with you. I have the dinner cooking here —
a pair of chickens, some hot biscuits, jelly, piccalilly,
cake, and a freezerful of ice-cream. Eliza and
Ellen will bring the things over. And then, after
dinner, we'll sit together in the parlor and I'll read
your mother's letters to you. I've hunted up all the
pictures I have of the family and I'll bring them
over too. Perhaps you will prefer to stay alone,
but I think you will want to do this when I tell you
your dear mother planned it with me. When you
are ready for me, lift the curtain and I'll start over.
Until then, good-by, my chicks.' "

" Oh! " said Ann in a soft, round voice, " Oh! "
Her face sparkled like a dewdrop. The others sat,
voiceless, moveless. But Lainey's sunken wanness
had begun to color and fire. The dazed perplexity
was dying out of Roland's eyes. Beckie and Matt
stared hard at the fire as though a succession of pic-
tures out of the happy past were painting themselves
there. Ed alone showed no change. He arose and
went over to the window.

And then, with his hand still on the raised curtain,
Ed's frozen rigidity broke. His head dropped into
the crook of his elbow; his elbow went up against the
wall: he shook.

For a moment not a sound stirred the stillness:
the Ollivants stared terrified.

22

The Home Coming

Then a log dropped, scattering spluttery rainbow
spume. The kitten leaped to the floor in tinkling
protest against this anarchy. The bell rang.

Ed lifted his head from his arm, hurried buoy-
antly to the door.

CHAPTER II
STANDING BY

"TT 7ELL, I found it," Mrs. MacVeagh called

W from upstairs. "I spent the whole morn-
ing and the whole afternoon at it, and just as I was
about to give up I happened on the peachiest propo-
sition."

14 1 hope you didn't tire yourself out," Ed Ollivant
called back to her. " It's pretty stiff work going

" Oh no ! I had the car, of course ! " The voice
was descending; it was accompanied by a brilliant
feminine flutter on the stairway. " And there were
elevators almost everywhere." Rita had now
crossed the hall to the doorway. Standing there,
she swept a profound curtsy. This was one of her
tricks when she wore an evening-gown. If she were
in walking costume, her hand went to her hat in
military salute. Now, arms outstretched, she held
the pose for a moment. " Do I look tired? " she
demanded.

Ed Ollivant's eyes lingered for the whole of that
moment on the drooping figure of which the slender
bust, bare-armed, bare-necked, bare-shouldered,
emerged from the center of a petal-like satin skirt
and the oval face, pendent to a mass of bronzed-
brown hair, almost touched one uplifted satin knee.
11 No, you don't look tired, Rita," he answered.

23

24 Standing By

u You can't imagine what the places were like
that the agent showed me. I never was so dis-
couraged in my life. And then I ran into Myra
Crosby and she told me about a place in the —
where do you suppose? "

11 Give it up," admitted Ed.

" The Channing Building," announced Rita tri-
umphantly.

"The Channing Building," Ed repeated. He
whistled.

" It's not anything like so expensive as you think.
Now listen. It's only a part of an apartment, any-
way. People by the name of Peyton rented the
whole apartment. Then both their children went
and got married on them. They had rafts of
rooms they did not know what to do with; so they
separated three from the bunch and are letting them.
Of course their place is not connected in any wai
with yours — I mean that you have your own ei
trance. And you can get it for thirty-five dollars
a month. They particularly wanted to rent it to
man."

Ed whistled again. " Lord, that sounds too goo<
to be true. I'm afraid it'll go before I have
chance to see it.*

" I was too foxy for that. I cinched it. Thei
were going to be away to-day; but I said you'd come
over to-morrow night to see it. It's exactly whal
you want. One big room for a living room, a be<
room, a kitchenette, and a bath. And a lovely
view over the Fenway. Wait a moment ! I drew
a plan of it the moment I got home, so that I could
plan where the furniture would go. It's upstairs.
Rita flashed out of the room and fluttered bri]

Standing By 25

liantly up the stairs. M If there is anything I love
to do, it's to plan furnishings and things," she
threw this over the banisters. " I did this house,
you know," she called this from the second floor.

Sitting alone, Ed looked about him as though
from a new point of view. The big room — it
was all dull grays and Gobelin blues — was more
solidly than artistically furnished. The broad-
seated, cushioned couches, the wide-armed, cush-
ioned chairs, the big tables heaped with books and
magazines, the small tables that offered smokes
and drinks, the low bookcases with their foreign
litter, the few distinguished pictures; it not only had
the masculine touch, it had all the ease of a man's
bushy-headed golden chrysanthemums in tall opaque
vases, long-stemmed violets in low transparent
bowls, goldfish, that exactly matched the fruit of
the dwarf orange-trees in the window-boxes, in a
big bubble of glass on the piano, a tea-wagon which
glittered and steamed that the butler had just
wheeled in, a smoke-colored Angora kitten with a
smashing orange bow who made dashes from time
to time at inoffensive shadows. Everywhere was
the repose of big unencumbered spaces and vistas,
exquisite cleanliness, freshness, comfort, beauty —
but above all warmth — luscious, voluptuous warmth.
A fire crackled behind the glass screen which cov-
ered the big fireplace. But from some invisible
source heated air, constantly freshened by the breeze
from the open window and constantly laden with the
perfume of the flowers, flowed in volumes upon him.

With a sudden gesture of impatience that seemed

26 Standing By

to accent a sudden reminiscent scowl on his face, Ed
seized a cigarette, lighted it.

" It took me some time to find it! " This came
from upstairs. Again came the brilliant feminine
flutter on the stairway, accompanied by the clear
lightness of Rita's voice. " The wallpapers are
simply stunnning, by the way." Rita dashed into the
room, papers and pencil in one hand, another Angora
kitten, orange-colored and with a smashing blue
bow, over the other arm. " This is the way I doped
it out." Lustrous, apricot-colored gown, sparkling
slipper-tips, slim, gleamy shoulders, delicate odor of
violets, she deposited herself beside him on the
couch. Her big, white hands — she wore rings of
diamonds and emeralds — made a swift, vivid panic
among the papers. " There, this is the living-
room. My idea is awfully simple furnishings, but
awfully manny. Low bookcases like mine built in
on each side of the fireplace and a big couch pulled
up in front of it — oh, a couch as big as this — you'll
have to have that made to order, but it's the only
expensive thing. A desk, a table, two or three
chairs — I'd get those hour-glass East Indian ones —
they're cheap but they have plenty of class. For the
bedroom, double white-iron beds in case you want
to entertain a guest. In an emergency, you can use
the big couch in the living-room. Didn't you tell me

11 Yes," answered Ed, " curly maple."
" You'll need a big, wide dresser. We can easily
match it. And a chair or two. Oh, I meant to ask
you! Have you anything else of your own? I
there, for instance, any nice old mahogany?"

Standing By 27

Rita was bending over the paper. Ed was bend-
ing over her. He stirred as though uneasily. Be-
fore he replied, he blew a volley of smoke-rings over
his hostess's head. "Well, of course, I suppose
there is a share of the household furniture coming
to me if I wanted to claim it. And some of it is
awfully good. I mean there's one beautiful desk
and some portraits. But I wouldn't like to take
any of it away. It puts it up to the rest of the fam-
ily to replace it. And at the same time, I'd rather
like to have some new, up-to-date modern stuff.
Lord, you don't know how I long for the con-
veniences of life."

" Oh yes, I do. I know exactly how you long for
them. I was brought up in a family mausoleum In
West Roxbury, furnished in the black walnut and
hair-cloth period. There wasn't a door in that
house smaller than a half-acre, or a window lower
than Bunker Hill Monument, and you could only see
the ceilings with the aid of an opera-glass. We had
to hire a derrick to move the furniture. It was
furnished with every mortuary hideosity of the
home, including waxed funeral wreaths. The at-
mosphere was almost as cheerful as a receiving-
tomb. Maybe I didn't yearn for new, modern
things. When I married Big Chief and he handed
me the largest check I ever saw and said, ' Go as far
as you like, Chicken,' I all but took the first train
out to Grand Rapids. Maybe I didn't make a hole
in that check. But, of course, it didn't take me long
to realize that antiques are the smart thing now.
I'm going to refurnish entirely in Jacobean another
year. By the way, have you told your sisters that
you are going to leave yet? "

itanding By

Ed stirred again. And again, before he spoke,
he sent a volley of smoke-rings over his hostess's
head. "No, I thought I wouldn't until the thing
was settled. You see "

11 Oh, I got this furniture catalogue from Daintry
while I was downtown," Rita interrupted. " I
thought you could look it over to-day. Do you sup-

"Well — of course — I suppose they — at least, it
would be only natural " Ed was not stammer-
ing. He was only starting up successive squirrel
tracks, translating his own ideas to himself. " But
it isn't as if it was going to make any difference
financially," he went on, beginning again. He was
voluble enough now and he was addressing Rita.
" I'll send Beckie a check every week. And you
see three of them are independent: Beckie and Ma1
and Lainey."

" Lainey's the teacher, isn't she?" Rita asked.
" What's her real name? "

" Elaine. My mother was very romantic. She
took it out on every other child. Rebecca,
Matthew, and Ann are all family names, but she
named Elaine after Tennyson's poems, and Roland
after — search me — Byron, I guess. And me — Lord,
how ashamed I used to be of it — after Ravenswood.
My real name's Edgar. And many's the fellow's
block I've knocked off for calling me it. Y<
Lainey's been teaching about two months."

"Is she pretty?"

" I don't know. I never thought of it."

"Blonde or brunette?"

" Blonde, I should say," Ed answered after
interval of wrinkled concentration. " Lainey's

"

Standing By 29

strange girl. I don't understand her." Ed's calm
broke into an interval of sheer perplexity. " She's
quiet and serious — very absent-minded — I suppose
you'd call her dreamy. She studies all the time —
reads Plato and Browning, and high-brow stuff like
that. She's the easiest one in the family to manage
six days out of the seven — then, suddenly you'll
strike an obstinate streak and nothing can move her
— I don't understand her."

11 The two younger ones are in High School,
aren't they? " Rita went on.

" Yes," said Ed.

" Len Lorrimer pointed Ann out to me on the
street the other day," said Rita. " She's awfully
pretty, isn't she?"

"Yes," Ed admitted reluctantly, "but she's aw-
fully hard to manage. She's one of those girls
who want everything she sees. She's smart though
— smart as a whip — makes her own clothes, trims her
own hats, and mixes the finest salad dressing I ever
tasted." Ed conceded these facts with pride.

" I'm glad," Rita said, " that you've noticed how
pretty she is, for others will notice it soon enough,
let me tell you. Len Lorrimer got it all right.
She's pretty enough to eat. And perhaps you'll be
interested to know she's a brunette. That way she
does her hair is awfully picturesque. I tried it
after I got home, but it was very unbecoming.
What's the other sister like? What does she do? "

" She's in a dentist's office," Ed answered. " She
seems to be secretary "

11 Is she pretty?"

" Not exactly," Ed answered. " But Beckie is
very " He paused and did not finish. A film-

30 Standing By

ing stiffness came into his tone, a shadowing hard-
ness into his face. It was as though he began to
chafe at these interrogatories.

Mrs. MacVeagh changed the subject immedi-
ately. " There, this is the kind of desk I want you
to get. It's a standard pattern; but it's big and
simple and convenient without suggesting a roll-top.
You can go to-morrow evening to look at the apart-
ment, can't you? "

" Yes."

14 And I think you'd better tell your sisters pret

14 Yes, I will," said Ed.

"Where are you going, Ed?" Beckie asked the
next night. Freshly-shaven, very elegant in his
correct evening-clothes, very handsome in his regu-
lar blonde featuring, Ed had just descended from
his eyrie chamber.

44 Out," Ed answered briefly. Beckie alway
asked Ed where he was going and Ed always an
swered, 44 Out." In fact, Beckie never waited for
the answer. Lainey and Ann would never have

44 There's something I want to talk to you about.'
Beckie lowered her voice, looked about her. '
don't want anybody to hear us. The boys are up
stairs and the girls are doing the dishes. Come into
the parlor."

Ed followed Beckie. The big, front room was
dusty and neglected-looking. There was no fire in
the fireplace. The furnace fire had gone out in th
afternoon. Matt had rebuilt it, but the house stil
held the cold in corners — an icy, hollow, paralyzin

Standing By 31

cold. The girls had worn blazers to the table, the
boys sweaters. They had eaten with silver that
chilled their hands and from plates that might have
been disks of ice. Ed fastened his gray-silk muffler
about his neck, seated himself in one of the straight-
backed chairs, his hat and stick in one gloved hand.

Beckie took the couch. " You look stunning,
Ed," she said admiringly; " just like a picture in a
book." Beckie looked far from " stunning." She
was the least attractive of the handsome Ollivant
orphans. She had pulled the yellow-and-brown
worsted afghan about her shoulders; its wooly tat-
ters offered no mitigation to the tired creases in
her dark, high-cheekboned face. Her serge office
to the straight lines of her square, flat-chested figure.
" It's about Roly," she went on as her brother
frowned her compliment to oblivion. " I think he's
playing truant right along."

" What makes you think so? " Ed asked.

"Sh— sh— sh!" exclaimed Beckie. "I don't
want the girls to hear."

The folding-doors which separated the parlor
from the living-room were open. Lainey and Ann
had come in from the kitchen for the dessert-dishes.

" — the dance the Tuesday afternoon girls are
giving, and so this morning her aunt went to Boston
and got her another dress." This was Ann's round
note. " Edwina showed it to me this afternoon.
Oh, Lainey, it's a darling and so smart. That
makes four evening-dresses that Edwina Allen has.
Oh, I feel so poverty-stricken and so out of it. I'm
ashamed to wear that old plaid dress again. Some-
times I think I'd do almost anything for some of

32 Standing By

the pretty things I've always wanted. I'm sure I'd
steal if I could be certain I wouldn't be found out."
Ann's discontent rasped in her voice.

" But, Ann," this was Lainey's soft, clear accent,
" what do you care when everybody says you're the
prettiest girl in Brookline? "

11 Well, of course, I'm not pretty," Ann protested.
" My mouth is too big and there's something about
the left side of my profile that I positively hate. But
supposing I was pretty, then it seems to me I have
all the more right to some pretty clothes once in a
while."

" You're the prettiest girl I ever saw in my life,"
said Lainey, her flute-like tones filling to a volume as
robust as her conviction. " Your eyes are like

melted gold, and your complexion You're so

pretty it doesn't make a particle of difference what
you wear. Edwina Allen never saw the day she
could compare with you. And no matter hov
shabby your clothes are, they always look differen
from other girls', you know how to wear them."

The kitchen door cut off the tail of this discus-
sion.

Beckie tiptoed to the folding-doors and drew them
softly together. " Two days ago," she began, turn
ing, u Miss Black in the office took her lunch-hour
early. When she got back, she told me she'd met
Roly — she knows him by sight, because he's come
into the office once in a while. I thought it was
mighty queer Roly's being on Washington Street at
twelve o'clock. English High doesn't let out until
two. Well, when I came to question her, she wasn'
quite sure it was Roly; and so I let the whole thin
slip my mind. But to-day, as I was standing in th

Standing By 33

window, I saw Roly go by on the other side of the
street with two boys. That Dink Hardy was one of
them. I didn't know who the other one was.
Well, it wasn't a holiday because, if it was, Ann
would have had one. I haven't said anything to him
yet, because I thought you'd better. He'd pay some
attention to you."

" All right," said Ed, rising with an obvious im-
patience to get off. " I'll talk to him to-morrow
boys hook jack, you know."

" Oh yes," Beckie replied, " I know that. I used
to play hookey myself. It doesn't worry me any.
Only if he's going to do it right along, he might
just as well leave school and go to work. It does
seem so queer — neither Roly nor Ann take the least
interest in their studies. Ann's teacher sent her
home the other day because she refused to write a
composition on * The Soliloquy of an Umbrella.'
Ann says she can't write — not to save her life. Oh,
I'm so glad you're here to cope with this. I
couldn't. Good-night, Ed."

" Oh, this is great, Rita," Ed was saying an hour
later. " This big living-room gets my game. It's
a corker. And those wide windows looking off on-
to that view. And the window-seats and the par-
quet floors and the papers and the paint — and that
fireplace. I feel like a grand duke. I can give
some pretty classy little parties up here. You've
got to chaperon them all, you know, Rita."

'* Sure," laughed Rita. " That's my graft. I'm
going to run this joint. I've planned a house-warm-
ing that will be the prettiest party you ever saw. I

34 Standing By

tell you what. Just as soon as it gets warm enough
we can use the roof. Let's give a tango party up
there. Want to see it? "

" Crazy to," smiled Ed. He followed her out
into the hall and up a narrow stairway. Another
moment and they were leaning against the coping,
gazing alternately up at the sky and down on the
world. Above the stars lay fine and thick, like piles
of silver seeds. Below the city lamps grew large and
lush, like strange tropical flowers.

" The automobiles look like beetles, don't they?"
Rita commented. " See how fast that limousine is
going. Oh, that reminds me. You'd better warn
that brother of yours — not the kid — the red-headed
one

41 Matt," Ed suggested.

" That's the one — he's awfully good-looking, isn'
he? What does he do?"

" He's with the Chapman Automobile Company
salesman," Ed answered. " What were you goin

" That he'll be arrested for speeding if he doesn'
look out. We met him last night in Newton — Le
Lorrimer and myself. I didn't know him, of course,
but Len did. They were going at a great clip.
Newton's full of traps, you know.'

Ed frowned. " If I've warned him once, I've
warned him a dozen times. He runs with a man
named Walton who has never yet recognized the
existence of the speed laws. He'll lose his license
if he isn't careful. I'll talk to Matt to-night."

" How do you like Len Lorrimer? " asked Rita
idly. She gave a quick side-glance at her compan-
ion's face ; her glance held a tinge of mischief.

Standing By 35

" Not at all," Ed answered briefly.

M Don't you?" Rita flashed a second side-
glance; this one held a tinge of complacency. "I
think he's great fun."

" What kind of a boy is your younger brother? "

M Just kid," Ed answered briefly. " Always wear-
ing my ties and thinking I don't know it."

11 Then you're not disappointed in this place ? "
Rita went on.

"Disappointed!" Ed exclaimed. U I feel as if
it were the beginning of something I'd never known
before. It's awfully tough on a man to have to live
with his family, you know. As long as mother was
alive, I considered that it was up to me to stay. But
of course I've never been able to entertain at all, or
to do anything I wanted. They wouldn't mix with
my friends any more than I'd mix with theirs. You
always feel as if you ought to tell them where you're
going every time you leave the house. Not that I
But, at the same time, you "

" Oh, don't apologize," Rita said. " I under-
stand perfectly. When I tell you that my mother
was president of a woman's club, that one sister was
an anti-suffragist and the- other an anti-vivisectionist,
perhaps you get the dope on my home atmosphere.
I had too many red corpuscles in me for that high-
that I'd quit, even if I had to earn my own living.
Then Big Chief came along and rescued me. Oh,
by the way," she turned her face up to his as she
pulled the collar of her leopard-coat closer about

36 Standing By

her throat; her shining head — to-night she wore
her hair banded close — lifted like a seal's from
water, " have you told your sisters yet?"
11 Not yet," Ed said. " I forgot it last night."
u I think you'd better tell them." Rita smiled.
owed softness of her face. " They may change
their plans a little if they know you're not going to
be with them."

When Ed let himself into the house that night,
the light was still burning in the parlor.

" Oh, Ed!" Beckie exclaimed, starting up.
11 Thank heavens, you've come ! "

" What's up? " Ed asked. " What's the matter
With you, Ann? "

Ann, lying face downward on the couch, was torn
by spasms of weeping. She sobbed aloud. And
Lainey, seated near, the tears standing in great
drops at the tips of her long lashes, panted and
quivered in sympathy.

" Matt's been arrested for speeding," Beckie ex-
plained. " He telephoned from the police-station
for you to come down and bail him out. That was
at ten. We've been waiting here for you ever
since."

14 The damn fool ! " said Ed. " The damn — -"
And suddenly Ed's smooth brow corrugated with
fury. " Everybody has told him that he'd get
pinched. I've warned him a dozen times myself.
Where's Walton?"

11 Out of town — Matt didn't know where. I
was afraid to call up the Walton house because
Dave had lent him his car without telling his folks.

Standing By 37

Do hurry down there, Ed. He didn't happen to
have any money with him. He hasn't had any
dinner yet."

" And he won't get any breakfast either," said
Ed. " At least not until late to-morrow morning.
I'm not going to bail him out to-night. Why, he told
me only last week that that park policeman — the
fat, good-natured one — had stopped him twice and
told him he'd pinch him unless he cut it out. I'm
glad they jugged him. It will be a good lesson to
him. One night in a cell with a fine of ten dollars
in the morning will take the speed out of him
quicker than anything I know."

" Oh, Ed," Ann broke into another volley of sobs,
" how can you treat him so? I cannot bear to think
of Matt in a little narrow, smelly cell. And such
a hard bed. And oh, what a terrible disgrace. It
will be in all the papers, * Items about Boston.' "

Even Ed's brow relaxed. " Speeding is not a
hanging matter, Ann. People are received in the
best society even after a third offense."

11 Ed, I think you're just too mean for words,"
Lainey said, the flash in her eyes dissipating the
dew on their lashes. " If I only knew anybody who
would bail him out, I'd appeal to him even at this
hour."

11 I'm very glad you don't, Lainey," Ed said
grimly, u because I'm determined to give the sport
of the family the lesson of his young life."

11 But don't you think you're rather hard on him,
Ed?" Beckie said placatingly. " He's been there
four hours now. We telephoned everywhere for
you, Ed. Where were you? "

38 Standing By

" And four hours ought to take all the spunk
out of him." Beckie stopped and consulted her
brother's face. Apparently she gathered no hope
from what she saw there ; for she said in a resigned
tone, " Come to bed, girls. It's no use trying to
argue with Ed when he looks like that. Besides, I
must be up by six to get breakfast. I'm tired as a
dog."

Becjcie looked tired. The hollows under her
bright dark eyes were so deep they might have been
gouged out. All the lines of her face sagged in
harmony with the droop of her shoulders.

The three girls followed their brother upstairs.
M I shan't close my eyes to-night," whimpered Ann.
" I shall keep seeing poor Matt in prison stripes
with his face pressed against the bars of his cell."

II Well, I shan't sleep either, but it's because I'i

II I don't know but what you're right, Ed,"
Beckie said after the girls' door had slammed shut
11 It will be a lesson to him. I'm so glad you cam<
home to-night. I was so worried — I don't kno^
what I would have done without you. I do hop<
the girls get some sleep, but I'm afraid they won'l
I'm so tired — I could sleep standing up."

But, in point of fact, Ann fell immediately into
the soft thick kitten-like slumber which she could
command at any time. Lainey followed her, al-
most as quickly, into a dreamland as light and clear
and gay as the fairy country of her childhood. Ed
tossed and turned for a protracted fifteen minutes
and then, after a muttered curse or two, dropped
into that well of oblivion to which ordinarily his
closed eyes immediately admitted him. But Beckie

Standing By 39

after lying silent and moveless for three or four
hours, arose. Seating herself at the window, she
watched until the sunrise began to gild the little
Place with scanty winter gold.

" I'm glad you decided the way you did," Rita
said, three or four days later as they sped in her
limousine up Boylston Street. " Of course, the other
desk would have done. At the same time, I don't
think you ever would have been satisfied with it after
seeing the more expensive one. There's no economy
in buying a thing you don't want. My poor rela-
tions have houses filled with lemons that I've bought
when I had an economy bug. Now I always get
the thing I want — and do the economizing after-
wards."

11 Oh yes, there was nothing to it," agreed Ed.
" After I saw that mahogany one, it was all off with
the oak."

" I think we've been doing pretty well with this
shopping," Rita went on, " considering that we've

u I should say we had," said Ed with conviction,
11 but of course it's all you. I never could have done
it so well without your help. I never can repay
you."

" How about all those free eats you've been giv-
ing me?" said Rita. "Anyway, you don't have to
repay me. I've loved every moment of it. Have

" No, I haven't," admitted Ed.

" I really think you ought to tell them," said Rita.

" I suppose I should have," said Ed slowly, " but
I don't want to take any definite step until every-

:

40 Standing By-
thing is fixed up. For if there was any hitch, it
would be just as well "

11 But what hitch could there be " A rising

note of alarm reached a crescendo on Rita's last
word. " You're going to sign the lease for th
apartment to-morrow noon."

" None that I can see," answered Ed. " I'll tel
them to-night."

" No more shopping this noon," decided Rita,
14 or you won't get back at two. Just time for a
little spin in the Fenway." She snuggled back into
her opulent sables. " Isn't it a beautiful day? And
isn't it great to be young? Somehow I feel so gay."
She turned her eyes up to Ed's. " Ed, do you know
you're a good-looking thing? And just think you're
going to have rooms of your own."

Ed turned, gazed at his companion. Rita wa
physically brilliant, but she was a cold type. She was
like a light which gives illumination without heat.
Now an extraordinary animation — an animation
pointed by triumph — gave her a misleading effect
of warmth. Her ivory cheeks glowed, her hazel-
yellow eyes glistened, her bronze-brown hair glit-
tered; it seemed almost to crackle. The wind
whipped her lips to a brilliant crimson. " You're
something of a looker yourself, Rita," Ed said.
"I can gaze at you without straining my eye muscles
any. Yes," he added, as though her look held some
voiceless question, " I'll tell them at dinner."

"Where's Ann?" Ed asked that night when h(
seated himself at the table.

11 Why, I don't know," Beckie answered. " Sh<
went into Boston to do some errands for me. .

I

Standing By 41'

can't guess what could keep her as late as
this." Beckie articulated with difficulty; she was
hoarse.

" Where'd you get that cold, Beckie? " Ed asked.

" Oh, the other night," Beckie said evasively.

" Well, now that we're all together," Ed began
in an awkward voice, " I want to tell you that
to-day I "

" Oh! " Lainey exclaimed, as though Ed's words
had hit an unexpected mark in her own thoughts,
" that reminds me I bought something to-day."
Lainey was obviously happy over her purchase.
" What do you suppose it was? "

" What was it?" Beckie asked.

" A man came round to all the teachers in the
school," Lainey began in her preoccupied, circum-
locutionary way, " selling the most remarkable bar-
gains in books on the instalment plan. They're
beautifully illustrated; but as they're in paper
covers, they only cost fifty cents apiece. The man
pointed out that you could get them bound for a
song. I engaged to take three a month." Lainey's
eyes overflowed with that blue light which in mo-
ments of enthusiasm rescued them from oblivion.

" How many volumes are there? " asked Roland.

11 Forty-five," Lainey answered, with the triumph
of those who bargain well.

" Forty-five ! " exclaimed Matt. It was the first
sign of real vivacity from the chastened Matt who
had emerged from a prison cell.

11 Forty-five ! " croaked Beckie. " Why it will
take fifteen months to pay for them."

1 Yes; but I shan't notice it," said Lainey sweetly.
"The man said I wouldn't."

42 Standing By

" Whose works are they? " Ed asked.

11 Longfellow in forty-five volumes ! " exclaimec
Ed. "Oh, my ft*/"

" Oh, Lainey dear ! " said Beckie in a misery tha
pierced her hoarseness. M Forty-five volumes a
fifty cents. That's nearly twenty-three dollars
Why did you do it? Why didn't you wait and asl

"Well, I thought of doing that," Lainey ex
plained, " but the man seemed to want me to decid :
right away. And then he was so awfully nice. H :
went to the greatest trouble to explain it all oui .
And after he talked for a half an hour, I sort of fe' :
obliged — I can really give you no idea how accon •
modating he was. He seemed to think it would h<
me so much in my teaching. He said that he ha<
set in his own home and his children simply woi

Ed groaned. M Lainey," he said, " you've g(
against a game that you'll be up against for the
of the day by agents who want to sell them
thing from a corkscrew to an aeroplane. Teache
in especial, are their marks because you're the e;
est people in the world. Now probably those boc
are illustrated from plates left over from some
tion of Longfellow brought out before the
And think of having forty-five volumes of any oi
poet! At that rate, you'd have to hire Mechanic ;'
Hall for your library. You'll be stung every we
if you don't look out. The only thing for a pers< i
as dopey as you to do is simply to refuse to ta
to the agents. Once you begin to listen "

Standing By 43

This, at six forty-five, was the beginning of a long
harangue of advice. It was interrupted by the en-
trance of Ann at seven.

"What makes you so late, Ann?" Beckie de-
manded in a peremptory accent. Perhaps Beckie
wanted to draw attention from Lainey's crushed
condition.

M I've had the loveliest time." Ann was excited.
She was all light and warmth. Her great eyes
were blazing golden moons. Her round cheeks
were burning rose velvet. Everything else about
her shone or shimmered. Her very teeth, between
the full scarlet of her lips, made a soft flash like
silver. " No, don't help me to any stew, Ed. I
couldn't eat a thing. What do you think — I've been
out to tea. At the Plaza. Oh, wasn't it pretty.
Such smart clothes. And such pippins of girls!
Lainey, there was a girl there who wore a green
broadcloth, trimmed with moleskin, that was the
loveliest thing I ever — And a lot of Harvard men
at a table in the corner. Wasn't it a shame that
I didn't have on my other hat! But I went into
the Ladies' Room and fixed up my hair. Oh, such
a lovely place — they had all kinds of cosmetics
there. One girl made her face up right before my
eyes and another was smoking a cigarette — I saw it
hidden behind her hand."

"But who took you? " asked Beckie.

14 Len Lorrimer," said Ann, " and, oh, he was
just perfectly lovely to "

"Len Lorrimer!" Ed exclaimed electrically.
M What do you mean, Ann? "

"Why!" Ann exclaimed. " Why— why— what
do I mean? I don't know what you mean. I met

44 Standing By

,

Mr. Lorrimer on Boylston Street and he asked me
to go to tea and I went."

" You went to tea with Len Lorrimer? " Ed ar-
raigned her sternly. " Don't you know he's, a mar-
ried man? "

11 Why, yes," said Ann. " Of course I do. Every-
body knows it. But he's separated from his wife
and everybody knows that too."

" But he's not divorced from her," said Ed, " and
he never will be. He can't get a divorce. He
knows, as everybody knows — Don't let me ever hear
of your going anywhere with him again."

Ann tossed her head. " I don't see why I
shouldn't," she said rebelliously. " He's been sep-
arated from her so long nobody looks upon him
as married."

" Nevertheless," Ed ordered crisply, " he is ma
ried. Don't let me hear of you going anywhere
with him again." I I

The gaiety melted out of Ann's face, taking the
light with it. It hardened as it darkened. " He
invited me to go to the matinee with him next wee
Now why shouldn't I go? I want to."

11 Simply because," Ed said in a tone iron wi
command, " unmarried people can't go about wi
married people without making talk."

"Well, then," Ann flashed triumphantly, "ho
about you and Mrs. MacVeagh? I saw you comi
out of the Touraine with her once during the te
hour. And I don't know how many times Laine;
and I have seen you riding alone with her in he
automobile. If it's all right for you to go place
alone with Mrs. MacVeagh, why isn't it all righ
for me to go alone with Mr. Lorrimer? "

Standing By 45

A brickish-red flush rose slowly over Ed's smooth
face; it flowed turgidly under his golden hair. But
he held Ann with the steady gaze of his frigid blue
eyes. " That's quite a different matter, Ann," he
said. " In the first place, I am quite as much
Mr. MacVeagh's, as Mrs. MacVeagh's, friend. It
would be impossible for me to compromise Mrs.
MacVeagh; it would be presumption for me to
think so. Her social position is absolutely estab-
lished; her character above reproach. I am only
one of half a dozen men to whom she is equally
hospitable. She has absolutely nothing to lose by
accepting my escort when her husband is away; and
I have a great deal to gain. Lorrimer, on the other
hand, is the kind of man I don't want my sister to
be seen with. He will lose nothing, of course, by
taking you about; but it will hurt you with every-
body who knows him. If it is necessary, Ann, I
will tell you everything I know about Lorrimer.
But you won't want to discuss the subject very
long."

11 Still," Lainey broke in stormily, " after all the
principle is the same. And you wouldn't let Ann
go about with Len Lorrimer, even if his wife liked
it. I cannot see that it is any more right for you
than for her."

Of all the Ollivants, Lainey seemed superficially
the most silent, colorless, and uncharacterized. But
Ed, for instance, was often nonplused by her
queries. Now a look — obviously it was bafflement
— came into his face. " It all depends on circum-
stances, Lainey," he said. " And these two cases
could never be parallel."

Standing By

But Ed did not bring up the matter of leaving
the family roof during dinner. Perhaps he did not
wish to introduce the name of MacVeagh into the
conversation again. After dinner, Matt and Roland
disappeared in the direction of their various inter-
ests. Lainey and Ann received Edwina Allen
and Dottie Franklin; the quartette vanished behind
the closed doors of their bedroom. Nothing came
from their direction but giggles. Beckie built a fire
in the parlor, seated herself on the couch there. She
drew the big darning-basket to her side, gave the
kitten an empty spool to play with, and fell to work.
Her cold bothered her; she did not seem inclined
to talk. Ed wandered from the living-room
to the dining-room, from the dining-room to the
kitchen, from the kitchen to the living-room again,
his head bent, his brow moody with wrinkles.

Once, " Oh, Ed," Beckie croaked, " what would
She's so headstrong, I can't make her toe the mark
And I hate that Len Lorrimer; he's a snake in th
grass."

A deep silence followed. Ed resumed his lone
pacing.

Suddenly he dashed out of the house. At a ru
he made for the drug-store on the corner, pantec
into the telephone box. " Give me Back Bay 8786,'
he said: and at the end of an interval in which h<
stared frigidly into space, " Is this you, Rita? Say
Rita, I've called you up to tell you it's all off abou
the apartment — Yes, I know, but it can't be helpec
— Yes, I understand, but it's impossible — Yes
you're perfectly right, but it's out of the question-
Yes, that's true, but it can't be done — Yes, I get al

Standing By 47

that, but I can dispose of it in some way — All right,
I'll explain when I see you."

Ed sauntered leisurely back to the house, let him-
self leisurely in. Beckie's darning still absorbed
her. After an interval, she turned to her basket,
fumbled a moment among its mending miscellanies.
A letter eddied up from among the spools and
darning-cotton, came to the surface of the stockings.

"Why!" Ed exclaimed, "that's Aunt Mar-
garet's handwriting, isn't it?"

" Yes," said Beckie. She dropped her eyes and,
as though involuntarily, pushed the letter under the
stockings.

" Why, I didn't know you'd heard from her,"
Ed said in a surprised tone. " What's she got to
say?"

"Nothing." Even with her hoarseness, it was
to be seen that Beckie's manner was offhand.

"Well— can I read it?" Ed's tone was a little
nonplused.

" Oh, there's nothing in it, I— I " Beckie

was stammering — quick, curt, decisive Beckie. " It
wouldn't interest you."

"Beckie, what's the answer to all this?" Ed
demanded. " Don't you want me to see that
letter?"

For answer, Beckie held it out to him. He pulled
a closely-written sheet out of the envelope :

My dear Niece:

and I think the family must be in good running order by
this time. Perhaps what I am going to say in this letter may
sound premature; but as I must say it sooner or later, I

48 Standing By

might just as well say it now. You know that you were
named after my mother; and you also know, for I have told
you often enough, that you are my favorite niece. Of course
we have all known for several years that your mother's days
were numbered. I made up my mind some years ago that
when the time came, I would ask you to come and live with
me. I am often very lonely and I should like your com-
panionship very much. In that case, I should discharge
Matty, but although you and I would do the housewori
together, I should insist upon paying you what I pay her —
eight dollars a week. I am sure that is more than youi
present salary — minus your contribution to the householc
expenses — amounts to. And of course, when I die, my little
house and what I have in the bank will go to you. If
however, you cannot see your way clear to accept this offer
I shall make no changes in my present will, which divide
my money equally among my living relatives. Please let 1
know as soon as possible what your decision is.

Margaret Foster.

11 Good Lord, Beckie ! " exclaimed Ed, " whe
did you get this? November eighteen. Last Mon
day. You must say yes to that, Beckie. It's a grea
opportunity. When are you going to answer it?

" I have answered it," said Beckie. " I refused
She resumed her tranquil darning.

" Beckie," Ed broke the silence after a Ion
while, " what made you refuse? "

11 Because I wouldn't leave you alone with all th
responsibility, Ed," said Beckie.

Ed mused an instant, his frigid gaze on the dis
tance. "Well, Beckie," he said at last, "y
can be sure of one thing. Til never leave you."

CHAPTER III
ANN TAKES CHARGE

"TF there's anything in this world that I hate, it's
X housework. There isn't one single thing about
it that I like — except ironing pretty things and
making desserts and salads. Washing I detest,
sweeping I despise, dusting I abominate, doing
dishes I loathe, and as for getting up as early as
this I — Just as soon as I'm twenty-one, I'm going
on the stage. I think I'd like to go into musical
comedy. I can sing a little and I pick up dancing-
steps just as easy. I know as well as I know my
name I'm not domestic. I've altogether too much
temperament. Len Lorrimer told me that the day
I went out to tea with him. I just hate the kind of

This was the end of a long matutinal harangue
from Ann. Now she stopped an instant, but it was
obviously only to catch her breath. She sat in one
of the kitchen chairs, tilted back against the wall,
her big hands clasped behind her head, one foot
under her, and the other swinging a shabby buckled
shoe from its tip. She wore a little kimono of
dimity, delicately-figured and lace-edged, a boudoir
cap of a coarse-meshed imitation Cluny trimmed
with pink ribbons. The kimono showed a V of vel-
vet neck; the cap unloosed great, rich scallops of
shining hair. Her snowy arms came out of her wide

49

5<d Ann Takes Charge

sleeves, round with a giiTs soft shapeliness, yet
potential somehow of a boy's muscular strength.
A flush, deeper than her normal rose-pink, hung
heavy behind her skin. Her big eyes threw sparks
that were not entirely the effect of the light on her
golden irises.

It was cheerless within and without. The fire had
begun to crackle, but the little kitchen had not
warmed up yet. The frosty window-panes gave
fore-shortened, wabbly glimpses of a back yard
swathed in snow and dotted with shapeless bushes.
Last night's dishes were heaped in the sink. A
big pot of something green and odorous was be-
ginning to stew on the stove. Lines of high, green
glass jars stood on the table. Beckie — a long-sleeved
apron concealing all but the hem of her blue-serge
dress — pattered from sink to stove and from stove
to table. Lainey stood irresolutely about, managing
only in every effort to efface herself, to get in some-
body's way. I

11 1 can't think who could have been such an idiot
as to put in so much salt," Lainey remarked, obvi-
ously turning the subject.

11 It must have been you, Ann," said Beckie, with-
out turning. " I salted it once myself and I salted
it according to rule."

" I didn't," Ann contradicted her sister instantly.

Beckie's back became rigid. " You must have,"
she said in a stony voice.

" I know I didn't," Ann asseverated.

" Probably I did it," Lainey said with obvious
pacific intent; " you know what an idiot I am."

" You! " said Ann contemptuously, " as if we'd
let you go near anything that was cooking. I don't

Ann Takes Charge 5

care who did it; I know I didn't. And whoever it
was," she cast a defiant glance at Beckie's granite
profile, " I don't thank her for it. Having to get
up at five o'clock in the morning to boil piccalilli
over — on Saturday morning, too, when I ought to
be allowed to sleep late."

She paused and gazed at Beckie's back. That
back was moveless, although Beckie's hand moved
swiftly, stirring the pot. Beckie did not speak.

44 It's out of the question," Ann went on, " our
trying to have such things — jellies and preserves and
piccalilli and chili sauce. It's altogether too hard
work and it all falls on us girls. And who eats
them? The boys! Faster almost than we can
make them. And would they lift a finger to help
us? Not in a hundred years."

Again she defied Beckie's unyielding back.
Beckie's hand had stopped stirring. She was so
still, she seemed not even to breathe.

14 As for me," Ann continued, 44 I'd rather go
without than work like this to have them. I "

44 Lainey," Beckie interrupted suddenly, 44 open
the door ! " Her voice was without expression,
but her words came like stones hurled from a sling.

Lainey obeyed her.

Beckie lifted the big kettle from the stove, stag-
gered with it across the kitchen, through the wood-
shed to the yard. The two girls froze where they
stood, watching her in a growing panic. Beckie
struck the cover from the garbage-pail, lifted the
kettle, poured the contents into it. 44 When you
want any more piccalilli," she said, returning, " make
it yourself." She marched into the dining-room,
seated herself by the fire, took up the morning paper.

52 Ann Takes Charge

For a moment, Lainey and Ann stared at each
other terrified. Then, moving on tiptoe and han-
dling pots and pans as though they were muffled in
cotton-wool, they began noiselessly and speechlessly
to prepare breakfast. They halved oranges, cooked
oatmeal, fried eggs and bacon ; but during the process
they did not speak a word.

Ed was the first of the brothers to appear. Hand-
some, elegant, immaculate, he might have come
from the hands of a valet. " I wish one of you girls
would darn my stockings," he began. " I put on
the only whole pair I had left last night."

" Oh, Ed," Lainey said remorsefully, helping
Ann to bring in the breakfast. " That's too bad.

We've been so busy lately with the picca " She

cut this word off with a frightened snap of her
jaw and an involuntary glance of terror in
Beckie's direction. M Ann and I will darn them all
to-night."

11 Also I wish you'd go through my underwear,"
Ed continued, " and put the buttons on. As a but-
ton-remover, that laundry is a wonder."

The four Ollivants drew up to the table. Ed
took up the paper that Beckie threw down. They
ate their fruit in silence.

" Talk about crab-apples. I should call these
crab-oranges, from the size," Ed remarked.

11 Ah, the familiar burnt taste ! " he continued,
tasting the oatmeal to which Lainey helped him.
"Why do you girls bother to cook any oatmeal if
you can't cook it right? "

" Kindly help me to one of those ossified eggs."

Ann Takes Charge 53

Ed seemed to enjoy this jocose vein. " I should
think they had been cooked in a fireless cooker."

" Not very long on conversation this morning, are
you? " Ed added with the tact of brothers.

For the fourth time nobody answered.

" ' Then silence like a poultice came/ " Ed
was beginning, when, " Hello, Matt, been pulled
lately? " he interrupted himself to greet his brother.

" No," Matt answered lightly, " Wednesday is
my day for getting pinched." Matt had arisen in
his customary spirits. The thatch of his red hair
glittered like a sun and the blue of his eyes shone
like a sea; he whistled as he helped himself to the
glazed bacon and the petrified eggs. He took up
the paper when Ed rejected it, turned at once to the
comic section, began to laugh at the first picture,
nearly rolled out of his seat before he finished the
series.

" Matt," Ann began in exasperation, " how can
you laugh like that so early in the morning "

" Oh, say, girls," Matt exclaimed, ignoring Ann,
" I met Lory Mack on the street yesterday. He's
in town from Worcester. Can I invite him here to
spend Sunday with me ? "

Beckie came suddenly to life. " No ! " she ex-
ploded, " you can't. I'm tired enough working all
the wefck long for this ungrateful family without
slaving all day Sunday for strangers."

"All right," said Matt equably. "You don't
some place I could take a fellow to," he added im-
patiently. " Well, we'll have to go off somewhere
together." He returned light-heartedly to his pa-

54 Ann Takes Charge

per ; in another instant he was writhing with delight
over the drawing of a comic-section dog.

Presently Beckie arose, jerked on her little square,
squat, unbecoming jacket, her little round, flat, unbe-
coming hat, said nothing, and vanished. Ed arose,
drew leisurely onto his tall, muscular, graceful fig-
ure his smart ulster and his correct hat, dropped a
careless " Good-by, sisters ! " and disappeared.
Matt arose, telescoped his jaunty body with a
large-checked raglan, tossed his plush Alpine hat into
the air, caught it dexterously on his head, called,
11 Or revolver, girls," and departed, whistling.
Lainey arose, pulled herself into her baggy, mangy
fur coat and her stiff felt hat.

14 I'll be back from that meeting just as soon as
I can, Ann/' she said, her voice still low and her
eyes still frightened. u It was mean of them to put
it on Saturday morning — I don't care if Monday
is a holiday." She shut the door softly.

For a long time Ann sat at the table. She did
not move. Her eyes were fixed on a spot in the
frosted pane.

" Say, Ann! Ann! What time is it? " a voice
called from upstairs.

Ann started. " Nine o'clock!" she answered,
glancing at the clock.

" If I'd known it was early as that, I'd slept two
hours more," the voice continued. Roland Ollivant
lounged down the stairs and came into the dining-
room. His eyes were swollen, his complexion
mottled from too much sleep. But he was hand-
some in a vivid olive way; his smile was dazzling;
he would have looked a Latin if he had not been
so heavy in expression, so athletic in shape. Ann

Ann Takes Charge 55

did not speak or move. He examined the table,
walked out into the kitchen, returned to the dining-
room. Still Ann did not speak or move.

" Say, Ann," Roland asked in a sulky tone,
"aren't you going to get me any breakfast?
[There's only two eggs left."

" No," declared Ann airily, " I'm not. Besides
two eggs are enough."

" Not for me," Roland said.

11 Then you'll go hungry," Ann announced sweetly.
" I'm not the cook for this family."

" Who said you were? " Roland asked in a furious
voice.

soft nonchalance, " Nobody would dare, I guess.
I'm just stating my position."

" Well, lucky for us you aren't the cook," Roland
remarked with the heavy-handed sarcasm of boy-
hood, " putting most a bag of salt in the picca-
lilli."

For the effect of this remark, Roland might have
thrown a stick of dynamite on the fire. u I didn't
do any such thing," Ann said, " and you know it.
If you "

" Yes, you did too," Roland retorted, seating him-
self at the table. u I saw you. Last night while
Beckie was out here in the dining-room."

A frightened expression ran across Ann's face —
the look of consternation with which one suddenly
remembers a compromising fact. For an instant,
her mouth opened wide. Then, " If ever you say
the words salt or piccalilli again in my presence,"
she burst out, " I'll run away from this family and
— and — and — go on the stage and be a chorus-girl."

56 Ann Takes Charge

14 Humph," grunted Roland, u swell chance you'd
have on the stage! You with ankles like bologna
sausages! "

44 Roland Ollivant, you — liar! " Ann whispered
this accusation. Involuntarily she pulled up her
skirt and surveyed the trim ankle it revealed. Re-
assurance, however, brought only a more violent
rage. 44 I shall never speak to you again as long
as I live."

Ann flashed out of the dining-room — slammed the
door, flashed into the kitchen — slammed the door.
She fell on the dishes heaped in the sink as upon
an invading army, neither paused nor stopped until
she had ranged them, clean and shining, on the
kitchen table. From the sink, she transferred her
rage to the pantry. She took everything off the
shelves, washed them, rearranged the dishes and
groceries. From the pantry, she moved to the
stove; she shoveled out the ashes, blacked it, pol-
ished it until it made the dull old mirror hanging
over the sink look like a square of black cambric.

In the meantime, Roland had set himself seriously
to the business of breakfasting. He ate an orange,
devoured what was left of the oatmeal, finished what
remained of the bacon and eggs, rummaged in the
black walnut sideboard, found and devoured two
bananas, split and blackened, found and devoured a
bag of lady-fingers broken and stale. Perceptibly
his spirits arose during this toothsome process. He
was whistling when he went downstairs to the cellar.
He attacked the wood-pile with an alacrity that he
rarely brought to it. Standing between a mountain
of ashes and a rapidly-growing heap of kindling,
he chopped and chopped, varying his shrill whistling

Ann Takes Charge 57

with bass singing and his bass singing with tenor
yodeling.

"Will you kindly permit me to pass?" an icy
voice demanded suddenly.

Roland turned. Ann stood close, an empty coal-
hod in each hand.

11 1 thought you weren't going to speak to me
again as long as you lived," Roland gibed.

This was a fatal reminder.

The sparks that all the morning had been flashing
intermittently in Ann's eyes burst into tiny sheets
of flame. A deep rose-colored flush hanging behind
her white skin burst through, made a purple-red
mask of her face. Her lips snapped into two rigid
lines. Involuntarily she dropped the coal-hods.
Her shoulders squared. Her arms came up to posi-
tion. Above the elbow they began to bulge
with muscle; below the elbow they merged with
hard, strong-looking fists. She glared at her
brother.

Roland dropped his ax and squared off. His
head sank between his hunched shoulders. His
fists began to make preliminary rotary movements.
His feet engaged in little dancing-steps forward
and back, sideways and back. He glared at his
sister.

And then suddenly, even as her fist shot forward,
Ann's face changed. A look of uncertainty ex-
tinguished the tiny sheets of flame in her eyes. A
look of perplexity loosened the rigid vise of her
lips. Her fists fell to her sides, unclasped. An in-
stant, she swayed irresolutely; then she turned on
her heel, made in the direction of the stairway.

Roland watched her, stupefied.

I

58 Ann Takes Charge

On her way out, Ann passed the preserve-closet.
She paused in front of the door, an amateur affair
of thin boards, hanging from leather hinges. Here,
it was as though another frenzy seized her, almost
— suddenly her right arm swung with a powerful
lunge straight from her shoulder to the door. It
smashed the middle plank to splintery ruin. When
she withdrew her hand, her knuckles ran blood

But something had gone out of Ann.

She walked with her customary decision acros
the floor and up the stairs, but she moved in quiet
and with dignity. She shut the cellar door noise-
lessly.

For an interval, Roland stared after his sister.
His fists still held themselves up, but after a while
they fell of their own weight. He walked over
to the preserve-closet, examined the smashed door
with a look mingled of rage, surprise, pride, and
admiration. Then he returned to his ax and wen
at the wood-pile again. He did not stop until th
last log had been chopped. He whistled; but
"whistled low, through his teeth. And after he ha
finished with the wood, he attacked the mountain o
ashes, transferred it by means of the coal-hod
the row of empty ash-barrels in the yard. Wh<
with coal, took them up to the kitchen. By tl
time he was whistling in his highest voice and
his greatest speed. He walked jauntily out of th
house.

Ann went straight to her room, lay down o
the still unmade bed. She sat there for a Ion

Ann Takes Charge 59

time, her hands clasped under her head, her eyes
staring at the ceiling.

mother for three months. For the five years pre-
vious to her death, Mrs. Ollivant had been bedrid-
den. The period of Mrs. Ollivant's sickness had
not made for smooth sailing, as far as the house-
keeping was concerned; but because the children
were devoted to their mother, it had a heavenly
calm, compared with the troubled period that fol-
lowed her death. Before, all roughness had been
smoothed away by Mrs. Ollivant's gentle firmness;
now everything seemed topsy-turvy, helter-skelter,
hit-or-miss. Beckie arose at six and prepared break-
fast. Lainey and Ann did the dishes. Immediately
the entire family scattered for the day, Ed, Matt,
and Beckie to their work, Ann and Roland to High
School, Lainey to her teaching. Ann and Lainey
cooked the dinner, did the dishes again. The boys
of course performed household chores. All day
Sunday, the girls cleaned house, mended, and
cooked; Beckie planned the program of the week's
eating.

This was the way things went when the schedule
worked perfectly.

But often the schedule did not work well and
sometimes it did not work at all; for the Ollivants
were young and had other interests. Beckie was
constantly going out of town for a night. Lainey
accepted occasional week-end invitations. Ann was
subject to all the temptations that out-of-doors of-
fered her eighteen years and her tireless activity.
Moreover, with nobody at home during the day-
time, it was hard to keep the furnace going. Often,

:

6o Ann Takes Charge

in spite of their care, they came back at night to
freezing house.

All this was the more depressing because the
were traditions in the Ollivant family. M
Ollivant was able and magnetic, an extraor
nary combination of character and personali
Mrs. Ollivant was beautiful, original, high-spirited,
vivacious. They were dowered almost equally with
the social gift. In the early years of their married
life, the Ollivants entertained constantly and la
ishly, but with intelligence and originality. Pictu
esque masquerades, gay sleighing parties, wonder-
fully cooked dinners, delicious, late suppers, read-
ings, theatricals, tableaux — their first decade was
charged with a vivid social conspicuosity. It was a
proud family exercise to name over the famous pe
pie who had slept under their roof. But Mr. Oil
vant's fortune declined in middle life; he died sue
denly and before he was old. Mrs. Ollivant, phy
ically never the same woman after her husband
death, developed unexpected powers of self-reliance
She manipulated the family funds like a Napoleon
but they dwindled steadily; she came to know th
gray obscurity of genteel poverty. Through it al
however, she was a companion to her children; th
family life was happy. Her. sickness struck a mor
tal blow at that happiness. Her death destroyed
utterly. With all their remarkable health, theii
splendid spirit, their notable comeliness, the Ollivant
still lived as under a cloud.

Perhaps visions of the family splendor — she mus
often have heard it discussed — passed througl
Ann's mind. Sometimes she smiled, but oftener he
lips quivered. Once two big round tears rolle<

Ann Takes Charge 61

down her velvety cheek, splashed unchecked onto
the pillow.

After a long while, Ann arose. Moving slowly,
and stopping to study every room, she made a tour
of the house, starting at the top. The attic was a
mere lumber-room, lying obscured under the dust
and cobwebs of years. What there was in it — be-
cause of its crowded condition — it was almost im-
possible to see. On the third floor were two big
bedrooms, formerly the nurseries. Ed and Matt
shared one, Roland occupied the other. All the
run-down, broken, lamed household furniture had ac-
cumulated in the boys' rooms as if in protest against
their wrongs. Here, in addition, was every evi-
dence of the careless housekeeping inevitable to the
Ollivants' present haphazard system. The walls
clamored to be repapered, the ceilings to be replas-
tered, the wood to be repainted. Everything was
dusty, the rugs needed shaking. Torn carpets of-
fered stumbling traps. The mirrors in the bureaus
were covered with water-spots where the boys had
slapped with brushes at their wet hair.

On the next floor were four rooms: Beckie's big
chamber, a hall bedroom, the one that Lainey
shared with Ann, an unfinished garret running over
the kitchen. On the lower floor were parlor, dining-
room, kitchen. As Ann descended the aspect be-
came more fair. The girls' rooms showed the in-
evitable feminine effort towards decoration. The
living-room was at least comfortable, though shabby,
the kitchen invitingly warm and neat. The dining-
room alone seemed shabby and stark; it had
something of the bare coldness of an institution
hall.

62 Ann Takes Charge

Her leisurely tour of inspection finished, Ann fe
to work with the suddenness of a cyclone. She we
over all the floors with a carpet-sweeper, duste
made the beds, rearranged much of the furnitur
Until she reached the dining-room, her efforts we
mainly in the line of conservation; there it amounte
almost to revolution. She removed all the tabl
utilities from the black walnut sideboard, covered i
mortuary marble slab with an embroidered gues
towel, stood up some bright-colored plates and pla
ters against its back, polished the silver cake-bask
and the silver water-pitcher.

Then she attacked the table.

First, she took off the cloth and threw it into th
laundry-basket. Then she stood off and surveyed
it critically. Finally, she removed one leaf, placed
a blue Wedgwood pitcher in the center on a darne
and faded embroidered doily. Followed a period i
which she obviously cast about her — baffled. F
nally, she went to the window and looked out. Some-
thing she saw there brightened her eyes. Bare-
headed, she ran out of doors, swept away the sno
from the Japanese barberry, picked a few branche
to which some brilliant red berries still clung, spe
five minutes arranging them droopingly in th'
Wedgwood pitcher.

Halfway through the process of setting the tabl
another series of iconoclastic ideas struck her. Sh
took all the silver into the kitchen, polished it. She
gathered all the drinking-glasses, washed them a
second time, rubbing them until they were almost
as clear as the air itself.

By this time it was one o'clock.

Immediately after lunch — she ate it with a lool

d

i

Ann Takes Charge 63

of resolution crystallizing slowly on her face — she
went upstairs, a silver table-knife in her hand. She
reached up to the top shelf of her closet, brought
down a little iron bank, shaped like an apple and
painted red. Half an hour's work with the knife,
and she had removed the last coin from its interior;
eighty-nine pennies, one fifty-cent piece, two quar-
ters, three dimes, a nickel, and a Canadian piece.
With this money clutched in her hand, she visited
the corner grocery. She returned in a few moments
followed by a grocery-boy loaded with cans of to-
matoes.

Two hours later, she was hauling down from the
top shelf of the closet the tall green glass jars which
five hours before she had so neatly piled there.

" Oh, don't you look sweet!" Lainey exclaimed
when she got home at halfpast five that night. " I'm
going right upstairs and dress up too."

Ann wore one of her summer muslins, exquisitely
laundered, a broad rose-colored velvet ribbon tied
about her hair. The big curls which lay flat to her
skin just above her ears shone like satin; her eyes,
like golden crescent moons, rocked with suppressed
excitement. Her fatigue showed itself only in the
increased bloom of her velvety cheeks.

" I want you to dress up, Lainey," Ann said, " for
a particular reason. I've been fixing up the house
to-day and everything looks so nice."

"What's the matter with your hand?" Lainey

" Oh, nothing," Ann answered carelessly, " I
bruised it in the cellar. I've been working like a
Trojan all day long."

64 Ann Takes Charge

" I should say you had been working," Laine
said a half an hour later. " Doesn't our room loo
clean — and a fire in the parlor. And, oh, Ann, thi
dining-room is simply swell with the bare table an
the sideboard fixed up. And I love it with the fol
ing-doors open that way. Let's always eat wi
them open — it seems so sort of spacious and opulen
It makes me feel as if I was being entertained b
royalty."

" Well, we will — when we have a fire," Ann con
ceded.

Lainey stopped transfixed at the kitchen door
11 Who made that chili sauce?" she demanded
" Ann Ollivant, you didn't do it all alone by your
self?"

" Yes, I did," Ann said, her eyes dancing. "
looked up the recipe in Mrs. Farmer's and I bough
the tomatoes with my own money. It's a surpris
for Beck. We'll have some of it with the beans
dessert — Roly is so crazy about it. And, Lainey, I'm
going to serve the things in courses to-night,
want you to help me."

11 Here, Ann," Beckie said a few moments later
u I bought you some silk stockings to-day. I hear
you say the other day that you wanted a pair." Sh
tossed the little white-tissue bundle into her sister"
lap without looking at her.

"Oh, Beck!" Ann bubbled ecstatically, " gree
ones! You angel! I've been simply crazy for a
pair. I was saving up for a maline ruff or I'd have
bought them myself. And, Beckie, I did put the salt
in the piccalilli and I'm awfully sorry I was so hor

nor-

Ann Takes Charge 65

rid this morning. I didn't remember it until Roly

told me just when But let me show you what

I've been doing all day."

" My undying gratitude to whoever washed my
brush and comb," said Ed, when they sat down to
dinner, and " Say, who's been sprucing up our
room? "

" I did." Ann's tone was meek, but her eyes
were more than ever like rocking crescent moons.

" For the love of Mike," Matt exclaimed, seizing
the dish that Lainey placed on the table, " chili
sauce! I'm for that! "

" I would like to ask, Matt," Ed remarked sar-
donically, watching his brother, " whether you con-
sider you eat chili sauce on your beans or beans in
your chili sauce?" But Ed's disgust was palpably
forced to cover pleasure — as forced as his choler
later when over the floating island pudding he re-
marked to Roland, " Why don't you put all four
paws in the trough? You can get it quicker that
way."

" Roly is going to have what's left in the dish,"
said Ann sweetly. " Here it is, Roly. And
now," she went on in a stately tone, " when you have
finished, I want you all to gather in the parlor. I
have something very important to say to you."

" Now, Ann," Ed asked later, clipping the end of
his cigar, " what's that proposition you were go-
ing to put to us? We're ready to hear it. Fire
away! "

flowed from her without hesitation, the instant her
lips parted.

66 Ann Takes Charge

"Well," she said, "it's this. After you'd all
gone this morning, I went through this house from
top to bottom into every nook and cranny and hole
and corner and closet, from the attic to the
cellar. I tried to look at it as if I was a stranger,
and I came to the conclusion it was the dustiest,
coldest, bleakest, most unhome-like place I ever saw
in my life."

" Right so far," agreed Ed, lighting his cigar.
"Go on!"

" Then I laid down — lay down, I mean — on my
bed and tried to think why it was so and if it had
to be so and if there wasn't some way that it could
be different. I thought for a long time before the
answer came to me. But when it did come to me, I
knew I was right." Ann paused.

" It's for me to leave school and run the house,'
Ann threw at them.

Every Ollivant started and all of them, excep
Roland, protested by word or look or gesture.

" Can't be done," decided Ed.

"Why, Ann," added Beckie, "I couldn't hea
of such a thing. You'll graduate next year and I
want you to finish your High School course. We've
all had High School educations at least, although it
would break poor father's heart if he had thought
that was all we were going to get."

II I knew this was what you'd say," Ann went on
cheerfully. " But it doesn't change me," she con-
tinued inflexibly. " I know I'm right and I'm going
to prove it to you. In the first place, I hate school.
I never did enjoy studying and I loathe all my
teachers. They are the kind of people I simply

Ann Takes Charge 67

can't stand — so old and frumpy and behind the
times. And Mr. Osborne "

"Well, Ann," Ed interposed mildly, "if you
think a man's qualifications for teaching de-
pend "

" I know what you're going to say, Ed Ollivant,"
Ann interrupted, " and you needn't say it. I've
heard it all and it never has convinced me and never
will. ' Clothes do not make the man,' ' It's not
what people do but what they are,' ' A man's a man
for a' that,' ' Kind hearts are more than coronets,'
and all that old stuff. People make a hit with me by
the way they look and dress and how up-to-date they
are. Take Mr. Osborne : if you think a man with
red eyelids and an Adam's apple and a mustache like
a walrus, who wears an old frock-coat when cutaways
are the thing, could ever teach me anything, you
are entirely mistaken. I simply wouldn't learn from
him because he never could put it over with me that
he knew anything."

" Why, Ann, I never listened to such a " But

it was obvious that Ed was out of breath, words,
argument.

" What's more to the point, my reports are get-
ting worse and worse," Ann went on still cheerfully.
" And I don't care. I hate that school, I hate the
studies and I hate the teachers. Miss Merrick
warned me the other day that if I didn't improve, I
would not pass into the Senior Class. I won't im-
prove, I can tell you that, for I don't want to get
into the Senior Class; nobody can open my skull and
put things in it, so you might just as well let me leave
school now. One reason why I had such a fierce
grouch this morning at breakfast was because I had

68 Ann Takes Charge

I

a row with that old cat of a Miss Norton yesterday.
Gee, if I could only go up to school Monday and
tell her I'm leaving for good, she'd get a fierce sour-
ball herself, just to think she wouldn't have me to
blame for everything."

14 Cut out the muckraking, Ann, and get down to
cases," Ed commanded. " What's your plan? "

44 Well," Ann went on eagerly, quieting at once.
41 1 plan to run the house and to do all the cooking.
It's too much for Beckie to get up at six o'clock every
morning and then work all day. She's tired out now
and I don't know what she'll be before spring.
And then there's a lot of waste, this way. I think I
can save enough out of the household money for
you to pay me what you'd pay a maid."

" Is that all?" Ed asked sardonically.

44 No. I thought out a whole lot more. And
I've come to the conclusion that this house ought to
be fixed up. It looks like the very old scratch and
I'm ashamed every time a stranger comes in. Of
course what I'd like to do is to make it swell and
high-brow like Mrs. Damon's place — gold paper,
Japanese prints, and Japanese bric-a-brac. I
know we can't afford anything like that. But we
can do loads of things to it that won't cost so very
much, especially if we do them gradually. I'd like
to get some new furniture in green wicker, some
Navajo rugs, and loads of copper and brass. For
instance, the dining-room ought to be repapered in
something new and light and modern. I want to
get rid of that fierce old ark of a black walnut side-
board and have shelves painted white put up in its
place. Then gradually, taking the rooms one at a
time, I want to fix them up in colors — a pink room

Ann Takes Charge 69

for me, a blue room for Lainey, a red room for
Beckie, and blue and green rooms for the boys. I
think you boys ought to pay for any changes in your
own rooms, all except Roly, of course. He isn't
earning money."

"Well," Beckie broke in, "I agree with all
you're saying now, Ann. I was thinking, after I got
to work to-day, how Matt couldn't bring Lory Mack
here over Sunday because we had no place to enter-
tain him. And I've decided that it's a pity to use
that great elegant room of mine for a bedroom —
just think, it's as big as the parlor. I'm going to
fix it all over for a sort of a den where the boys
can take their company and w T hen they don't want
us girls around. Then I thought I'd go into the
little garret over the kitchen."

" No, Beckie, you shan't," Lainey burst in, her
eyes flaming blue with excitement, " I tell you what
you do. You take our room and Ann and I will
go into the attic. I'd love it, Ann, wouldn't you? "

" Lainey, it would be great! " exclaimed Ann.
For an instant she lost interest in her major thesis.
" We can make it sort of bohemian or like a studio
— unframed things tacked up on the wall. And
really, being over the kitchen, it's the warmest room
in the house."

" Then," Beckie went on, " I'm going to give
Matt Roly's room, so that Ed can have a room to
himself. And Roly can come down into the little
hall bedroom next to my room. You'd like that,
wouldn't you? "

" Sure Mike ! " answered Roly. " I'd rather be
downstairs. It's warmer."

" Only," Beckie said, " I'm afraid, boys, that den

70 Ann Takes Charge

won't be so very pretty, because we haven't any nice
furniture."

" Well," remarked Ann, " one thing I'm going to
do some day is to go through the attic and see i
there isn't something up there that we can use."

" Ann," exclaimed Lainey, still shiny-eyed, " won'
we have fun fixing up our garret? Right away
can think of a whole lot of things we can do."

11 We'll call it the Studio," Ann said. u And re
member all of you to call the * parlor ' the * living-
room ' — nobody says parlor nowadays. After
this, you'll come home to a warm house every nigh
— I don't intend to let the furnace fire go out
There'll be a fire in the parlor too — I mean living
room. And also we're going to have a course din
ner every night — Lainey and I are going to manag
that. But, listen, I don't care what you say, I'm no
going back to school Monday. I've quit for good.'

Beckie's brow wrinkled and Ed's brow creased,
but beyond Ed's evasive, " Well, we'll see about
that! " nobody offered remonstrance.

But undoubtedly Ann felt her triumph surging in
the atmosphere. Her eyes widened until they
seemed like patches of gold inlaid on her white skin
Her teeth made silver glitter in her wide red mouth

" Well," she said briskly to her sisters, later when
they trooped upstairs together, " there's one thing
I've made up my mind to. If there's anything in
this world I love, it's housework. I adore to sweep
people haven't the slightest knack that way — but it
seems as if it was just born in me. I'm domestic
by nature, I guess."

CHAPTER IV

u TT'S the very first day of December," said Lainey
X. Ollivant. M It's not so very cold yet; there's
quite a little Indian summer left. And yet, already,
I can taste Christmas and smell it. The air always
gets so crispy in the holiday season. It feels differ-
ent too. I guess it's because the spirit of Christmas

room, darting now and then to the window and once
secretly opening it to sniff the air. She was very
different from the every-day, go-to-school, school-
teacher Lainey; she was more like some small inno-
cent forest creature who feels within himself the
first troubled stir of the spring running. White-
complexioned, dull-eyed, uncharacterized normally;
at times Lainey was " fey." Which is to say, exalta-
tions of the spirit swooped on her, lifted her high.
Even physically, these seizures made her a different
person. The hair which ordinarily floated about
her brow now bristled like wire ; her slim drooping
figure had turned tense ; it quivered and jerked elec-
trically.

None of the Ollivants shared her excitement.
iThe Sunday calm lay over the household. They
sat about the big, fire-warmed living-room engaged
in their weekly struggle with the Sunday paper.

71

That sprawling octopus had been subjected to the
usual indignities. Falling upon it first — the proud
privilege of his seniority — Ed had torn the sporting
page from its vitals. Matt — heir-apparent to this
alluring sheet, one impatient eye nailed to Ed's dal
lyings — managed somehow to read the comic supple-
ment. Roland — heir-presumptive and visibly lan-
guishing under the strain of waiting for two brother
— had sought Lethe in the magazine section. Beckie
studied recipes on the woman's page ; Ann, gowns in
the pictorial section.

" Oh, that reminds me," said Ed. He dropped
the sporting page. Immediately with the lithe,
clean pounce of a panther Matt was on it. " How
about Christmas? I shan't be at home this year.
I've accepted an invitation to go with a house-party
down on the Cape."

14 Same here ! " At the sound of Matt's voice,
Roland leaped out of his serial; but Matt still
gripped the sporting page. " Lory Mack asked me
up to Worcester to spend Christmas with him.
We're going tramping. I thought as long as
mother "

11 Well, isn't it queer that we all got invitations? "
commented Beckie. " Aunt Margaret is having
some of Uncle Hi's relatives down from Fitchburg.
And she wrote if I hadn't anything else to do, I
might as well come out there. And I thought as
long as it was the first Christmas after mother's
death — perhaps it wouldn't seem quite so hard — if
we took no notice of it."

" I hate Christmas," Ann said in a sulky tone.
Discontent always brought out a sulphurous element
in Ann's beauty. Now the rose-red underlip dragged

sullenly away from the flashing teeth; the leaf-brown
lashes pulled the thick lids half over the golden
eyes. " Talk about the joyous Yuletide. I don't
see that it differs so much from Thanksgiving and
that's .the most God-forsaken holiday of the whole
calendar."

M Well, Christmas will be much better this year,"
remarked Roland, " if you have hard sauce for
the pudding instead of that sweetened glue you
sprung on us last year. And don't forget to order
the raisins — the way you did at Thanksgiving."

M Roly," said Ann in an intense voice, and the
lightning in her eyes almost set her lashes afire,
" sometimes I think you'll die young — you're so
spiritual-minded."

" And I don't want stockings for a Christmas
present," Roly growled further, ignoring his sister's
gibe.

" 1 agree with you there," Ann said with convic-
tion, " unless they're silk ones. If there's anything
I hate, it's a useful present. Handkerchiefs ! Un-
derwear ! Gloves ! My idea of a present is some-
thing you never could afford to buy yourself. But
if any one's determined to give me a useful gift,
please slip me the money and let me select it myself.
I always know exactly what I want. When other
people pick things out for me, they get them wrong
in some important detail; and I always think of it
when I wear it."

Lainey contemplated her sister in admiration.
Lainey was one of those who stare dumbly when
asked what they want for Christmas. Lainey could
never think of anything she wanted. Lainey liked
everything that had ever been given to her.

" Lainey, l^t's you and I go to the theater Christ
mas Eve," Ann went on. " I think that's the bes
way to spend holiday nights."

But before she answered this, " What sort of a
Christmas did father and mother have?" Lainey
u I mean when you were children."

14 Oh, it was wonderful," answered Beckie. A
far-away look put out the light that continually scin
tillated in her eyes and then it was to be seen tha
they were a soft, greeny-brown hazel. " I can re
member it perfectly. Mother loved Christmas jus
the way you do, Lainey. She worked fo
weeks and weeks beforehand, getting every
thing ready. There was always a tree-
tremendous big one, it seemed to me — but per
haps that was because I was so small — just ablaz
with candles. Father was Santa Claus and, oh
how handsome he looked and how witty he was, dis
tributing the presents. People were in gales o
laughter all the time. That was Christmas mornin
and only the family and the old, old friends wer
there — like Auntie Jennison and Uncle Larry anc
Lila — and Aunt Lottie and Cousin Emlen and th
Murrays. But the rest of the day they kept ope
house ; people were coming all day long. Wheneve
I hear the sound of sleigh-bells, I always think o
those times because so many people drove up ir
cutters. Father always mixed a punch and mothei
made a huge Christmas cake. Christmas dinnei
was simply gorgeous. How beautiful the tablt
looked! Do you remember it, Ed? "

" Yes," Ed answered, " the whole house, for tha
matter — the parlor was "

11 The thing I remember," Matt's coppery crest
— glittering — raised suddenly above the sporting
page and his sea-blue gaze — gleaming — went straight
into the past, " is the Christmas pudding. Old Joe
used to bring it into the room, all blazing up, and
father made a point of helping everybody while it
was still burning. I used to think that was the most
wonderful sight — when I was too little to have
pudding — to see people eating food that was on
Sre."

Lainey's eyes suddenly changed. Lainey's eyes
were strange; you did not look deep down into
them; you looked a long way through them; not
wells but tunnels. Now they seemed to snap from
their far-away recesses forward to the surface of her
face; or was it that they filled suddenly with blue
light? "How beautiful that must have been,"
she breathed dreamily, " like living in a story-
book!"

11 Just think," Ann said sulkily, " we never had a
Christmas tree — Lainey and Roly and me — we
never had a real Christmas. I wish I could remem-
ber some of the nice part of the family history. It
seems like something unreal when I hear you talk
be so quiet that I can't think of Christmas as a holi-
day — only that you get presents that you don't like
and want to throw away and give others that you'd
like yourself but can't afford. But I suppose you
had such a good time because we were a real family
then and entertained and did things together. Some-
how I never feel as if I belonged to a family like
Edwina or Dottie or Louise."

" I don't think belonging to a family has anything

s

to do with Christmas," Lainey remarked,
don't know that I believe in families at all. Some
times I think they're as much of a hindrance as
help."

This was typical of Lainey; she was always mak-
ing strange vague statements — not only vague an<
strange, but a little mad — which the Ollivants, n<
comprehending, ignored or ridiculed. And Lainey,
who seemed equally deficient in humor and in sen
sitiveness, accepted their valuation of herself; ac
cepted it with a submissiveness so gentle and so un
questioning that it went far towards making fo
those important qualities.

11 And I don't think that presents have anythin
to do with it," Lainey went on. " Anyway, I lov
everything about Christmas — Christmas trees am
Christmas waits and Christmas puddings. I lov
Santa Claus and his sleigh and his pack. I lov
mas. To this day, I remember one that I rea
years ago in an old, old Wide Awake called ' Bj
bouska,' and as for Louise's Christmas in ' Eac

and All ' And every December of m

life w Lainey had the air of one who look

back from high snowy nonagenarian peaks to son
far-away blossomy valley of youth. " I've rea
Dickens's ' Christmas Carol,' the essays about Chris -
mas in Washington Irving's ' Sketch-Book,' and tl
Christmas chapters in ' Trilby.' I love the sto: 7
of the shepherds who watched their flocks by nig
and the wise men and the manger and the chapte
Brooks's poem, ' Oh, Little Town of Bethlehem.'
gives me a thrill just to say, Noel, and as for ' 'T\*

the night before Christmas and all through the
house ' — oh, I think I love it better than Gray's
'Elegy.'"

" Well!" Ed exclaimed, " quite a little oration! "
His voice held its finest satiric note, but his
eyes showed the puzzled expression that always
filled them when, in argument, he came to grips with
Lainey. " For my part, I hate Christmas. It's a
nuisance and a bore. It's a child's holiday anyway.
Grown people should cut it out."

" You're wrong there, Ed," Lainey said pleas-
antly. She was the only one in the family who
argued with Ed; the others stood a little in awe of
him. Having corrected her brother, she' imme-
diately lost herself in her idea. Her lids came
down over her eyes so that the lashes made soft
blurred stars of their blue light. " Christmas is a
spiritual ideal — I've worked it all out. It's the only
time in the whole year that we really give ourselves
up to thoughts of others. If it weren't for Christ-
mas, I don't believe anybody would ever make a
present from one year's end to the other. But
Christmas pulls us up sharp and compels us to be
unselfish. It's a bother and a trouble — that's why
everybody hates it — especially men. But we ought
to be bothered and troubled — especially men. The
Christmas ideal is to give and receive. The chil-
dren's Christmas is to receive, the grown people's —
to give. Only I suppose it isn't necessarily giving
things."

Lainey enunciated this philosophy with the same
dogmatic succinctness with which she would have
demonstrated a theorem in geometry. The others
paid no attention to her ; Ed alone continued to listen

with his smile of satiric amusement, his look oi
speculative wonder.

This was the first week in December. Gradual!
the last sip of the Indian summer honey went out o
the air; and millions of microscopic ice-crystals too
its place. The haze melted out of the street vistas
a sharp clearness filled them. The wind began to
draw gray cloud curtains over the blue sky, to tie
glistening frost gossamers over the green earth
Every day now the tail dropped off the day anc
pieced itself onto the night.

Some time during the second week in December
Lainey remarked casually at dinner, " By the way,
I've decided that I'm going to have a Christmas
tree this year — on Christmas Eve."

" A Christmas tree ! " exclaimed Ed. u A Christ-
mas tree! Well, of all What a foolishness

You're not a child any longer, Lainey. Besides
Beckie and Matt and I are going away for Christ-

mas."

" I know," retorted Lainey, "but Ann and Roly
and I aren't. And we never had a tree."

" It will be an awful lot of trouble, Lainey,'
Beckie warned her sister. " You have no idea how
many things it takes to cover a Christmas tree and
make it look well. I guess you don't realize how
expensive it will be."

11 1 suppose I don't," Lainey agreed meekly.
11 Still I intend to have one."

11 1 think it's perfect nonsense, Lainey," com-
mented Ann. " Lots of the things that you can't
don't know how much work there is in it."

11 Probably I don't,' ' said Lainey, " but as I intend
to do it all myself, what difference does it make? "

" Anyway," Ann asserted wilfully, " I'm going
to the theater Christmas Eve, if I go alone."

" Don't let it leak out, Lainey," Matt cautioned
his sister, " that you're going to have a tree all by
yourself or people will think you're nutty."

" Well," Lainey continued with her soft-voiced,
inflexible obstinacy, " if there's one thing I never

warned her, taking his cue from the others. " I
never heard of such a footless thing in my life.
Anyway, I'm going to a show with Dink Hardy that
night."

By this time, there were two round pink disks in
the center of Lainey's white cheeks. M No, Roly,"
she promised, " I won't ask you- to help me — or
anybody. And you needn't feel obliged — one of
you — to come to it. But I'm twenty-two years old
and this is the first time I've earned money of my
own. I've always wanted a Christmas tree ever
since I can remember. I'm going to have it this
year if I have it all alone by myself, and it takes two
months' salary." Her emotion melted slowly. u I
do hope," she ended dreamily, " that it's a nice cold
Christmas."

This was the second week in December. It was
a dying world now. The wind had sealed up sun
and sky, it had riveted down earth and water.
Above was a gray hardness; below a brown dead-
ness. Between, in a space hollow as a drum, the
air lay rigid and frigid.

One night during the third week, coming in late,
Lainey sat down at dinner to a plate piled with let-
ters.

" What is all that mail about, Lainey? " Ann de-
manded. " I've been almust crazy with curiosity.
Once or twice, I nearly opened them. ,,

Lainey was slitting the envelope flaps with her
knife. Without answering, she plunged from one
11 Oh, everybody's accepted," she said at last,
happy lilt in her voice.

"Who's everybody?" came from Beckie. ** Ac-
cepted for what? " shot simultaneously from
Ann.

" I guess I didn't tell you," Lainey went on gaily.
" I thought it was going to be a pretty lonesom
business having a Christmas tree all by myself. So

I invited Auntie Jennison and Uncle Larry and Lila
— the three Murrays and Cousin Emlen. And
they're all coming."

" Good Lord!" exclaimed Ed, " did you really
mean that noise about the Christmas tree? I
thought it was just one of your spells. I haven't
thought of it from that day to this."

" They've written such lovely letters," Lainey
went on, not even noticing this splash of cold water,

II all about how well they remember when they used
to come here every year. Lila says she can see the
Christmas pudding coming in all blazing up and old
Joe's black face grinning above it. Betsy says she
recalls particularly how full of green the house was.
Yesterday I stopped in and invited Aunt Lottie — i
she was so delighted that she cried."

" I never heard anything so absurd in my life."

Beckie's tone was deep with disapproval. " You'll
have to give them something to eat and you can't any
more afford it, Lainey."

But Lainey was not listening. " Oh, I do so hope
we'll have a snowstorm," she bubbled happily.
" Christmas won't seem like Christmas unless every-
thing is white and sparkly."

This was the third week of December. The sky
was iron now, the earth lead, the air ice. But
somewhere in that frozen void, unseen but felt,
hung a stirring — an unease — a brooding — a striving
— a discontent.

The night of the twenty-first the door-bell rang
just as the Ollivants sat down to dinner. u Oh,
there it is ! " Lainey exclaimed and jumped, as
though the bell had pulled her with wires from her
chair.

"What is? " Ed questioned.

" The Christmas tree," Lainey — now halfway
to the door — threw over her shoulder. She disap-
peared.

The Ollivants dropped knives and forks, stared
at each other. Then, with one impulse, they stam-
peded to the hall. The door was wide open.
Lainey was standing in the opening. For an in-
stant, the clear, cold wind of December roared in.
Then an amorphous mass of green filled the
opening. Lainey moved back. " I guess you'll
have to open the other half of the door," she
said to somebody outside, " it's a pretty wide
tree."

" All right ! " a man's voice answered. A hairy
hand reached down between the branches, unlatched

the other half of the door, swung it back. The
hand withdrew; the amorphous mass of green, as
though impelled by an invisible force, advanced
slowly into the house, slanting the pictures, upset-
ting the hat-rack. A crisp pungent smell mounted
the breeze, flowed in great waves down the hallway.

" Right in " Lainey began, turning. " You all

go straight back to the table," she ordered her fam-
ily sternly, " this is my tree."

The Ollivants slunk to their places. But ripplinj
on ahead of them, filling the hall, filling the dininj
room, filling the whole house invisible, impalpable,
but odorous, like a tidal wave from the forest,
surged

"Lord, how that takes me back!" Ed com
mented in a low tone. He drew a deep lungfi
of air. " Fifteen years, all right."

" I used to catch the smell of the tree," Ma
said excitedly, " the instant mother opened the nurs
ery door and said we could go down. Do you
remember how wild we used to get that last fifteen
minutes?"

" I guess I do! " exclaimed Beckie. " And when
I first looked at the tree — one blaze of candles
from top to bottom — I used to feel — as if — I used

to think that — as though " She stopped short.

Beckie possessed her kind of articulateness ; crisp,
terse, forthright it was shot and illuminated with a
brilliant mother-wit. But now, apparently, her self-
analysis required terms too deft and subtle for her
vocabulary. " I felt as if the house was under a
magic spell — as if there was a ghost here — or an
angel — or a fairy."

" Oh, I do wish I could go in there ! " exclaimec

5\nn, and she almost whimpered. " I think it's
mean of Lainey. I wonder where they're put-
ting it. Can you guess, Roly?"

" In the big window, I think," Roland said, listen-
ing attentively.

Involuntarily all the Ollivants listened. Sound
came from the other room, many sounds, different
sounds — but muted, but muffled — smothered shuf-
flings as of branches brushing carpets, crackly
scratchings as of twig-tips clutching walls, musical
tinklings as of fir-needles tapping glass — a man's
hoarse voice, lowered, " Yes, there's the place, lady.
But you'll have to make a stand for it — just whittle

a hole in a soap-box " Lainey's voice, breathy,

eager, " Yes, it's lovely there. I spent two hours
looking at Christmas trees this afternoon and this
was the most beautiful one I could find. I wanted
one that was — — "

After a while, the front door closed; Lainey re-
turned ; the Ollivants fell, with convulsive unanimity,
on their food. Lainey said nothing and, after a
while, they conversed of other things.

" Say, Lainey," Roland offered after the others
had gone, " if you want me to make a stand for your
tree I can do it easily. I've got some old boards
in the cellar. And say, Lainey, I'm coming to your
tree. Dink Hardy says his mother wants him to
stay at home Christmas Eve."

11 I'm awfully glad, Roly," Lainey replied. " Yes,
it would be a great help if you would make the
stand."

This was the twenty-first. On the afternoon of
the twenty-second, when Lainey returned from

teaching, Ann, who had obviously been waiting for
her, opened the door before Lainey could get her
key out. " Come right out into the kitchen," she
commanded. " I've got a surprise for you." Her
cheeks flaming with what was undue bloom even for
them, Ann marched straight ahead. " There ! " she
exclaimed triumphantly, pointing.

" Oh, Ann ! " exclaimed Lainey. " You ducky
darling! That's the greatest help. I did so want
them, and yet I couldn't see where I was going
to find the time. I did think of hiring somebody.
Wasn't it awfully hot work? "

11 Well," said Ann, " the cranberries strung up
fast enough. But I bet my right arm will be out
of commission to-morrow from shaking that corn-
popper, and I think I actually got sunburned from
bending over the fire. But somehow — it's the
queerest thing — you don't mind hard work when
it's for Christmas. And Lainey dear, of course I'm
my going to the theater. I wouldn't leave you for
anything. And besides I think it will be great fun
having a party of our very own. Just think, we've

That night, after the others had dispersed to
their various engagements, Matt came pussy-foot-
ing into Lainey's room. He was carrying a big,
white paper bundle; he placed it on the bed.
" Lainey," he began eagerly, after he had closed
and locked the door, " I got something for your
Christmas tree to-day. It's the one thing I par-
ticularly remember about — Mother always used to
have one hanging from the top of the tree. I
guess I went to a dozen places, and where do you

suppose I finally found it? In a little dago joint
at the North End."

Lainey was doing her hair; she dropped her
brush, came over to the bed. Matt carefully untied
the bundle. It was wrapped first in brown paper,
then in tissue, then in excelsior; but there finally
plumped out —

" Isn't that a dandy?" demanded Matt.

" Matt," Lainey said ecstatically, and with an
unaccustomed use of slang, " it's a corker ! And
isn't it darling-looking? It's a brunette."

" I suppose that's because it's a ginney," ex-
plained Matt.

A little silence fell. Lainey resumed her place at
the glass; her brush swished back and forth over
her hair, mowing it flat. As fast as it passed from
her brow, however, her filmy halo immediately flut-
tered up, dropped its golden shadow onto her little
face. Matt watched her, shuffled, wet his lips,
swallowed, turned towards the door, said:

" Oh, by the way, Lainey, I'm awfully sorry I
can't be home for the Christmas tree. If I'd have
known in time, I wouldn't have made that engage-
ment."

" I'm sorry too, Matt," said Lainey.

This was the twenty-second. The morning of the
twenty-third, Beckie came into Lainey's room. She
held a pasteboard box in her hand. It was early;
Lainey was still in bed; Beckie still wore nightgown
and bed shoes. Downstairs, Ann wrestled with the
stove. " Say, Lainey," Beckie began in a low
voice, slipping into bed beside her sister, " I've got
something to say to you I don't want Ann to

hear. To-day I bought something for your tree.
Mother used to have them on hers. Where she
got them I don't know. IVe never seen them any-
where else. I remember them perfectly well be-
cause when I was a teeny-weeny tot, I was always
trying to, get at them. I did manage to pull one
off once and they yanked it away from me just
as I was starting to bite it. Well, I got the idea
into my head to-day that I wanted to get some for
your tree. I traipsed way downtown and spent
my entire noon-hour hunting for them. And where
do you suppose I finally found them — in that little
queer toy-shop kept by the German round the
corner from Dr. Pierson's office — you remember,
I took you in there one day." She lifted the cover
from the box.

" Oh, Beckie! " said Lainey, " aren't they lovely f
I never saw anything so beautiful ! "

11 You hang them," Beckie's enthusiasm still
flowed fluently, " from the very tips of the
branches. " You can't imagine how they glisten
and glitter — they look exactly like ice. And, Lainey,
I can't tell you how sorry I am that I can't be at
your tree — but you see — I sort of feel obliged —
I accepted Aunt Margaret's invitation — and she's

such a queer lonely old thing " Beckie finally

got to the end of her stumbles.

" I'm sorry too, Beckie," Lainey said.

When Lainey came down into the dining-room
that morning, she found Ed, unwontedly early, ex-
amining his paper. Ann was still staving vigor-

"Why, Ed!" she exclaimed. " How'd you
happen "

Ed's finger went to his lips. " I just wanted to
tell you, Lainey," he said in a low tone, " that I

left an order yesterday " The kitchen door

opened; Ed's voice lowered automatically — "I'll
tell you what mother used to do with it. She put

bunches " The kitchen door shut; Ed's voice

automatically rose. " — I left word that it was to
be delivered to-day sometime between four and
five, when I knew you would be here and could take
care of it."

" Oh, Ed! Thank you so much," exclaimed
Lainey.

" I'm sorry that I made that week-end en-
gagement," Ed went on, and for the instant Ed stag-
gered verbally — suave, controlled, self-possessed
Ed — " or else I'd sure come to your tree."

" I'm sorry too," Lainey said.

" It looks as if you were going to have the snow
you wanted," Ed proceeded, smoothly changing the
subject as Ann entered. " Old Prob prophesies
falling temperature and heavy storms."

This was the twenty-second. That night the un-
ease in the air exploded. The twenty-third broke in
a whirl of white. " This will be a one-session day
all right," exclaimed Lainey joyously, as she looked
out the window. " I'm so glad. That will give me
the whole afternoon to work on the tree."

It snowed all that night. It continued to snow all
the next day. At noon the storm ceased. When
Lainey returned, it was to a house swathed in white,
the roof smoothly piled, the sides symmetrically
beveled, to a yard filled with cotton-wool bushes and
trees. The sharp hard wind had silvered and crys-

tailed and diamonded the snow; it had changed the
iron sky to a sheet of polished steel; it had filled
the air with frozen flame.

"Can't I help trim the tree, Lainey?" Ann
entreated.

"No," said Lainey inexorably; " until it's fin-
ished, nobody's going to see that tree but me."

And so, boxes and bundles in her arms, boxes an<
bundles dangling from her fingers, boxes and bundh
hanging from all over her, Lainey shut herself int(
the living-room and, though Ann sulked and R0I3
languished, spent the rest of the afternoon solitary

At eight o'clock that night, Ann and Lainey, ai
rayed in their makeshift evening-dresses, Ann wil
a coronet of holly in her brown hair, Lainey with
spray of mistletoe at her white neck, awaited theii
guests. Roland — even now his boy's taste balance<
delicately between Ed's correct elegance and Matt'
flamboyant picturesqueness — wore his best suit, hi
freshest tie. Lainey sat still as a statue ; at interval*
her little rocker gave a convulsive quiver; but Ai
and Roland almost rattled with restlessness.

" I don't think anybody's coming," Ann burst 01
at last, striking the lowest note of pessimism.

" Well, Ann," Lainey answered, a hysteric ril
in her voice betraying frazzled nerves, " gr
them time. I told them the tree would be a
nine."

" One hour more," Ann groaned. " This is th
worst about having company — waiting for them t
come."

" What time do you want the ice-cream served?

there's the bell."

" I bet it's Aunt Lot," said Ann, brightening.

" I don't think so," answered Lainey. " It's too
early." She ran to the door.

14 An unexpected guest," she announced, return-
ing, stars forming in the depths of her eyes. She
stood aside to usher in —

44 Beckie Ollivant! " Ann exclaimed.

14 1 got as far as Watertown," Beckie explained
volubly. u And there — All the week, I've been
feeling that I didn't want to go to Aunt Margaret's
and leave you children all alone here. Still, I didn't
want to disappoint Aunt Margaret. But when I
got into the Watertown car, it all came over me.
Here was Aunt Margaret with plenty of money
and entertaining a half-dozen of Uncle Hi's rela-
them? So I just hopped out of the car at the
transfer-station, called Aunt Margaret up on the
'phone, and explained how you three would be all
alone and — She said, of course, to go right home
and here I am. You needn't do anything about

Ann. " I mean what's in my closet. I'll attend to
them myself."

"Lainey said the tree would be at nine," Ann
44 1 tell her that was too late. I feel as though I'd
been waiting ever since noon."

44 Well, of course Vm glad she put it late,"
Beckie said with emphasis, handing her bundles to
Lainey. "There, there's the bell! They've come,
I guess."

Again Lainey flew to the door.

" Another unexpected guest," she announced, tf
turning. The stars in her eyes were pricking
through their irises. She stood aside to usher in

" Matt! M the others called in chorus.

11 Where did you come from? " Beckie exclaime
" When I cajled you up at six, you were starting f
Worcester. Didn't you go?"

11 Part way," Matt confessed. " But at the last
moment, Lory decided to give up that walking-tri
— and — I didn't want to sit round for two da
with Lory's folks. Still, I suppose I'd have ke
the engagement — but just beyond Natick we got
stalled for half an hour — snow on the track. I got
so sick of waiting that I just got out and cut across
to the trolley. That was about seven. I've been
all this time getting here."

" Well, I'm so glad you're here, Matt," approvec
Beckie. " Now, if only Ed— What time is it? "

11 Quarter to nine," said Lainey. " Oh, her
comes Auntie Jennison. I can hear her voice."

Fifteen minutes later, they were all assembled
Auntie Jennison, little, silver-haired, strung or
wires, with tiny, clearly-shining gray eyes set in «
face like carved ivory; Uncle Larry, snowy-haired
rosy-faced, bluff, hearty; Lila — Beckie's age — wit!
some of her father's comfortable comeliness an<
her mother's enduring spirit; the Murrays — als>
Beckie's age — beautiful, debonair, golden-blond
Betsy; dark, quiet, strong-featured Martha; silen'
unassertive, pepper-and-salt Bob; slim-waisted, slin
wristed, slim-ankled Aunt Lottie, brisk and viv;
cious; tall, grizzled Cousin Emlen, soldierly an 1

LSt

i

impassive. They sat with their laps heaped high
with packages.

" Now," said Lainey, u it's just nine o'clock.
We'll go into the living-room at once." Her hand
went to the seam of the folding-door, faltered in-
explicably there an instant.

14 Why, there's the bell again ! " exclaimed Beckie.
44 Who can that be?"

Lainey flew to the door. She returned, the stars
set in dewdrops hanging from the tips of her
lashes; ushered in — calm, handsome, immaculately-
elegant in his evening-clothes —

44 Ed! " everybody exclaimed.

44 1 got out of my week-end engagement at the
last moment," Ed explained from the midst of the
women, who immediately swarmed about him. His
words came in spurts, jounced from his lips by vio-
lent huggings. 44 — to start to-morrow — train — ex-
pected taken off — stayed to dinner — saw them off —
North Station — Did you bring down — bottom —
closet— Ann? All right."

Now the doors, moving at Lainey's touch, parted
slowly, slid into the walls. And suddenly they were
looking into the heart of the holiday. Christmas
green garlanded the woodwork, framed the pic-
tures, looped from the chandelier to the ceiling.
Directly in front, the tree filled the big window.
Over it, like a spray thrown from a fountain, hung
the Christmas mist of silver and gold. About it
wound strings of cranberries and popcorn. On
every spot that offered coign of vantage glistened
and glimmered, or glittered and gleamed, or
sparkled and shone, or shimmered and sheened, a

rainbow toy. From its top, very pink-tinted as t(
plump plaster body, very expansive as to blue-and-
gilt wings, very brunette as to black-painted hair,
swung a Christmas angel. At its foot, bunche<
masses of crimson-berried holly and white-berriei
mistletoe. From every branch-tip dropped long, thin,
glass icicles. ♦

"Lainey!" Beckie exclaimed, " where did yoi
get that angel? Mother always had one — only hen
was blonde."

And—

" Lainey! " Ed exclaimed. " Are those the same
glass icicles that mother used to have on her tree
Where have they been all these years? Remembei
the time you tried to bite one, Beckie? "

And—

" Lainey ! " Matt exclaimed. " How did yoi
know that mother always put holly and mistletoe
round the bottom of her tree? "

11 It's time to begin," Lainey said importantly,
answering no one of them. " Ed, you are to b<
Santa Claus."

An hour later, they sat in separate nests of con-
fusion; heavy brown wrapping paper, thin browi
wrapping paper, thinner white wrapping paper,
thinnest white tissue paper, wooden boxes, cardboard
boxes, cotton-wool, excelsior, string, cord, ribbon,
rope. Everybody was saying, M Oh, look at this !
Isn't it lovely? " And nobody was looking or listen-
ing. Everybody was trying to thank everybody else
and nobody was succeeding. Everybody was play-
ing with the grotesque toys, of which Matt was the
donor, or adorning himself with the Brobdingnagiar

brummagem jewelry, of which Ed had apparently
bought a job lot.

"Well, Ed," Auntie Jennison said, withdrawing
with Aunt Lottie from the racket, " I can't tell you
how glad I am that you children decided to have
this tree. For years, life has been pretty hard
on you. But you're all grown up now, and you're
going to pull out of it. But you'll get away much
quicker by pulling together than pulling separately.
A party like this makes you feel as though you
were a family again. Don't you think so, Lottie? "

" It's exactly what I've been saying," Aunt Lottie
agreed eagerly. " Nothing would delight their
mother more. It's just as if the old days had come
back. Why, I suppose I've been to a dozen Christ-
mas trees in this very room. Don't you remember
how Jennie used to decorate her father's and
mother's pictures? How little she thought that
some day these children would be decorating hers! "

They looked in silence for a instant at Mrs.
Ollivant's portrait. Robustly slim, richly blonde,
sweetness and ardor dwelt in her misty blue eyes,
humor and firmness in her curved pink lips. She
smiled back at her two old friends from the frame
of evergreen that inclosed her.

" Lord, what a gay creature she was ! " Auntie
Jennison exclaimed.

" I've never seen her like," Aunt Lottie answered
simply. " Ann's most like her. Sometimes there'll
be tones in her voice or a sudden motion — land,
how it takes me back ! "

" Lainey's most like her father," Aunt Jennison
added. " Lainey and you, Ed. It's queer, too, when
you're both blondes."

They looked at Mr. Ollivant's picture. Olive
skinned, jet-haired, gray-eyed, he surveyed the
with his keen, amused glance.

" Beckie looks like him too," Aunt Jennison con
eluded.

" Oh yes. Beckie favors the Ollivants and
Roly," Aunt Lottie added, " but somehow you and
Lainey, Ed, are more like him. My land, what
a host he was. He could make a success of an
party."

" Matt's the odd one," Auntie Jennison com
mented, " but he's more like Jen's folks than you
father's." >

Unconscious, apparently, of the excitement swirl-
hovering about the tree, attending it as though it
were a bride. Now she stood still, dreamily look-
ing up at the plaster angel.

Ed had collected her presents as fast as he came
across them. Now he spread them out in a big box
cover, crossed the room to Lainey's side.

Lainey looked vaguely down. The box-covei
offered every high-colored allurement of Christmas
mystery; boxes, most of them, and obviously jew-
eler's some ; all wrapped with bright-colored Christ-
mas paper, tied with lustrous Christmas ribbon, fas-
tened with gay-hued Christmas seals, decorated with
red-berried Christmas sprigs. Then she looked up
again. Twin Christmas trees — tiny — lay reflected
in her eyes.

" Ed," Lainey said, meeting her brother's com-
prehending look, " I really don't deserve any

CHAPTER V

ROLAND'S FRIEND

"QAY, Beck," said Roland Ollivant with an al-
lj most too careful display of carelessness, " can
I bring a friend of mine here to Sunday dinner — a
girl?"

Roland watched Beckie as, with quick dashing
clutches, she picked the glasses from the hot dish-
water. He stood, one hand on the door-knob,
superficially degage but visibly poised for flight.
He wore his other suit, which meant that he was
going out; and he wore his most debonair aspect,
which meant that the affair was important. Al-
though he was the youngest of the family, his
swart coloring made him seem older than Lainey,
and Lainey was older than Ann. He was as pic-
turesque as Ann, but there was an alien Latin olive
quality to his coloring. Ann was not olive, she was
brown; and she looked like an American.

"What's her name?" Beckie inquired before
she answered. She stopped now, the dish-mop
poised in one hand, the soap-shaker in the other,
and stared through the rising steam at her brother.
Beckie, who knew that Ann had a fastidious dis-
taste to putting her hands in hot water, had insisted
on washing the dishes herself. She had, however,
brought the pan onto the bared dining-room table.
She wore the long enveloping apron and the white

95

96 Roland's Friend

sweeping cap that with her always predicted house-
work. Ann and Lainey stood with drying towels
in their hands, Ann trim, erect, yet softly curved
under her crisply-starched white middy suit; Lainey
in a muslin that hung limp and crushed over the
right angles of her little figure. They stared at
Roland too.

11 Barton," Roland answered nonchalantly, "Bird
Barton."

" Bird! " Beckie repeated. " What a name ! "

14 It's a nickname/' Roland interposed quickly,
" her real name's Gertrude."

" Where'd you meet her?" Beckie went on, drop-
ping the soap-shaker into the water and frothing
up a whirlpool of suds.

" Oh — out somewhere," Roland answered
vaguely.

" Where does she live? "

" In Boston — but she's not been here very long.
She's a New York girl."

" Yes — of course you can," Beckie answered at
last, inserting the dish-mop under the silver and
making with it a brisk clatter.

"New York!" Ann repeated simultaneously.
"What kind of a looking girl is she?" she de-
manded with interest.

" Oh, she's a peach looker all right — a pippin,"

" Blonde or brunette?" Ann continued to probe.

11 Gee, I don't know, I never noticed."

11 If that isn't just like you, Roly Ollivant," Ann
said in despair, " not to notice whether a girl's a
blonde or a brunette ! Are her eyes blue or brown
or black? "

Roland's Friend 97

" Search me," Roland answered hopelessly, after
a visible plunge into memory. " Like Lainey's, I
think. What color are yours, Lainey?"

"Pink!" Ann answered scathingly. "How old
is she ? " she went on in the same relentless tone.

Roland shifted from one foot to the other. " Oh,

" That means she's twenty-three at least," Ann
decided.

"What does she do?" Lainey, soft-voiced, pur-
sued the investigation.

her. She's a smart girl all right. Knows an awful
lot. Talks high-brow stuff sometimes. And Lord,

" I think she must be very interesting," Lainey
said with conviction.

u I'm going to see her to-night," Roland went
on. " I'll invite her."

11 Well, she's a queer kind of a girl, Roly, if she'd
come on your invitation," Ann remarked in a supe-
rior tone. "Wait, I'll write her a note."

Ann dropped her dish-towel, ran over to the
big old desk in the living-room. She drew from
one pigeonhole a huge sheet of yellow paper, peb-
bled like a thin layer of granite, a green monogram
in the lower right-hand corner; drew from another
a massive square envelope with a green monogram
in the upper left-hand corner, plucked from one
drawer her special stub pen, from another her green
ink, from another her sealing-wax paraphernalia.
She wrote swiftly in a big broad-stroked hand which,
with a superficial effect of clearness, was almost
illegible. "There," she said at last in a tone of

98 Roland's Friend

satisfaction, " I'll read it. * My dear Miss Barton
My sisters and I will be delighted if you will dine
informally with us Sunday the eighteenth. Dinner
is served at two o'clock. Very sincerely yours, Ann
Ollivant.' How's that?"

" Just right," Lainey approved.

" I like that informally," Ann said. " It sounds
so swell — as if sometimes we gave formal dinners.
Oh, how I adore anything formal. I'd just love to
give a formal function some time, wouldn't you,
Beck?"

" No," said Beckie with instant decision, " I'd
hate it; I wouldn't have a good time."

11 Well, you're not supposed to have a good time
at a formal function," Ann said impatiently. " You'd
like to give formal things, wouldn't you, Lainey?"
Ann looked pleadingly at her sister for sympathy
with this high social ideal.

14 Well, I'd be a little scared, I think," Lainey

" Nothing of a social nature would ever scare
me," Ann said in a superior tone. "Where does
she live, Roly?" She folded the massive sheet,
slipped it into the massive envelope, rummaged in
the desk for the one-cent stamps, whose green went
better with her yellow paper than the two-cent red,
addressed it at her brother's dictation, scorning ab-
breviation even to Massachusetts, sealed it with a
fat green seal on the rectangular envelope flap.
" There, now I guess she'll know we're nice people,"
she said with satisfaction, handing it to her brother.
11 Mail it at once, Roly. Don't wait until it gets
all dirty and smells of cigarettes. I'm dying to see
what Roly calls a pippin," she announced gaily

Roland's Friend 99

when the front door closed. " I bet she's a scream.
Men have such funny ideas of what's a pretty
girl."

" Roly has very good taste, though, in other
things," Lainey said. " I've often noticed it."

" Yes," Ann conceded, " I really like his ties much
better than Ed's or Matt's. I always borrow from
Roly."

On Sunday she was far and away the most ex-
cited of the three girls. She dusted the living-room
carefully, rearranging the furniture for the third
time since she had taken charge of the house. She
brought out the few family treasures of china and
silver for the dining-room. She dressed with par-
ticular care as to green silk stockings and mani-
cured nails. She did her hair in three new ways,
but reverted finally to her favorite fashion; a
braided knob, glossy as a bunch of grapes, mound-
ing behind each shell-pink ear, a scalloping claw,
filmy as a burnished shadow, clutching each peach-
blow cheek. She did not actually station herself at
the window, but she kept casting furtive glances up
the empty, brightly-silent Sunday street. When
the door-bell finally pealed a quick vigorous signal,
she held Roland back for a proper interval. And,
" How do you do, Miss Barton?" she said in a
formal tone when finally, Roland at her elbow, she
opened the door.

u How do you do? " came to Beckie and Lainey in
a voice quite as formal as Ann's. It was a cool,
clear, silvery-white voice. Indeed, in contrast, it
gave Ann's notes an effect of a deep color, of a rich
duskiness, of a soft warmth. " Oh, how do you do,
Roland," it went on, "now which sister is this?

ioo Roland's Friend

Ann? I thought so, although you don't look the
least bit the way I expected you to. You never told
me she was so pretty," she reproached Roland.

" Well, Roly told me just exactly how pretty you
were," Ann replied with an unexpected touch of
gallantry.

"Oh, did he?" The clear voice broke into
clearer laughter. " I bet he couldn't tell you what
color my eyes were." The light tones continued to
weave in and out of Ann's fuller ones: " Oh,
Roly's the youngest!" "He's only sixteen!"
14 Good heaven. I knew he was young but — isn't he
an amusing kid? " Both voices floated out of hear-
ing upstairs. All Beckie and Lainey got was a
glimpse of a slim black pony-coat and a little black
pony-cap.

Roland returned to the living-room, fidgeted, sat
down, fidgeted, got up, fidgeted, lay on the couch,
fidgeted, arose, fidgeted. After a long interval,
the two girls descended the stairs. Ann introduced
their guest.

" It's very nice of you," Miss Barton said with
composure, addressing herself to Beckie, " to invite
me over here to-day. I haven't been in Boston so
very long and this is the first real meal I've had in
anybody's house. You do get so tired of boarding-
houses and restaurants."

" I should think you would," Beckie said mechan-
ically.

And, " You must come to see us often," Lainey
mechanically reinforced her.

" Thank you." Coolly Miss Barton looked about
the living-room. " Isn't this charming? This is
exactly my idea of a Boston household. It looks

Rolapcfs Friiervd; 101

like an illustration for a magazine story of New-
England. I feel as if I had jumped into ' Little
Women.' " Her eyes flashed from detail to detail.
" Nice old furniture ! Dickens and Thackeray and
Scott in faded old-fashioned sets! A Landseer, a
picture of Scott, a picture of Washington ! And old
family portraits! " She stopped in front of one of
them.

" That's my great-uncle, General Milliken," Ann
said in a tone which, in vain, she tried to render
casual.

u Curious ! " their visitor murmured, as if to her-
self. " Generals and admirals all look alike — at
least they always have that same air. I have al-
ways wondered if it's the expression of greatness

or " She pulled herself up and went on. " I

can't tell you how I have enjoyed the thought of
seeing a real Boston household. You get so tired
of boarding-house furniture."

" I should think you would," Beckie echoed her-
self mechanically.

And, " You must come to see us often," again
Lainey mechanically reinforced her.

" Thank you. Boston is an awfully dead little
town, isn't it? Absolutely nothing doing evenings, is
there? Of course, there's the theatre, but I saw all
the shows that are here now last winter in New
York. What do you do evenings? Go to Night
School? It's really a very lonely city for a stranger
to come to."

" Yes, I should think it would be," Beckie me-
chanically repeated.

And, " You must come to see us often," Lainey
mechanically reiterated.

102 Round's Friend

It was quite apparent, though, that neither of the
girls knew what she was saying. Ann tried to cove]
their abstraction by rushing in with many contemptu-
ous general statements about the New York thai
she had never seen and secretly burned to know.
And while she talked, the others looked their fill
at Miss Bird Barton.

Miss Barton was as slenderly figured and as
daintily featured as though she had been cut from
alabaster with a penknife. A reposeful classicism
of contour was shot by a perturbing piquancy of ex-
pression. In repose, she might have been a face 01
a Greek coin, in laughter on a French poster; so
perfect was her combination of straight incisive
lines and soft vanishing dimples. Her hair hung like
a cloud of smoke about her face. Her long blacl
lashes curled away from her gray eyes in such man-
ner as to push her starry gaze forward. Her flex-
ible lips curved up from her little teeth in such man-
ner as to set her smile deep. Light played in an<
out of her dimples, ran under and over her eye-
lashes, flashed back and forth from teeth to lips.
With this combination a very white skin and vei
red lips seemed necessary; Miss Barton's skin was
strangely white, her lips strikingly red.

After some preliminary greetings she paid no
more attention to Roland than as though he had
not been in the room. But she continued to do much
of the talking. First she discussed New York and
Boston with Ann, laughing at Ann's stringent asper-
sions of the metropolis but not bothering to contra-
dict them. Then she discussed books with Lainey.
who lived mentally in a misty world of fiction anc
poetry. Next she discussed chafing-dish recipe;

Roland's Friend 103

with Beckie, who had the born cook's interest in
food combinations. Just before dinner, Matt came
in and, though obviously dumfounded at the sight
of her, managed to acknowledge the introduction.
She discussed football, baseball, automobiles, and
flying-machines with Matt.

But all through this impersonal chatter her com-
ment returned again and again to the house and its
furnishings. She commented on the Sheraton desk,
their great treasure, the roomy shabby old-fashioned
davenport, the shelves painted white which, in the
dining-room, had taken the place of the old black
walnut sideboard, the blue Canton plates which were
all that were left of Mrs. Ollivant's wedding china,
the beautiful old knives and forks with their silver
blades and pearl handles which were all that were
left of her silver. And again and again her look
came in interested question to the severe expres-
sion of General Milliken.

After dinner, she continued to hold the conversa-
tional reins, but her talk grew a little more auto-
biographical. In New York, she had done many
things. She had been manicure-girl in a smart Fifth
Avenue beauty-parlor and telephone-girl in a smart
Fifth Avenue hotel. Then she had given up both
these positions because she did not like them. Then
duction; she had worked as a reporter on a news-
paper. She had lost both these jobs because she
failed to make good. Then, for a while, she had

i posed for a group of illustrators. She had aban-
doned this occupation, for reasons she did not state.

i She had come to Boston on impulse. Here her con-

! fidences ceased.

104 Roland's Friend

Other details came out. Lainey complimente<
her on her simple black gown with its edging oi
china silk. Ann spoke of her piquant little fur ca]
pony-coat which at first was too long. Beckie spok<
that also, crocheting it from some beads her mothei

telephone work, she said it was often interestinj
but not always pleasant. When Ann asked hei
about the stage, she said that it was always pleasant
but not always interesting. When Lainey asked hei
about newspaper-men, she said that they were gooc
illustrators, she said they were good Indians, but
all crazy.

" My eye ! " she exclaimed suddenly. " You've
given me such a good time that I'd almost forgot-
ten my deadly habit." She opened the little bag
that hung at her side, fished leisurely in the bottom,
brought out a cigarette. "A light, please," she
said to the astounded Matt. And while Matt
searched wildly for a match, she fished deeper ir
the bag. She brought out first a tiny mirror whicl
she propped up on the table, brought out next :
diminutive powder-puff, with which measurably sh
increased that white tone which her type demanded
brought out last a slender lip-stick with which mea?
urably she increased the contrasting red which
also required.

" I had the hardest time getting the right li
salve," she said casually, still staring into the tir

Roland's Friend 105

mirror. " Have you ever noticed that most of them
make your teeth look yellow? I guess I sampled
fifty-seven varieties before I found this." She lifted
her mouth for their inspection, flashed a smile of
pearl from its lake of crimson. But before either
of the girls could speak, Matt rasped a match
alight, held it down to her; she drew in a long
breath, blew out the match with the exhalation. It
was on this picture that Ed came when he opened
the door — an Ed frock-coated, silken-hatted,
gloved and carrying a stick, returning from a round
of Sunday afternoon calls.

When Roland returned from seeing Miss Barton
in the living-room.

11 Come in here a moment, Roly," Ed called
curtly. " I want to speak to you. Shut the door! "
he added. And as Roland, obeying him, turned
a surprised face in his direction, Ed continued.
" For Heaven's sake what do you mean by bringing
that girl home ? Where'd you pick her up ? Don't
you know a chip when you see one? Don't you
realize the difference between the girls you can know
on the outside and those you introduce to your
sisters?"

It was as though he had struck Roland successive
blows on an undefended face; the look of resent-
ment that came into it was dark, like a bruise.
"What do you mean — chip?" he demanded.
" She isn't a chip. She's as nice a girl as I ever met
— and a damn smart one."

M Oh yes," Ed coincided sarcastically, " painted
and powdered and smoking cigarettes — actorine,

io6 Roland's Friend

model, hello-girl, manicure — What the deuce is she
doing now for a living? You'll tell me next she's
got a rich uncle somewhere who gives her an allow-
ance. Roland, you don't know enough to come in
when it rains. Now, until you cut your eye teeth,
don't bring any more girls home ! Play round with
them as much as you want, but keep them where
they belong. I'll see that this one doesn't come here
again. But she won't want to. She knew I got her
number when I asked her those hundred-odd ques-
tions."

All Roly's sixteen-year-old pride flared in his
heavy blush. He emitted a low growl, half defi-
ance, half embarrassment, all perplexity. " Well,
I don't care what you say — she's a nice girl and I
like her."

"Were you introduced to her?" Ed demanded.

" No," Roly admitted. " But I don't believe any-
thing you say about her is true. And I'm going to
see her to-morrow night."

" See her all you want," Ed snapped at the
height of his exasperation, " and as long as you want
and where you want except in your own home — you
damn young fool, you. You'll pal round with that
kind for a while; then you'll cut them out." He
dropped his head into his book.

After an instant of rebellion, silent and irresolute,
Roland went upstairs to bed.

" Well," Lainey said, coming in late the next night
at dinner, " I'm so glad you brought that Bird Barton
home, Roly! I think she's an intensely interesting
girl. And so beautiful. I want to know her bet-
ter. I took a great fancy to her and she seemed

Roland's Friend 107

to like me. I got a special delivery letter from her
at the school to-day, asking me if I'd come to din-
ner with her to-night. I didn't do that — but I
met her after work and walked home with her —
that's why I'm so late. She's invited me to come
and spend overnight with her next Friday, and I've
invited her to come over here and spend Saturday
night with us."

Roland, still a little haggard after a troubled
night, dropped his eyes to his grapefruit. But
Ed — never had his clean-cut blondness seemed
more pink and white — raised his look from his
paper.

u You'll do nothing of the sort, Lainey," he or-
dered explicitly. " You're not to have anything more
to do with that girl."

Lainey stiffened. She turned directly to her
brother. All the vagueness went out of her eyes.
They seemed to shoot forward to the front of the
deep tunnels in which they were set. They became
clear, hard, polished like tiny mirrors. " Why

" Because I don't consider her the kind of
girl you ought to know," Ed replied in a rigid
voice, " making up and smoking cigarettes and
drifting round from place to place the way she
does."

" I'm sorry to disagree with you, Ed," Lainey
said with composure, M but I do. About the making-
up and cigarette-smoking I've nothing to say. I
consider that nobody's business but her own. As
for the drifting around, as you call it, I admire her
unspeakably for that. She told me that as long
as she couldn't afford to travel, she was going to

108 Roland's Friend

work her way gradually from city to city until she 1
been all over the United States."

"Well, she'll have no difficulty," Ed prophesie
grimly, " in finding work."

" What do you mean by that, Ed? " There w
an icy edge on Lainey' s soft voice.

" I mean, I think she's a questionable girl."

" You lie ! " exclaimed Roland, jumping to hi
feet.

" Shut up, you ! " Ed shot at his younger brother

" I think you're mistaken, Ed," Lainey said, wit
no diminution of her courage. " But as long a
it with some facts."

But before Ed could speak, " I do not wish to
hear them," Ann said virtuously.

Neither Ed nor Lainey paid any attention t
Ann. But Ed's golden eyelashes fluttered,
have no facts," he admitted, " except Roly say
that he was never introduced to her, that he picked
her up."

11 1 didn't," Roly contradicted miserably. " A
least it wasn't what I call a pick-up. It was on th
Nantasket boat in the fall; we were both lookin
over the rail, and when we passed Nix's Mate she
asked me what it was. I told her and then we
began to talk and "

" A method that first came into vogue in the
Garden of Eden," Ed interrupted sarcastically.

" All right," said Lainey, M I'm a questionable
girl too. Last Saturday, when I went out to Cousir
Edith's, I asked the young man next to me when
Echo Bridge was. We got into conversation anc
we talked all the time I was in the car. I alway

Roland's Friend 109

ask men questions If I want any information. If
that's picking up, I must have picked up a hundred
men."

The look of exasperation in Ed's face changed to
the bewilderment that so often came into it when he
talked with Lainey. " It isn't a practice that I rec-
ommend to you," he said coldly. " Some man will
misinterpret it some day."

11 All right." Lainey compressed her lips. " Let
him! I'm waiting for him/ 9

Ed smiled in spite of himself. " Any man would
know you were a good girl. He's only got to look
at you."

" You mean that I'm not pretty and that I'm
dowdy," Lainey conjectured shrewdly. " I guess
you're not paying me a compliment exactly."

" Lainey," Ed said impatiently, " you're talking
nonsense and you know you are. However, I don't
want that girl in the house and I won't have her
here."

11 All right," said Lainey, " you don't have to.
I don't consider, though, that you've proved any-
thing against her. I'll tell you right here that it
doesn't make any difference to me if she's what
you call a questionable girl or not, except " — she
stopped and chose her words carefully — u if she
were a questionable girl and she really wanted my
friendship I'd give it to her. I don't see how I
could do anything else and pretend to be a Chris-
tian. I consider it my duty as a woman to try to
make up to those women for the injuries that you
men inflict upon them. However, I know this girl
is what you call a ' nice ' girl. How I know I can't
tell — but I do. Now, if you don't want her here>

no Roland's Friend

you don't have to have her, but I shall go there
next Friday night just the same."

" Lainey." Ed's tone was slightly baffled. " Show
some common sense. A woman can't live on air.
What does she do for a living? "

44 She's a shop-girl," Lainey answered directly.
" She calls it store-girl. She's in Morgan Rector's
book department. She told me last night when I
was helping her on with her things."

14 Well," Ed demanded, though this had given
him palpable pause, u do you want to associate with
store-girls? "

14 1 want to associate with any girl who's as in-
teresting as Bird," Lainey said without an instant's
hesitation. " She's the most lovely creature I've
seen in a long time."

44 What do you think about it? " Ed turned to his
other sisters, his tone definitely nonplused.

Beckie and Ann had been following this contest
with interest. At the beginning unmistakably thei
took Ed's side. Later unmistakably they veere<
to Lainey's. Now, unmistakable again, they pivote<
back to Ed.

Ann spoke. " I don't think I care to associate witl
shop-girls. People judge you by the kind ol
people you go with. And we've always been nice
people."

14 What do you mean by nice people?" Lainey
clemanded. It was strange to hear Lainey use that
steely tone to Ann.

"Why," Ann exclaimed in a surprised tone,
44 what a question ! You know as well as I do what
nice people are — people who have always owned
their own house and had a carriage — the way father

Roland's Friend m

and mother used to. And entertained other nice
people and did things in style."

II Oh." Lainey's inflection made Ann stare. " I
must be very different from you, Ann. I can't see
why we're any nicer than anybody else — Bird, for
instance."

"Well, I'll tell you, Lainey," Ann said confi-
dentially, " we're nicer than the Ralstons, for in-
stance, but we aren't so nice as the Meridens. You
see, although the Ralstons have always owned their
house, they've never kept a carriage — and we have
— years ago, of course. But the Meridens not only
own their house and keep a carriage, but they've
always had a man-servant. And the children were
never allowed to go to public school. They always
ernesses ! And I do think a man-servant is awfully
classy. But that's the difference."

II I see. Perfectly clear." Lainey laughed. It
was a strange laugh — dry, harsh, short. " Do you
also think we're nice people, Beckie ? "

11 Why, of course I do," Beckie said roundly.
11 Our ancestors fought in the Revolution. There's
always been somebody or other in the Legislature.
And we've had a general in the family."

" Of course," Lainey remarked in a voice acidly
interrogative, " you don't mention Uncle Sam Talbot
who did time — he was a noble article. And then
there was mother's cousin, Sally Rand — she was a
sweet thing."

" Lainey," Ed remonstrated with a shocked air,
" don't refer to family affairs that you don't know

" Oh, I know all about Sally Rand," Lainey de-

H2 Roland's Friend

clared, " I always have. Mary Tully told me all
about her years ago. And then you must remember
that some of our Legislature relatives have been the
best little grafters the State has ever produced. I'm
wondering whether Bird Barton can afford to asso-
ciate with us"

44 I didn't know Uncle Sam ever went to the pen,"
said Roly with great interest. " What was he in
for?"

— " a peculiarly unpleasant case."

" I think it's perfectly awful to refer to such
things," Ann asserted. " I believe in forgetting
them."

u We all believe in forgetting them when it's our
own family," Lainey retorted.

" Still, Lainey," Beckie took it up, " it's perfectly
useless for you to deny that we are nice people.
Our ancestors fought at Concord and Bunker Hill
and some of them signed the Declaration of Inde-
pendence. Why, we're eligible to join the D. A. R.
All my life I've felt the equal of everybody. I con-
sider I'm as good as anybody in the United States."

" Perhaps Bird does," Lainey suggested drily.

44 Well," Ann said with great conviction, " I
doubt that very much. Of course, she's a beauty.
Arid she knows how to dress. But somehow I don't
think she has that air that nice people have. You
can always tell it — it's as if you didn't care a darn
for anybody."

14 Well, Ann," Lainey said thoughtfully, and she
surveyed her sister as from a new point of view, ,4 1
don't think you have that air — and I'm glad of it
And, of course, neither Beckie nor I have it — what

Roland's Friend 113

ever it is. I don't know what you're talking about,
anyway."

" Why, we've all three got it," Ann insisted.
" Anybody could tell we were different from shop-
girls, just to look at us."

" Another thing." Ed flashed into the conversa-
tion again. " Perhaps there's nothing wrong mor-
ally with Miss Barton. We'll drop that side of the
discussion. Apparently she has no real ambition or
stick-to-itiveness. And she's a drifter. Why does
she prefer to work in a shop? "

" I'll tell you," Lainey said unexpectedly. She
rose from the table with the air of one who has
made a decision. " She told me herself to-day.
She said that in every other thing that she got into
— on the stage, posing, manicuring — she was both-
ered to death by men wanting to take her out to
lunch or to dinner or to the theater. Of course, with
her beauty — I gathered often that they were not
gentlemen and their attitude towards her was very
unpleasant. She said she wants to find a job where
her position does not depend on her having to be
cordial to the kind of men that she would naturally
hate and abhor." Lainey took her fur coat from
the chair, pulled it on with two vigorous movements.
44 She said to-day that nothing so lovely had ever
happened to her in her life as the way we took her
right into the, family without any question. Because —
she said — it isn't any fun really working in a depart-
ment store when you feel you could do something
more intellectual if you could only find out what it
was." Lainey, without looking in the glass, pulled
on her little shabby hat.

For a long instant nobody spoke. Then, M Where

ii4 Roland's Friend

are you going? " Ed asked. His tone was surl
and there was a little panic in it.

The mirror-like clearness of Lainey's little, deep-
set, blue-gray eyes broke into flame. " I'm going
in to Boston to join the Socialist Party. I don't
know anything about Socialism, but I want to insure
myself one place where I can be certain I shall never
have to listen to such talk as I've just heard." She

" God! " Ed said as the door slammed. " A So-
cialist in the family. There's nothing left for the
Ollivants to do now but murder."

" Well," said Lainey a month later, " Bird
joined the party last night. She's been going regu-
larly with me to my local. She says Socialism is the
only thing that answers all the questions she's been
asking herself all these years. We've decided to
read Karl Marx together and a whole lot of things.
We're going to all the meetings that we can get in
this winter, and if we can possibly manage it we're
going on to New York the first of May and parade.
Oh, I do so enjoy Bird ! She's got such a fine mind.
And she reads so much. And she's so beautiful.
She said last night that she wasn't going to paint and
powder any more. She said the only reason she
ever did it was because an artist told her once that,
with her type, she ought to make her skin as white
as possible and her lips as red. Besides, Bird says
everybody does it in New York. You don't notice
it there. But she feels awfully conspicuous in Bos-
ton. I think she's much lovelier without make-up and
I told her so. Anyway, we've both decided that
in the past women have given too much thought to

Roland's Friend 115

dress and we're going to see if we can't simplify
the problem for ourselves. Bird and I are going to
try to design some sort of working uniform."

Ann arose to this. " I suppose you've got to be
a Socialist, Lainey Ollivant, if you want to, and go
about with queer people, though how you stand it
is more than I can see. But if you have any idea
you are going to wear queer clothes you might as
well pass it up. I will never submit to it."

" Oh, Ann," Lainey exclaimed in a placating tone,
" Bird and I agreed that we wouldn't actually do
anything without consulting you first."

" Well, I guess you'd better," Ann remarked. <c I
can see what you'd look like if I let you alone, now
that you've got that equality bug. There! there's
the bell. I guess that's Bird."

It was Bird.

They heard Lainey and Bird start the ceaseless
chatter which inevitably accompanied their associa-
tion. Bird's hat and coat came off. Then, their
arms around each other, the two girls appeared in
the doorway, sauntered through the living-room
towards the dining-room. The firelight poured over
Lainey's filmy halo, struck through the bridge of
her little nose; it found the stars in Bird's gray
eyes, the pearls in her deep-set smile. They stopped
halfway; Bird's look arrested itself on the portrait
of old General Milliken.

11 Ah," she said suddenly in a swelling voice, " I
have it! Socialism has translated it to me. It's
not the expression of character, nor of a great
mental force. That look in his face was in my
uncle's face — Admiral Murdock. My uncle's por-
trait hung in our living-room — until the bad times

n6 Roland's Friend

came and all our things were sold. I used to think
that he was probably the greatest man that ever
lived. But I see now that it was not the look of a
great man. It's pride-in-power — it's militarism."

" You're right, Bird," Lainey agreed in a tone
equally thrilled. " It's the expression of oppression
— the look of paid dominance." The two girls
gazed for a disillusioned second on General Milli-
ken's beefy, watery-eyed, iron-jawed face.

of the Oklahoma — the one who said "

" Yes," Bird answered in a resigned tone. " The
same! Only he didn't say it. A clever reporter
said it for him."

11 Oh, Bird ! " Lainey exclaimed. " That reminds
me. I bought two volumes of Karl Marx to-day.
Come up to my room. I want to show them to you."

Still arm and arm, still chattering, they drifted
up the stairs.

11 Admiral Murdock," Ed repeated in a surprised
tone. " Why, they're awful swells. I've heard Mrs.
MacVeagh tell about them. Bird must belong to
a very good old family. I suppose he was her
mother's brother."

" Well," Ann said, " it's no surprise to me. You
can always tell nice people when you see them.
They always have an air. I knew from the start
that there was something different about Bird. She
has what I call a really swell manner, sort of indif-
ferent to people."

11 Well, for Heaven's sake don't let Lainey hear
you say that," Ed remarked sardonically, " or she'll
go over to-night and join the anarchists."

CHAPTER VI
BECKIE'S JOB

* T CALCULATE I've earned a rest," Dr. Pier-

X son was saying. " I was seventy-five my last
birthday — and Henry wants that I should join him
in Los Angeles. I'd like to see something of
the world before I die. These long cold winters do
take it out of me so nowadays and Henry writes
about nothing but sunshine and roses."

Dr. Pierson had to scream to make himself heard;
for the canaries were shrilling so loud that their
breast feathers vibrated. The squirrel was revolv-
ing with a metallic clatter on his tiny treadmill; his
body had, indeed, lengthened to a gray streak in
which two points of light, his little black shoe-button
eyes, gleamed.

"You're quite right, Dr. Pierson," Beckie screamed
as I can be. California seems such a story-book
place. I shall love to think of you out there just
surrounded by geraniums and calla lilies and palms
and all those old Missions — and everything."

Beckie was standing before the mirror in Dr.
Pierson's office. Mechanically she stood there and
mechanically she looked into it. She tugged her hat
— in shape and color it could not possibly have been
more unbecoming — down over her ears. She did
not see the harsh line that the crown made, coalescing

117

ii8 Beckie's Job

perfectly with the seam of forehead and hair; for
Beckie never saw herself when she looked into the
glass. And now, in addition, a blurr dimmed the
brightness of her gaze; she was desperately afraid
that that blurr might grow, might run down her
cheek.

" YouVe been a good faithful girl, Beckie, " Dr.
Pierson went on in his fatherly tones, " and so quick
and smart. I don't know what I should have done
without you. YouVe always taken such an interest
in my work and it's been such a help — your remem-
bering everybody's telephone number the way you
do." His long withered fingers fumbled for a mo-
ment in the pocket of his formal black waistcoat.
14 1 want that you should accept this as a sort of
little present from me ; for I haven't really given you
any chance to look around."

"This" was three ten-dollar gold pieces, only
one of which comprised her week's pay. To
Beckie's moist vision, they shone from little nests of
rainbow ruffles; she accepted the gift with the sim-
plicity with which she would have offered it. " Oh,
thank you ever so much, Dr. Pierson. It's awfully
good of you. I do appreciate it."

" And if there's ever anything I can do," Dr.
Pierson concluded, " you write to me at once at
Henry's address — 2354 Acacia Avenue. Now I
must be getting over to see Cousin Martha."

Beckie waited until the outer door shut. She
watched the thin, tall, old figure pass the window.
It was so frail that it looked like an empty suit of
clothes with a head at the top. And the face was
like a glassblower's product; the skin had the wa:
transparency, the eyes the soft luminousness of age.

Beckie's Job 119

Only his teeth, still professionally white and regu-
lar, made him human. Through her sense of a
material loss, a sharp pang suddenly tore Beckie.
Would he live to get to Los Angeles? she wondered.

Then she put on her new spring coat — the shape-
less, hueless garment, so scorned of Ann. Now the
blurr in her eyes had precipitated and crystallized.
Her eyes swam as she gazed about the little office.
How often had she dusted and arranged the back-
number magazines, how often changed the water in
the aquarium, refoddered the birds, scrubbed the
squirrel cage, pruned the geraniums and trained the
ivy which, starting at the mantel, had crept halfway
round the room ! Dr. Pierson, who subsisted spirit-
ually on a gentle philosophy of home manufacture,
believed that these growing organisms in some mys-
terious way helped his patients to bear their agonies.
The little cabinet of dental instruments and supplies
had been Beckie's particular pride; it sparkled with
a neatness and a system that was all her own. She
was even indulgent of the shabby, wine-velvet chair
from which had emerged so many groans of pain or
sighs of relief. As for the old dentist himself —
part of Beckie's pride in her work was that he leaned
so hard on her.

She did not tell the family about the change in her
fortunes that night; for they were particularly gay.
Ann was sending out cards for the modest tea which
she and Lainey had decided to give the following
Saturday; she brimmed and bristled with excitement.

"Beckie, what's Jane Forester's address? Oh
yes, of course, 59 Linden Place " — " Do you
think two kinds of sandwiches will be enough,
Lainey? " — " Ed, what does Mrs. MacVeagh serve

120 Beckie's Job

at her teas?" — " Oh, of course, you men never
notice anything important." — ■ What's Isabelle
Fay's address, Beck?" — M Oh, of course, 98 Lee.
Aren't you a wonder about remembering numbers! "
— " I wish I could make up my mind about the cake,
Lainey. I don't want it frosted or gooey. If
there's anything I hate it's to handle mushy stuff
when I've got gloves on." — "What's Joe Jordan's
address, Beckie? " — u I know what I'm going to do,
Lainey. I'm going to ask Aunt Lottie if she'll lend
us her ferns. They're awfully thick now and they'll
look pretty swell massed in the bay-window." — " Oh,
Beck, what is Elizabeth John's address? This is
the last I'll ask. It's such a bore looking it up in
the address-book." — "That's right. Thanks. You
certainly are a wizard."

" I'll tell them to-morrow at breakfast," Beckie
said to herself. But when to-morrow came, some
unanalyzable instinct kept her silent. She left the
house, however, at the usual hour and she carried
with her the morning paper. Perhaps she carried
with her also the echo of Ann's last words; for
breakfast closed in a spirited debate between them

" I do wish, Beckie," Ann said, " that you'd
rid of that hat. When I think that you paid
dollars for it, I could bite the banisters! Do y(
want to know what it looks like? " Beckie did
want to know but Ann told her. " It looks like
bean-pot trimmed with an egg-beater. And as fc
that coat and dress — well, I haven't the words 1 >
describe them."

" Well, Ann," Beckie answered in her usual bri; c
way, " it doesn't make any difference what a home y
girl wears. She's bound to look like the dicker ;,

Beckie's Job 121

no matter what she puts on. If there's anything
makes me tired, it's to see a woman with a face like
a meat-ax all dolled up. What do you want me to
wear — a poke-bonnet trimmed with pink roses and a
chin-strap? "

" No, Beckie," Ann said with her succinct sar-
casm, " you're not old enough yet to try to look as
young as that. Only old hens of about fifty go
in for poke-bonnets and chin-straps. And you're all
wrong about it's not making any difference what a
homely girl wears. It doesn't make any difference
what a pretty girl wears."

" I suppose half what you say is right," Beckie
golden-brown beauty. " You could wear a meal-sack
for a dress and a waste-basket for a hat and all any-
body'd say would be how cute you looked."

11 And," Ann went on, ignoring this placating trib-
ute, " you make a great mistake in taking it for
granted that you're homely. You're not a beauty,
of course, but there's something about you "

" Oh yes, I know," Beckie thrust in scornfully,
11 4 while not exactly pretty, the bride has an ex-
pression of great intelligence and good nature ' "

" What I mean is," Ann went on without pause,
14 is that you grow better-looking the longer people
know you. You're the kind of person that every-
thing depends on what they wear. And you always
look like the old scratch. You could be so much
more attractive if you only wore the right colors
and the right lines. That terrible brown that you've
got on now — it's so hard and so hot at the same time
— it's the only brown you can't wear. And, of

122 Beckie's Job

a belt a yard wide. If you'd only let me design
your things. You see what Bird Barton and I have
done for Lainey. She looks like a Poiret manikin
make Billy Burke look a sight — strained back from

"I suppose I could forget it," Beckie admitted
without rancor, " if I could smash all the mirrors in
the world."

Beckie Ollivant was certainly not a pretty girl,
but she was certainly not a homely one. She was
a marked physical contrast to Ann who had the lush
golden-brown beauty of a girl-odalisk plus a dash
of American piquancy, or of Lainey who, though
vaguely colored, had the nervous chiseling of a
Tanagra figurine. Beckie was almost an Indian
type. Her features were so pronounced in their ir-
regularity that the first effect of her appearance was
of strength. Later, you discovered that hers was a
comely ugliness, latest that it developed a kind of
splendor. Her eyes, quite as deep-set as Lainey's
and much more brilliant than Ann's, sparkled with
a temperamental optimism. Her skin, a clean
brown dappled with freckles, glowed with health.
Her hair, a real mahogany crisped with copper,
would have broken into waves if her relentless hair-
dressing had permitted it. Her figure was more
strong than shapely, but in action it had a certain
compelling vigor; she moved with the quickness, not
of a deer but an elk.

Beckie's face grew grave, as she ran over th<

Beckie's Job 123

looked the Frog Pond on the Common. But she fell
to work at once, marking promising-looking ads in
pencil and cutting them out with the little manicure-
scissors which she carried in her bag.

11 Say, Matt, who's the new skirt in your office? "
Ed demanded with interest that night.

" Which one? " Matt asked languidly.

" The strawberry blonde over in the corner,"
Ed answered. " Pippin ! I didn't notice her until
I came out."

u Oh, her name's Riley — Theresa Riley — she's
been there a week," Matt said. u Flivver tool
The old man engaged her. The old man's a mark
for any pretty girl. And I must say he's never made
a mistake yet — they're all lookers. But they're go-
ing and coming all the time. More than half of
them haven't got nut enough to fill the eye of a
needle, but he won't have a homely girl round. No
use for anything but a peach applying for a job in
our joint."

M It's my experience that it isn't much use for a
homely girl to apply anywhere," Ed said cynically.
" There's nothing for a homely girl to do, anyway,
but make way with herself — far as I can see. Well,
I'm for old Johnson's system myself. If I was
running a business, I'd have lookers. Nothing
but! Oh, say, Beck, what's Cliff Conroy's tele-
phone number? I want to call him up."

" Lord, what would we do without Beckie to re-
member all the numbers of things for us?" Lainey
said. " That reminds me. When does Bessie
Week's birthday come, Beck? It's somewhere along
here, I know, and I want to send her a card."

124 Beckie's Job

Three weeks went by. That day was the first
of many days equally fatiguing and disheartening.
The impulse not to tell her bad news hardened to a
resolution. Beckie bore her burden and her anxiety
alone. The only change in her routine from the
family point of view was that, on the pretext that
she was tired of restaurant food, she took a lunch.
She left the house every morning at halfpast eight;
she returned every night at halfpast five. She
went in good weather immediately to her favorite
seat on the Common overlooking the Frog Pond and
in bad weather she stayed in the Subway until nine.
that seemed promising. At nine she went to the
rest-room of one of the department stores and re-
plied by letter to those ads which demanded cor-
respondence. The rest of her collection of ads she

ing. Her position with Dr. Pierson had been her
first; it had come to her through a friend. There
were one or two traps of the advertising game into
which she immediately fell. The work at one place
was delightfully easy — merely to fold circulars.
Here her strength and quickness stood her in good
stead; it promised a fair salary. The first day
she folded twice as many circulars as the speed
champion of the establishment. But when she dis-
covered that she was expected to contribute two
weeks of work before she drew any pay, she balked.
She did not return the next morning. In another
place the work was almost equally simple and
mechanical — coloring photographs. But when she
learned that she must first buy the tools of the tra(

Beckie's Job 125

at the price of three weeks' salary, she balked again.
She did not return that afternoon. She spent three
days learning to set type in a dimly-lighted, foully-
dirty establishment, presided over by a proprietor
from whose every look and word she shrank. The
fourth day, appearing on the scene too drunk to
work, he swore scurrilously at her. Beckie left at
once.

After a while, her native shrewdness taught her
Unconsciously, she began to sift and classify them.
But although she applied at " the above address "
wherever it seemed promising, her application was
invariably unsuccessful. There were always"plenty
of pretty girls in the group of applicants ; girls who,
because of their beauty, wore their clothes with grace
and their manners with authority. Beckie used to
study them furtively but closely; there was no envy
in her look, only a wistful appreciativeness.

After two weeks, Beckie instituted a system of
her own. She ransacked the neighborhood into
which her first application took her, shop after shop,
office after office, floor after floor, just as they hap-
pened to come. This process brought her all kinds
of experiences. She was refused politely, refused
brutally, refused with excuses or without them,
ignored utterly. Men received her with their hats
on, their coats off, their cigars in their mouth, their
feet on the desk. Some of them did not look up at her
when they talked to her; others looked too hard.
One gentleman, exercising what promised to be
genuine courtesy of his sort, delayed speaking while
he spat into a cuspidor. But when he did speak it
was only to inform her that she was too damned

126 Beckie's Job

homely for his business. After this last encounter,
Beckie retreated to the Common and sat looking
dully over the Frog Pond until it was time to go
home.

But although Beckie's experiences continued to
pile up an increasing load of discouragement, always
in the morning, she left the house with the quick,
strong step and the straight, bright glance of
her unconquerable optimism. And if occasionally
Lainey said at dinner, " Beckie dear, it does seem
to me that you look awfully tired when you get
home nights. Are you working especially hard?"
Ann was quite as likely to cap it the next morning
with, " Beckie, I never saw anything like how cheer-
fully you go to that old office. I can't imagine any-
thing that I'd hate more. Listening to people yowl-
ing all the time. And as for Dr. Pierson — oh, of
course, I realize he's a fine man and all that, but
he looks so like a dentist. He has what I call
dental smile. And just the fact that he wears
Prince Albert — it certainly must be ten years since
people have been wearing Prince Alberts. And his
collars, turned down with those long points and that
funny old. narrow, black tie with the pointed ends
Then, I hate goldfish and squirrels, and, oh, ho^
those canaries would get on my nerves screeching
so!"

And even the fox-minded Ann never realized thai
Beckie no longer offered any ripost to these thrusts.

Beckie was appreciating now some of the incoi
veniences of the double life. She had to avoid the
vicinity of Tremont and Washington Streets during
the lunch-hours for fear of running into Ed 01
Matt. And she was always turning abruptly intc

Beckie's Job 127

side-streets to avoid friends whom she saw bearing
down upon her. Saturday was always a nerve-rack-
ing day; for the school-teacher Lainey spent much of
her holiday in town shopping with Ann. Beckie's
Sundays had become days in which she studied the
Sunday papers with a desperate but secret avidity.

11 Isn't there something I can do? Beckie asked
herself again and again in those early hours of the
night when her tired memory marshaled and re-
viewed the day's experiences. " Let alone having
an art or a profession or a business, if I only had a
trade like a boy! If there was only something I
could tell them I could do! "

Regularly every Saturday evening, she turned
over to Ann the five dollars, half her salary, which
was her share of the family expenses. Beckie never
saved money; car-fares and the occasional hot
chocolate, to which she resorted as a means of cheer,
had eaten into her reserve fund. Of Dr. Pierson's
thirty dollars, she had left a little over ten. When
that was gone — Not that Beckie's situation was des-
perate, although to a girl of her sturdy independence
it had its desperate side. They lived — the six orphan
Ollivants — on the cooperative system. Ed, the old-
est, gave, as fitted his larger salary, the biggest
weekly sum to Ann, the family housekeeper and
treasurer. Matt, Lainey, and Beckie paid equal
amounts, but Beckie looked after sixteen-year-old
Roland, who was still in High School, and Lainey
took care of eighteen-year-old Ann, who ran the
house. They were all pleasure-loving and extrava-
gant; Ed often borrowed from Beckie and Matt
from Lainey. Somebody was always in debt to
somebody else. Of course, Beckie would always

128 Beckie's Job

have a home — a roof over her head and her three
meals a day — but she did not want to be an object
of chanty in it.

And so in spite of herself — and Beckie's soul was
compact of courage and steadfastness — the grind of
continual refusal was beginning to corrode. Often
now she had to walk up and down the sidewalk
before she could pump up the courage to go into
the office and emit her stereotyped " I've come here
to apply for work," to meet that stereotyped " What
can you do? " And now some of the sturdiness had
gone out of her bearing. She drooped a little,
sometimes from fatigue, sometimes from hunger,
but more often from disheartenment. She looked
at the uninterested and impassive gentleman to
whom she put her plea with altogether too much
entreaty in her deep eyes — the first qualification for
getting a job being, as everybody knows, not to
seem to need it. And though she took as much
care of her personal appearance as formerly, three
weeks of tramping in all kinds of weather had not
improved her clothes. The bean-pot hat had gone
the roughened way of all cheap velvet; the baggy
pulled. But her face always shone from the soap
with which she polished it, her shoes were always
freshly shined, her shabby gloves carefully mended.

One Saturday, coming in town from Roxbury, a
shred of conversation caught her ear.

"And so I just told him that he could have his
old job. I wasn't gonna stand for anything like
that. I don't have to."

"Well, what do you know about that! " anoth<

Beckie's Job 129

voice commented admiringly, M what did he say,
May? "

Beckie looked round. Two girls were talking:
one little dark, coarsely plain; the other — out of
the lethargy of her despair, Beckie stared admir-
ingly. May was a slim, pale-gold blonde, all
pearly colorings, all curving contours. Her hair
faintly polished. Under it came a three-cornered
expanse of brow; eyes deeply blue, softly shadowed,
blackly fringed; a profile frail as a flower; tiny fea-
tures, tiny teeth, tiny dimples; lips curved, scarlet,
voluptuous.

11 Oh, he spilled a lot of talk! He said I didn't
have to take it that way — that he didn't mean
to be gay. But I says to him, I says, * I don't
care what you meant,' I says, * you've gotta find
another fall-guy for this job.' "

11 Well, what do you know " her friend put

in admiringly. u Still, May, don't you think you
was foolish? It isn't so easy getting a job these
days." *

" I never have any trouble," May replied, with
the languor of conscious power. She removed
from her hand-bag a little mirror and a tiny powder-
puff; with the latter she filmed her face with an
impalpable gauze. " I never am out of work more
than two days. I can always get a job somewhere.
Besides, you know I can go on the stage any time.
Morris Freidenstein says he can get me a place in
the chorus. I've only gotta say the word. My
mother don't want me to go on the stage, though —
and I don't wanna — and I won't unless I get so sick
of waiting on customers that I can't stand it any

130 Beckie's Job

more. My feet ache me something fierce when I get
home nights. But I'm not trying for anything to-
day; I'm going to lay off for a while. Sometimes

I wish I didn't get work so easy."

Beckie left the car, retreated to her familiar
roost on the Common. She stayed there all the
afternoon. " I guess I'm about at the end of my
rope," she said once. And she said it aloud.
Nobody heard her, however. A squirrel studied
her for a disapproving instant before he turned his
plumed tail on her and dove into oblivion.

The keynote of that conversation was struck
again in her own home Sunday night.

" Oh say, Bird," Ann asked, " I've always meant
to ask you how did you come to leave Morgan
Rector's to get that swell job you're holding down."

41 It came about in the queerest way," Bird an-
swered. " A man named Lewis used to come in
to Morgan Rector's occasionally, and one day we
got to talking about the books. He seemed very
much surprised — at least he said he was — that I'd
read so much. And one day he told me that if I'<
like a position with the book firm, Robertsoi
Reynolds, he thought he could get me one. Oi
course I was delighted, said so, and in a week
got a note from him telling me they would like t<
see me."

"Just handed you on a gold platter," Ann sai<

II Well, that's the advantage of looking like a gi]
on a magazine cover."

"Well, you needn't talk," Lainey said, "even
body's always offering you a job. It began, Bin
when we were children, when a man stopped us 01
the street to ask Ann if she'd like to take the litth

Beckie's Job 131

boy's part in a revival of * Rosedale.' And I don't
wonder! Oh, Bird, Ann was such a wonderful-
looking little girl — with her thick long mop of goldy-
brown curls, her great, big goldy-brown eyes and
cheeks like Baldwin apples. Well, it's kept up ever
since. Before old Mr. Snell got that new secretary
he asked her if she didn't want the job. Of
course, Ann is awfully able and efficient, just as you
are, Bird, but I'm sure neither of you would get work
so easy if it weren't for your looks."

"Oh slush!" Bird said.

" Oh pickles ! " Ann said.

Beckie said nothing.

" Oh say, Beck," Bird asked lazily, " what's Allie
Dean's street number? I've got to write her a letter
to-night."

But early Monday morning she was back again in-
fury. In the middle of the afternoon she opened
the door of the Renaissance Art Company — opened
the door and stood for an amazed and an abashed
second on the threshold.

It was a big vague room into which Beckie looked
— and it was filled with shadows. Heavy curtains of
a dull reseda-green velvet, hanging in stately folds,
shrouded the windows. Gray monk's cloth, divided
into squares by a dull wood, covered the walls.
Here and there a red print framed in an old green-
gold, or a bust carved and colored as from old
wood, gleamed from these squares. The furniture
emitted a muted copper glow. Slim vases of bubbly
and iridescent glass, or broad bowls of an opaque
and lusterless porcelain, held foliage of a subdued

132 Beckie's Job

bronze. There were three presiding genii in the
place. One was a coppery, heroic-size classic
blonde who exactly matched the furniture. A sec-
ond was a lithe, smoky-olive pre-Raphaelite bru-
nette who exactly matched the hangings. The third
was a short piquant post-impressionist nondescript
who contrasted with everything. The art atmos-
phere was so thick and their loose draperies so thin
that when they moved they seemed to float. And
when they came to rest, it was in a sinuous, curved
attitude which displayed, by means of a flexed knee,
a heelless leather shoe or, by a hand lifted to the
breast, a curveless Burne-Jones wrist.

Three pairs of frigid eyes turned to survey the
short, squat figure suspended in the midst of the
meal-sack coat in the doorway. Three pairs of deli-
cate eyebrows flew to their highest altitude.

" where I go to apply for a place here? "

The smoky-olive brunette answered. "Well, I
don't know as they want any girl here. I haven't
heard anything about it. There's the office, though."
An exquisite pre-Raphaelite gesture indicated a
flight of stairs leading to a mezzanine balcony.

Beckie timidly attacked the stairs. She walked
around three sides of the balcony until she came to
an office, glassed-in part way, to the ceiling, which
bore the name Willard Pray. She knocked on the
door. There was no answer. She turned the knob ;
the door opened ; she went in. Inside two men wer<
talking. One, his back towards her, Beckie coul<
not see. The other was sitting in a swivel-chan
before a business-like-looking roll-top desk, the vul-
garly-utilitarian appurtenances of which contrastet

Beckie's Job 133

strikingly with the exquisite aestheticism below. He
first blotted out the roar of the street by shutting the
window, then turned on Beckie a thunderous brow
and a sudden barked, " Well, what do you want? "

" I've come to apply for a position here," Beckie
said.

The thunderous aspect of his face, instead of in-
creasing, melted a little. Beckie's heart gave a leap.
" What can you do? " he demanded.

11 Anything," Beckie lied desperately.

"What, for instance?" the man demanded.

11 Everything," Beckie lied recklessly.

The man bellowed. " Stenographer, typewriter,
cashier, bookkeeper — quick! What can you do? "

"Nothing!" Beckie told the truth despairingly.

The man surveyed her for a disgusted instant.
And Beckie surveyed him for an entreating one.
He was short, stocky, strong-looking, with an ir-
regular pugnacious face, healthily colored. His eye-
lashes were surprisingly long and curly and his
square chin was divided by a clean cleft. " We
don't need any help," he snapped. He jerked about
in his chair in a manner that unmistakably closed
the interview.

Beckie shut the door quietly. She made auto-
matically in the direction of the stairway. But for
the first time her courage threatened to break.
She knew that she must not cry; she held her jaw
tight with one hand, the other hung clenched at her
side. It seemed a long time before she got to the
stairs. Finally she stopped and peered about. She
the balcony, and came to the office again. Evidently
the window had not again been raised. The

134 Beckie's Job

two men were talking; their words came clear to
Beckie.

11 — looked kinder pathetic to me," the other
man said.

" Yes," answered Mr. Pray, " but I see a dozen
like her every day. I have to have good-lookers,
Chet. And, Lord, wasn't she homely? "

u Yes, she was homely," Chet answered, " aching
homely. And yet "

Again Beckie made in the direction of the stair-
way — blindly this time. And now her courage had
definitely broken; it poured in streams over her
cheeks. She could not descend to face the three
successful houris below. She waited, struggling
with gasps that tried to turn into sobs. Presently
she became conscious that " Chet " had come out
of the office and, gazing leisurely at the pictures on
the walls, had passed on the other side of the
balcony, was disappearing down the stairs. Beckie
watched him out of sight. Suddenly her tears
stopped. She lifted her head and threw hei
shoulders back. With a decisive hardening of hei
expression, she turned, not in the direction of th<
stairs but of the office. Mr. Pray looked up froi
his work when she opened the door, but obvioush
he was too surprised to speak.

Beckie said. M I suppose you're too busy to tal
with me. But you've got to. I don't care whal
happens to me. The worst you can do is to senc
for the police and have me thrown out of your office
and I shan't care much if you do. But if you wil
listen to me, I would like you to advise me jus

Beckie's Job 135"

as you would your sister or any girl you know;, for
I don't know where to turn next. I'm desperate.
I've been nearly a month trying to get a job and
I haven't landed one yet, although I've answered
dozens and dozens of ads and applied at hundreds
of places on the chance that they might need some-
body. When I came out of your office a little while
ago, I got mixed up so on that balcony that I came
back here by accident. I heard you and that gentle-
man that's just gone out discussing me. I heard
you tell him that you couldn't give me a job because
I was so homely. That didn't surprise me or hurt
me — so very much. For nobody knows that I'm
homely better than I do. I've always known it.
I've got accustomed to it. But what I want to ask
you is, what is a homely girl going to do? It isn't
my fault that I'm not pretty. I'd do anything in
this world if I could make myself over. Nobody
enjoys beauty more than I. I adore it. I can
watch a pretty girl for hours. And yet, ever since
I can remember, I've had to stand aside and see
pretty girls take with the utmost ease all the things
that I have to half kill myself to get. I don't be-
grudge them their good luck, but I do think it's
unfair. And then there's another side to it. Some-
times I wonder that men never think that a homely
girl might work harder and prove more faithful
than a pretty girl simply because she's got to — to
hold down her job. I'd work my hands to the
bone if somebody would only give me a chance —
I'd be so grateful — oh, all the rest of my life I'd —
But nobody will. What am I going to do? All
my life I've read stories — and heard them too —
about beautiful girls alone in large cities having

136 Beckie's Job

finally to do dreadful things in order to live — I've
always thought that was so terrible. But in the
last month I've got a different view on that For
I can't do anything through beauty. What are you
going to do if you haven't that chance? You've got
to eat just the same."

Mr. Pray's choleric blue eyes had gone from
Beckie's face to the brisk scene outside his window.
a mask. Now he spoke. " Well, can't you really
do anything? " he asked; and though perceptibly he
tried to make his voice violent, perceptibly it had
become gentle. " Isn't there something you've got
on you that's different from other people?"

" I can remember numbers," Beckie answered
with the mental limpidity of despair. " It seems
to me that I can remember every number that's
ever been said in my presence from the day I was
born until this moment. In school I could rattle
off dates like a phonograph. And nobody in my
family ever has to look in the telephone-book or
the directory when I'm round. When I go out here,
I shan't remember about what kind of furniture
there is in this office or what color your eyes are
or what the window looks out on, but I shall know
that your telephone is 3456 Back Bay, that that
picture has a tag with 23743 on it, and that the
address of this office is 673 Boylston."

Mr. Pray swung about hard. "Numbers! "
said. "Numbers! Can you remember numbers
If you can remember numbers, you're the girl Pi
been looking for for ten years. See here. Tl
pictures in our catalogue run from one to thirty-si
thousand. Now, all those girls downstairs can re

Beckie's Job 137

member the names of the pictures, the artist, who
painted them, the gallery where they are hung, and
the city where the gallery is, but there isn't one of
them can get the numbers, except the big sellers,
without looking them up in the catalogue. I can't
myself. And sometimes a bunch of a thousand pic-
tures will come in from the factory that have all
got to be numbered and numbered quick."

11 Mr. Pray," Beckie said eagerly, " at the end
of six months I should know the number of every
picture in this place."

"All right," Mr. Pray said shortly. "You're
engaged. I'll start you on twelve dollars a week."

" Oh," Beckie remarked casually that night just
before dinner, u Dr. Pierson is going to sell out
his practice and go to Los Angeles. He gave me
notice the other day, and to-day, if you please, I
walked right into the Renaissance Art Company and
got a job at twelve dollars a week."

M The Renaissance Art Company," Ed echoed.
" That's on Boylston Street. You were awfully
lucky to get in there, Beckie. I've met Pray. They
say he's an awfully hard man to please but he's
mighty good to his help. Swell joint, isn't it?
When I go in there, I'm always hoping those skirts
will tear off some cabaret stuff."

" Looks like an aquarium to me," Matt said.
" I'm always expecting one of those dolls to pull
out a banana and eat it to prove she can live under
water."

" I think it's perfectly charming," Lainey de-
clared. M Those girls always look to me like cap-
tive princesses in Maeterlinck."

138 Beckie's Job

" Well, I'm glad you're out of that dentist office,'
said Ann with satisfaction. " I'd just as soon have
a job with the morgue."

"Ann," Beckie said privately that night, "you
know you said once that you'd like to design some
clothes for me and that you'd like to show me how
to do my hair a different way. Well, I want you
to do that. You see those girls in Pray's dress like
pictures. Now I know I can't look like a picture,
but I don't want to look like a comic valentine. I've
just borrowed twenty dollars from Ed, and I want
you to go in town to-morrow and buy some stuff
for a dress that will go with walls about the color
of a dirty duster and curtains the color of those
olives that look as though they were rotten."

The war-horse scented battle. Ann's slumberous
eyes exploded with anticipation. u I know exactly
what I'm going to get," she announced after
a brief interval of silent concentration. " I shall
buy it in Chinatown. It will be a sage-green, some-
thing with a lustrous surface and very dull, shadowy
figure in it of the same color. It's going to be
made very high-waisted, with a long skirt that just
escapes the ground — that'll make you look tall.
The girdle is going to be of tomato-red, combined
with gray. The sleeves," Ann went on meditatively,
" will be loose and come just to your elbow — your
arms are so pretty."

" I shall hate flowing sleeves," Beckie faltered.
" But I'll wear them," she added hastily.

" You ought to wear a string of dull red beads,"
Ann went on.

u Oh my grief!" Beckie quavered. "Necklaces

ices

Beckie's Job 139

always make me feel as if I was being hung. But
I'll wear it," she added hastily.

"Then I shall teach you how to do your hair."
One of Ann's eyes was fixed, half closed, on her
sister, as though Beckie were a picture she was
painting. " I shall part it in the middle and pull it
neck. You must wear a hair-net so's to keep it in
all day long."

" It will make me nervous as a witch, fiddling
with a hair-net," Beckie groaned. " But I'll wear

" Miss Ollivant," Mr. Pray called down from
the mezzanine balcony six months later (he was
reading from a list of figures that he held in his
hand), "what's 987?"

11 Cimabue Madonna, the Uffizzi, Florence,"

"13426? " pursued Mr. Pray, making a note.

" Vermeer Interior, The Hermitage, St. Peters-
burg."

"29567?"

" Rosa Bonheur's * Horse Fair,' Metropolitan
Gallery, New York."

"6578?"

" St. Agnes Outside the Walls, Rome."

After a while, Mr. Pray returned to his office.
Downstairs, Beckie moved from point to point, re-
placing pictures in portfolios. The meager light
slipped like water down her sage-green dress; but
it caught in the ripples of her hair and trembled
there in a tawny luster. It could not penetrate to her
deep eyes;. they were already lighted from within.

140

Beckie's Job

■ in

A man came into the shop, glanced keenly in
passing at her preoccupied face, ascended to the
mezzanine.

Beckie, still preoccupied, arose, photograph in
hand, and followed him up the stairs. She stopped
at the cabinet outside Mr. Pray's office. The con-
versation of the two men penetrated her absorption.

" Hullo, Chet," exclaimed Mr. Pray jovially.
"How's the boy?"

14 Fine and dandy," answered Chet. " Say, I see
you engaged that homely little thing that applied
for a job the last time I was here."

41 Whaddye mean — homely?" roared Mr. Pray.
14 How in thunder can ever you call her homely.
That girl's got a bean on her that's the most useful
thing in this establishment. Let me tell you her face
grows on you. It's got more character in it than
all those wax dolls down there put together."

CHAPTER VII

ANN'S NEW SET

"VTOU don't like Mrs. Peabody,do you, Lainey?"
X Ann asked, scooping dabs of face cream from
the jar and slapping one on each cheek.

" No," Lainey answered decisively, a I don't.
At least I shouldn't quite say that. I don't dislike
her. She interests me and fascinates me. She's as
quiet — and yet I can't take my eyes off of her. I
always feel as if there was a bomb in the room
and somebody had just lighted the fuse."

The two girls were alone in their big attic room.
They were alone in the house, for that matter. Ed
was in Panama. Beckie was staying with Aunt Mar-
garet, Matt commuting with Lory Mack. In this
quantity. Ann sat before the big, tall, black walnut
bureau, which, in spite of the premeditated coquetry
of chintz draperies, still looked like a mausoleum.
Lainey sat curled up on the bed, watching Ann.
Lainey's dressing was always careless, preoccupied,
uninspired, lacking in scenic effect and in dramatic
quality. Ann's dressing, on the other hand, devel-
oped suspense, climax, color, charm; it was a tech-
nical marvel. Now she rubbed the cream off her
face with a towel. The color flooded under her
white skin; it seemed to raise a nap on it, to turn
it to velvet, shot with light. Ann passed a powder-

141

142 Ann's New Set

pad over it; the rose light glowed through a silver
gossamer.

" I think she's a wonder," Ann disagreed serenely,
11 and I like her." Perhaps there was a shade to
much of emphasis on Ann's like. She let down her
hair. It fell heavily like a mantle of fur, short
at the ears and ending in a point at her waist.
She brushed it with swift, smashing strokes,
coiled it.

" But then I like all of those people," she con-
cluded. " What is there about them that you don't
like?"

" I don't know," Lainey confessed frankly.
" And it isn't that I dislike them exactly. It's more
that I disapprove of them, and yet I hate to say
disapprove because it sounds priggish. But people
always appal me who work so hard to have a goo

I

time."

" Well, you don't think having a good time
easy, do you? " Ann demanded, smearing her cheeks
with bandoline. " It certainly takes an awful lot
of money."

" That's the only thing it doesn't take — accord
ing to my idea," asserted Lainey. u And as for
the way they work at it — No, it doesn't seem to me
that a good time comes that way."

" I should think," Ann said, " being a Socialist
and a militant, and all those queer things, that you'd
like Bohemians." She pulled forward from the
main mass two highly-burnished scrolls of hair,
patted them gently onto the bandolined surfaces,
thrust above them the huge curved pins that rein-
forced their position.

" I wouldn't call them bohemians exactly,"

Ann's New Set 143

Lainey said, more analytic. " I'd call them bo-
hemiacs. I don't know anything about it, of course,
but it has always seemed to me that real bohemians
would be simpler."

" Well," said Ann with emphasis, u I like them
all. The only way I can judge people is by their
clothes; and they all wear perfectly stunning
things." She drew on a little lace chemisette, which
justed it with quick deft movements of her big
shapely hands. She passed the powder-pad over
the triangle of neck that this exposed; again the
flesh turned to velvet — the color of milk this time.
" And, Lainey, I'm tired of knowing shabby peo-
ple. I've known them all my life. I want to know
some smart people for a change — people who do
all kinds of things without asking what it costs.
And then I do love a spender, and both Commodore
Carleton and Mr. Talbot are spenders." She
walked over to the bed and picked up the gown of
assistance of a seamstress. Bending and curving
so that the hooks would not catch in her hair, she
pulled it on over her head, coaxed it to slim smooth-
ness and trimness. She plucked from the bureau
the little, round, amusing, extraordinary hat which
she had trimmed with no assistance whatever. It
looked like an aeroplane of black satin with wings
of black maline. " Of course, we know nice people ;
but although they've got plenty of class, they cer-
tainly are dull. It seems to me the most wonderful
thing in the world that Mrs. Peabody has taken
such a fancy to me." She drew on the chamois
gloves which were so exquisitely clean because she

144 Ann's New Set

had cleaned them herself. " It seems to me that
I'm living for the first time in my life."

"Well, don't think for a moment that I'm not
glad for you, Ann," Lainey said. Her tone was
full of fervor. But as she watched her sister leave
the house and walk briskly up the street, the enthu-
siasm went out of her eyes ; they became all doubt.

11 First you pull it free from the shell with your
fork," said Jimmie Talbot. " Then you salt it.
I never add anything but lemon-juice. But seeing
you're a beginner, I guess we'll do the regular
stunts. Now just a drop of tabasco. Here ! Here!
That's too much. You'll burn the roof of your
mouth off. Now a little horseradish. That's
right. Squeeze the lemon over all of them. Re-
member to swallow it whole. Now you're off."

" Isn't it delicious," commented Ann. The men-
tal glow that, with her, always turned to a physical
glow now ran through her entire system. She ha<
just encompassed her first little-neck clam and she
had a conviction that that hazardous and tingling
ladyhood. She ate the rest of the clams slowly,
holding her fork with the instinctive grace, hall
forceful grip, half butterfly caress, with which hei
large hands closed on all small objects. From time
to time, her glance shot through the room, and after
each survey her eyes seemed to flash a more living
gold, her cheeks a more violent bloom.

It was the scene and the atmosphere in whicl
she had in imagination seen herself a hundred times
— the dinner-hour of Boston's biggest and smartest
hotel. The room was crowded; the stadium froi

Ann's New Set 145

which Ann had witnessed her first varsity baseball
game had seemed to empty its contents directly into
the grill. The big room bulged to bursting with
beautiful youth. The Harvard crimson and the
iYale blue made a network of color everywhere.
And in the air — half a guttural bubbling, half a
high-pitched gabbling, crisscrossed with music,
burst by jets of laughter and broken by the popping
of champagne-corks — the noise pressed on Ann's
bewildered sense like a ponderable thing.

" Can you eat your squab without assistance?"

" No," Ann confessed, " I can't, but I will. If
they only served manicure-scissors, I'd know how
to go at it. But somehow it seems so wicked. I
feel as if I were eating the canary-bird."

Their own table, Ann decided privately, was as
interesting as any. Indeed, the arrival of their party
stirred a long rippling wave of turned heads which
began at the door and ended only when they sat
down. Apparently the table had been reserved for
them; it was set for eight and decorated with
crimson.

This in itself would provide substance for a talk
until midnight with Lainey, but it was not all.

For instance, a gentleman in evening-clothes, who
Ann guessed to be the proprietor and who treated
.Commodore Carleton with an obsequious kindness,
Ann's gift was a little figurine in cloth of a Harvard
player. It would ornament her bureau, Ann vowed,
until she died. Also, from time to time, a concealed
orchestra emitted the latest and choicest tango
music. Ann had enjoyed this more than anything,

146 Ann's New Set

until Mr. Talbot said, " What rotten music ! Why
do hotels keep up this farce of having an
orchestra? "

" I don't know," Ann said, taking her cue at once.
" Isn't it an absurd custom? "

Besides all this, everybody except Ann had drunk
cocktails. And now, reposing on the floor between
her and Commodore Carleton, sparkled a silver
bucket, filled with ice, from which emerged a big
bottle with a golden top. Ann had not shared
the cocktails; she had not tasted the foamy, sparkly
contents of the gold-topped bottle. But everybody
seemed to Ann that she had never seen people so
touchingly happy over a baseball game. Ann was
happy too — happier than any of them — but not
because of the Harvard victory, because she was
where she was.

It was a curious thing about these people — Ann
had noticed it many times — they seemed to depend
so much on drinks. Always they were just about
The greatest catastrophe that could happen in their
various excursions by sea or land was to strike a
dry zone. They were always making detours in
their automobile-trips to get to places they had not
intended to visit, or to avoid spots they had pur-
posed to explore, according as they turned out
11 wet " or " dry." But they were very attractive
about their drinking. Ann was experiencing a
scathing revulsion against the atmosphere of total
abstinence in which she had grown up. She discov-
ered that all her life she had been harboring many
foolish delusions. She had supposed, for instance,

I

Ann's New Set 147

that when people drank, they began instantly to
stutter and stagger. In point of fact, there was
no change whatever as far as Ann could see — except
for a more lively turn to the conversation after the
second round of cocktails. And Jimmie Talbot
was always much nicer then. He became talkative,
communicative. Ann felt that she did not yet know
these people very well, but after a second cocktail
Jimmie Talbot dropped remarks all along the line
of their tete-a-tete which cleared up much. Only
one thing bothered. Commodore Carleton, who
seemed ever to have one ear open for their con-
versation, was constantly interrupting to engage
Ann in tete-a-tete. But, although his talk always
feel more like sixteen than eighteen.

u You see, Ann," Lainey had remarked at this,
with one of her rare touches of humor, M Commo-
dore Carleton doesn't realize yet that there's at
least ten years' difference between those ages."

Such an episode had just occurred. Mr. Talbot
had become communicative. " You see that table
over there, Ann?" he said. "Well, look at
the girl with the setting hen on her hat. I'll tell

you a story about her " when Commodore

Carleton burst in.

" This is to Ann," he said. Everybody raised a
glass and drank deep.

Ann sparkled and blazed, flushed and smiled. " I
don't know what you say when anybody drinks to
you," she confided to the table generally, " but it
certainly makes you feel important."

" Oh, Ann," Commodore Carleton sighed, " if I
could only have your spirits on plain water."

148 Ann's New Set

Commodore Carleton proceeded to engage her in
one of his little-girl talks. He asked her which she
thought the prettiest girl in the room and he agreed
with her choice. Ann asked him which he thought
the most attractive man, and utterly disagreed with
him. The orchestra played a selection from,
11 Hansel und Gretel," and he told her all about
the opera. He said that it was just old enough
for Ann and that when it came to Boston he must
remember to get tickets for her and her charming
sister. To Ann's great delight, he made a note
to that effect in a little leather notebook.

At the same time, Ann secretly longed to resume
her tete-a-tete with Jimmie Talbot. It would never
occur to her to ask Commodore Carleton any but
impersonal questions. But Jimmie Talbot had just
swung into the mood in which with just a little help
from her — the push of an interjected phrase, the
pull of a tiny question — he would float into a full cur-
rent of confidence. There were many definite ques-
tions that Ann wanted to ask and many more, as
yet vague and unformulated, that would, she knew,
hurry in their wake. She was conscious of a great,
a burning curiosity about these people.

She had met this set all at once. Mrs. Damon,
her nearest neighbor in Marlowe Place, had let the
big old Damon house to Mrs. Peabody. Mrs.
Damon asked Lainey and Ann to call on her tenants.
come naturally enough. Party after party had oc-
curred — mainly on Jimmie Talbot's initiative.
Lainey dropped out of the combination at once.
For, except with Commodore Carleton, Lainey was
not mentally at home. Ann, however, was per-

Ann's New Set 149

fectly at home. She liked everybody. She could
not quite make up her mind which she preferred,
Commodore Carleton or Jimmie Talbot. If she
inclined a little towards the latter, it was only be-
cause, so unmistakably, he inclined towards her.
The two men were very different: Commodore
Carleton so gracefully slender, so suavely dark,
with so distinguished a baldness and such beautiful
manners; Jimmie Talbot so athletically burly, so
freshly blonde, with so infectious a gaiety and such
beautiful clothes. But Ann was very certain that
she liked Mrs. Peabody best of all. She said this
to Lainey with a strenuous emphasis every time the
opportunity presented. Ann was certain, too, that
Mrs. Peabody liked her; although lately they had
that Mrs. Peabody wanted to say something very
much — that it trembled on her lips every time Ann
accepted another invitation.

Mrs. Peabody was the most amazing person

She was one of those women who succeed in being
rials; a skin naturally pasty, hair characterlessly
black and straight, features at odds with all her
facial contours. But she had a tall, slim, sharply-
curved figure. She moved with the swift effortless
dart of a sea creature. Her clothes always seemed
the emanation of her personality. And the glassed-
over top of her dressing-table supported files of
magic unguents in cut-glass bottles and jeweled
boxes. And so when, white-skinned, sleek-haired,
jet-eyed, carmine-lipped, curved like a Damascus
blade, her meager subtle draperies drifting like a

150 Ann's New Set

soul-spume, she came floating down the big shadowy
parlors of the old Damon house, she seemed to
have stepped from one of the Japanese prints in
which the room abounded. Socially, she was a
strange combination. One half the time she
smothered under a listlessness that was the fellow
of Commodore Carleton's; again she exploded with
a vivacity that left Jimmie Talbot dry and formal.

Of Mr. Peabody, Ann saw very little. He was
a tall, thin, bald-headed spectacled gentleman, al-
ways in smoking-jacket and house-slippers. He was
writing a book — it was Lainey who discovered this
— about the influence of Marco Polo on Christopher
Columbus. Or was it of Christopher Columbus on
Marco Polo — Ann could never remember which it
was. But Lainey knew and Lainey said it would be
an " epoch-making " book. Mr. Peabody did not
do anything in particular beyond spending days at
the Public Library and he seemed to have no rela-
tion to the whirl of his wife's life. Commodore
Carleton and Jimmie Talbot had a very definite
relation to that whirl; they were the hubs of its
wheels. There were, of course, spokes to those
wheels. Three were present: Jock Clarkson, a
plump, feathery-haired gentleman whose transparent
epidermic softness contrasted strangely with his
opaque ocular hardness; Miss Bernice Berringer,
the first real chorus-girl, and Miss Rae Leigh, the
first real artist's model that Ann had ever known.

Mr. Peabody sat between the two young women.
Ann noted with approval the attention they pai<
him. First one filled his glass with half the contents
of hers ; then the other augmented it from the bottle.
Mr. Peabody passed rapidly from a stage of ex-

Ann's New Set 151

treme volubility about nothing in particular through
one of great mirth about even less to a brooding
silence. Finally he withdrew so far into himself
that his eyelids drooped to cover his retreat.
" Thinking of Marco Polo," Ann thought scorn-
fully. " Isn't it fierce being a high-brow ! "

The two ladies, indulgent of Mr. Peabody's in-
tellectual absorption, devoted themselves thence-
forth to the rest of the party. Ann like to watch
them, although she stood a little in awe of them.
her. And Miss Berringer seemed not to look at
Ann when she talked with her. Miss Berringer
could sink her gaze deep enough into Jimmie Tal-
bot's eyes, Ann observed.

Miss Berringer was a big woman with eyes baby-
ishly round and blue and a voice babyishly round
and treble. She wore her golden hair carefully
tousled ; it was all ripply, glinting ends. Her figure
seemed to run from the point of her tiny, big-
buckled shoes wider and wider until her square
shoulders effected a truncation. Her white lace
gown fitted this pyramid so perfectly that it looked
as though it would have to be pared off.

Miss Leigh, on the contrary, began at the top
with a tiny, flat, smooth, russet-brown head which
Lainey said reminded her of a snake that has just
succeeded in coiling. And although architectur-
ally she was as straight and compact as a sheathed
umbrella, she ran down by means of her flame-
colored pagoda dress to a greater and greater am-
plitude. Miss Leigh was, in some respects, Ann
thought, the most wonderful of them all; for she
smoked cigarettes all the time. Ann decided that

152 'Ann's New Set

she must swallow the smoke; it was such a long
time after she drew it into her mouth before it
emerged, thinly coiling and fluttering, from her
nostrils. Ann often wondered if Miss Leigh's
strange murky pallor, through which the smolder-
ing eyes seemed to have singed a slit, was the re-
sult of this habit. Ann had a discontented idea that
her own wild-rose bloom was a little vulgar.

14 We're all going to the Pop Concert Thursday
night, Ann," Jimmie Talbot said presently. " Re-
member, don't make any engagement for it."

"No, I won't," Ann said obediently. "Who's
going?"

" Oh, all that's here to-night," Talbot answered
indifferently, " unless we drop Miss Berringer."

" Oh," said Ann. And her " oh " had a little
submerged question in it. She was wild to know
why Miss Berringer should be dropped when it so
distinctly ruined Miss Berringer's evening if Jimmie
Talbot were not present.

" She makes me sick," Talbot went on, as thougl
answering that question. " I hate fat women, am
way. Don't let yourself get fat, Ann, whatevei
you do."

Ann did not want to get fat. At the same tim<
she thought that Miss Berringer was rather fasci
nating. She said so.

" And it seems to suit her, being plump — don't
you think? " she advanced a little timidly. For the
first time in her life, Ann was examining her opinions
very carefully before she expressed them.

"Well," Talbot went on, "if she didn't flas
that baby-blue stare so often. And that baby-blue
voice gets on my nerves. Bernice is a terrib*

i

Ann's New Set 153

grafter too. I get so tired of paying for her dinners.
Why the other night "

And then — it was maddening — "This is to Ann,"
Commodore Carleton interrupted from the other
side. Again everybody raised creaming glasses and
drank.

14 Dear me ! " said Ann, glowing and glittering,
" you make me feel like a queen or something.
My brothers haven't any idea what an important
person I am."

14 Oh, Ann," Commodore Carleton sighed again,
" if I only could have your spirits on plain water."

Again he engaged her in a little-girl talk.

The dinner progressed. More and more fre-
quently the glasses creamed full and creamed
empty. By and by came coffee and what Ann after-
wards described to Lainey as, M little darling glasses
of syrupy-looking stuff with golden specks floating
through it." Ann would have loved to taste this,
but she declined it.

u Now where'll we go?" Mrs. Peabody asked
at last, dipping glittering nails into her finger-bowl.

Ann decided, was that their parties never seemed
to end. They were always going somewhere
else.

" How about the Pop ? " Miss Berringer said.

" No, I don't want to go to the Pop," Jimmie
Talbot decided for them. " Besides we couldn't get
a table now. Let's go joy-riding. I'll telephone for
the car."

11 Well, for goodness' sake, Jimmie," Miss Leigh
said, " don't get us forty miles from a drink, the
way •you did the other night."

154 Ann's New Set

" Well, did you have a good time ? " Lainey,
popping her little filmy head from the pillow, con-
templated her sister, with drooping eyes, sleepy-
sweet.

" Oh, lovely! " Ann sighed. Ann's color was as
high, her eyes as brilliant, her lips as fresh, as at
six o'clock. " We had a wonderful dinner and then
we drove and drove; oh, everybody was so gay.
And just think, Lainey, they've asked me to the
Pop, Thursday night. I keep thinking they'll get
sick of me and drop me. What have I to offer such
wonderful people?"

" You've got those eyes to offer them, foi
one thing," Lainey said, dropping back on th<
pillow. M They won't get sick of you as long as

"Lainey/" Ann said. But, involuntarily, sh<
turned and met with her own wide flaming gaze th<
deep golden look in the mirror.

Thursday night at the Pop turned out to b
another wonderful occasion. Again their table had
been engaged in advance. Again it seemed to Ann
that a long wave of turned heads cast up a spray
of comment as they took their seats. Mrs. Peabody
would have excited notice anywhere. She wore
black and white; two colors brought together al-
ways in sharp contrast and in curious effects of
angles and planes. More than ever, she looked
like a study of herself done in the Japanesque man-
ner by some clever painter. She was unusually
apathetic. Perhaps for this reason she drank three
absinthe frappes in succession. Commodore Carle-
ton who, Ann thought, looked worn, devoted him

Ann's New Set 155

self to her; they talked in low tones. Ann often
thought how interesting their conversation must be ;
Commodore Carleton wouldn't dare to inflict little-
girl talk on Mrs. Peabody. It was a small party.
Miss Berringer, more than ever like a heroic-size
bisque doll, was accompanied by a stranger, a tall,
thin, sandy person, a Mr. Roper, who at regular
intervals impaled Ann with a long, thin, expression-
less glance. After the important matter of the
drinks had been attended to, Ann commented regret-
fully on Mr. Peabody's absence.

" Yes, the old fool," Jimmie Talbot said unex-
pectedly. " And I'm glad of it. I wish he'd get
wise to the fact that nobody wants him, putting the
kibosh on perfectly good parties, talking about that
prehistoric gink, Polo Marco. I suppose some time
he'll finish the rotten thing and then poor Carleton'll
have to put up to get it printed."

" But why should Commodore Carleton have
to pay for it," Ann protested. " The Peabodys
must have a lot of money. See how they spend
it."

" Well — yes — of course — but you see " Jim-
mie Talbot seemed to lose all oral connection with
his thought. " What I mean is — Well, it would be
so like the Commodore — he's such a philanthropic
guy — to get some publishers to pretend to accept
the book — so that Peabody would never know what
a lemon it was "

11 Oh, I see," said Ann slowly. And she added
blindly, more by way of making conversation than
real comment, " Commodore Carleton looks tired
to-night."

Jimmie Talbot stopped to finish his high-ball.

156 Ann's New Set

" Yes, I guess he didn't sleep any last night. Mrs.
Carleton had one of her attacks."

" Mrs. Carleton ! " Ann exclaimed. " Is Commo-
dore Carleton married?"

"Why yes!" Talbot said this after a slight
hesitation. But he went on volubly and smoothly
enough. " Didn't you know that?"

a sensation of being cheated. The next moment,
however, she realized her ignorance was merely the
result of her stupidity.

"Well, everybody else does," Talbot went on
briskly. a Mrs. Carleton has been an invalid for
years."

11 Oh," Ann said blankly. It was to recover from
this that she said, M Where is Mr. Clarkson this
evening? "

" In Chicago. His firm wired him to come. He
left yesterday morning."

Ann did not digest this. Her eyes had grown per-
plexed. Indeed, all the evening, they held a little
dulling shadow. Her gaze kept going from Mrs.
Peabody to Commodore Carleton and back again.
Nobody noticed this. Once Commodore Carleton
engaged her in one of his little-girl talks; but ob-
viously his mind was not on the conversation. It
concluded with a question from Ann. " Where is
Miss Leigh to-night?"

14 She's in Chicago," the Commodore answered
absently. u She went yesterday morning."

" Well, did you have a good time to-night? "

" Lovely ! " Ann replied, and stopped abruptly.

Ann's New Set 157

Silence ensued. " Lainey Ollivant," Ann began
fiercely after a while, M if you think I care what
people's morals are, you might as well know that
I don't. I don't care what they're doing so long
as they seem well-behaved on the surface. I hate
dull people and homely people and poor people and
shabby people — women who look as if they did their
own work and made their own clothes; and men
who are tightwads and high-brows. I hate serious
people and refined people. Take Miss Huling, for
instance. You'd know she had class just to look
at her hats. But I don't care for class any more.

I like spenders better than anybody else."

"All right!" A little -coo of mirth pulsed
through Lainey's sleepy voice. " Don't mind me.

11 We're going to Nantasket on Commodore
Carleton's yacht," Ann said with the air of one who
unfolds a fairy-tale. u We're going to have dinner
at a hotel and supper on board the yacht and we're
going to sail home by moonlight. It's going to be
rather a big party. There will be two automobiles
at the wharf to meet us — Commodore Carleton's
and Mr. Talbot's, Lainey." Again Ann had the
air of challenging her sister, " Commodore Carle-
ton is one of the finest and most delightful men
I've ever known."

" Oh, he's a duck," Lainey murmured so sleepily.

II Why I'm not dead in love with him, I don't know."

14 I never could fall in love with him," Ann said
decidedly, "but I'd always like him." Again she
threw an explosive at her sleepy sister, " And Mrs.
Peabody is just as charming as she can be."

11 Yes," Lainey agreed with reservation, M if a

[158 Anil's New Set

stick of dynamite suspended from the ceiling by a

11 Well she is," Ann muttered.

The trip to Nantasket was all that Ann expected
of it. Only one blot marred the day's joy. And
that came immediately after the long gay, sunlit sail
down the harbor. They discovered that they were
hungry.; yet it was too early to dine. Besides, as
they had beaten the first of the regular excursion-
boats, the hotels had not yet thrown off the night's
torpor. An occasional small cafe showed an open
door, a sleepy waiter moving within. They stepped
into one of these.

It was a small, clean bare room, each table cov-
ered with enamel-cloth and set with a series of
articles in heavy pressed-glass, sugar-bowl, pitcher,
pepper-pot, salt-shaker, toothpick holder. An old
man sat at the desk, painfully adding in longhand a
list of special dishes to a pile of printed bills. He
came over to their table, a frail, bent, gray-bearded
figure. An extraordinary pair of spectacles made him
grotesque. The glasses were thick and blue, rectan-
gular in shape, quadruple, hinged so that one glass
covered the eye and the other bent around the
temple.

Talbot ordered chowder. The old man went to
the slide and called the order into the depths. But
before bending over he took off his glasses and
placed them on the desk. Without them, it was
apparent he could see but dimly; he bent and peered
and shambled. When the steaming dishes shot up
from below, he himself served them, carrying the
plates with great caution.

Ann's New Set 159

Whenever the old man turned his back, Jimmie
Talbot did an imitation of him. The mimicry was
perfect, but it made Ann uncomfortable; she was
afraid that the victim would turn suddenly and get
it. This did not happen, however; Talbot dropped
his impersonation with lightning swiftness. Be-
sides, Ann said to herself suddenly, without his
glasses the old man was almost blind. In the end
she laughed noiselessly with the rest. At the same
time, the incident left an uncomfortable stain in her
mind. The morning was half over before she com-
pletely forgot it.

But what followed would have wiped out an inci-
dent far more unpleasant: a long crisp walk over
the sparkling sand, dinner in a far-away hotel, the
dining-room of which overlooked the sea from a
high crag of rock; the invasion later of all the beach
attractions, fortune-tellers, skating-rinks, roller-
coasters, photographers, and shooting-galleries, the
varied and manifold delights of Paradise Park.
These events were interspersed with popcorn, pea-
nuts, candy, soda, and hot-dogs. Ann had never
seen so much money spent in her life. Last of all
came the reembarkation, a supper on the water
which seemed to be accompanied from beginning to

Afterwards, the party divided up into pairs. Tal-
bot took Ann to the bow to watch the dividing
waters. They talked for a long time. It grew
darker. The others were made to seem very far
away by the twilight, by even the heavy plop of the
waves against the boat, and the long, sibilant plash
that followed.

160 Ann's New Set

Stars began to flicker here and there. The moon
came up.

" Oh, I'm tired," Ann said after a long while —
and she sat down abruptly.

Every physical element in Ann's appearance con-
fragile transparency. Lainey looked like alabaster,
silver-white straight through. Ann looked as
though, if you were to cut into her, you would
strike the golden-yellow of the plum, the scarlet-
saffron of the peach. The long hot day had ac-
centuated all her colorings. Her cheeks flared; her
eyes blazed; her lips seemed to engage her teeth in
a dance of rose madder with pearl.

Jimmie Talbot looked at her critically. " You
don't look it," he said, " although you've got a
license. But I'll fix you up." Suddenly, as by a feat
of legerdemain, he pulled a slender green bottle
from one pocket, extracted two glasses from the
other. The bottle was white-labeled, golden-
headed. The glasses were flare-cupped and long-
stemmed. " Come ! Have your first drink of the
sparkle-stuff with me. It will set you up."

11 Yes," said Ann with sudden resolution, " I
will." Talbot's capable fingers were already insert-
ing a corkscrew. There came a mimic explosion, the
rush into the glass of a fluid, faintly golden, vio-
lently creamy. " I'd like to know what I'm waiting
for," Ann said scornfully, " putting off tasting
champagne."

" That's my idea of nothing to put off," said Tal-
bot. He handed her the glass. The boat slapped
a little of its iridescence on Ann's hand; it seemed
to her that her flesh tingled. " May this be the

Ann's New Set fi6i

first of many, Ann," said Jimmie Talbot. They
both drank, Talbot slowly, Ann, in the spirit of
amateur bravado, at a single draught. He filled
her glass again; she drank that quickly too.

" Now," she said to herself triumphant but trepid,
" if I see double and begin to stutter, I hope I have
the sense to keep still about it."

But she did not stutter; for she had no more in-
clination to talk than at a wonderful drama. And
she did not see double; she saw everything with a
miraculous clarity as in strange dreams she had ex-
perienced. She gazed sometimes at the moon which
seemed gradually to come nearer and to swell to a
spherical roundness. It inlaid everything with a
luminous green enamel. She had a feeling that if
she put her hand out, she could touch it. She looked
off on the water which gradually stiffened to the
consistency of a fabric, heavily embroidered with
sparkling bullion. It seemed to scrape the side of
the yacht. She had a feeling that she would like to
get out and walk on that heaving solid surface.
Mr. Talbot did a great deal of feverish ejaculatory
talking, Ann a great deal of dreamy moveless listen-
ing. Sometimes she lost track of what he was say-
ing; it seemed to merge with the green luster of that
spheroid moon or the silvery contours of that sub-
stantial sea. And then sometimes what he said came
shouted to her ear.

14 but everybody says she leads him a deuce of

a life — I know myself how kind Carleton's been —
I've been to their house too many times — he's a
wonder — if there ever was a prince of good fellows
— so generous — everybody — perfect host — chari-
table — number of people he carries along — wouldn't

1 62 Ann's New Set

believe it — something same situation with my own
wife "

So Mr. Talbot was married. For an instant that
seemed hideous. But in a moment Ann had a more
terrible sensation — that she had caught herself
peeking through a keyhole. But it merged finally
with the shine of an emerald moon on an argent
sea. The moon began to flatten and the sea to melt.

11 — never has understood me — not been hus
band and wife for five years — her way and I go
mine — my kind of people and I hate hers — if
wasn't for the children, I'd get out to-morrow."

So Mr. Talbot had children. This fact, hate-
fully alien, also suddenly melted into the silver
mesh of sea that had caught a bobbing green moon
in its web.

And so on and on. Gradually the moon grew
flatter and flatter, and whiter and whiter, until it wa
only silver moon. Gradually the sea grew thinner
and thinner, and duller and duller, until it was only
gray water. Wharves slid into view.

Ann stirred and sat upright. " I feel as though
I'd been asleep," she said gaily.

Talbot stirred too, and his movement sent the
empty bottle rolling. " Oh, I forgot," he said, as
though that reminded him of something. His hand
went to an inside pocket. It pulled out a pair of
spectacles, of blue-glass, rectangular in shape,
quadruple, hinged. " I swiped them when that old
geezer wasn't looking." He leaped to his feet,
slipped them on his eyes. Suddenly he was an old,
bent, stumbling, shambling figure, serving an
imaginary table.

Ann watched — frozen.

I

Ann's New Set 163

11 Give them to me," she commanded suddenly.
And Talbot, smiling an assent, whipped the glasses
off his eyes, presented them to her with a low bow.

Ed, fresh from his trip, bronzed, clear-eyed, was
striding up and down the living-room. " Why,
Lainey," he was saying, " they're the worst crowd
Ann could possibly run with. I should think Mrs.
Damon was crazy — Nobody but a high-brow could
possibly have — Carleton's a decent enough fellow,
but he's been putting up for Mrs. Peabody for
years. Jimmie Talbot's a regular rounder. He's
pickled all the time. And when he's lit up, he gos-
sips like an old woman. Peabody's a cold-blooded
old reptile who's not earned his salt for ten years.
As for Rae Leigh and Bernice Berringer, the least

Lainey looked interested in these disclosures, but
not shocked. " You'd better tell Ann this."

11 I'll tell her, all right," Ed said grimly. " Beckie
forwarded your letters. Fortunately, I did not get
them until I was sailing home. You can fancy what
a stew my trip would have been if they'd come be-
fore. As it was — What time is it? "

" Twelve," Lainey answered, as Ed scooped out
his watch.

" They ought to have been back long before this,"
Ed said. " And after a day on the water, I should
think they'd be too tired to go anywhere else. I
can't imagine "

It was in fact two o'clock before Ann arrived.

" You needn't tell me anything, Ed," she said as
she kissed her brother. " I've had a long talk with
Commodore Carleton and he's done it much more

164 Ann's New Set

beautifully than you ever could. He's the most
wonderful man I — although," she added, as one
being honest with herself, " I'd guessed a lot of it.
I'm through with those people — but not for the rea-
sons you think. I'm late because — after we'd taken
everybody home, I asked Commodore Carleton to
drive me back to Nantasket in his machine. There
was something I had to do at once, because I could
not have closed my eyes until it was done. He un-
derstood." She glided smoothly up the stairs.

" Lainey," Ed exclaimed in exasperation, " I don't
see how you could have been so blind."

" I wasn't blind, Ed," Lainey answered. " I got
it all. Not quite in the detail that you have given
it — but as an atmosphere and an influence."

14 Then, why in God's name " Ed began. But

he did not finish. Despite their temperamental and
intellectual differences, Ed and Lainey never had in
conversation to finish their sentences.

11 I'll tell you why, Ed," Lainey answered the
question that had not been put. '* You see things
are different nowadays. They don't bring girls up
the old way any more — sheltering them from ex-
perience and making them incapable of grappling
with life when it offers a real problem. Ann is a
very pretty girl; she's discontented, audacious, pleas-
ure-loving and luxury-loving. She's yearned for
such experiences as these, and it's her right to have
them — in order to find out — I'm glad she's had
them."

" Oh, Lainey," Ed sat down heavily, as though
a long tension had snapped, " you don't know what
might have happened."

44 1 know what couldn't happen," Lainey said,

Ann's New Set 165

11 for I know Ann. But whatever occurred, it's

At the same time, "What changed you, Ann?"
Lainey asked the moment she was alone with her
sister.

11 Well, I'll tell you, Lainey," Ann answered. " I
still prefer smart people who know how to do things
— and spenders — and I still don't care what their
morals are. But I've discovered one thing that I
didn't know about myself before — I guess I like
them to be kind."

CHAPTER VIII
LAINEY AND THE ETERNAL MASCULINE

"TT7HAT do you suppose I heard to-day? "

W Ann Ollivant demanded. She suspended
her pen over the ink-bottle, a golden star of mischief
dancing in each eye, and gazed at the quiet family
group.

11 I'm sure I don't know," Lainey answered for
them all, " and I never shall guess. Tell us quick."

" That's right — you never will guess," agreed
Ann. " You could have knocked me down with a
feather."

" Oh, do tell us, Ann," Beckie entreated, inter-
rupting her count and putting her lace down.

" That isn't all," Ann went on tantalizingly, bend-
ing again to her writing. " I've got another piece
of gossip that will make your hair curl."

" Oh, quit your stalling, Ann!" Ed commanded
over the top of his book.

"Rubber!" Ann gibed.

11 Come across!" Matt reinforced his brothei
from the other room.

" Rubber! " Ann gibed again. " Wait just one
jiff till I copy the T's." She bent over a new ad-
dress-book of a brilliant scarlet morocco, to which,
from an old blank-book, she was transferring data.

For a moment, there was no sound in the rooi
but the scratching of Ann's pen and the fall of the
coals in the grate. In one island of light made b]

166

Lainey and the Eternal Masculine 167

the big student-lamp, Matt and Roly hung wordless,
almost breathless, over the chess-board. In another
oasis of gold, cast by the Japanese lamp, Beckie
resumed her smocking and Ed his reading. Out-
side the storm was besieging them with wet and
clamor; the rain attacked the windows in sheets and
jets; a high wind curled with the roar of a flame
about the house, buffeted it, rocked it. In the
pauses the woodbine tapped at the windows with its
bony old fingers, rubbed against the casements,
squeaked on the clapboards.

" This will take all the leaves off the vine," Lainey
said dreamily. " I'm sorry. Yesterday in the sun-
shine they looked as though they'd been dipped in
wine."

Lainey had just shampooed her hair and was
drying it at the fire. She knelt on the hearth, her
face to the flame, her hair falling over it in a cas-
cade of molten pale-gold. Wherever the firelight
touched this cascade, it also turned to liquid, oozing
red through the pale-gold mesh and spreading out in
great splashes. Now and then Lainey seized hand-
fuls of hair and worried them perfunctorily.

" Please hurry, Ann!" Lainey's voice came,
muffled, through the cascade. " I do love gossip.
It's so exciting."

Ann laughed triumphantly. " The first is about
Edna Williamson," she began after a while. " She
has just announced her engagement to Max Elton."

"Max!" said Beckie, and "Edna!" said Ed.
Their exclamations were simultaneous and their em-
phases were the same. " Well, I've been expecting
it," came from Lainey, and, " I thought it was
Miriam Max was after," came from Matt.

168 Lainey and the Eternal Masculine

11 I'd like to know how you could expect it, Lainey
Ollivant, when it's been such a surprise to everybody
else," Ann answered her sister* " So did Miriam,"
she answered her brother. " That's what makes it
gossip. Of course, the two girls living in the same
apartment like that; and Max, being in the apartment
above, he saw just as much of one as of the other.
Miriam thought he was calling on her. But he
wasn't. She's all broken up over it; and they say
she's been an awful cat to poor Edna ever since."

" That's the mistake girls are always making,"
Ed commented, " assuming that a man wants to
marry them because he calls on them twice in suc-
cession."

" Sure ! " Matt agreed. " They're forever doing
that. It keeps a fellow from calling a whole lot
of places that he'd be going to all the time, other-
wise. Check! I've got you sewed up there all
right, Roly-Poly Pudding-and-Pie. Why, Tom La-
throp was telling me only the other day that he
started to call on a bunch of girls that he liked an
awful lot. He was having a good time too. But
the first thing he knew, the others kept leaving him
alone with the oldest one. He hadn't any matri-
monial intentions; so he beat it while the going was
good. He says he'd been engaged if he hadn't.
But oh, the frost he gets whenever he meets any oi
them."

Serves him right!" Roly said with scorn.

Fusser! Calling on girls all the time. I wish
pity for him. Check! Who's looney now?
guess I've got you on the run, Matthew-Mark-Luke-
and John."

u

Lainey and the Eternal Masculine 169

"What's the other gossip, Ann? " Ed demanded.

" Rubber! " Ann gibed for the* third time. The
mischief in her eyes seemed to liquefy, to splash over
and run down to her brilliant lips. " Men are the
fiercest gossips ever! Wait till I finish the W's."

" You're quite right, Ann," came, muffled, from
the sage Lainey. " Men are responsible for just
as much gossip as women." Her hair was almost
dry now, but she continued to shake the straight,
glinty masses over the fender.

There came another pause, in which the wind
drove to shrill crescendo and the rain beat to noisy
climax. Ann bent again to the scarlet address-book.
nels through its swart thatch — dipped close over the
board. With mingled anger and dismay he attacked
his problem. Matt's tawny head — the firelight
turned its curling crest to carved copper — was
thrown back. With mingled triumph and amuse-
ment, he watched his brother. But Ed did not re-
sume his reading, nor Beckie her crocheting.

" Oh come on, Ann ! " Ed urged finally.

" Come through! " Matt called.

Ann laughed another tantalizing laugh. u Well,"
she began importantly, " there's been an awful break
between Babe Davis and Sidney Warren. It seems
that Babe, somehow, got it into her head that he was
crazy about Jane Forrester. When he proposed,
Babe was utterly dumfounded. She refused him
and Sid got mad and he accused her of encouraging
him. Now they're not speaking. Lucky escape
for her, I say. For Sid's turned out to be an awful
cad. He's going round knocking Babe to every-
body."

170 Lainey and the Eternal Masculine

" Well, Babe certainly let him spend a lot of
money on her," Ed pronounced judicially.

" Yes. but he included Jane in all his parties," Ann
explained, " and Jane is such a heart-smasher. And
Babe isn't especially quick in the head, you know."

With an abrupt movement, Lainey turned about
and sat cross-legged on the hearth, her face towards
her family. She threw her hair back. It fell to the
ends. Her faint film of halo began to rise above her
brow. Her figure was straight with decision, but
her voice was soft with perplexity. " What I would
like to know — what I can't see — what I don't
understand — how is a girl to know when a man
is calling on her, whether he's in love with her or
not?"

" What a question," commented Beckie, smock-
ing wildly. " You can always tell. There's some-
thing inside you that makes you realize. It's intui-
tion."

" Nothing inside me ever makes me realize how
people feel towards me," Lainey said with decision.
" I've occasionally had intuitions, of course, but they
were just as likely to turn out to be unreliable. In
fact, when I trust them, they're always wrong."

" That's because you're such an absent-minded
thing, Lainey," Ann explained pityingly. " You
see, you don't give your intuitions a chance."

11 You must be a very queer girl, Lainey," Beckie
said vigorously. " Why, I always go by my intui-
tions. I've never made a mistake yet. And if I
don't stick to my first impressions of people, I al-
ways regret it. Now, take that Mrs. Dalton — if
I'd only trusted the way I felt about her, the first

Lainey and the Eternal Masculine 171

time I looked at her ! The moment I saw how near
together her eyes were, I told you "

" How about the time you gave that Armenian
pedler five dollars to get educated on," Roland asked
in the tone of scientific investigation, " and he
swiped the hall-rug on his way out? "

" That was different," Beckie said stiffly. " I'm
not referring to things like that. Anybody might
have made that mistake. I mean intuitions in re-
gard to people you'd be likely to know — not for-
eigners."

" Well, if a girl hasn't any more intuition than
I have," Lainey sighed, a little waxen wrinkle coming
between her brows, u I still don't see how she's
ever going to tell when a man's in love with her —
or what's more important, when he isn't."

44 You're not supposed to think of it, Lainey,"
Ann said with impatience. " It's very — very — un-
womanly. You're not supposed to have ideas that
a man wants to marry you."

11 But I couldn't help thinking of it," Lainey per-
sisted with her gentle obstinacy. " I couldn't help
having ideas."

" So much the worse for you, then," Ann said in
a relentless voice. " But you oughtn't to, just the
same. You're supposed to drift along, paying no
attention to what he says or does, letting things
take a natural course."

14 And then when he proposes," an injection of
scorn froze the perplexity in Lainey's tone, " you
permit yourself to wake up to the fact that you've
been in love with him all the time."

14 Yes," said Ann.

44 Yes," said Beckie.

172 Lainey and the Eternal Masculine

.

Lainey stared at her sisters, a thousand tiny in-
dignations blazing in her face. " But — but —
but " — apparently she staggered mentally as
well as orally — " suppose he shouldn't propose
at all?"

" You still would take no notice of anything,"
Ann informed her.

" That's one of the legitimate risks of the game,"
supplemented Ed.

" But — but " Again, mentally and orally,

Lainey staggered to silence. " Suppose," she took
it up with an onrush of spirit, " suppose, by and by,
you wake up to the fact that, by some awful fatality,
you are in love with him and he has no intention
of proposing to you, what do you do then? " She
fixed her deep, blue-lighted gaze on Ann.

11 He'd propose," Beckie thrust in grimly, " if

" Anyway, Lainey," Roland called from the other
room, " I'd knock his block off for you."

u Not if I was around," Matt said. " The thing
to do is to let a man feel free."

Lainey's narrowed questioning, shimmering gaze
still held Ann's wide, confident blazing look.

Ann answered when the others stopped. " You
do nothing," she said cuttingly, " if you are a lady."

Lainey meditated, a tiny-boned, helpless-looking,
bird-claw of a hand on each knee. Her released
hair slid in flat straight masses forward over her
shoulders, diminishing her face until it was almost

" It seems to me," she said finally with a sigh,
11 it's an awful job being a lady."

" I don't find it so," Ann stated superbly.

Lainey and the Eternal Masculine 173

11 You! " Roland exploded. " Who ever told you,

Ann was still superb enough not to answer.

11 Fortunately for me," Lainey decided, " I don't
being the kind of girl that attracts men — Besides,
I never intend to marry, anyway."

" They all say that, Lainey," Ed and Matt in-
formed her in chorus.

" Well, it would be a good principle to stick to,"
growled Roly. M I wish all girls had that idea."

" But I should think for a girl like you, Ann,"
Lainey continued, ignoring Roland, " that all men
find attractive, it would be very puzzling. How-
ever, the thing to do, of course, is to assume that no
man wants to marry you until he makes a deposition
to that effect before a justice of the peace."

" Lainey, I think that's the most immodest — and
unlady-like — and mercenary remark I ever listened
to," came in bursts of shocked phrases from Beckie.

" Well, all I've got to say," began Ann, " is "

The long strident peal of the door-bell inter-
rupted.

" Good Lord, who can that be this stormy
night? " Ann concluded.

"Oh, my stars!" Lainey started with a horri-
fied vigor, " and garters ! " she ended in feeble dis-
may.

" Lainey Ollivant," Ann demanded sternly, " who
have you invited here? "

11 Some young men that Bird and I met at the
local," Lainey answered meekly, " some Socialists.
I'll never pass a general invitation again as long

fi74 Lainey and the Eternal Masculine

as I live. They always come at the worst possible

" Stand up! " Ann commanded inflexibly.

Obedient, Lainey stood up, slim as a paper-doll
in the long, sage-green Chinese sa'am — an heirloom
which she had resurrected from the attic. Her hair
fell in straight, arrow-like strands, palely gold to
her waist; her house-slippers pointed in red V's from
beneath her narrow coat.

" No, you're not going upstairs," Ann hissed
swiftly. " I'm not going to entertain a group of high-
brows when you haven't given me a moment to think

Obedient, Lainey bulked her hair in her neck,
skewered it together; pegged it down.

"Put on your cap!" continued the unyielding
voice.

Obedient, Lainey put on the cap. From under
the lace ruffle, the hair fell on her forehead, a fine
golden fringe like spun-glass.

" Now open the door! "

Obedient, Lainey opened the door. In another
moment, she was performing prodigies of confused
introductions.

The three young men, thus suddenly thrown into
the Ollivant circle, were contrasted types. Opinions
differed widely in regard to them.

Mr. Quentin Quigly had just come from Paris,
via New York. He was a magazine writer and he
was collecting material for an article entitled, " How
Shall We Wake Up Boston? " He was the oldest
of the three, a young man of a romantic aspect.
He was big-featured and fine-featured. He had a

Lainey and the Eternal Masculine 175

plumpish look, as though he had been modeled with
a bold incisiveness in wax and then allowed to melt
a little. His brown eyes were full, expressive, and a
little languid. His brown hair was thin, wavy, and
a little long. He wore brown corduroy trousers, a
loose blouse, a flowing tie, and a Stetson hat. Beckie
said that he was as handsome " as a Greek god."
Ann remarked that he had red eyelids. Roland
observed that he was a fathead. Lainey said noth-
ing.

Mr. Worthington Pope had come straight from
Millers Falls, Vermont, to Boston. He was a re-
porter on the Chronicle. He was not so tall as
Mr. Quigly, but he bulked bigger and he seemed
to be cast in iron. His eyes were like wells of black
ink, they were so big and changeless and sparkless;
and it was as though his hair, brows, and lashes had
been powdered with coal-dust. His skin and teeth
were so milky that two great patches of crimson
on his cheekbones looked like make-up. His razor
seemed never to catch up with the black blur of his
beard. " Looks like one of those cowboy heroes in
the movies," said Beckie. " If he'd only shave his
face more and his neck less!" remarked Ann.
; ' You ought to see him box!" observed Matt.
Lainey said nothing.

Hopwood Lee — everybody called him Hop after
that first evening — was an Oregonian who was study-
ing at Harvard. He was no taller than Lainey
and almost as small-waisted. His shoulders were
enormous, as though they had been carved for a
much bigger man and then fitted to his torso. He
had small, brilliant gray eyes which twinkled humor-
ously through thick brown lashes; big teeth which

176 Lainey and the Eternal Masculine

;.

glittered — humorously too — out of a wide mouth;
a brown top, more like a pelt than hair; a chin like a
rock, nothwithstanding it was almost divided into two
chins by a deep cleft. " Looks like a little boy play-
ing he was a man," said Beckie. " I hate those two
gold teeth ! M remarked Ann. " You ought to see
him pitch a ball ! " observed Ed. Lainey said noth-
ing.

11 Beckie," Lainey said one Sunday morning, ap-
pearing in nightgown and kimono at her sister's
door, " may I get in bed with you for a little
while?"

14 Of course," Beckie said sleepily.

Lainey pitpattered across the room, threw her
kimono over the back of the bed, ripped off her little
scuffs on the edge of a chair, slipped under the
clothes, snuggled.

Beckie watched her.

Lainey had changed in the last month. Her
whole personality had quickened. Her little slim
figure had gained a budding salience, her little oval
face a deepening intensity. Her mystical gaze had
widened; sparks flashed and died in its blue-gray
haze. Her lips seemed to have burst into bloom
too ; they curved up and away from each other like
flower-petals. It was almost voluptuous — that con-
trast of the whiteness and chill of her skin with the
curbed, curled crimson of her wide, soft mouth.

Beckie lay with her eyes open for a while, an ex-
pectant look on her face. But nothing came from
Lainey. Beckie's eyes gradually filmed; her lids
fell.

44 Beckie," Lainey said suddenly. Her clear little

Lainey and the Eternal Masculine 177

voice fell like a raindrop on the sleep-charged air.
11 Do you ever think of marriage? "

Beckie's eyes flashed open, scintillated. M Of
course I do," she said. " All the time. Or," she
corrected herself, " a lot of the time."

" I don't," Lainey admitted in a crestfallen tone,
" or at least I haven't much. In the past, I mean.
Lately I have. The trouble with me is, I guess, that
I never think of anything until I have to. And mar-
riage is — so — so — strange — and — and ' '

Lainey stopped. Her voice faded into silence.
She sighed. The sigh faded into silence. Beckie
waited. Nothing more came. Gradually again her
eyes filmed. Her lids dropped.

u Beckie ! " Again Lainey called her sister back
from the vestibule of dreams. And again Lainey's
voice was like the splash in the sleep-saturated air of
some chill liquid. " Do you feel as though — mar-
riage — were an experience that you — ought to have.
I mean — do you feel — that your life won't be — com-
plete — without it? "

" I should commit suicide to-morrow," Beckie an-
swered simply, "if I didn't think I was going to get
married some day. That's the way I feel."

11 Do you, Beckie?" Lainey said. She sighed;
but then, as though all along she had been afraid
that this was the way it would be, she added, " I
think Ann's like that, although perhaps she wouldn't
admit it. Beckie, do you know I think there's some-
become grave, sorrowful, a little alarmed. " The
thought of marriage fills me with a — a — a — disgust
— yes, that's what it is — a loathing. I don't mean — -
what you think I mean — exactly. I mean — Well,

178 Lainey and the Eternal Masculine

when I go out to see Cousin Edith and walk up
Edgemore Street between those two rows of mar-
ried-looking houses." Lainey was suddenly fluent,
facile, articulate again. M You know what I mean;
each with a young married couple in it and perhaps
a baby or two. And when I see the rubber-plant
in the window and the iceman at the back door and
the baby-carriage on the piazza and the baby's wash
on the line, a sort of feeling of disgust comes over
me that — that — well, Beckie, I just hate it. I hate
it — that's all there is to it. It all looks so cut-and-
dried, so like the end of things. It looks as though
you had accepted a job and bound yourself to keep
it until the end of your days; a job from which
there'd never be any change — any advance in respon-
sibility or increase in pay. That isn't all, either. It
looks as though you'd shut the door in the face of
romance and locked out adventure, as though you'd
put your youth in a box in the attic. And when I
hear Cousin Edith and Cousin Mark talking that
married talk about — oh, you know — the train service
and don't-forget-to-order-the-coal and be-sure-and-
turn-the-gas-down-in-the-hall — oh, Beckie, it gives me
a perfectly horrid sensation. Do you feel that way ? "

11 No," replied Beckie calmly. " I don't know
what you're talking about. I love to go out there.
It's my ideal of a home."

" Beckie," Lainey said, " sometimes I hate th(
word home. But I guess I'm queer and different
from other people."

Beckie attempted no closer translation of this.

" Beckie, I want to ask you another thing. Woul<
you — would you — have ever thought — What I meai
is, do you want to have children? "

Lainey and the Eternal Masculine 179

For a long moment, Beckie did not answer.
Lainey said nothing. But the silence was the kind
that accumulates each second in intensity.
11 Lainey," Beckie broke in at last, u I'm twenty-
eight. And if by the time I'm forty I haven't had a
baby of my own, I'm going to adopt one."

"Oh!" Lainey said, "Oh!" Then again,
11 Oh ! " There were three emotions in those ohs,
surprise, wonder, compassion. " How strange !
And yet it's beautiful. But, Beckie, I don't feel that
way. I feel — I wish — I often think it would be so
nice if babies came the way mother told us they did
when we were children — growing out of water-lilies.
Don't you remember the picture that used to hang
in the nursery of an opening lily and a little duck
of a baby peeking out from the petals. I believed
that ever so long. I had a fight with Marie Maple-
son when she told me the truth. I thought that that
picture was proof. Oh, I think that would be nice.
I mean — I don't see why we have to have fathers for
our babies. I think they're awfully unnecessary.
Now, if I could have a baby all my own without
any father, I — oh, I'd love that."

" Well, I wouldn't," Beckie proclaimed down-
rightly. " I'd like a husband and a father for it.
Who'd support it?"

" I would — if it was mine," Lainey answered with
conviction, " I'd find a way. I know I would."

There came another long silence ; so long that this
time the two girls drifted off to sleep.

" Beckie," Lainey said, coming into her sister's
room the following Sunday morning, " I want to
talk with you. I'm troubled."

180 Lainey and the Eternal Masculine

" Well, now," Beckie said, yawning the sleep out
of her hazel eyes, " we're getting to it. Why didn't
you tell me last Sunday? What's it about? Mr.
Quigly?"

11 Yes, I tried to tell you," Lainey said, " but
somehow I couldn't. No, it's about Mr. Pope."

" What, about him? " Beckie snapped.

11 You see, Beck, I don't understand about such
things — and I want to do what's right. And
you have so much intuition — and I haven't any
— I'm a perfect fool. But it began two weeks
ago."

"What began?" Beckie demanded. "Lainey,
do please be a little more clear."

" Well, two weeks ago, Saturday afternoon, he
asked me if I'd go walking with him. I said I
would and did. He called for me. After we left
the house, he said that he wanted to look at some
vacant apartments and would I go with him. Of
course I was willing, and he showed me a long string
many of them in Brookline here. Well, the long
and short of it was that we spent the afternoon at

it "

• "Yes," Beckie said. "Go on!"

" Well, it didn't happen in the first one we looked
at, but in the second. And I don't know how I got
the idea. But presently I found that we were con-
sidering these apartments from the point of view
— of a — married pair. He asked me all kinds of
questions — and Beckie, I can't tell you how queer I
felt when he would say, ' Do you like this, Lainey? '
or, * Is this your idea of a comfortable apartment? '
or, * Tell me what you think. I want to be guided

Lainey and the Eternal Masculine 181

by your opinion.' Always accenting the you and
your! 1

" What did you say? " Beckie asked.

" Beckie, I didn't know what to say. I didn't
know where to look. But I kept repeating as often
as I could without seeming foolish that I wasn't very
clever at that sort of thing, that I knew nothing what-
ever about housekeeping and hated it, and that Ann
was the one to go to, that she was so practical. And
so forth — and so forth."

11 What did he say to that? "

11 Oh, that it wasn't Ann's opinion that he wanted
but mine. Now what — you have so much intuition,
Beckie — what do you think he means?"

" There's only one interpretation of his meaning,
Lainey. I'll tell you now what I've thought all
along — Worth Pope is in love with you. I think
he's shy, though, and that's his way of showing it.
Oh, Lainey, can't you fall in love with him? I should
so love to have a wedding in the family."

11 Of course I can't — you goose! And yet, some-
how, Beckie, I think you're wrong. I can't feel that
he "

" Why, good gracious, Lainey, don't you know
when a man's in love with you? "

" No. Why should I ? No one was ever in
love with me before."

11 But don't you have a feeling? Don't you real-
ize that he's looking at you when you're not looking
at him and that he always knows just what you're
doing, always listening to what you're saying, always
plotting and planning to get alone with you? "

Lainey shook her head so vigorously that the bed
shook too. " No, I've noticed nothing of those

1 82 Lainey and the Eternal Masculine

things. In fact, his eyes always seem to have a far-
off look, as though he was thinking of something else.
No, the only thing he does is to ask me to go to
places with him. But so does Mr. Quigly."

11 Well," Beckie said, exasperated, " what are you
going to do about it? "

11 Beckie, what can I do about it? "

" Do you love him? Do you intend to marry
him? In that case you do nothing about it."

"No. No. Of course I don't love him; He

M Then you should tell him or show him in some
way."

" Beckie, I can't refuse a man before he asks me."

" Well, all I know is, it's your duty as a lady to
let him know in some way if you don't intend to
accept him."

Lainey groaned. " It's dreadful hard being a

"Does Mr. Quigly act that way?" Beckie in-
quired.

"Oh no, I should say he didn't," answered Lainey
" He's a comfort. He's always telling me about the
other girls he calls on — he must know reams of
love and marriage. He thinks the present system is
all wrong. He says that women ought to have the
to propose marriage just as much as a man.
He ays that the perplexed conditions of to-day arise
from wrong economic conditions. He says tha
when women have become economically independent,
the degrading conditions that surround love and
marriage will be done away with. When women
have as much to offer men, in the way of prosperity

Lainey and the Eternal Masculine 183

and ability and earning capacity, as at present men
have to offer women, why then the wooing and pro-
posing will come as often from one side as the other.
But in these times, in order to facilitate the coming
of better ones, it is our duty to indulge as much as
possible in a free companionship with members
of the other sex — I mean, friendship without the
thought of love and marriage."

" Bosh! " remarked Beckie.

" Beckie," Lainey said, " he's right and you're
wrong. He's taking me to a meeting in Newton
to-morrow night. Now, I'm going to let you finish

It was three nights later that Beckie, coming home
late, found Lainey asleep in her bed. When Beckie
turned up the gas, Lainey's lids flashed open, wide.
" Is that you, Beckie?" she asked drowsily.
Drowsily, too, she pulled herself up to a sitting posi-
tion, fitted a pillow into her back.

"More trouble?" Beckie asked, her eyes scin-
tillating.

"Beckie Ollivant, you're enjoying this!" Lainey
reproached her sister. Perhaps she was enjoying it
herself; for as she plunged into her narrative a
smile, delicious with conscious power, showed her
little teeth. " My dear, Mr. Pope called me up this
afternoon and asked me if I'd meet him in town and
go to tea with him. I said I would. I hoped nat
I might have an opportunity to tell him. He put
the hour at two. I thought that extraordinarily
early; but when I met him, he asked me if I minded
going about to some stores with him. Isaid I didn't
— never suspecting — you know what an idiot I am,

184 Lainey and the Eternal Masculine

Beck. And — it seems — he was looking at furniture
with the idea of fixing up that apartment and, al-
though he didn't say it in so many words, there was
always the insinuation that it was for two — not
bachelor housekeeping at all."

up her coat and hat.

" No, he only looked at things. But, just as be-
fore, he would say, ' What do you think, Lainey?'
or, ' Remember, I'm depending on you! ' or, ' Tell
me exactly how you feel about it.' "

" Well, Lainey, I hope you told him " Beckie

was beginning severely.

11 But Beckie, how could I? A man who's made
no effort to make love, who never looks at me when
he talks to me — well, he's got to give me more of an
opening than that."

" Yes," Beckie said slowly, beginning to undress,
" I suppose so. And, of course, it isn't as though
Is he still talking about other girls? "

" Oh no," Lainey said with one of her rare flashes
of humor, u now that he's established an alibi, he
doesn't have to. Oh, but Beckie, we went to that
meeting together way out in Newton and, my dear,
what do you suppose he did? "

" What? " Beckie demanded.

" We were late and he took a taxicab out there."

" A taxicab ! " Beckie exclaimed. " It must ha 1
cost a million dollars."

" It did," Lainey said. " Eight dollars anc
ninety cents'. Oh, I nearly died — watching that
clock-thing jumping round. I told him if my hail
turned white, it would be his fault. But he onl]

Lainey and the Eternal Masculine 185

laughed. I never saw anybody spend money like
that. I told him so. He said nobody else ever had
in Boston. He hates Boston. "

Beckie bristled. " I'd like to know what he thinks

New York has on it Do you like Mr. Quigly,

Lainey? n

" I do and I don't," Lainey answered in an analy-
tic voice. " I like his ideas, but I'm not sure yet of
his character. I mean his ideas are very free and
emancipated and noble, but I have a sort of an idea
that he would only live up to them so far as they
justified him in doing unconventional things. I don't
think that he'd suffer for a principle. But, although
I like Worth Pope better, I'm more comfortable
with Mr. Quigly. There's always a worry hang-
ing over me when I'm with Worth. But I feel
perfectly free when I'm with Quentin — knowing that
he's not in love with me."

14 Yes, all my intuition is that he isn't. But don't
let it bother you too much, Lainey. Remember
that mother said: if you were a lady, something
would tell you how to behave in every position in
which you were placed."

" Well, I think some new situations have come up
since mother's time," Lainey said without conscious
sarcasm, " Oh, Beck, you are such a comfort
to me."

The following Saturday when Beckie came home
a little early from work she found Lainey a dull,
colorless, crushed heap on the sofa. Ann was sitting
beside her.

"What's happened?" Beckie inquired.

11 Oh, that bounder of a Quigly," Ann answered

1 86 Lainey and the Eternal Masculine

viciously. " Didn't I tell you to never trust a man
with red eyelids. "

"What has he done?" Beckie asked.

11 He's proposed to her," Ann answered sternly.

11 Proposed ! " Beckie said in bewilderment.
" Quentin Quigly ! Lainey, are you sure it was
Quentin? "

Lainey emitted a little spiritless rill of laughter.
" I'll admit I'm absent-minded. But I'm not quite
so dopey as that."

" Well, what's all this about, then," Beckie went
on. " It's no insult to propose to a girl."

"It was the way he did it — beast!" sputtered
Ann.

" I refused him," Lainey explained. " And he
got quite offensive. He accused me of encouraging
him. I apologized and explained that I did not
realize that his intentions were matrimonial and he
said that I ought to have known they were. We
had quite an unpleasant scene. Ann came home in
the midst of it. She could not help hearing it — he
talked so loud."

" Talked! " This from Ann. u Bellowed, you
mean."

" But I don't want the boys to know anythin
about it," Lainey concluded feebly. " There,
there's Ed now."

" Well, I declare, I never thought it was Que
tin," Beckie said. " I thought— Hullo, Ed."

Ed did not answer Beckie. " What's all this
row about Quigly, Lainey?" he demanded sternly.

" How did you know about it, Ed? " Lainey de-
manded in her turn ; and her voice was no less stern
than her brother's.

.

Lainey and the Eternal Masculine 187

" I ran into Quigly before coming home," Ed
answered. " I saw that he was considerably broken
up over something and I asked him what the matter
was. He evaded me at first, but I kept at him.
Who's that? Oh, Matt and Roly. Finally, he
told me the whole story and I must say — Beat it
you fellows ! Oh, hullo, Hop ! Get out, all of you.
Lainey and I want to have a talk."

" No," said Lainey, " Stay here ! " Silvery
flames fluttered her eyelashes; two flakes of solid
color burst on her cheeks. "If Mr. Quigly is tak-
ing the whole world into his confidence, so shall I.
The situation is this, boys: Mr. Quigly proposed
to me this afternoon and I refused him. He has
taken me about a good deal, as you know, and — yes,
spent a great deal of money on me. He accused
me of encouraging him, and I told him that I didn't
know that he meant to — that he thought of — that he
wanted to marry me."

Roly, obviously bored, opened Matt's paper.
Matt fell into one of the big chairs and considered
the subject, frowning. Hop Lee took a silent posi-
tion in front of the fire.

" Lainey, I should have thought you would have
known that he was in love with you," Ed said accus-
ingly. " Think of how often he's been here."

" Why, Ed Ollivant," there was a hysterical note
in Lainey's voice, " it was only a month ago, in this
very room, that you and Matt told me that the great
mistake girls were always making was to assume
that men who called on them wanted to marry
them."

" That's true," Ed said. " But at the same time,
you've got to show some common sense. There's

1 88 Lainey and the Eternal Masculine

a point beyond which — you shouldn't let a man
spend so much money on you. Quigly mentioned
— not in any caddish way; it just happened to come
out in talking about taxis in Boston — that it cost ten
dollars bringing you in from Newton the other
night/;

" Eight-ninety — to be exact," corrected Lainey.
"Well, all I can say is that I got into this trouble
was not in love with me until he told me so. Why
couldn't I have supposed Worth Pope was in love
with me ? He's been taking me about — and spending
money on me — if that's any criterion."

" Well, Lainey, I think he is," Beckie put in.

11 Well, he isn't," Lainey said. " He telephoned
me to-day that he was going to be married at Christ-
mas. He'd got a letter from the girl this morning
saying she would. He said one reason why he came
out here so often was that I reminded him of the
girl. He showed me her picture in his watch. It
looked just about as much like me as a cat — a little
darling, blonde fairy creature. He said he asked
cause he felt that my taste would be just like hers.
At first she said that he'd got to pick out the apart-
ment and all the furniture — but he said, when he
wrote her that I was helping him look at things, she
decided she'd rather do it herself."

Beckie laughed. " I bet she did. You made that
match all right."

14 But," Lainey went on, addressing her brothers
she had not even heard Beckie, " he never mentioned
that girl to me; he wouldn't insult me by making
such an explanation. Now, suppose I had taken a

„

en all

Lainey and the Eternal Masculine 189

his attentions seriously. It would be a pretty nowdy-
do now, with him marrying another girl in two
months."

11 Well, all IVe got to say," Ed promulgated, " is
that you acted wisely in one case and like an idiot in
the other."

" That's right, Lainey," Matt agreed; " you can't
be too careful. You've got to let a man feel free — •
and you must not seem to be working him."

" Well, Lainey," Roly said, " I'm glad you didn't
take Quigly — how I'd enjoy punching that fat head
of his! Only my fist would go through and come
out the other side."

Hop Lee came into the discussion. " I wouldn't
bother about Quigly. Getting engaged is the eas-
iest thing he does. I know at least three girls he's

" Now, I have a proposition to put to you,
Lainey," Hop said later when the excitement had
died down. " There's a strike in Beverley and next
week I want you to go with me to some of the
I. W. W. meetings there. I think there's going to
be some grand doings. I wish to announce to you
in the presence of your family that, whatever my
private feelings towards you may be, I don't consider
that you are encouraging me by accompanying me."

11 Hop," Lainey said, after an interval of calm
consideration, M I accept your invitation. And in
my turn, I promise you that, whatever my private
feelings towards you are or become, I shall not con-
sider that these invitations compromise you in any
find that the game works out to their advantage
any way you play it. And so, in the meantime, go-

190 Lainey and the Eternal Masculine

ing to those I. W. W. meetings or anywhere
with you, I'll pay my own expenses, if you please."

u Lainey" Ann exclaimed, " I never heard such
talk in my life. Do you think that's being a

11 Oh, damn being a lady! " said Lainey Ollivant.

CHAPTER IX

ROLY COMES THROUGH

"TS that you, Ed?" Beckie called and, not wait-
moment. I — we all want to talk with you."

11 All right," Ed Ollivant answered. He leisurely
removed his evening-hat, deposited it on a hook.
He took off his smart evening-ulster, drew off the
muffler of gray crocheted silk, folded them with the
care a girl might have shown, and placed them on
the hall-settle. He paused to glance in the long
mirror above the seat — glanced critically, though,
and only as one who prides himself on being cap-
a-pie. His appraising glance might justifiably have
developed into a complacent one, for the picture was
comely. Tall, slim, Ed's grace of structure ex-
pressed itself in grace of movement, but it was
reinforced by a pervading suggestion of muscularity.
Equally, his cold, blonde face would have shown
almost too correct a line of feature if it had not been
informed by a look of power. That grace and that
power were the grace and power of steel, nervously
carved. He strolled in the direction of his sister's
voice.

It was not on Beckie alone that he came — but
Matt and Ann. The doors between the two rooms
were open, but the outlines of the rooms lost them-
selves in gloom. The hanging-lamp, however,
dropped a cone of golden light on the bared dining-

X 9 X

192 Roly Comes Through

room table, on Beckie's tumbled ripples of mahog-
any-colored hair, on Ann's careful coils and curls
and spirals of gold brown, on Mart's virile plume of
copper red. The open-grate fire in the living-room
— neglected — had died down to a soft heart of rose
that pulsated under ar filigree of silver ash. But
the stove in the dining-room — neglected also — had
flared up until a round spot of scarlet gleamed on
its bulging front.

That spot of angry scarlet seemed to be the psy-
chological symbol of the discussion ; it was reflected
in the three faces that lifted to meet Ed's.

Upright in her chair, her face a satiny crimson,
her spool revolving rapidly on the table before her,
her needles spitting sparks, Beckie crocheted — and
crocheted violently, as one whose fingers are trying
to keep pace with her racing thoughts. Opposite,
her cheeks a velvety pink — before her on the table
a basin of water, a tin of metal polish and an array
of cloths — Ann rubbed at something she held in her
lap — and rubbed with jabs and dashes of vigor as
one who is emphasizing her own voiceless argument.
Near, sprawled in the big morris-chair, his eyes a
brilliant blue in contrast with his scarlet flush, Matt
snapped an elastic band, sling-shot fashion, against
the arm of his chair — and snapped it as one who ex-
presses not ennui, but mental discomfort.

If Ed got the atmosphere of unease, his composed
look gave no sign. He wheeled a big chair from the
bay-window, lifted it over the seam where the two
rooms met, seated himself in it in an attitude whose
correct grace was the very antithesis of Matt's care-
less relaxation. With the quiet precision that
marked all his movements — Ed was a human em-

Roly Comes Through 193

bodiment of the principle of efficiency — he reached
into one pocket of his dinner-coat, brought out a
cigarette-case of gold, superbly monogramed,
snapped it open, removed a cigarette, placed it be-
tween his lips, dropped the case back into his pocket.
Still slowly, he drew from another pocket a match-
safe, also of gold, and also superbly monogramed,
snapped that open, withdrew a match, dropped the
box into his pocket. Then, quickly he jabbed the
match ablaze, lighted his cigarette, tossed the match
into the coal-hod. But he paused to draw slowly on
his cigarette and to send a volley of smoke-rings flut-
tering across the table before he spoke. Then,
u Lainey not home yet? " he inquired casually.

Beckie had followed this process with the fas-
cinated look which always illumined her eyes when
But, " No," Ann answered before her sister could
speak. And as though to hold back what Beckie
was going to say, she plunged Volubly onward.
" She telephoned to-day that she would not be at
home until Friday. She's having a fine time with
Aunt Margaret. Oh, say — that reminds me. She
says that Maddie Perkins brought her over a snap-
shot that she took of mother once — that time she
came here for a week-end. She took it when mother
wasn't looking — just as Roly was coming up the
piazza steps. Lainey says the expression is per-
fectly lovely. You know how mother's eyes always
changed when she looked at Roly. I could always
get mother hopping mad by saying that Roly was her
favorite child — but he was, just the same. Lainey
says she's going to have some copies made for us —
enlarged."

194 R°ty Comes Through

44 Fd like to see it," Ed said. And then, as
though consciously aiding and abetting his sister's
game, "What are you doing, Ann? "

Again Beckie started to speak. But again — and
this time she resorted to gesture — Ann, waving aloft
a bowl of silver lined with gold, cut her off. " Ever
see that before? " she challenged her brother exul-
tantly.

44 The silver service ! M Ed exclaimed. And in
his clear, peremptory voice was a sudden note of
emotion — surprise, pleasure, and a shade — so subtle
and faint that it was a mere shadow of a shade —

44 Wait till I show you the rest of it" Ann lifted
from the floor and placed beside the bowl a tall ro-
tund coffee-pot, a short, squatty teapot, a shorter
squattier sugar-bowl, a tall, lithe water-pitcher, a
slim, lissome hot-water pot, a low, plump cream-
pitcher — all a-shimmer and a-gleam and a-sparkle
with the soft luster of old silver repolished.
44 Doesn't it look lovely?"

44 Great! " Ed said. 44 How did you happen to
resurrect it? "

For the third time Beckie started to speak. And
for the third time Ann bustled into narrative ahead
of her. Beckie closed her lips with a snap, but it
was only to straighten and tighten them into a deeper
look of resolution. 44 The funniest way. You see,
Bird Barton had a day off. Some old gink in the
firm died the other day and the store was closed
for the funeral. So we decided we'd go shopping
to-day. I met her in town. We went up Park
Street from the Subway and Bird happened to stop

Roly Comes Through 195

in front of one of those old-furniture places — you
know what a shark she is for antiques — and if there
in the window wasn't a service the spit of ours,
all polished up and looking so swell! Bird began
to throw spasms over it, and I said, ' Oh, come on
and do our shopping, Bird. We've got a service
just like that!' 'Where?' asked Bird. 'Search
me ! ' I said. ' Somewhere in the attic, I suppose.
I haven't seen it for years.' ' Well, if you aren't a
boob,' said Bird, ' and if your whole family aren't
boneheads. Don't you know how valuable that
Sheffield silver is ? ' < No,' I said. ' Well, I'll show
you,' said Bird. We went in and priced it, and
how much do you suppose they were charging for
it? Five hundred dollars. Yes, sir. Bird looked
at me and I looked at her, and she said, ' Let's? ' and
I said, ' You're on! ' and we marched straight back
from the Subway — mind you we hadn't done a drop
of shopping — beat it home, sneaked up into the attic
and spent the afternoon hunting for the service.
Weren't we sights when we got through ! Bird had
to take a bath and shampoo her hair. But we
finally found it, black as the stove, wrapped up in
pieces of old blanket. I've been working on it ever
since. My arm is dead, but I can't leave it alone.
Gee, doesn't it look swell. To tell the truth, I
always thought of the silver service as something
old-fashioned and queer. But now I can see that it
has all kinds of class — especially if it's worth five
hundred dollars. Gee, doesrit it look swell,
though ! " Ann might have been applying the polish
to her own eyes, they gleamed with so extraordinary
a luster as she surveyed her handiwork. " I've put
my hands out of commission, though." She stopped

196 Roly Comes Through

to examine her long, shapely fingers. " I'll be a
week getting my nails back into shape."

11 I remember," Matt began. He had abandoned
his sling-shot operations with the elastic band. Now
he sat upright. His brisk blue eyes took on a remi-
niscent haze. " Mother always used the silver
service and the pearl-handled knives and forks on
Christmas and Thanksgiving. I always connect
those two — silver service, pearl-handled knives and
forks — with holidays and company."

The tension about Beckie's mouth relaxed for a
moment. " The last time we used the silver service
was on Roly's tenth birthday. Do you remember
we had a party for him? That was the last party
we ever had in this house. After that, mother put
the service away. It was so hard to keep it shined
up without any maids."

" We're going to use it every day now," Ann said
with conviction. " There are not going to be any
best things in this house. We're going to have our
coffee in the morning out of this and our tea at noon
out of this and our cocoa at night out of this."
Her hands, gracefully capable, fluttered from pot
to pot. u And these are our permanent sugar and
creamer. We'll use the bowl for loaf sugar. And
after this we are going to use those pearl-handled
knives and forks. I hate saving up things for other
people to use after you're dead."

" Well," said Ed, " I'm glad you found it. It
c inly is a pippin. I advise you to overhaul the
at thoroughly some day and see if there aren't
son other things you can dig up."

" Vre going to," said Ann, " Bird and Lainey
and e — some Sunday."

Roly Comes Through 197

11 Lord, what a gay house this used to be," Matt
said, the fog of reminiscence still on his sea-
blue eyes. " Something doing every minute. Peo-
ple coming and going — dinners — dances — masque-

Ann set her soft, pouting mouth into a hard, red
ripple of determination. "It's going to be gay
again some time. You wait! "

Ed flicked his cigarette end into the coal-hod,
settled back in his chair. " Well, out with it,
Beckie," he said. " What is it and who's it about? M

Beckie's lips unlocked in a flash. " It's about
Roly," she answered. " I'm worried to death

" It isn't so bad as it seems," Ann interpolated.
" I'm sorry that I told on him."

" How about it, Matt? " Ed turned to his brother.
" Advise me to listen to it? "

Matt looked uncomfortable. " Oh, I don't know
that it's so very serious, but — Well, I guess you'd
better listen to Beckie."

11 All right, Beckie ! " Ed's tone tempered to
resignation. "Fire away! What's Roly been do-
ing?"

" Oh, everything'* answered the unanalytic
Beckie. " It's been going on for weeks and weeks
now. And at first I thought I could manage him
alone. But it's got beyond me, and to-night I had
— oh, a dreadful time with him — he said perfectly
awful things. And as for Matt — he swore at ..^ '71
fearfully. So now you've got to take him in hand."

" Well, get to the point, Beckie," Ed prodded his
sister impatiently.

M I'm getting there," Beckie insisted. M In the

198 Roly Comes Through

first place, he's so grouchy all the time that there's
no living with him. And saucy! And the things
he says to me — and Ann — well, they're the limit.
I could overlook that, because boys are queer cattle,
and Roly — mother used to say that Roly had ' cy-
cles ' when he was as bad as he could be."

14 Well, believe me" Ann interrupted crisply,
" Roly's present cycle is some cycle."

11 But," Beckie went straight on, " he's taken to
staying out late. Night after night he doesn't get in
until nearly twelve o'clock. He manages to beat you,
he's been, he just says, * Oh — out ! ' or, ' Oh, with
Dink ! ' or, * Oh, just round ! ' Not that he's any
different from you two. I'd never think of asking
either of you where you'd been. But Roly's only a
boy and he's got to tell me where he goes until he's

eighteen. For one thing " Having run down a

little, Beckie glanced off the main line of her argu-
ment. " I don't think Dink Hardy is a good influ-
ence for him."

" I guess Dink's as good an influence for Roly
as Roly is for him," Ann put in scornfully. " Prob-
ably Mrs. Hardy is doing her best this very minute
to get Dink to stop going with Roly."

"Well, I'd like to hear her say anything like
that!" Beckie bristled. "Dink Hardy doesn't
know what to think until Roly tells him."

" Much you know Dink," Ann continued, still
scornful. " That innocent mild way he has is just
put on when grown people are round. Dink Hardy
is a perfect devil. I didn't sit in front of him in
school for one whole year for nothing. Why, once
he took every hairpin out of the back of my hair

Roly Comes Through 199

and me not realizing it. It took him nearly a whole
study-hour to do it — he was so careful about it
When Old Charley suddenly called on me for some-
thing and I stood up, all my hair came tumbling
down. I never was so mortified in my life. I
could have murdered him."

11 Well, anyway, I wouldn't have known what
those two boys were doing all the time," Beckie
said, " if Angie Hardy hadn't told me at church
the other day. They bowl and play pool every
night of their lives."

She stopped to note the effect of this appalling
revelation on her brothers. Ed stood the shock
with exemplary composure. Matt mimicked his
brother's unnatural calm.

" Somebody's got to put a stop to it," Beckie went
on. " Roly's so tired mornings, it's all Ann can do
to get him off to school in time. He's late two or
three times a week. And he sleeps all day long
Saturday and Sunday. First thing we know he'll be
down with a fit of sickness."

" Not as long as he eats the way he does," inter-
posed the clear-visioned Ann. " More likely he'll be
expelled from school. I don't believe he gets any
of his lessons. He never studies. I think that's
what he's working for — to get dropped. He hates
school. He wants to go to work. Not that I
blame him ! I hated school worse than anything on
earth."

"Well, Roly's got to keep on going to school
until he graduates," Ed said curtly. " Where is he
now? "

" He hasn't come in yet," Beckie said.

Ed pressed open the slim, plain gold watch which

200 Roly Comes Through

he slipped from his pocket. " Quarter to twelve.
I'm early to-night."

11 He'll be here any moment now," Beckie prophe-
sied. " You see if he isn't. He'll try to beat you,
Ed, by a few moments."

11 Where does he get the money to bowl and play
pool with? " Matt inquired.

" Oh, he does odd jobs," Ann answered vaguely.
11 Aunt Lottie gets him to do things for her. And
some of the other neighbors occasionally. Then
I think he generally wins in pool and bowling from
Dink. Dink always has plenty of spending money,
you know."

11 That isn't all," Beckie went on. " He's got so
careless about his personal appearance ! He doesn't
brush his clothes or black his shoes — or wash his
face, I was going to say. I'm so ashamed of him
when I meet him on the street — he looks so untidy.
Lainey says — There ! Here he comes now."

A key grated in the lock of the front door. The
door jarred, swung open.

" That you, Roly? " Beckie called.

" Yes! " answered a sullen voice.

" Come in here a moment," Beckie went on; " we
want to speak to you."

Roly waited to take his things off. In marked
contrast with Ed's leisurely carefulness, he dropped
his creased and mussy coat in a heap, threw his
cap on top of it. u What do you want?" he
growled.

"We've got something to say to you," Beckie
said in a conciliating voice. " We've been talking
you over and we want to give you a little advice."

Roly seated himself on the arm of a chair. He

Roly Comes Through 201

looked unkempt. His clothes needed pressing.
His linen was soiled. His shoes were muddy.
His tie raveled where the knot came. Whatever his
experience since he left his sister earlier in the even-
ing, it was apparent that it had not wiped away
his sense of antagonism. The heavy purplish-red
flush on his handsome dark face seemed to accent
the sullen look of his mouth. His tumbled hair,
falling in a torrent down over his forehead, seemed
to intensify the scowl between his heavy brows.
Under the defiant expression lay fatigue ; heavy hol-
lows were gouged above his cheekbones, incipient
hollows beneath them. At Beckie's words the
glare in his big hazel eyes concentrated to a fiery
glitter.

" You're very kind," he answered with the heavy
sarcasm of youth, " but I don't need any of your
old advice. And if it's just the same to you, you
can keep it, thank you."

" Now, Roly," Beckie still placatory, was begin-
ning, when — " Cut out that rough stuff, Roly,"
pool-playing? " he demanded sharply.

"What do you mean, 'How about it'?" Roly
came back with equal sharpness.

11 I mean this: Are you bowling and playing pool
till midnight three or four nights a week? "

11 No," Roly answered with a heavy defiance.
" I'm bowling and playing pool five or six nights
a week — as many times as I get the chance. I'd
like to know whose business it is what I do? "

"Well, I'll show you whose business it is," Ed
retorted hotly. M For I'll make it my business.
You're to cut that out. See? "

202 Roly Comes Through

Roly glared at his brother. " No, I don't see,"
he said. "What's more, I won't cut it out."

"♦ You'll cut it out," Ed said threateningly, " or
I'll know the reason why."

" You'll know the reason why, then," Roly as-
sured him. 44 And you'll know it now. You're not
my father or my mother. They're both dead and
there's nobody got any right to tell me what I can
do or what I can't do. And if you think you can
keep me from going where I want, you're welcome
to try it."

The brothers for an instant looked singularly
alike. It was as though the same expression of an
ancestral defiance gleamed through Ed's golden
sculpturesque regularity and Roly's bronze-red virile
swarthiness.

11 I'm head of this house," Ed announced. " And
I intend to be master of it. I consider myself your
guardian until you come of age. Now, you're going
to stop this late-hour business if Matt and I have
to take turns watching you."

14 That's what you'll have to do to stop it," Roly
prophesied. 44 I've been my own boss ever since
mother died and I intend to keep on holding the
job."

44 All right. You try doing what you please,"
Ed advised. 44 You understand you are to be in
this house every night at ten o'clock. You are to
get up every morning when Ann calls you at half-
past seven. You're not to be late to school. And
you're not — what are the other things?" He
turned to Beckie and Ann.

Roly glared at his sisters. " Tattle-tales ! " he
hissed.

Roly Comes Through 203

11 Oh yes, Roly," Beckie faltered, " if you only
ance."

"Yes, that's it," said Ed. "You're to brush
comb your hair and put on a clean collar and do
all the things your mother taught you to do."

" You ought to think, Roly," Ann said dulcetly,
" of what mother used to say to you, ' Remember
that you are a gentleman's son! ' "

Roly set his teeth. " Well — if you — don't give
me — a pain," he emitted slowly. " With me with-
out — " He stopped abruptly, but he began again.
" — asking me to — " He stopped again and glared
about at them all. u — when — " For the third
time he stopped. " Oh, go to hell, the whole crowd
of you ! " he concluded. He rushed out of the room
and up the stairs. His door shut with a crash that
resounded through the house.

11 Isn't he the sweet thing? " Ann commented,
rising and removing the silver service to the side-
board. " That isn't a circumstance to the way he
treats me. Golly, doesn't that look grand? Now
you have some idea what I have to contend with
mornings getting him out of bed. He swears some-
thing awful, and the things he says to me ! Doesn't
that make the rest of the stuff on the sideboard
look like a rummage sale? I'm going to can that
tin cake-basket to-morrow. There used to be a
time when I could lick him. I'd like to take boxing-
lessons off a real pugilist — so I could knock him
down once or twice."

"That's hardly the way to teach him manners,
Ann," Ed said icily.

204 Roly Comes Through

11 1 know it isn't. But it would be a lot of sal
faction to me," Ann replied. " I'm pretty strong
for a girl, you know." She pushed up the sleeve
of her Russian blouse, doubled up her fist, flexed a
snowy arm, and contemplated a swelling biceps with
pride. Her brown eyes flashed stars of amber.

" Let me see, to-morrow's Saturday," Ed went
on in a business-like tone. " Of course he'll sleep
late, but I'll see that he gets up Monday morning,
Ann, and to-morrow night, Beckie, I'll be home to
see that he gets in at ten. Matt, we'll take turns
standing guard. You're to be on the job Sunday
night. I'll take Monday, and so on until we teach
that young gentleman that we mean what we say."

"All right," answered the good-natured Matt.
But he hesitated. It was obvious that the job was
distasteful to him.

" Now, don't you be too severe with Roly to-
night," Beckie admonished her brother anxiously
the next morning. " You know mother always used
to say that you couldn't drive him."

11 You leave the whole matter to me, Beckie," Ed
replied. " If I'm going to stop this business, I've
got to do it in my own way."

But Beckie departed to work with a face full of
misgiving. " I hope Ed won't fight with Roly to-
night," she said to Ann on her return.

Ed did not fight with Roly that night. He had
no chance. It was Saturday, and Roly returned to
the house neither that day nor the next.

"Where have you been these last two nights? "
Ed demanded Monday night, as Roly, with an ap-
pearance of elaborate indifference, seated himself
at the table.

•Roly Comes Through 205

u I stayed with Dink," Roly answered sullenly.

11 All right. We'll have that statement substan-
tiated," Ed remarked. He went to the telephone.
"What's the Hardy's number, Beckie?" he asked.

" Copley, 5643," Ed echoed into the transmitter.
14 Copley, 5643 ? " he questioned presently. " Oh, is
this you, Angie ? . . . Good evening. . . . May
I speak with your mother? . . . Oh, good even-
ing, Mrs. Hardy. . . . This is Ed Ollivant.
Pardon me for troubling you at this late hour, but
did my younger brother week-end with you? . . .
Oh, yes. . . .1 I see. . . . Yes. . . . Yes.
. . . That was very kind of you. . . . I wanted
to know in the interest of a little problem in family
discipline. We're going to break up these late hours.
,. . . You're quite right. ... I agree with you
absolutely. Do you mind helping the thing along
by not asking him again? . . . Thank you. You
are very kind. . . . Thank you. ... I appre-
ciate that. . . . Thank you. Good-night!"

Ed strolled leisurely back to the table.

The dinner ended in a silence unusual with the
noisy Ollivants.

44 Where are you going? " Ed demanded as Roly
passed into the hall.

44 Out ! " Roly answered without an instant's hesi-
tation.

44 Do you understand you are to be back by ten? "

14 1 understand I'm to be back when I damn

44 You'll give me your promise to be back at ten
or I'll go with you," Ed answered.

Roly stared at his brother for a baffled second,

2o6 Roly Comes Through

in or

his face the battleground for all the conflicting
forces of futile young fury.

" I'll be back," he admitted sullenly after a while.

He kept his word as Ed, who was there to see
that he did, attested the next morning. And he
kept it the next night — but in this fashion. The
easy-going Matt being on guard, Roly entered the
house exactly at ten, but noiselessly through a back
window. Noiselessly he stole up to his room. Matt
napped and waked and dozed and waked again on
the couch until Ed, coming home at three in the
morning, shook him to consciousness. The brothers
retired, breathing a vengeance which they reiterated
sulphurously at breakfast to their sisters. In the
midst of the meal Roly appeared, calm as a May
morning. At the onslaught which greeted him, he
announced jauntily that he had been in bed ever since
ten the night before.

11 You play a trick like that on us again," Ed
threatened, white with wrath, " and, by God, I'll
give you the damnedest hiding you've ever had in
your life. Now, where were you, and what were
you doing? " he demanded.

promptly.

Ed contemplated him for one instant in silence
and his watch for another. Then, " I'll attend to
your case to-night," he promised in the silky voice of
his most dangerous mood.

11 Oh, Roly," Beckie said in a distressed tone after
the older boys had gone, " what are you being
so bad for? You know what Ed's like when he gets

Roly Comes Through 207

"You girls got me into this with your tattling.
And now you can keep your mouth shut. And as
for Ed — I guess I can lick him if it comes down to
cases."

Wednesday night Roly did not come home at all,
nor Thursday night. Beckie was almost sick with
worry, and even the unperturbed Ann began to look
dubious. " Now don't you girls get cold feet," Ed
cautioned them. " I called up the school to-day.
They said that he had been there both days — not
even late. He'll have to come home some time, if
it's only for a change of underwear. I'm going to
starve him out. And when he does show up M

Friday night Lainey made an appearance. " Oh,
Lainey ! " Ann and Beckie began at once. " We've
been having a perfectly terrible time with Roly! "
They poured the whole story out on her haphazard,
Ann ruthlessly interrupting Beckie's tale and Beckie
as remorselessly tearing the narrative from Ann.
11 And where do you suppose he is? " they concluded
in unison.

Lainey's small, pointed, blonde face remained ab-
solutely unperturbed. u I'll tell you where he is,"
she answered calmly. " He's at Cousin Lucy's."

11 How did you know? " Beckie asked.

" Why, he came into the school one afternoon to
borrow some money to pay his fare out there."

demanded.

" Not a word."

" Well, I must say that was game of him," Ann
commented approvingly.

" Roly's been at Cousin Lucy's all the time,"
Beckie began the instant Ed and Matt appeared

208 Roly Comes Through

that night, " and Lainey says " She poured

Lainey's story, second-hand, into their ears, an illog-
ical Beckie-esque burst of narrative, much inter-
rupted by comment and conjecture. Lainey did not
contribute further data. She was very 'thoughtful
during dinner. Afterwards, curled upon the couch,
in front of the fire, in the faded green Chinese coat
and the little red slippers which were her costume of
relaxation, she seemed deliberately to maintain her
quiet mood. Once only she forced herself into
vivacity.

" Oh, I want to show you that picture Maddie
Perkins took of mother," she said, hurrying out of
the room. " I'm having one framed for Roly," she
added, returning from a breathless run upstairs.
But even through the subdued comments, " Oh, isn't
that lovely!" " Oh, how sweet she looks!" from
the girls, " Gee, that's fine ! " and M Lord, isn't
that natural 1 " from the boys, Lainey remained pre-
occupied.

"What's got into you, Lainey?" Ann asked
once. " Generally we can't hear ourselves think
when you come home from anywhere, you've got so
much to tell us."

Lainey made no response. But when Ed and
Matt arose to leave for the inevitable nocturnal
adventuring, she said, "Wait a moment, boys; I've
got something to say to you." Her manner was
peremptory, and suddenly the veil of her preoccu-
pation began to lift. " It's about Roly," she began.
She paused, punched a pair of sofa-cushions into a
pliable mass between her shoulders, leaned back.
" I'd like to do some talking now." Suddenly ignor-
ing the cushions, she sat upright, bringing her slip-

Roly Comes Through 209

pered feet to the floor in a tiny stamp, her calm
entirely gone, a little feminine pillar of interested
exposition.

in the right way," she said. " I've been thinking
about Roly ever since he came in to see me. Not
that he said, as I told you, that there was anything
wrong at home or that I suspected there was any
trouble. It was the fact that, for the first time in
his life, he borrowed money from me which set me
to consideringjhis case. Do you remember mother
used to say that although you always had to man-
age Roly, it was easy enough to do it, because he
could always be led through his affections."

14 Didn't I tell you the other night," Beckie inter-
rupted triumphantly, " that mother said you never
could drive him? "

44 Mother had her own system of disciplining
him," Lainey went on. "There was a time, I re-
member, before she was ill. Roly was only ten,
but his share of the work was to fill the wood-basket
from the cellar. He did something naughty — I've

forgotten what it was — and Do you remember

how mother punished him?" Lainey addressed her-
self to Ed.

" She punished him by getting the wood herself.
Roly nearly died. Finally, he came to her, crying,
and begged to let him help her. Roly is, I am con-
vinced, much the least demonstrative of us all, but,
on the other hand, I think he craves affection more
than any of us. And no wonder. Think how crazy
mother was about him. Why, she never stopped
talking baby-talk to Roly. He remained her baby

2io Roly Comes Through

to the last day of her death. Do you remember
when he first began to speak, he called himself
'Doddy-Boy , instead of 'Roly-Boy'? When
mother was alone with him she always called him
4 Doddy-Boy.* I've heard her. And Aunt Mar-
garet told me that she never referred to him in any
other way. And how she petted him. The instant
he'd open the door from school she'd call, 4 Is that
my baby?' And when he was home she always
moved her chair so she could keep her eyes on him.
She used to go over his lessons with him every night.
She just wrapped him round with thought and care
and love and tenderness. Just think what mother's
death must have meant to him — to have all that
stop short and forever when he was only sixteen. It
must have hit Roly harder than any of us."

The group made involuntary movements of pro-
test. "Oh, Lainey!" Ann exclaimed indignantly.

" Oh, I know what you're going to say," Lainey
anticipated. " Nevertheless, I'm telling you the
truth. The rest of us had our various interests
which we took up and threw ourselves into — hard —
in order to forget. But poor little Roly had nothing
outside — only school and the other boys. And
then again the rest of us sort of pair off or group
off together — Beckie and Ann and me — Ed and Matt
— but Roly seems so alone, a boy after three girls
and at the tail-end of the family. We all love Roly
— love him dearly, of course — but he's out of the
sphere of our companionship from his very youth.
He must be lonely. He can't help being lonely.
And he misses his mother terribly. I don't think
he knows what's the matter with him. But it ac-
counts partially for his grouches."

Roly Comes Through 211

" But, Lainey," Beckie said in a subdued tone.
It was more as though she were defending herself
than accusing Roly. " He's grown so careless about
his appearance. You've no idea how he looks and
when I speak to him about it "

" It was rainy the day Roly came to see me,"
Lainey said. " As he sat, I noticed that a little
puddle formed under one of his shoes. When he
changed his position, I saw that there was a hole
in the sole. Has it ever occurred to you that mother
has been dead for nearly a year and we haven't
bought Roly any new clothes yet? He had only the
hand-me-downs that come from here and there —
Uncle John's shirts, for instance. He's wearing
practically the same clothes he wore when mother
died. They're so spotted and threadbare that nat-
urally he takes no interest in them. And you all
know how much Roly enjoys smart clothes and
what good taste he has — how fond he is, for in-
stance, of nice shades of brown."

" Well, of course," Ann admitted, " he does look
awfully shabby. But then, boys of his age always
look like the dickens."

11 Dink Hardy doesn't," Lainey said. " Another
thing! " she added. " Do you realize that although
we insist on his staying in school, it has never oc-
curred to us to give him an allowance? There are
certain things a boy has to have and has to do — but
Roly never has the money for any of these things.
He has to depend on getting a chance to do odd jobs
Saturdays — his holidays. No wonder he's crazy to
go to work to earn some money. No self-respecting
boy wants to live under those conditions."

" But you must realize that that isn't all of it,

212 Roly Comes Through

Lainey," Ed said. Ed's tone was as non-commit-
tal as his icy, impassive face. " He's bowling and
playing pool until all hours."

" That's his only source of income," Lainey de-
clared, and then, " What else is there for him to
do? " she demanded. " He doesn't want to stay at
home and just listen to our talk and meet our callers.
They don't interest him at all. He wouldn't be
normal if they did. We've simply got to find some-
thing better for him to do. We never do anything
for Roly's entertainment." She paused. " I bet if
there wasn't one of us cared a pin for him."

14 What would you advise us to do, Lainey? " Ed
broke the pregnant hush that trailed Lainey's last
word. There was a sarcastic emphasis given to the
word you, but he waited for his sister to answer.

" I'll tell you," Lainey answered promptly.

When Roland opened the door about noon Sun-
day morning, the house seemed wrapped in calm.
But as he stole to his room on the second floor there
came from the girls' room a chatter — Beckie's low,
cello-like tone, Lainey's soft bird-like accent, Ann's
decided treble. From above floated fragments of
a bass dialogue between Matt and Ed. Roly opened
the door with care, slipped into his room with quiet,
shut the door with caution, turned

From the arm of one gas-jet there hung on a
stretcher a suit of clothes, one of Ed's smart tweeds
— brown. Under it, neatly shaped by wooden trees,
was a pair of shoes, brown. From the other gas-jet
hung, also on a stretcher, one of Matt's overcoats,
a rough, loosely-woven cloth — brown. On the

Roly Comes Through 213

dresser-top lay a pile of new stockings — brown.
From the dresser-frame dangled four new ties —

Roly stared at these objects, one at a time. Then,
suddenly, unconsciously attracted, he raised his eyes.

Stuck into the frame of the mirror were five en-
velopes. They all bore his name.
^ Roly stared at these notes, one at a time. Then
he opened them as they came to his hand.

" Say, kid M (this was signed Matt), " I thought
you might like this coat of mine, as I'm through with
it.'' "Dear Roly" (it was Beckie's long, plain
hand), " it has just occurred to me that you might
need stockings. Put on one of the silk pairs to-day.
They're for Sunday." " Dear Roly-Poly " (in lead
pencil from Ann), M the ties are from me. I got
them at Weld Swinnerton's — those you and I liked
so much that time we went in there. Believe me,
they took some simoleons. But I should worry. I
took half the cash out of the housekeeping allow-
ance. We're going to have jello, canned peaches,
rice, cottage, tapioca and bread pudding for dessert
family." " If this suit is too large (this was Ed's
small, neat script) , take it to my tailor. The shoes
will fit you, as they're a little small for me. I
haven't worn them yet. In the coat-pocket you'll
find something. It's a present from the family.
Go into Boston Monday and stock up on what you
need. After this you are to have an allowance of
two dollars a week."

Roly stared at this last note for a long time.
Then he turned to the coat of Ed's suit, slipped his
hand through the pockets. In one he struck a long

214 Roly Comes Through

manila envelope, unsealed. Out of it, at his touch,
fell — clean and new — paper money, two yellow
twenties, one green ten.

Roly stared at the bills, turned them over, stared
at them again.

Finally, his eyes came back to the bureau to the
only unopened envelope. " Roly, darling," Lainey
wrote in her undeveloped schoolgirl hand, " my
present is on the wall."

Roly stared at this only an instant. Then his eyes
lifted, wandered to the closet-door, over the win-
dows, across the space at the side of the bed to

was hanging there. Mrs. Ollivant, seated under a
big, low-hanging vine, had raised herself upright in
her invalid's chair. The ends of the long scarf of
ward, framing softly her look of eager anticipation
— the shining eyes, the smiling lips. Obviously, she
was waiting to welcome somebody who was coming
up the piazza steps — perhaps Roly did not have to
be told who.

Lainey tiptoed across the hall to Roly's room.
But with her hand on the knob, she paused. Sud-
denly she bent her head to listen. A scared look
zigzagged across her face, opened her eyes wide,
set her lips to trembling. She paused irresolutely.

After an instant she tiptoed back. "We won't
disturb him," she said to her sisters. "He won't
want to see anybody for a while." She busied her-
self rehanging the clothes in the closet. When she
emerged her own eyes were red.

Later, Roly's door opened and shut with a buoy-

Roly Comes Through 215

ant slam. The bathroom door opened and shut
with equal force. There came from it the sound of
a vigorous splashing, mingled with a shrill whistling,
which always indicated Roly's tenancy of the tub.
When he appeared at dinner, he was wearing Ed's
suit and shoes, a pair of Beckie's stockings, one of
Ann's ties. His face and hands shone with a
scrubbed cleanliness that might have been the re-
flection of his immaculate linen. His teeth made a
dazzle almost phosphorescent in his vivid olive skin.
His hair, freshly shampooed, flew about his face like
a jetty hurricane. All the glare had gone out of
his eyes; they were filled with an electric sparkle.

11 Welcome, little stranger ! " Ed greeted him care-
lessly, without looking up from his paper.

And, " Hullo, kid," Matt threw over his shoulder.

And, " Oh, you there, Roly? " Lainey called from
the living-room. " We've got apple-dumplings and
hard sauce for dessert. Ann made them specially
for you."

And, " Yes — and pipe the silver service, Roly,"
Ann said. " The last time we used it was on your
tenth birthday, when mother had a party for you."

And, "Roly there?" Beckie called from the

Roly looked at each of them. Then he gulped
as with a sudden resolution.

" Just wait a jiff while I telephone, Beck," he
begged. He bounded into the parlor. " Copley,
5643," he called. ... u Is this Copley, 5643?"
he questioned. Roly talked loudly and distinctly, as
though to a louder audience than the one at the
other end of the wire. "Oh, hello, Mrs. Hardy;
is Dink there? . . .All right. . ... Oh,

2l6

Roly Comes Through

hullo, Dink. Say, Dink, what do you say to our
joining that new gymnasium in Brookline? I wa
just thinking it would be a good scheme to cut ou
all this bowling and pool-playing. That doesn't ge
a fellow anywhere and keeps him out late besides.
I'd like to do some running. I hope to go in for
the school-track team in the spring and I might a
well begin to train now. IVe always thought F
make a half-miler. Say, Dink, just let you and m
run all winter and we'll beat one-fifty-two in th
spring — easy."

CHAPTER X
MATT LOOKS UPON THE WINE

"fT^HERE it is! " Beckie exclaimed, rushing to

X the window and throwing up the sash.
"Listen!"

" No. That's only a train," Ann contradicted,
following her. " Our clock's fast. There, there it
is. Listen ! "

11 That's an auto," Lainey explained, joining them.
" No, the clock's right. I asked Ed to set it just
before he left. There, there it is. Listen! "

The three little necks craned to a listening angle.
The three little heads dropped to a listening attitude.
The three little faces sharpened to a listening expres-
sion.

" Isn't the snow wonderful to-night? " Lainey said
dreamily as nothing happened. " How strange
everything looks ! "

At first sight, the world was strange — as though
a flood of molten marble, engulfing it, had hardened
and set to a silver glisten. And Marlowe Place in
particular might have been the studio of some
Brogdingnagian sculptor. Sheds showed the shapes
of prehistoric earth-monsters. Bushes reared the
fronts of prehistoric sea-monsters. Trees spread
the wings of prehistoric air-monsters. The houses
looked like enormous heads of which the bodies,
enormous too, stood upright underground. They

217

Lly

I

218 Matt Looks upon the Wine

wore — these heads — caps of snow, gigantically
hooded and brimmed, veils of snow titanically sea
loped and tucked, mufflers of snow, ponderous
rolled and folded. The air covered the scene li
an enormous crystal. And over the air arched a s
of clouded quartz set with a few large stars carved
from steel and a big round moon cut from diamon

At second sight, however, the scene turned h
man again. The windows of the houses were shee
of gold. They were broken by dimly-seen circles o
green, tied with bows of crimson, that hung between
frost-filmed pane and lace-filmed curtain. Here the
shadow of a tree, bearing the magic fruit of the
season, candles, garlands, toys, was etched in black
on the shades. There, a laughing profile suddenly
silhouetted itself on the curtain, vanished again.

" How quiet it is! " Lainey went on. " It's
though everything was listening for something."

A wind, knife-sharp, came zizzing through th
place. The stars flamed. The moon flared. Th
trees bent, became each the center of a miniatur
white storm, righted themselves. Far-away a sleigh
bell tinkled. Then the world became still again

"There it is!" Beckie exclaimed joyously
" One, two, three, four ! "

11 Five, six, seven, eight! " Lainey chimed in wit
her.

" Nine, ten, eleven, twelve ! " Irresistibly at
tracted, Ann joined the chorus.

The bells flooded the universe with vibrations
They shattered the crystal of the air, beat down
ward, caught the world in an iron grip, shook it,
beat upward, crashed against the sky. A solitary
motor-horn in the distance let out a long liquid

8 ,

Matt Looks upon the Wine 219

sando. It floated on the air like a ribbon, wound
itself mellowly through the twelve-tongue d cry of
the bells. The vibrations caught it, tore it to films
of sound. The films dissolved, disappeared. The
bells stopped. The vibrations died. The world
turned silent again.

"Happy New Year!" Lainey said.

"Happy New Year! Happy New Year!"
Beckie and Ann took it up.

They shut the windows and turned back to the
seats at the living-room fire. The two rooms still
bore their holiday decorations. A Christmas tree,
glittering red and green, blue and silver, under the
torrent of gold which seemed to pour from its peak,
stood in the corner. Wreaths of holly decorated
the windows. A bunch of mistletoe hung between
the two rooms. Garlands of green wreathed the
pictures of Mr. and Mrs. Ollivant. But the tree
had begun to shed its shining, pungent plumage ; the
blood-red holly berries had blackened and shrunk;
the frost-white mistletoe berries had wizened and
withered. On the hearth was a pan of molasses
pot of tea that Beckie had brewed. The three
empty cups sat beside them.

" We must take all those green things down before
Twelfth Night," Lainey said absently, " or the
goblins will get into them. Just think," she went
on in an awed tone. " It's another year. Another
year ! How mysterious that sounds ! Oh, isn't life
wonderful! And the world — and space — and time
— and — and — and everything! Why, it's just as
though we were all on a raft in a stream and the
stream were carrying us on and on and on — straight

?

k 's

220 Matt Looks upon the Wine

into eternity — we don't know where or why or how
or anything. And it wouldn't make any differen
if we did know — we'd have to go, just the sarm
Every once in a while we pass a lighthouse and that's
the New Year. And the queer thing about it is tha
although the lighthouses are always the same diffe
ence apart, the older we grow the nearer they seem
to get together."

One of Lainey's " fey " moods was on her. A
silvery flame had kindled at the far end of the long,
soft, gray tunnels that were her eyes. It fanned
waves of color through her pale cheeks and ran
sparkling cascades through her filmy hair.

"Lainey Ollivant!" Ann said scathingly, "t
boys say you're a nut when you go on in that dotty
strain. And sometimes I agree with them. Now,
talk sense."

Lainey accepted without a murmur the prevailing
opinion of her. M Well, anyway," she remonstrated
mildly, " perhaps you'll admit that time flies."

"Flies!" Ann repeated. "Flies! That's just
what I won't admit. I should say not. Flies! It
creeps, I never saw anything go so slow as time
does. Why, it was ages before I got into my teens !
And now that I'm getting toward twenty, it's slower
than ever. I suppose it is because I've always ex-
pected that something would happen to me when 1
grew up. But, of course, I know better than that
now. Nothing ever happens in this hateful, horrid r
hideous old world."

From a light note of exasperation, Ann's voice
had sunk to the roundest depths of her nineteei
year-old pessimism.

Matt Looks upon the Wine 22 r-

11 Now I think lots of things happen," Beckie re-
marked placidly. And " Why — why — why," Lainey
positively stuttered. " Things are happening all the
time — every minute."

" What, for instance," Ann demanded in a bitter
tone. " Tell me one thing that's ever happened to
me — or us."

Lainey did not answer. But perceptibly she
probed her memory for data.

" I'll tell you why nothing ever happens to us,"
Ann went on scornfully. " It's because we haven't
the sense to makee anything happen. Why didn't we
have a New Year's party to-night, for instance ? "

II A New Year's party! " Beckie exclaimed with
visible shock. " Why, I wouldn't know how to give
a New Year's party. Besides, you know — well — ■

II I know we haven't," Ann agreed, " but that's
no reason why we shouldn't. I never had a New
Year's celebration in my life and I never went to
one except in a church or a hall — a watch-meeting
or something stupid like that. But then, that's Bos-
ton. Don't I wish I lived in New York ! Edwina
Allen was there last New Year's and you ought to
hear her tell about the party she went to in a res-
taurant. There were twelve of them and they had
to reserve the table weeks beforehand and they could
order nothing to drink but champagne. The place
was simply jammed with the most gorgeously dressed
people you ever saw in your life. Edwina said the
evening-wraps alone were the most wonderful crea-
tions — the kind you only see in shop-windows in
Boston. She said she never saw so much cham-
pagne in her life. She didn't know there was so

222 Matt Looks upon the Wine

much in the world — it flowed like water. They
gave all the ladies the prettiest favors you ever saw.
And just before twelve, the waiters went round
handing out bushels of confetti and those paper
streamers and great big balloons and, oh, I can't
remember all. And when the New Year sounded, a
girl all in tights came out of a great clock in the
corner and everybody cheered and fox-trotted and
lame-ducked and sang and drank healths and you
shook hands with perfect strangers — and then they
all went out on Broadway and walked way up-
town, and there were simply billions of people toot-
ing horns and throwing confetti — and everybody
talking to everybody — even the policemen. Oh,
Edwina said it was the most marvelous sight she
ever saw in her life.**

" It must have been just like the night before
Bunker Hill Day in Charlestown," remarked the
guileless Lainey.

11 Bunker Hill Day — Charlestown! " Ann said in
the height of civic scorn. " That's just as much as
you know about such things, Lainey — comparing a
bum holiday with a real carnival. There was class
to this New York celebration. Actors and actresses
there — and wonderful show-girls, and artist's models
and famous people of all descriptions. I don't know
why I had to be born in Boston."

" I don't know why you knock Boston so," Beckie
commented indignantly. " I'm sure it's a beautiful
city. Mother used to say that she traveled on
three continents and she never saw anything any
where so beautiful as Boston Common covered with
snow and the moon shining on it. And I'm sure I
agree with her."

Matt Looks upon the Wine 223

"Have you ever lived in any other city?" Ann
demanded ruthlessly.

" That's the answer to why you think so."

" But everybody says so " — Beckie again rose and
battled — " even people who've traveled."

" If they're Bostonians of course they do. Well,
I'm glad you like Boston, Beckie, seeing youVe got
to live here. I call it a dead, cold, slow little burg
and I'm going to get out of it just as* soon as I can.
I'm going on the stage if it's necessary." This was

" But think of the culture here," Beckie remon-
strated.

" Culture ! " Ann repeated. " Culture, Who
wants culture. Culture's gone out. My goodness,
when I think of Boston, I don't blame people for
being I. W. W.'s."

14 Why don't you join the I. W. W., Ann?"
Lainey suggested. Lainey, a little humorless nor-
mally, could on occasions develop a subtle strain of
sarcasm. " Things happen to them."

"The I. W. W.," Ann repeated in a wearied
voice. " The I. W. W. There's a lot of class to
the I. W.W., isn't there?"

" I'm thinking quite seriously of joining it myself,"
said Lainey.

" Lainey Ollivant," Ann said in tones round and
full with horror, " I will not stand for it. Think of
having an I. W. W. in the family. It's bad enough
your being a Socialist — but when it comes to being
an I-Won't-Work — and picketing — and talking from
soap-boxes on street-corners — and breaking ma-
chinery — and everything — I can't see when you were

224 Matt Looks upon the Wine

going in for such queer things you didn't take up
College Settlement work. College Settlement is
perfectly correct. Lots of real society people go in
for that — or even suffrage. But Socialism/ And
as sure as you get to be an I. W. W., Lainey Olli-
vant, you'll go to jail, you mark my words. Why, I
never tasted champagne but once in all my life," Ann
reverted to her original grievance. " And then I
had only two teeny-weeny glasses. It was on board
Commodore Carleton's yacht. That crowd drank
champagne an awful lot. I always refused it. Now
I wish I'd drunk every glass they offered me."

In the height of her recklessness, Ann seized her
little boudoir-cap and dashed it on the floor. " I'm
sick of nothing happening," she announced.

She was a monument to discontent at that mo-
ment, her warm lips pouted to their most scornfu
fullness, her big eyes lighted to their most scornfu
blaze. Ann was the only one of the Ollivant girls
who made a point of having negligee clothes. Now
she wore a little, straight, flat, medieval-looking
garment of a satin-surfaced exquisitely-faded rose.
She had cut this down from an old evening-wrap
of her mother's that she had found in the garret, just
as she had cut her slippers down from a pair of high,
pink-kid shoes which she had found there. The
rose tones brought out all the lusciousness of her
type — the tawny notes in her hair and brows and
eyes; her anger seemed to superimpose upon that
lusciousness an amber glitter. For an instant, her
two sisters looked — little blonde Lainey — pale and
neutral-tinted — bigger, darker Beckie — thick and
dull in comparison. Then, as indignation colored
them, Beckie's vigorous deep-toned brownness took

!

Matt Looks upon the Wine 225

on a brighter fire, Lainey's frail light-shot blondness
a heavier warmth.

"I've never tasted champagne," Lainey asserted
with an air of fiery rectitude, " or anything intoxicat-
ing. I don't believe in drinking — or at least in
women drinking — not until they're married, any-
way."

" I'm for temperance," Beckie insisted with a
look imperious with obstinacy. " Mother always
was."

"Well, I'm not," Ann said. "I hate temper-
ance or anything that prevents you from doing what
you like. If there was a bottle of champagne in
this house at this moment," she glared at her sisters,
14 I'd drink it," she paused and added with a visible
access of recklessness, " even if I got drunk."

14 Oh, Ann! " exclaimed Lainey, scandalized.

44 1 guess it's about time for us to go to bed,"
Beckie suggested in a disapproving tone.

44 Well, as long as there's nothing else to do,"
Ann agreed, u I suppose we'd better." Her revo-
lutionary spirit turned suddenly to listlessness.
" Come on, Lainey."

Lainey did not move. Instead, " Hark! " she ex-
claimed. " Somebody's at the door. One of the
boys is coming home."

Somebody was at the door. Plainly there came
through the silence the sound of a hand on the knob.
A key clinked in the keyhole, scraped across the
door-panel, slithered back in irresolute dashes over
the wood, clattered in uncertain peckings at the key-
hole again. The door opened suddenly. Some-
body stumbled up the top stair, tripped over the
threshold.

226 Matt Looks upon the Wine

11 Well, whoever it is, I should think he was blind,"
Ann remarked with captious intent. " Oh, it's
Matt! Hullo, Matt! Happy New Year!"

" Happy New Year, Matt! M Lainey and Beckie
chorused.

"Happy New Year, girls!" Matt responded.
44 Happy New Year!"

He stood in the hall for an instant, removing his
hat and coat. He seemed to have trouble with
both. The hat, as though possessed by a spirit of
contrariety positively human, refused to be hung up.
It fell from his hand twice and he was, each time,
a long while in recovering it. 44 I request you to
hang on that hook," Matt finally addressed it in a
tone of steely courtesy. It obeyed. The coat was
even more unruly than the hat — perhaps because
Matt tried to cram it into the narrow drawer in
the settle. It rolled and rippled and bulged out of
his hands. Finally, he changed his mind as to its
disposal, 44 Will you kindly stay where I put you? "
he asked, hanging it with exquisite care beside his
hat. The coat also obeyed.

44 Happy New Year, girls ! " Matt repeated ab-
sently as he entered the room. He made for a seat
in front of the fire. He walked with perceptible
care and precision, but the furniture kept getting in
his way. A big chair reached out a treacherous
arm and pulled him over. A table put forth a steal-
thy foot and tripped him up. The couch started
openly to bar his progress. He overcame all these
obstacles, but only by the employment in equal quan-
tities of strategy and diplomacy.

44 Oh, do for goodness' sake pick up your
feet, Matt," Ann rebuked him sharply once.

Matt Looks upon the Wine 227

" I shouldn't think you knew where you were
going."

" I don't," Matt admitted, still weaving towards
a chair. And he laughed uproariously as at a joke
on himself. But his face sobered instantly. A cun-
ning expression wiped the mirth out. " I don't
know where I'm going," he admitted again, " but — "
he paused and swayed a little, u but," he added
impressively, " Vm on my way." He contemplated
his three sisters in silence as though marking the
effect on them of this revelation. It produced no
effect whatever and Matt seated himself in a chair by
the fire.

His face was flushed. His hair, which usually
rose to so trim and rampant a crest of red, had
rumpled and tumbled into the curls that he always
tried so hard to smooth out. Beginning at the nape
of his neck, they seemed to be running hard uphill
over the round of his head to inundate his brow with
their copper torrent. His eyelids dropped half over
his eyes. Those eyes were dulled, although they
held little quicksilver glints of mirth. His lips, as
though he had lost control of them, kept breaking
into smiles. These smiles widened until they broke
and vanished. Suddenly without warning he threw
himself back into his chair and burst into a roar
of laughter. " Happy New Year, girls!" he
said.

Matt's laughter was infectious. The three girls
laughed with him. " You must have been having
a good time to be so happy, Matt," Lainey com-
mented in her little voice.

" I think you're silly," Ann remarked in her
round notes. " What have you been doing? "

228 Matt Looks upon the Wine

" Oh, a lot of things," Matt answered vaguely.
11 Been round to a lot of places — seen a lot of peo-
ple — been round a lot — seen a lot — but " He

stopped and appeared to grope for something he
His eyes, half closed, closed entirely. A look of
cunning introspection crossed his face. Then ob-
viously he got what he was searching for. u Vm
on my way/" he pronounced impressively. Again
he stared hard at his sisters. Immediately another
mood caught him. "Happy New Year, girls!"
He burst into roars of laughter.

But his sisters did not laugh with him this time.
" Oh, do stop, Matt," Beckie exclaimed. " I don't
think that joke is funny any longer."

" I didn't think it was funny at the beginning,"
Ann remarked caustically.

Matt's eyes opened wide again. The mirth
melted slowly from his face. In its place came a
delicious dewiness as of complete relaxation. The
little quicksilver glints of mischief vanished from
his eyes; they became softly hazy. His lips kept
flickering into smiles, not of amusement but of hap-
piness. " I think it's awful funny," he said.
" Happy New Year, girls ! Happy New Year,
girls ! Happy New Year ! This year and next year
and nexz year and the year after that and the year
affer that and so on forever and ever and ever —
andever — andever — andever — anever — anever — an-
ever — happy — New Years-girls — happy-New Years-
skerls — zappy-year-skerls — zappy-skerls ! "

This protracted effort was a little too much for
him. He fell back in his seat, pulled himself for-
ward with a jerk, fell back, sagged and stayed

Matt Looks upon the Wine 229

Sagged. His eyes opened, closed, opened again.
"Zappy!" he commented, "sounds like a puppy-
dog." His eyes closed and stayed closed.

Neither of the girls replied. Ann stared hard
but movelessly at her brother, the full red lower lip
gradually falling away from the pouting red upper
one until a double ripple of pearl appeared between
them. Her eyes opened wide until the whites ap-
peared about the golden irises. Lainey stared hard,
and movelessly too, the look of wonder in her face
concentrating gradually to alarm. Her eyes did not
open, but they darkened until they became panic-
spots. Beckie stared but not movelessly. She came
with a snap to an upright position. Her eyes nar-
rowed as they studied Matt.

For a noiseless interval, they all stared together
at the sagging figure. The clock tapped madly, the
fire splashed frantically as though trying to distract
their attention. Then the three pairs of eyes —
golden-brown, gray-blue, hazel-green — met in an ex-
change of looks. Suddenly a deep flood of crimson
pushed forward through the thick velvet of Ann's
white skin. But through the delicate thinness of
Lainey's transparent contours the blood raced back-
wards, draining them of light and life. Beckie's
did not change in color, but her expression set into
strange lines and hollows.

Beckie spoke first. She did not speak, really. She
motioned with her lips. " He's drunk/' they ges-
tured.

Her sisters looked at her for what was obviously
an interval of paralysis. Lainey sat frozen — a lit-
tle image carved in ice, of horror. But Ann's ter-
ror translated itself finally into speech — speech as

230 Matt Looks upon the Wine

silent as Beckie's. "What shall we do?" her lips
motioned.

" Get him to bed," Beckie signaled back. With
an air of resolution, she arose. She bent over the
recumbent Matt, fast asleep now and smiling in his
sleep, shook him. " Wake up, Matt!" she com-
manded. " It's time to go to bed."

Matt opened one eye, then the other. He stared
meditatively up into his sister's face. " Time to go
to bed?" he questioned in a voice perfectly clear
and exquisitely articulated. He appeared to con-
sider the matter judicially. u Time to go to bed?,
Time to go to bed? All right! All right!" He
snapped the right so straight into Beckie's face that
she rebounded from the charge. Suddenly he half
closed his eyes. The cuLning look came back into
his face. " I'm on my way!" he confided impres-
sively. Again mirth wiped off this seriousness and
he laughed. u Zappy-year-skerls ! " He roared.

The little image in ice that was Lainey arose from
her chair, placed itself at his side. " Stand up,
Matt dear," she begged touchingly, u we'll help
you."

11 This way! " Beckie commanded. She took one
arm. Lainey took the other. As they moved
toward the hall, Ann fell in behind.

Matt walked steadily under this compulsion until
he reached the hall settle. That seemed suddenly to
recall his early struggle. " I request you," he ad-
dressed his hat in the tone of a steely courtesy, " to
hang on that hook. Will you kindly stay where I
put you? " he remarked to the coat.

u Up the stairs, Matt dear," Lainey pleaded as
with a child.

Matt Looks upon the Wine 231

"All right!" Matt agreed good-naturedly. And
up he went, leaning first on Beckie, then on Lainey.
" One step after another," he commented in a per-
fectly clear voice at one period of their progress.
The clearness vanished, however, as he proceeded
to embroider this theme. u Jus think — one step
affer anozzer — one-step-affer-anozzer — onestepaffer-
anozzer."

This refrain entertained him more than any pre-
vious one. He held to it through their hobbling,
stumbling progress up the first flight of stairs,
through their swaying, weaving march through the
hall, and their jerking, battering ascent of the second
flight. " Aw-ways-one-step-affer-anozzer-girls. Jus-
zink-of-zat-zat's-life — awways-one-step-affer-anozzer
1 — affer-anozzer — aff-anozzer — av-anozzer — av-anoz-
zer — sounds like a biscuit."

He was absolutely docile, however, during this
excursion, and he continued to be docile when they
reached his room. Of his own accord, he fell imme-
diately into the big chair, and under the compulsion
of his condition into a deep sleep. Ann removed
his collar and tie, Beckie his coat and waistcoat,
Lainey his shoes and stockings.

" That's all we can do," Beckie whispered at the
end of these ministrations. " Let's get him into
bed."

Matt responded to a violent shaking long enough
to rise at their bidding from the chair, to navigate
across the room, to flop onto the bed where he ap-
parently fell into a state of coma. But as they
opened the door, his eyes opened. " Zappy-Year-
skerls ! " he said, " Zapoy skerls ! Skerls — skerls —
sounds like a fish ! " He dropped his lids for good.

232 Matt Looks upon the Wine

Beckie was equal to closing the door with calm
and quiet. But only that. She flew in the wake
of her panic-stricken sisters to the living-room.
The three girls dropped into chairs and stared
wide-eyed and gap-mouthed at each other —
panting.

" That's the most dreadful thing that ever hap-
pened to me in my life," Beckie breathed in an in-
stant.

" L never was so frightened in all my existence,"
Ann intoned, " for if there's anything I have a hor-
ror of, it's a drunken man."

" Thank God, mother didn't live to see this ! "
Lainey whispered.

Ann's tone grew bitter. " I thought all the terri-
ble things that could possibly happen to the Ollivai
family had happened. But I was wrong, I see. It
remained for us to raise a drunkard."

Lainey set a hopeless blue-gray gaze on a point
space. li Who does he take it from, Beckie? " sh<
asked mournfully. " Do you know? "

11 Oh, I know," Beckie said in despairing tone.
11 I know. Only too well. I hate to tell you twc
girls this. Because I know you've never realized il
But I guess I've got to so that you can get whal
you're up against. Uncle Warren was a drunkarc
in his youth. I've always known it — though mothei
never knew I knew. Josie Hill told me one night
when she slept with me. She was awfully ashamed
the next day and made me promise I wouldn't tell
and I never have till now. Aunt Josephine had ar
awful time with him for years. He'd come home
two or three nights a week that way and she'd have
to put him to bed. Suddenly, without any warning

Matt Looks upon the Wine 233

he stopped short though, and they were very happy
their last years together."

11 Poor Aunt Josephine ! " Lainey exclaimed.
11 Poor, poor Auntie ! That's why she had that

44 I suppose that's the way Matt will be," said
Ann. " Just imagine having to put him to bed two
or three times a week. Well, the boys will have to
do it. I won't."

44 I don't know what Ed will say," Beckie went
on in a frightened voice. M I'm almost afraid to
tell him. It will be an awful shock to him. Ed's
so correct and so fastidious. He'll have no mercy
on Matt."

" And Roly," Lainey interpolated somberly.

"Thank goodness Roly was in bed and asleep,"
Beckie ejaculated. " We must keep it from him
just as long as possible — it will be such a terrible
example to him. I suppose he's bound to know
some time, though."

14 Yes, don't let Roly know," Lainey begged.
44 It's awful to lose your faith in anybody. I never
can respect Matt again."

44 Do you suppose," Ann burst out in an accent of
horror, "that anybody saw him? I should simply
die if Mrs. Damon knew it."

44 Or Aunt Lottie," Lainey said in a kindred hor-
ror. " It would break her heart. She's always
Seen so fond of Matt."

In silence the three girls considered these two pos-
sibilities.

14 Well," Ann broke it abruptly, 44 1 guess the
best thing we can do is to go to bed. I'm all in.

must

234 Matt Looks upon the Wine

This has been a swell New Year's Eve for us, I
say." ■

The three girls filed upstairs on tiptoe. They
whispered their good-nights. They closed their
doors with the utmost care, Lainey and Ann even
undressed in the dark. Beckie, however, turned on
all the lights in her room. As she moved about,
undressing and hanging things up, her feet were
leaden with utter exhaustion. But, in bed, new
strength seemed to come to her. She turned and
tossed, tossed and turned, readjusted her pillow a
dozen times. The clock struck one, two. Beckie
got up and wandered aimlessly about the room.
Suddenly a little pattering footstep sounded outside
in the hall. The knob turned. The door opene<
"Are you awake, Beckie?" Lainey's tearful voi<
called. " Can I come in?"

" Oh, do come in, Lainey," Beckie answere<
11 There isn't a drop of sleep in my body." Sh<
arose and lighted the gas.

Lainey appeared in its illumination, standing in
the doorway. She wore her little shabby fur coat
over her nightgown. Her hair, parted in the middle
and combed straight down over her ears, fell in two
flat stiff braids of pale gold. Its ends, tied with
blue nursery-ribbon, made little paint-brush points
at her waist. Lainey's eyes were red. Her mouth
— so deeply hollowed in the shadowy corners,
fully curled at the crimson center — hung slackly.

11 Is Ann asleep? " Beckie asked.

" Yes, she went to sleep right away," Lainey ai
swered in a dead voice. " But I haven't closed my
eyes. And then I heard you get up and I thought
probably you felt the way I did — you'd rather

an-

....

Matt Looks upon the Wine 235

with me than just lie and think. Who's that? Oh,
Ann, you frightened me to death! Oh, Ann, did I
wake you up? "

14 No," Ann answered dully. " I haven't slept. I
can't. I feel — I feel — well, I haven't felt so badly
since Matt was arrested for speeding and Eel
wouldn't bail him out and he had to spend the night
in jail among common criminals. I try to think
of other things and sometimes I do and then right in
the midst of it, it all comes over me — and — and —
and, oh, I feel as though a ton of coal had fallen on
my mind."

" I've been thinking too," Lainey said, " think-
ing and thinking and thinking — turning.it all over.
Isn't there some way Matt can be cured? "

11 I've been wondering about that," Beckie re-
plied, a little dash of hope in her voice. " Of
course there are those places where you go and they
cure you up. I shall talk to Ed to-morrow about
sending Matt away before this thing grows on him.
Ed will agree with me, I know. If we have any
trouble with Matt, I shall simply insist on it and,
Lainey, I want you to back me up. If it's neces-
sary, I'll go to Verbeck Wales and Company and ask
them to hold Matt's place open for him. I'll tell
them that his whole future depends on his conquer-
ing this habit now. Remember, you've got to stand
by me, Lainey."

" Oh, I will, Beckie," Lainey promised with fer-
vor, " I will. You may be sure of that. I've got a
hundred dollars saved up towards going to Europe.
I shall offer it to Matt. I shall make him take it."

"The trouble with those cures," Ann said with
a tragic pessimism, " is that they don't always cure.

lis

236 Matt Looks upon the Wine

Take Miriam Fales's brother. He came home a
parently all right and they thought the whole thin
was settled for keeps. But one month from
very day he came home, he got dead drunk."

" I know," Beckie admitted wanly. " It didn':
work with Roy Baker, either. But in case the cure
fails, there are other ways, I'm sure. I read the
other day of a man who used to get drunk and hi
wife put whiskey in every bit of food she cooke
for him — coffee, bread, stew, meat, pie, pudding
everything. Of course she had to cook his foo
everything taste of whiskey, she lied and said she
didn't know. Well, he got so sick of the taste that
he just naturally stopped drinking. I was wonder-
ing if we could try that."

11 I'm sure Matt would get onto that," Anr
declared with a hopeless convincedness.

" The worst of it is — oh, you two don't know al
— but I've got to tell you — I can't keep it any longer.'
Lainey's revelation came in frantic impulses of voice
" Matt doesn't get it all from mother's side of th
house. I didn't think I'd tell you this at first, bui
I guess ( we'd better know the whole situation
Father's cousin, Abner Smart, used to drink. One
while I was staying with them over a Fourth of Jul
■ — oh, I wasn't more than fourteen — he came horn
drunk as a lord. His lodge was having some son
of celebration. Cousin Lily was awfully mortifiec
and, of course, I was scared almost out of my fiv
senses. She begged me not to tell anybody and
never have. And I never would now, if Cousin
Abner wasn't dead. So you see, Matt gets it fron
father's side of the family as well as mother's."

Matt Looks upon the Wine 237

1

11 I never suspected Cousin Abner," Beckie said.
44 It'll be doubly strong with Matt then, I suppose, "
she sighed a long heavy sigh, " with two inheritances
like that. Well, all I can say is what you said,
Lainey, I'm glad mother didn't live to see this night."

11 What shall we do? " Lainey asked helplessly.

" I guess we'd better go back to bed, for one
thing," Ann answered with a sudden weary burst of
impatience. " It doesn't do any good to chew it over
like this. And we certainly can't do anything to-
night."

" All right, Ann," Lainey agreed with her accus-
tomed docility.

14 Good-night, Ann," Beckie said sadly. u Good-
night, Lainey."

" Good-night, Beckie," her sisters chorused deso-
lately.

Ann, in the little wooden shoes which Aunt Lottie
had brought her from Holland, clattered back to her
room ; and Lainey, in the little straw scuffs which she
had bought in Chinatown, shuffled behind her. The
two girls got back into bed.

44 Good-night, Lainey dear," Ann concluded trag-
ically.

" Good-night, Ann darling," Lainey answered
mournfully.

Lainey lay for a long interval perfectly straight
and rigid. Then, no sound coming from Ann's side
of the bed, she began to submit to the nervous pres-
sure which was shooting her arms and legs in all
directions from her body. Finally, she lifted herself
up, sat on the edge of the bed for a while, arose,
walked over to the window.

The moon had disappeared, but all the stars ban-

C4.

o

238 Matt Looks upon the Wine

ished by its light had reappeared. They hung close
over the pearly glisten of the snow. Lainey's ex-
hausted tear-wet gaze wandered into that shoal of
tiny fires, tangled there.

Suddenly her door pushed open.

11 Is that you, Lainey? " Beckie's voice called in a
faint wisp of a whisper. " Can I come in? '

sound. 44 No, I'll come to your room, so's not to
wake Ann."

44 I'm awake," Ann interrupted in a mere ripple o
voice. u I can't sleep. I've been keeping still so's
not to wake you, Lainey."

Lainey pulled down the shades and lighted the ga

Beckie had wound her long hair into a grotesque
knot, had skewered it with a single hairpin to the
thing in the closet that her flying fingers had found —
a mackintosh. Beckie's eyes glared in her face
Her teeth tore at her lips. Her hands plucked
each other.

44 I can't get my mind off it," Beckie declared
wildly, 44 seems as if I had no control over m
thoughts."

44 1 can't, either," Lainey admitted franticall
44 My head is going round like a top."

44 1 don't believe I ever'll sleep again," A
prophesied crazily. " Think of having a sot in the
family!"

44 I've been wondering," with an obvious effort,
Lainey pulled herself together, 44 if there wasn't some
other way of handling this situation. Couldn't we
make home so attractive to Matt that he'd want to
spend his evenings here. Then he couldn't

"

T

Matt Looks upon the Wine 239

drunk. Don't you think it would be a good scheme
to have some parties, for instance, and invite all the
people he likes.''

At the word parties a little fire of animation flared
in Ann's face. " I think that's a wonderful idea,"
she approved with a tiny jet of vivacity.

" Because," Lainey went on earnestly, " there's
nothing really criminal about Matt. He likes nice
girls and harmless times and all that sort of thing.
I think that with care we could wean him from his
present associates, whatever they are. For I'm sure
somebody's responsible for his downfall. Matt's
such a good boy."

" Oh, take it from me, it's that crowd of Alice
Downing's," Ann interpolated with a touch of her
natural causticity. " I don't like them and never
did."

11 1 agree with you," Beckie said stoutly. " It's
not Matt. It's the influences about him. Matt is
naturally a good boy. He never would get drunk
if somebody hadn't tempted him. And probably it
was a woman. Well, I guess that's what we'd better
try to do — to look after his evenings. I think that's
a splendid idea, Lainey dear. I feel a lot better.
I guess I'll go to bed. I think I can sleep now.
Good-night, Lainey. Good-night, Ann."

" Good-night, Beckie," her sisters chorused.

Ann took her place on the inside of the bed.
Lainey took her place on the outside. For a long
while, Ann lay perfectly silent, snuggled into the
little round kitten-like heap into which she always
fell. Then, suddenly she began to tremble. The
trembling became a frantic shaking. She pulled
herself up with an elaborate care, climbed cautiously

240 Matt Looks upon the Wine

over Lainey, snatched a covering from the couch, ran
to the door, rushed with an accelerating speed to
Beckie's room.

11 Beckie, Beckie," she called, the pulses of panic
beating in her voice. " Are you awake? I'm com-
ing in."

" Yes, I'm awake. I haven't slept," Beckie ad-
mitted wearily. " Oh, Ann, you mustn't take it so
hard." She pulled her sister down on the bed.

Two short, thick braids of chestnut hair fell, one
on each side of Ann's face. Ann's hair was not
nearly so thick as Lainey's, but it seemed thicker
because it was coarser. There were broad pale-pink
ribbons on the ends of her braids and broad pale-
pink ribbons on her nightgown. No matter what
Ann's state of mind, she always prepared herself
for bed as for a state function. She had thrown
over her nightgown an old camel's-hair shawl oi
cream and dull blue, which had been her mother's.
One corner dipped over her forehead. Huddle<
and shaking in the shawl, her face with its big dark
mournful eyes, its white skin, blanched of its vel-
vety wild-rose color beginning, in spite of her un-
flawed youth to show black shadowings of the night'i
strain — she looked like some tragic girl-peasant.

u Don't let Lainey hear us," Ann said in the
midst of a volley of sobs. " Oh, is that you, Lainey
Haven't you slept, either?"

" I couldn't sleep if my life depended on it,"
Lainey announced in a stony voice. She sat down
beside Ann, threw her arms about her. " Don't
cry, Ann," she implored. " Please don't cry."

" I can!t stand it any longer," Ann sobbed. " I
think of Matt up there — sleeping in his clothes —

3
5

Matt Looks upon the Wine 241

d-d-d-dead d-d-d-drunk. I's so afraid it's a jug-jug-
jug-judgment on me. The last thing I said be-b-
before he came into the house was that if there was
a b-b-b-bottle of ch-ch-ch-champagne here I'd drink
it all. I'm going to sign the p-p-p-pledge to-mor-
row."

" Of course it's not a judgment on you, Ann,"
Beckie said indignantly. " If it's anything, it's the
sins of the fathers. I'm glad you're crying, though.
It will relax that awful t-t-t-tension." Beckie's own
voice quivered.

"Yes, Ann," Lainey reinforced 'her sister,
" Beckie's right. It will do you good to cry. Cry
all you want to. Cr-cr-cry till you c-c-can't cry any
more." Lainey's own accent began to break.

" Now, we'll all feel better," Beckie said after a
while. " I guess we can sleep now."

Yes, Ann dear," Lainey took up Beckie's plea.
11 See, the light's beginning to come in the window.
Let's go back to bed."

" All right," Ann said with unaccustomed docility.
" Good-night, Beckie," she added mournfully.

11 Good-night, Lainey."

" Good-night, Beckie," Lainey replied desolately.

Outside the air of that first day of the new year
seemed to flash and sparkle. A golden sun was^
pouring flame jewels through the still clearness.
A blue sky dropped blue shadows onto a white
world. Snow-birds cluttered and fluttered. Sleigh-
bells caroled and chimed. Snow-shovels scraped and
grated. Occasionally snow fell from peaked gables
with a long steady roar. Occasionally icicles broke

242 Matt Looks upon the Wine

with a short brittle clink. From everywhere rang
the cries of the coasters. From everybody came the
call, "Happy New Year!"

Inside, the three girls — pale-faced, wan-eyed, slow-
motioned — went through the movements of getting
breakfast.

14 I'm trying to think how to break it to Ed,"
Beckie said. " I expect it'll about half kill him —
the disgrace and everything. I never dreaded any-
thing so in my life."

"When is he coming home?" Lainey inquired
listlessly.

"Any moment now. He said he'd be here for
breakfast. A box just came addressed to Matt. I
wonder what it was? I put it upstairs against his
door. There, there's Ed now."

Ed's key cut cleanly into the lock. The three
girls stood for an instant petrified.

" Is that you, Ed? " Beckie quavered. " Oh, he's
going upstairs first," Ann whispered. " He'll wak
Matt," Lainey hissed.

Beckie fired. " Well, perhaps Matt will have the
manhood to confess what he's done. But
Panic seized her. " — we'd better go up there.
There's no knowing what might happen."

The three girls hurried out into the hall. The
defiant Beckie in the van, the listless Lainey in the
rear, the cowering Ann between, they stole up the
two flights of stairs. In the upper hallway, Beckie
paused, her finger at her lip. Involuntarily, they put
their arms round each other, set to statue stillness.

From the boys' room came not only Ed's clear
voice, but Roly's sleepy accent and Matt's sleepier
one.

Matt Looks upon the Wine 243

"What's the matter with you, Matt?" Ed de-
manded with the flattering frankness of brothers,
" You look like something the cat brought in."

" I feel worse than that," Matt admitted. " Get
me some water, will you, Roly? And say, let me
have the first bath, will you, Ed? "

Matt sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his
hands. His lack-luster hollowness showed a marked
contrast to Ed's equable tinting. Ed's freshness was
of the kind that no amount of late hours ever seemed
to dim, but to-day even Ed looked a little sunken.
Roly, still in his pajamas, showed the freshened col-
oring of twelve hours' sleep.

" How did you happen to go to bed with your
clothes on? " Ed inquired calmly. " Splifflicated? "

"Search me," Matt said. "Yes, I must
have been jagged last night. I can't seem to
remember anything about it. I went off with some
people "

"Alice Downing's crowd?" Ed questioned idly,
smashing his thick golden hair with smart slapping
strokes from two military brushes.

" No, I don't know who — a gang of fellows —
three drummers in the hardware business that Gus
Clark introduced me to. We went — well, I don't
know where — and did — well, I don't know what.
And I got home — well, I don't remember when — and
got to bed — well, I don't remember how. Did you
put me to bed, Roly? "

" No."

" Then the girls must have."

" You were soused all right," Roly grinned
broadly. " I heard the girls helping you upstairs.
I was too sleepy to get up. You were saying some-

,

244 Matt Looks upon the Wine

thing about one foot after the other — over and over
again."

" Gee," Matt said, M I must have been pickled."

11 You ought not to have come home drunk," Ed
rebuked his brother. " I should have thought you'd
have known better than that. You must have fright-
ened the girls half to death. You know women are
all bugs on this question. They'll have you in the
D. T. ward inside of a week." He turned to Roly.
" Remember, kid, if you ever get drunk — don't
come home. Go somewhere. Go anywhere — and
stay there — but dorit come home!"

" I'll never get drunk," Roly growled. " I hate
the taste of the stuff."

" I didn't intend to get'tight, Ed," Matt said. " It
was an accident. Generally, you know three drinks
make me so uncomfortable I don't want any more.
Lord, I'm sorry. I wouldn't have thrown a scare
into the girls for anything. What'll I say to them? "

M Don't say anything. Let them do the talking.
They'll talk all right. If they don't pack you off to
a cure, you're lucky."

"Now, how did it happen?" Matt interrogated
himself irritably. He clutched his head and thought
hard. " Seems to me somebody mixed up a glass
of beer, cocktails, whiskey, gin, and every other damn
thing in sight and dared me to drink it. I did — and
I went out soon after."

" You kept saying, ' Happy New Year, skerls ! '
coming up the stairs," said Roly, still papably enjoy-
ing his brother's situation.

" Gee! " Matt said, " I must have been stewed."

11 The first time I ever got loaded," Ed remarket
reminiscently, u I came home too. Fortunately,

rked
tely,

Matt Looks upon the Wine 245

father and mother were away. Perhaps it was just
as well, because it bothered me so, I never — well,
I've always kept watch on myself ever since. Oh
say, Matt, here's a box I found outside. It's ad-
dressed to you."

Matt languidly untied the string, tore away the
paper, lifted the cover. " My shoes ! " he ex-
claimed. " Why, where'd they come from? What

did I wear " He peered about on the floor.

"Where'd I get those shoes? Say, I must have
bought myself a new pair of shoes. Look at them !
Well, I'll be— Swell-looking kicks all right!
What did I pay for them?" He hunted languidly
for the slip. " Twelve dollars. Twelve dollars!
I can't afford to buy twelve-dollar shoes. Hell, I'd
just bought myself one new pair ! "

" You get drunk often enough," Ed promised,
" and you'll be one of our classiest dressers ! "

11 Gee ! " Matt said, " I must have been pie-eyed."

Their arms about each other, the girls still stood
frozen, a little Niobe group of terror.

Suddenly Ann looked at Beckie. Beckie looked
at Lainey. Lainey looked at Ann. A quiver zig-
zagged across Lainey's face. It flashed through
the air and spread to a ripple at Ann's generous
mouth. The ripple widened, caught on Beckie's wan
look, broke into a smile. Beckie covered her lips
with a smothering hand. Ann filled her mouth with
a gagging handkerchief. Lainey dropped her head
to an inhibiting shoulder. Suddenly the group broke
apart. The fragments made silently down the
stairs. In the living-room, Ann threw herself on
one chair and laughed. Beckie threw herself on an-

246 Matt Looks upon the Wine

other chair and cried. Lainey fell on the couch and
both laughed and cried.

When the three brothers came down the stairs,
the girls had set the table. " Happy New Year,
skerls ! " Roly called. " Happy New Year, spoys ! "
Ann answered. " Come to breakfast! "

Mutual understanding wrapped the Ollivant fam-
ily in its peace.

CHAPTER XI

. BECKIE HEARS HER MOTHER'S VOICE

<( IT TELL, but Beckie" Ann was saying and the
V V degree of her exasperation could be gauged
to a nicety by the degree of her emphasis, " every-
body dances the new dances now. They aren't called
the new dances any longer. It was all right to stand
out against them two years ago. In fact, it was
rather smart. Everybody was doing it ! But now —
good gracious — nobody's doing it. Why, people will
look upon you as a fossil and a bonehead."

Her authoritative manner — Ann sat very straight
as she delivered this pronunciamento — her working-
clothes — plain skirt and middy-blouse of khaki — gave
her a look of severity. But that look was nullified
by a smile — ill-suppressed — of delightful anticipa-
tion on her red mouth and a flash — not suppressed at
all — of rapturous excitement in her golden eyes.

Beckie was also in the clothes sacred to the morn-
ings of Sundays and holidays. An apron, full, long,
all-enveloping, with big pockets at the sides, con-
cealed the sturdy active lines of her figure. A little
sweeping-cap of dotted white muslin held flat every
red-gold coil, every bronze-brown loop of her mahog-
any-colored hair. She, too, sat very straight, but
the flash that came into her eyes was pure indigna-
tion. " Nevertheless,'' she asserted, " I shall never
dance them."

247

248 Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice

" Oh, Beck, if you aren't a scream ! " Ann com-
mented absently. " Oh, thank goodness, here's
Matt. Sit down in that seat, Matt, and don't move
out of it."

" Ed isn't here yet," Matt remonstrated. He
passed his hand over the faint, reddish-gold stubble
on his chin. " Say, while you're waiting for Ed, let
me go upstairs and shave."

" You don't leave this room, one of you, once
get you here," Ann said in a relentless voice.

11 I've never thought you'd desert me, Lainey,
Beckie went on. M Why, when I saw you fojx-tro
ting the other night "

I

Lainey in morning costume too — long, slim,
straight Chinese sa'am in a strange old green,
pointed, heelless Turkish slippers in a gold-embroid-
ered scarlet, her filmy hair, hanging in a loosely
woven braid to her waist — smiled radiantly.

" They're so — so — so, well, I don't know how to d(
scribe it — so exhilarating, so full of variety and a<
tion. You feel almost as though you were makii
a design when you do them."

" You may feel exhilarated," Beckie said, " bi
I'd hate to tell you how you look. I don't kno^
what mother would say."

11 She'd probably say " interrupted Anr

" Oh, thank goodness, here's Ed."

Ed, the coolly-colored and finely-chiseled; Ec
the freshly-shaven and sartorially-trim ; Ed, the hanc
some, frigid, and impeccable, entered at a saunte
" Now, what's all this about? " he asked as he seate !
himself on the couch.

Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice 249

" I'll tell you as soon as Roly gets through his
breakfast," Ann said.

" I've nearly finished," Roly called from the din-
ing-room. " Go on without me. I can hear what
you're saying."

" I'll wait until you finish," Ann said with weary
patience. " If I start now, I know you'll interrupt,
calling for everything you can think of."

" All right," Roly said with an unexpected alacrity.
u Just to prove that I'm a sport, I'll come right now
in my half-starved condition." He looked long-
ingly, however, at the coffee-cup drained to a half-
inch residuum of sugar, the grapefruit shell scraped
to a white dryness, the big bowl emptied of a heaped
abundance of breakfast-food and the plate cleaned
of a generous helping of ham and eggs. Finally, as
one who tops off with a delicate morsel, he seized
a banana and ate it in ravenous mouthfuls as he
strolled into the living-room.

Raven-black as to hair and brows, coffee-brown
as to eyes and skin, satin-smooth as to texture, but
boyishly heavy as to expression and boyishly inde-
terminate as to feature, Roly seated himself between
the golden-topped Ed and the copper-crested Matt.

Ann heaved a long sigh. " I've got you together
at last! And heaven knows it's been some job find-
ing a time when I could herd you into one room. If
a holiday hadn't come along, I don't know what I
should have done — and that alone ought to convince
you that what I am going to tell you is the truth —
all of us having different work and different friends
and different engagements and different everything,
not to speak of "

11 Oh, for the love of Mike, Ann," Ed broke out

250 Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice

impatiently. " I've got an engagement. I've got

to be down "

11 There, there you are again ! " Ann interrupted
with a pessimistic triumph. " You want me to hurry
up. You always do. You've got an engagement.
You always have. Everybody else is going some-
where. They always are. That's the reason I've
come to the conclusion that something's got to be
were doing one-night stands and this was a bum
hotel you were staying at. Not that I blame you.
It's so shabby and dingy and old-fashioned and
horrid that — well, it's just got to be fixed up — that's
all there is to that. You remember that, over a
year ago, soon after mother died, when you decided
that you'd let me leave school and take charge of the
housekeeping, we made a great many very gran
plans about doing the house over. And we did d<
a few, dinky, little things. For one thing, we go
rid of that fierce ark of a black walnut sideboar
and put up shelves. Then we had it all planned f
Beckie to move out of the big front room into our
room, and for Lainey and me to move into the bac
room and fix up the big front room into a living-roor
for you boys. Well, did we do that? Yes, we di
— not! } Ann swept the circle with a withering glance
She made no effort to suppress the golden scorn th
flared in her eyes. The flare died down, howeve
as she continued equably, " And a good thing, to
because all my ideas then were fierce. Green wick
and Navajo rugs and pink, red, blue, yellow, and
green bedrooms. You see Bird has taught me
lot about interior decoration and now I see what
place really needs!*

J

Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice 251

" It seems to me," Ed said in his most icy tone,
14 that Bird Barton has put a good many ideas into

" Bird puts ideas into everybody's head." Lainey
rushed to the defense of her friend. " She can't help
it. She's so full of originality it just bubbles over
onto other people."

" Bird admits," Ann explained — again with pa-
tience, the noble patience of the reformer this time
— " that ever since she entered this house, her fingers
have itched to get at it. She says that the lines and
proportions of it are perfectly beautiful, but that
the things in it are — she's right too. Nobody
knows that any better than I do. I loathe it. Well,
go to call on that wonderful-looking Mrs. Farring-
ton who's taken the Smedley place just because I'm
ashamed to have her come here and see this awful
furniture. I should simply pass away when I saw
her looking at that terrible oak combination of desk,
bookcase and plate-rack in the dining-room. What
first put me onto that was once when Mrs. Peabody
called and I got the expression on her face when she
piped it. I knew she was counting the mirrors in
it."

Ed contemplated his youngest sister with the quiz-
zical amusement which was the sunniest aspect of his
formal blonde regularity. " So you've chosen the
nineteenth of April for this Declaration of Inde-
pendence? "

" I've chosen it," Ann declared hastily, " because
it's a holiday and the only time I could get all of you
together."

The note of rebellion inside was echoed by the note

252 Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice

of rebellion outside. Huge, black, bullet-like rain-
drops were drawing thousands of inky lines across
the landscape, reducing the fresh green of the park
and yard and lawns, the warm brown of the streets
and paths and alleys, the faded colorings of the
pleasant old houses to a vague, moist, composite
smudge. Overhead was a sky black and hard as
iron. In spots the iron thinned and lightened to
silver. At times the sun would melt a hole in that
silver and pour cataracts of boiling gold over its
edges. Then the bullet-drops would change to a
faint dallying mist. The whole world would whirl
in a golden glitter. Dapples of blue, incredibly soft
and tender, would spot the sky. An instant of this
splendor, then the silver edges came together, thick-
ened to iron, the blue dapples disappeared, the thud
ding downpour would begin again.

11 Oh, what a wonderful day ! " Lainey said dream
ily. " It doesn't know what it's going to do fro
one moment to the next. But it's doing something.
Oh, I can't express it exactly, but it makes you under-
stand rebellion and revolution.'*

Ann groaned. " Oh, for goodness' sake, Lainey,
don't get started on Socialism. What has weather
to do with anything like that? "

" If we decided to make the changes," Ed inter
posed artfully, " what is it you propose and what's
the damage? "

Ann took a paper from a table beside her. It
was covered at one edge with neat lines of writing
and at the other with trim files of figures. Evidently
she knew these statistics by heart; for although she
held the paper in her hand, she did not look at it.
11 1 want first " she began.

■

Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice 253

11 Oh, say, I'm not going to stay through all this
truck," Roly protested, " I don't care what you do
with the house. Besides, Dink and I are "

11 Oh — well — go ! " Ann ordered. Apparently too
indignant for articulateness, she watched Roly hurry
through the dining-room, seize one more banana, and
depart eating it. But her powers of expression came
back with a rush when the door closed. " I do
think," she said as one who, after years of careful
research, lays down an important dictum, " that boys
are the most degraded of God's creatures. We
were taught in zoology that an ameba was the
original low-brow — but what the most ignorant
ameba that ever lived has on Roly I'd like to know.
Still," she added with another one of her sudden
drops to equability, " I'm glad he's gone. What
good would he be in an esthetic discussion like this?
Now, to begin with, I want this house to be re-
papered and repainted from top to bottom."

"Excuse me one moment, Ann," Matt said se-
riously. " I'd just like to ask you what you think
your last name is — Morgan or Rockefeller? "

Ann's little teeth came together in a click of exas-
peration. " I knew some knock like that was com-
ing. Of course, it wouldn't occur to any of you to
wait until I told you a few things. I know just as well
as you that it sounds as though I wanted to spend
the whole Rockefeller Foundation. But if you'll
only listen to me as long as three minutes without
interrupting, although — " she stopped and shot
her golden glare about the circle — " I know that will
strain your breeding to the utmost, you will'see that
it is not going to be so expensive as it sounds. Now,
for instance " She was at equilibrium again and

254 Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice

running at full speed. " You remember that time
Bird and I went through the attic, looking for the
silver service. Well, just the little rummaging we
did then convinced Bird that there were all kinds of
things up there that were wonderful. Well, she and
I have been exploring Saturday afternoons and Sun-
days ever since, cleaning the place up, throwing out
old truck and digging up stuff that we could use and
planning what we could do with it."

Matt groaned. " I bet there won't be a comfort-
able chair in the house."

" There, there you go again." Ann's eyes shot
another succession of golden lightnings through the
group. " Handing out the knocks before you know

" Shut up, Matt!" Ed ordered good-naturedly.
" Go on, kid!" he said to his sister. "What did
you find? "

" Well, in some ways it was a disappointment.
Of course, I had a vision — and so did Bird — of an-
cestral mahogany, silver, glass, pewter, Chippendale,

Sheraton, Hepplewhite " Ann waved these

exotics of a new vocabulary with a nonchalance more
impressive than triumphal banners. " Well, nothing
like that materialized — only one old couch, broken
and pretty shabby — Sheraton though and Bird says

it's a wonder. We're going to put that in

But to go on — we found a beautiful old bureau of
mahogany and maple with the original brasses.

We're going to put that in Oh, I'll come to that

later. Then we discovered a set of old Windsor
chairs with nine sticks at the back — Bird says they're

rather uncommon. We're going to put those in

But I'll come back to them. And what do you think?

Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice 255

Bird said — you never saw anything like Bird — and
stuck to it that there ought to be a maple table
somewhere to match those chairs. We hunted high
and low — it wasn't in the house anywhere. But
Bird is a perfect ferret where old furniture is con-
cerned. Where do you suppose we found it? In
the woodshed behind that fierce old wardrobe that's
been there since the year one. That table is a per-
fect pippin, hexagonal in shape and duck feet. Bird
says it will finish up gloriously like old-gold satin.

We're going to put that in But first let me tell

you — of course we found other things in the attic —
I mean bric-a-brac. But I want to go on about our
plans."

Lainey actually bounced. " Ann, if you stop one
instant I shall burst," she said. " And you haven't
finished a single sentence." Her deep-set, blue-gray
eyes had begun to shine with the liquid light of her
excitement. Even Ed and Matt, though by this time
smoking calmly, had begun to show a conservative
masculine excitement. " Go on! " Ed urged. And,
" We're listening," Matt prodded.

Beckie alone sat very still and straight in her
chair.

" In the first place " Ann began. Under en-
couragement, her manner had assumed a bustling
importance. " We want to repaper these rooms in
a plain cartridge. I hope I don't have to tell you
that this kind of paper, big-figured like that, is an
offense against art. If I could have my way I'd
have gold paper and black paint; for I simply adore
gold. But that would be too expensive. So as we
can't have that, Bird and I decided on a golden-
brown cartridge for paper and a soft gleamy ivory

256 Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice

for paint. Then I'd make a clean sweep of the^
furniture. I mean all the dining-room stuff, that
awful combination of settle and hat-rack in the
hall."

" Oh Lord, Ann," Matt remonstrated, " that hat-
rack is very convenient, especially getting in late
when it's dark. I like it."

" I gathered that," Ann answered crisply, M that
night you came home drunk. You actually talked to
it. I thought you were going to hug it." Ann never
lost a chance to remind Matt of his single fall from
abstinence. " No," she continued inflexibly. " That
hat-rack must go. If Mrs. Farrington should come
to call, she'd think there was no class to this family
the instant she laid her eyes on that unspeakable
atrocity. No, we're going to put the lovely olc
Sheraton couch that we found in the attic in its
place. We're going to clean out the closet unde]
the stairs in the hall and you are to hang youi
things there. Of course it'll take me at least a
month to teach all of you that. I'll have to stand
over you with a gun ! And, oh, my land, the fights
I'll have with Roly! " Ann's eyes softened to self-
pity as in imagination she surveyed the thorny roa<
that leads to an esthetic ideal.

living-room in which they sat.

u I'm coming to that," Ann promised. Her man-
ner became slightly didactic, her voice pedagogic.
" Bird says that though none of this is valuable from
the collector's point of view, still it's perfectly
harmless — good, solid, old mid-Victorian stuff.
And she also said — the most comfortable furniture
ever invented. Bird says she thinks it's the funniest

le

■

Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice 257

thing how all the Victorian stuff looks so much like
Queen Victoria herself — dumpy and fat and do-
mestic and roly-poly — but not a bit of temperament

" How the hell can furniture have tempera-
ment? " Matt growled.

says that that Sheraton desk" — she pointed to
the great family treasure — " is simply sizzling with
temperament. However, all this furniture must be
recovered — you see yourself how worn and moth-
eaten and faded and spotted it is. Now up to this
point, all I've talked about is spending money.
Here's where we begin to save it. Bird and I are
going to do the upholstering ourselves. She knows
how and she is going to teach me. And we're
going to upholster everything smooth, not button it
down. Bird says all those little buttony hollows are
inartistic and unhygienic. That's the furniture."
Ann stopped and ran her eye down the written list
on her paper. Then she put the paper down, and
folded her arms. " Let me see. Oh, we've got to
get rid of nearly all the pictures in this room," she
announced with a convincing effect of calmness.

" Pictures! " Ed repeated. His voice thrilled with
emphasis and he stared at his sister — hard.

" Not the paintings! " Matt demanded. His tone
also tingled with emphasis and he looked at his sister
questioningly and threateningly.

" Not the portraits!" Lainey exclaimed. Her
words also vibrated with emphasis and she had the
air of one about to contemplate sacrilege.

" Oh no. Not father's and mother's," Ann re-
plied. " Of course not. They'd stay anyway. But

258 Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice

Bird says they're really very nice — they've 2 great
air of authenticity. She says that whoever painted
them was a good artist. The drawing is quite as
good as the color and both are exceptional. And as
for the frames, she says she's never happened to see
any like them — so elaborate and yet so chaste —
she just loves that swell green-gold they've fade

;

n

Under the pressure of so much new vocabulary,
the Ollivants turned as with one accord and — a*
from a new point of view — surveyed the two por-
traits. In her pale-blue silk, with its deep flounces
of thread lace, her fan of pale-rose ostrich-feathers
and sticks of mother-of-pearl, Mrs. Ollivant, warmly,
robustly blonde, met their look with a gaze tender,
soft, and misty-blue. In his long frock-coat, carry-
ing a shining hat, gloves, and a stick, Mr. Ollivant,
richly-olive, sternly dark, sustained their glance with
a keen-visioned, gray-eyed humorousness.

14 Say, do you know it never occurred to me whal
a peach father was ! " Ann said, " or what a swell
dresser until Bird called my attention to it. I was
showing her the family photographs and she said
father's clothes were very elegant and smart. Of
course I've always known that mother was a looker.
How queer how you've never really noticed things
you've been brought up with ! " Ann's voice had be-
come a little dreamy. But it immediately became
business-like again. " Yes, we keep the portraits.
But" — she waved her right hand in the direc-
tion of the right wall — " it's the scrap-heap for
* Washington on Horseback ' and ' Sir Walter Scott
in His Study.' " She waved her left arm in the di-
rection of the left wall. " It's the ash-barrel for

Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice 259

Landseer's * The Monarch of the Glen ' and for
1 From Shore to Shore.' " She folded her arms.
" And we're going to can General Milliken."

She paused as though waiting for the storm to
break.

It broke.

11 Nothing doing, Ann," Ed said with decision.
" I won't stand for that. The General's picture has
got to stay."

11 Sure it has," agreed Matt. " Why, it wouldn't
seem like home if when I came into this room that
old duffer wasn't glaring down at me as though he'd
like to beat my block off."

" Oh yes, Ann," Lainey said with stressful accent
that had a soft quality of uncertainty in it. " I do
think you ought to keep General Milliken. It
doesn't seem quite respectful to get rid of him." She
turned to her elder sister, " What do you think,
Beckie?"

Beckie did not speak for a moment. But it was
not because she lacked words. It was only that she
was choosing from the hordes that fluttered to her
lips. " I think — well, I don't know what I think —
I mean I know well enough but I don't know how to
put it. I never — I — I — I never listened to anything
like this in all my life. I shouldn't think, Ann, that
you had one atom of love or respect or reverence
in your heart. And the rest of you aren't much
better. To want to change our home all over!
Why, I should hate it! I don't want it to look any
different. Of course, I don't object to repapering
and repainting, but when it comes to getting rid
of my father's and mother's furniture and taking
away the pictures that I was brought up with — es-

260 Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice

pecially the portraits of my ancestors — well, I'll
never give my consent."

44 That's all nonsense, Beckie," Ed said decisively.
" Why, you'd never get anywhere or do anything if
you held by those sentiments. I don't feel any par-
ticular love for the Scott or the Landseer or the
others. But I do agree with you when it comes to
the General's portrait — I draw the line there."

"What do you like about it?" Ann demanded.
And for an instant her patience cracked. " He isn't
so very much of an ancestor. I mean he doesn't go
so very far back. Father and mother both knew
him. And the technic is perfectly dreadful, Bird
says."

11 What business is it of Bird Barton's, I'd like t
know?" Beckie demanded stormily.

" She said it was none of her business," Ann an
swered, " and she didn't say one word about it unt:
I dragged it from her. Will you tell me what yo
like about it? " Ann continued with a resumption o
her magnanimous patience.

Deep silence fell. Outside the sun smashed a blu
hole through the black sky. Cascades of gold pour
ing through changed the inky downpour to a di-
aphanous golden mist.

The family surveyed the portrait of General
Milliken.

The General presided over the mantel. He wore
his uniform and he stood upright, one hand on hi
sword, the other resting on the table. The por-
trait lacked physical authenticity in a very important
regard, in that the General seemed to be two-
dimensional. The face was only a rigid stark mask,
although full justice had been done to its beefy,

cciy,

Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice 261

watery-eyed, iron-jawed expression. The body was
but a stiff, hard fagade of unwrinkled uniform, al-
though, down to the last round of glittering brass
button and the last inch of gleaming gold braid, that
uniform had been painted with conscientious care.

" Well, I've never thought he was so very good-
looking," Lainey said after a moment. And again
her voice wavered with that soft uncertainty. M And,
of course, since I've joined the Party — (There was
only one party with Lainey nowadays, the Socialist)
— " I do hate militarism. I confess the figure is a
little stiff." Both bird-claw-like hands pressed flat
on her knees, her braid falling over her shoulder,
she bent forward and contemplated the portrait with
a gaze deepening in concentration.

11 Yes, it is stiff,'* Matt agreed. " I've always
had an idea that the General posed only for the
head — that they just rigged up some dummy for
the body."

" It's an insult to any dummy," Ann laughed
ironically. " He looks to me like those weird things
that ventriloquists hold on their laps. I expect him
to say, ' Good-evening, audience,' any moment."

" No, they didn't use a dummy," Ed explained.
" I remember hearing Aunt Elmira tell about it.
The General posed for that picture — but he was
sick! "

"Sick!" Ann repeated. "He was dead! You
never can convince me that that's the picture of a
live man. They took him out of his coffin and
stood him up and "

"Ann!" Beckie interrupted sternly.

Ann subsided. There was another interval of
silence in which the golden mist suddenly precipi-

k

262 Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice

tated to an inky downpour and the blue gash in the
sky closed up hard and black again.

11 Ann is right," Lainey said with a tumultuous
conviction. M It's a dreadful piece of work. He
does look like a corpse and anybody can see that he
was a hateful, horrid, militaristic, capitalistic old
tyrant. I can just imagine how he'd love to be
called out against labor, and I can almost see him
clubbing the I. W. W."

11 Well, something's got to be done about the I
W. W.," Ann vouchsafed. "What do you thin

44 All right," Ed said with a sudden amenability.
11 Go as far as you like, Ann. I never saw him. I
have no particular love of him. Only don't throw
him away. Put him in the attic. Somebody ma
want him some day. How about it, Matt? "

44 Beat it, General! " Matt saluted airily. 44 R
tired— to the attic."

44 Why, Ed Ollivant! What do you An

you too, Matt! You can't really mean " Becki

was inarticulate, but her indignation throbbec
through her voice. " How can you say such things
In the first place, I consider him a very handsomi
man."

44 Handsome!" This from Ann. 44 Why
Beckie, he looks like Joe Weber will when he'

44 I'll never give my consent to it," Beckie de
clared.

44 We're only putting him in the attic, Beckie,'
Ed explained. 44 What's the rest of your pla

Not much beyond what I've told you. Tl

Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice 263

point is this: Bird and Lainey and I will do what
work we can — upholstering and putting the old fur-
niture into shape. But the papering and painting
ought to be done by a professional. What I want
the family to do is to agree to share the expense
equally after I subtract from it what the furniture
brings."

" I won't give one cent towards it," Beckie said,
very quiet now — and white.

" All right," Ann answered. " It's going to be
done, though, Beckie. You're outvoted. Four of
us is a majority."

"What pictures are you going to have in this
room, Ann? " Ed asked. It was apparent that with
each moment Ed imbibed more and more of Ann's
iconoclastic spirit.

" Very few ! " Ann answered. " We're going to
leave mother's and father's pictures just where they
are. We're going to put one of the big mirrors over
the mantel and the other just opposite over the couch
in the hall — so they'll reflect and re-reflect in a per-
fectly darling way. And that's all. Of course we
found some things in the attic, but I don't want you to
see them until they're in place. I do wish," she
went on in a preoccupied way, u that we had some-
thing for that big space there." She pointed into
the dining-room. " I would like one smashing bit of
color there. And so would Bird. You could see it
from this room. I don't know exactly what. Bird
says a big group of Japanese prints and that would
be lovely, I think. Only Japanese prints are so ex-
pensive. Besides, I'd rather have something modern
— I mean futurist — something different and new and
— and — and — — " Ann's eyes palpably darkened

:

264 Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice

as she sought in her mind for descriptive phrases.
They lighted as she found them. " Something mys-
terious and wild at the same time — if you get me."

11 We don't," Matt said promptly.

11 But anyway, I can let that wait. An inspira-
tion will come to me some time, I know." Ann spoke
now with the serene authority of genius.

" How soon will this be done? " Ed asked.

" I calculate that it will take about a week to d
all the papering and painting. And I don't wan
you boys to come home at all. Ed, you can go to
the club — or somewhere. And, Matt, you can go to
Lory Mack's — or somewhere. Cousin Edith says
she'll take Roly, and Roly always loves to go there
because she gives him layer-cake frosted and lined
with goo for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Bird is
coming to stay here and we four girls will work like

" You needn't count on me," Beckie said with lip;
so dry that they seemed to parch the words tha
crossed them. " I won't do one thing towards chang
ing this house over if you're going to sell any o
mother's furniture. I don't blame you two girls so
much; for you don't remember the days when
mother took such an interest in all these things. Bu
I shall never forgive you two boys, for you do re
member."

" Oh, Beckie!" Ann said impatiently, "what'
the use of being a back number? I love my mothe
and respect her memory. These things were nio
enough for her time, but they're simply loathly no
I've got to live here and I want it to look pretty,
according to my ideas, just as she did, according tc
hers. I thought for a long time, I'd like to give i

Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice 265

party — a reception or even a dance — Maud Evans
says she'd lend me her Victor any time — and she's
got all the latest fox-trots. But I never would as
long as these atrocities remain in this house."

" There, now you see how it goes," Beckie said in
a voice stony with her grim triumph, " these new
dances in my mother's house. I think they're awful
and I know she would. They're like those terrible
futurist pictures that you and Bird are so crazy
about. They are simply horrible. They don't mean
anything and they're an insult to Michael Angelo
and Rembrandt and Botticelli."

" Oh, bother Rembrandt and Michael Angelo,"
Ann said flippantly. " Old flub-dubs ! As for Botti-
celli, if he wasn't a futurist, I'd like to know who
was?"

" I feel— I feel " Beckie stammered. " It's

as though I was losing my home. I shall never have
the same love for it again — never — never."

" Oh, yes, you will, Beck dear," Ann declared
easily, " when you see how swell it looks. Don't

worry about that. Well, now " Her golden

eyes were rocking with joy. " I've got to call Bird
up and tell her the results of this conference. We
begin work here next Monday. Oh, I'm going to
have the time of my life." Ann seized Lainey and

The black sky broke lengthwise and inundated the
world with sun. The sky became one huge ceiling of
foamy blue. The air turned to a crystal globe
filled with liquid gold.

Beckie went up to her room. She immediately
fell to work there, sweeping and cleaning. Picture-
glass, windows, paint — everything that could be

266 Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice

k :

washed — walls, furniture, bric-a-brac — everything
that could be dusted — closet, bureau, desk — every-
thing that could be rearranged — received its full
share of attention. Yet Beckie's mind was not on
her work. Her eyes looked off into space frequently
and blurred at what they saw there. Sometimes she
had to bite her quivering lips back to their normal
firmness. At last, bathed, combed, dressed, s
seated herself at the little oak desk, drew from
drawer, which she first unlocked, a book. That
book bore the name, " Diary." But it was not a
diary; it was really a commonplace book. For, al-
though Beckie frequently wrote in it, it was more
often dedicated to recipes, quotations, pasted news
paper clippings than to personal confessions. Bu
such as it was, Beckie had kept one like it eve
since her early teens. There were at least twent
of these butcher-paper-covered blank-books stacke
in her closet. To-day she wrote :

11 Mother dear, they are * going to change th
house all over and put away or even sell many o
the things you loved so much. I did not agree to il
I never will. And I will not help. I shall be loya
to you and your ideas forever and ever and ever."

When Beckie came home Monday night, a smell
of dampness, mixed with a smell of paint, hung o
the air. The dampness came from the top flo
where the paperhangers had begun their work an
the paint came from the lower floor where the
painters had started theirs. Dinner was one long
orgy of chatter between Ann and Lainey and Bird
about the refurnished house. Beckie alone re-
mained silent.

" Don't you want to come out in the kitchen," Ann

nd

Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice 267

asked when they arose from the table, " and see the
things we've brought down from the attic, Beckie? "
There was an unusual note of pleading in her voice.

" No," Beckie said stiffly. " It would only make
me feel bad. I loved my mother too much to enjoy
what you're doing to the things she cared for."

The entreaty in Ann's voice changed to resent-
ment. " Oh, for goodness' sake, do cut out that line
of talk, Beckie. I loved my mother just as much as
you did. But I can't love things the way I love
people. That's the only difference between us."

Immediately after dinner, Beckie locked herself
in her room.

11 1 don't know what they're doing, mother," she
wrote in her diary. " I haven't looked. I can't. I
never was so unhappy in my life."

Beckie did not come home Tuesday night. By
Wednesday night the damp smell had descended and
the paint smell ascended one story. Again the
dinner-talk bristled with the details of shopping ex-
peditions and of the domestic revolution.

" Don't you want to come out in the kitchen,
Beckie," Lainey asked gently, " and see what we've
done with the furniture ? "

" No, thank you," Beckie replied with firmness
and dignity, " I'm not interested."

Again, immediately after dinner, she went to her
room.

11 It's like coming into a tomb, mother," she wrote
in her diary. " I feel as though everybody in the
family was dead. I can't stand it."

Thursday Beckie did not come home. By Friday
night both the damp smell and the paint smell had
disappeared. The two lower rooms were closed.

268 Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice

The girls ate in the kitchen: Ann and Lainey
Bird still full of their shopping and their restoring;
Beckie again starkly silent. This time they did not
ask her to inspect results, although three times
Bird's lips closed over what was obviously bitten-
off entreaty. Afterwards, Beckie wrote in her
diary :

" It's all gone, mother dear, the home you loved
so much. I don't want to stay here any longer. I
can t.

When Beckie got home early Saturday afterno
the house was silent. Evidently the three girls ha
not returned from their final shopping raid. Beckie
went straight to her room, waited only to take off
her hat and coat before she pulled out the huge o
fashioned trunk from her roomy closet.

After five, the front door opened, letting in
three-ply fabric of girl-chatter. But after the first
start, Beckie paid no attention to the gay sounds
that drifted up to her. She finished her packing.
She bathed and dressed. She put on her hat and c
— slipped out of the house.

on

-

11 Oh, Beckie dear, is that you? " Aunt Lottie ex
claimed as the door to her living-room openec
" Well, I am glad to see you. I haven't seen hie
nor hair of one of you since you started fixing t
house over. I see Ann going off to Boston eve
morning — my stars, she looks happy! And I sa
all three girls come in just a few minutes ago.
expect Lainey's been shopping all day too, seeing it
Saturday. Isn't this early for you, Beckie? "

" Yes. I took the afternoon off for — for som

Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice 269

thing. I thought I'd run over for a few minutes.
There's something I want to talk over with you."

Beckie sat down in one of the big comfortable
morris-chairs and Aunt Lottie resumed the other.
Aunt Lottie's hair was white, but somehow her head,
like her trim ankles and her slim waist, had man-
aged to conserve a girlish smallness. She was knit-
ting and every movement vibrated with energy and
efficiency. A long, bright-colored, closely-woven
band was emerging from under her needles. A ball
of many-colored worsteds lay in her lap. Her
needles clinked and clattered and sparkled. She
talked on, however — and with a briskness that per-
fectly matched her movements — after her first keen
glance at Beckie's gray face.

" I don't know that I ever saw a prettier set of
girls than Ann and Lainey and Bird," Aunt Lottie
went on. " Ann and Bird are perfect beauties.
Lainey isn't a beauty exactly, but she's real refined-
looking. She'll be prettier, too, when she fills out.
But it does seem as though Ann grew handsomer
every minute of her life. And she's the spit of her
mother. Every expression, every movement ! " The
gray eyes that were so sharp and so kind at the same
time seemed to lose focus for an instant. Aunt
Lottie took off her glasses and wiped them. " I
than any of you. Your mother was as quick as a
cat, but sometimes I think Ann's even quicker. You
and Lainey are Ollivants through and through, but
Ann's a Carr from A to Zed."

"Yes, she is like mother," Beckie said a little
drearily.

" She was over here a fortnight ago with Bird

=

ful

270 Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice

and I asked them to show me those dances that t
papers are so full of. So she and Bird danced so
for me. I didn't see anything wrong with the
But it was just like Ann to be wild about them.
She's a pretty dancer too. That's just the way your
mother would have been — many's the time she's
danced all night long. She would have been dancing
every one of them if she'd been alive and well. Wh
I remember when roller-skating came in — yo
mother was a bride — and she took it up at on
There was an awful lot of talk among the Ollivan
Your father's three aunts — the Ollivant girls — awf
dried-up old maids they were too — made enough
the rink with her one day, without telling them
where they were going. At first they were hopping
mad when they found out where they were. B
after they'd watched a little while, Mattie — she w
the youngest — said she was going to try it. She p
the skates on — she'd always been a fine ice-skater
and off she went like a bird. What's more, she got
husband out of it. A gentleman there was so tak
with her skating, he hunted round till he foun
some one who could introduce them, and if you'll
believe it, they were married six months afterwards
to the day."

Beckie was only half listening. She was gazin
about her. For an instant her face relaxed. The
setness about her mouth softened. The grimnes

" I always love to come into this room, Aun
Lottie," Beckie said. " It reminds me so of mother
I've come over here so many times with her. No\*
that they're changing the house over, it will be abou

.

Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice 271

the only place left where mother used to go that
stays just as it was when she was alive."

It was a room pleasantly reminiscent of the
11 cozy " taste of a past generation. The paper and
carpet were both " bright " in design, although an
effort to harmonize them was apparent. The furni-
ture was all of a highly-polished, mirrored, much-
carved oak, the curtains of a big-figured, scalloped,
much-starched lace. Walls were covered with
pictures, mantels and tables with bric-a-brac — the
heterogeneous, haphazard collection of a lifetime.
Books herded in trim brilliant files in glass cases.
Mineral specimens clustered in neatly-labeled
groups in glass cabinets. But a certain spirit, not
alone of use but of tender care, pulled all this to-
gether into an atmosphere of comfort. Alien de-
tails of sound and movement helped; the grand-
father's clock ticking sturdily in the corner, the blos-
soming plants thriving lustily at the windows. A
huge, gray cat, wise-looking and fastidiously-
groomed, snoozed close to the register. A canary
hopped from the floor of his cage to the perch at
its top, emitting the occasional screeches of his joy.

" Well, I guess I think that myself," Aunt Lottie
agreed. " More often than you would, perhaps.
For this room has associations with your mother
that you don't know anything about. You see, she
and I refurnished our houses at the same time. One
reason why we were such great friends was that,
although in all other things we were as different as
chalk is from cheese, we were alike in one thing — we
loved modern furniture. When I inherited this
house, it was full of old-fashioned hair-cloth that
had belonged to my Aunt and Uncle Hepburn.

s

272 Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice

Yours was fitted out just the same way when your
vant's things. Of course I was my own mistress and

Aunt Lottie gave a sudden pull to her worsted.
Released, the ball bounded from her lap, rolled
rainbow streak through the air and hit the cat in th
head. He opened one somnolent eye, contemplate
the blazing intruder with a cynical distrust, then
closed it again.

"Phillips Brooks hasn't got a drop of play in him,"
Aunt Lottie murmured disapprovingly. She nodded
in the direction of the cat. " " I guess I've got to get
a kitten. The trouble is, though, training them not
to hurt Tamagno." She nodded in the direction o
the canary. " Of course I was my own mistress an
est time making your father understand that i
wasn't irreverence why she wanted new thing
Land, she used to talk to me by the hour how sh
hated that old black walnut stuff — she said they ha
enough marble in the house to fit out a graveyar
She was always making up epitaphs that ought t
go on them — you know what a trainer she was. Sh
loved bright things — so did I. And so when sh
finally convinced your father that she was right, w
both went into Boston, shopping every day for tw
weeks. My land, weren't we tuckered out at night
And the money we spent! She was always eggin
me on and I was always urging her. We both got
oak. We both loved it because it was so brig
and we each bought two morris-chairs. One thin
sell the black walnut sideboard. It was all carv

Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice 273

with bunches of grapes. So your mother gilded
them. That brightened it up a lot, and she always
covered the top with some beautiful piece of pongee
and ecru macrame work. But so long's she couldn't
have the sideboard, she got that handsome piece
that's in the dining-room, the desk and bookcase and
plate-rack combined. She said she was going to buy
the piece that had the most mirrors in it. ' Oh, how
I do love the golden glow of that oak ! ' she'd say to
me. ' Why, do you know, Lot, I love gold so much
that I'd like to live in a house that was carved out
of a gold nugget.' "

" Yes, I guess Ann is like mother," Beckie ob-
served. " She said the other day she'd like to paper
the two rooms downstairs in gold."

" There, didn't I tell you ! " Aunt Lottie exclaimed
triumphantly.

into her face that was not entirely the soothing
effect of Aunt Lottie's placid reminiscences. It was
as though she were hunting through her mind, find-
ing and correlating ideas. The grandfather's clock
nicked a whole quarter of a minute out of the silence
before she spoke. Finally, " So father didn't want
mother to make changes," she* stated more than
questioned.

" I should say he didn't. And when it came to
repapering, just the same fuss! But she finally
convinced him. But, land, he never could refuse
her anything, in the long run. The paper on the
house when she first came to live in it was all that
old plain cartridge. I was brought up with it
and I hated it just as your mother did. I see it's
coming in style again. There won't ever be an inch

274 Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice

of it in this house. And when all those beautiful
figured papers became the rage, your mother waj
crazy about them. She got a different kind foi
every room. She always chose designs of flowers
and ribbons. And such lovely borders as she picke<
out — the deepest she could find. And she got
paper with as much gold in it as possible for the
that more than anything. She said it gave her a
chance to have two kinds of paper and two kinds oi
borders in the same room."

11 Ann's going to have plain cartridge-paper,' 1
Beckie said. There was a troubled wonder in hei
voice, a dazed uncertainty in her face.

" I want to know ! " Aunt Lottie exclaimed.
"Well, well, how things come back, don't they
Seems as though the generations go through th(
same experiences. But speaking of changes, I guess
Ollivant's picture. You never saw that. And
good thing too. It was a dreadful-looking picture.
Your mother couldn't endure it. She said it de-
pressed her — he was such a melancholy-lookinj
creature. Then the paint was all cracked and peel-
ing and it had an awful measly-looking frame. Youi
mother finally got rid of it, but not until your fathe]
that the picture looked like old Warren of th(
Museum as Dr. Pangloss. You won't remembei
Warren, my dear, but your mother and I used t<
see him in everything he did — a fine actor."

" I've heard mother speak of him lots of times,"
Beckie interpolated.

Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice 275

" Well, fortunately, General Milliken died and
was delighted with that. She said she didn't care
what the picture looked like, as long as it had all
those gold buttons and braid in it. She said she
always fell dead in love with uniforms. General
Milliken sort of took the place of your great-great-
grandfather Ollivant, as you might say."

" Ann doesn't like that picture," Beckie mur-
mured. " She says he looks the way Joe Weber

Aunt Lottie's laugh, girlishly gay, filtered through
the room. "Isn't that your mother to the life?
She always saw the comical side of things too. Oh,
I never did anything but laugh when I was with
her. I used to come home dog-tired just from laugh-
ing. Many's the time I've said to her, ' Jen Ollivant,
if you make me laugh again, I'll leave the house.'
and, oh, how it did amuse your father — was the way
she loved change. She was always rearranging the
furniture in the rooms. Now I wasn't that way at
all. As soon as I'd bought this furniture, I was per-
fectly contented. I decided what the best place was
for every piece and they all set to-day just where I.
put them when they came into this house, thirty years
ago. Now if your mother was alive, I expect she'd
be wanting all the new things that are coming in. I
often think what good fun she and Ann would have
together; they'd be hand-in-glove in the changes
Ann's making now. Of course the younger children
don't remember her when she was so gay, but you
do."

" Oh yes," Beckie said fervently, " and so beau-

276 Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice

1

tiful and kind. I often think of one thing. Mother
always called me, ' My pretty little daughter/ and
Lainey, ' My clever little daughter/ and Ann, c My
merry little daughter.' I see now that she called me
* pretty ' because she didn't want me to know that I
wasn't pretty. I was almost grown up before I
realized the truth. I'm glad she did that; for I did
love beauty so. It would have broken my heart then
to think I wasn't pretty. I don't care so much now."

" Handsome is as handsome does," Aunt Lottie
promulgated with a sage briskness. " You're good-
looking enough, Beckie, and your hair is beautiful.
And you're as smart as a whip and as bright as a
dollar. Besides, you've looked twice as good, ever
since you let Ann choose your clothes. That queer
brown is very becoming to you and you do your hair
so much softer. What was it you wanted to talk
over with me? "

" Oh, nothing," Beckie said evasively. " Only
about the house. But I see Ann has told you."

" Oh yes," Aunt Lottie declared. " She talked
it over with me ten days ago. I'm sorry your
mother isn't alive to see it all. She'd be so proud
and happy."

".Well, I guess I'll be going now," Beckie said.
" Dinner must be most ready. Good-by, Aunt
Lottie."

" Good-by, Beckie. Tell Ann I'll be over to-night
to see how the house looks." The silver glitter in
the carefully-kept little hands died as Aunt Lottie
suddenly stopped knitting. " Beckie," she said
softly, " I'm going to tell you something now. It's
a secret though. And you must never tell the others.
Promise me."

Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice 277

11 1 won't," Beckie promised.

u I often accused your mother of it, but she never
would admit it. It is the truth, though. You were
her favorite child.' 1

A soft light came into Deckie's clear-gazing, hazel-
green eyes, burst there into their fullest scintillation,
out under her clean-looking, freckle-dappled skin,
wiping away all her fatigue. " Oh, thank you for
telling me, Aunt Lottie. Good-night ! "

As in a dream, Beckie proceeded across the street
through a purple-misty spring dusk in which the
stars nickered like fireflies and the street lights glim-
mered like moons. As in a dream, she entered the
house and ascended the stairs. But once in her
room, she awoke to feverish action. She unpacked
her trunk with a cyclonic speed and a clock-like
efficiency, put everything back in its place.

From downstairs presently came the noise of the
arrival of the three boys. Beckie ran down to join
them.

The beautiful old Sheraton couch, newly-uphol-
stered, which had taken the place of the hat-rack in
the hall, bore a confusion of hats and coats, al-
though the closet under the stairs held open a wel-
coming door. The three girls — Ann all glittering,
Lainey all gleaming, Bird all glowing with excite-
ment — were receiving the praise of the boys.

" It certainly looks swell, Bird," Ed was saying.

And, " Class, Ann. Nothing but," Matt rein-
forced him.

11 Gee, I suppose I'll get used to it, some time,"
Roly grumbled. " But now I feel as though I was
in a hotel or an art-museum or something."

278 Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice

Fires were blazing high in both rooms; gas was
shimmering low. The double light extracted the last
atom of warmth from the new velvety, golden-
brown paper and the new velvety, brown-and-blacl
upholstering — diffused that warmth in the atmos-
phere. Everything seemed to catch the light: th<
old gold-framed mirrors placed opposite an<
throwing back and forth shadowy, constantly-chang-
ing visions of the excited young faces; the old can-
delabra, lifting lighted candles and dripping rain-
bow-faceted prisms; the gold-satin surfaces of th<
old maple table and the old maple chairs; the
bureau of maple and mahogany with the old hand-
carved brasses set in it and the old silver service set
on it. On the table daffodils fluttered their goldei
wings, standing straight-stemmed in low, greei
Chinese dishes, and on the piano a pair of gold-
fish pursued their endless, sinuous quest in a bowl,
like a bubble. Garret-loot — a framed sampler,
pair of silhouettes, some Staffordshire groups, a fe^
traits of Mr. and Mrs. Ollivant smiled on the scene.

" You see the keynote of this room is gold an<
brown," Ann explained. " It only needs one thing-
a great splash of color over there. Something that
would strike a discord — this is all a little tot
harmonious, if you know what I mean."

" I don't," said Roly promptly, " and I bet
dollar you don't, either."

u But I can't think what," Ann went on, unheeding
this gibe. " Something futurist, though. What do
you think of it, Beckie? "

" I think it's perfectly lovely, Ann," Beckie said
with the warmth of complete conviction. " I think

Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice 279

you've done a wonderful job and I'm as sorry as I
because I thought it would be a sort of — disrespect
— to mother. I see now that it isn't and I know
she'd like it. I'm just as crazy as I can be about it.
And I'll tell you what I'll do, Ann. A young
fellow came into the office the other day who'd just
come from Paris. He is a futurist artist — a pupil of
Matisse. He was up against it and he wanted Mr.
Pray to buy one of his pictures. It seems Mr. Pray
knew him once — they peddled fly-paper together
years ago when they were awfully poor. Well, Mr.
Pray bought one of his pictures. It's a terrible thing,
I think. He calls it ' The Soul in Transit.'
Mr. Pray bought it, but he won't have it round. He
said that if any of us wanted it to take it. Nobody
wanted it and there it is. I'll have it sent home
Monday. You'll love it, Ann — so will Bird. The
name he signs is Yvanne, but his real name's Mc-
Gillicuddy."

u Yvanne!" repeated Bird. u Do you mean to tell
me that Yvanne is begging people to buy his stuff?
Oh, Yvanne's a wonder. His color is most re-
markable."

" Oh, Beck! " Ann exclaimed. " If you aren't a
darling. I can't wait until Monday. What does it
look like?"

" It looks like a badly-built spiral staircase,"
Beckie answered, " or a broken flying-machine."

11 Oh, how wonderful ! " sighed Ann. " I hope
it has plenty of color. What color is it? "

Beckie wrinkled all over her face with the degree
of her concentration. " Scarlet," she said imme-
diately, " a lot of scarlet. And blue — a deep cobalt

280 Beckie Hears Her Mother's Voice

blue. Let me see," she began to go more slowly — 1
" orange and green. Oh yes, dashes of a pink;
yellow or a yellowy-pink. And — oh — I almost fo

"Doesn't that sound swell, Bird?" Ann co
mented with rocking eyes. " It'll strike just t
right single note of discord."

11 It'll strike several, from Beckie's description,
remarked the sardonic Ed. " Sounds to me like
brass-band tuning up."

Later: u Oh, by the way, Ann," Beckie said, " IVi
decided to learn the new dances. But I'm going £
a teacher and get them right."

" Oh, do, Beck," Ann applauded. " Oh, and a
him to teach you the squirrel-jump first. It's t
only one I can't seem to get."

Later: Beckie seated herself at her desk. Fir
she took down from the mantel the framed pictu
of her mother that always stood there. It was t
last studio picture for which Mrs. Ollivant ha
posed — the old-time cabinet size. It purpose
frankly to record a new dress, a trained tight-fittin
gown of black velvet with fichu and cuffs of re
lace. Beckie looked at it long, but she smiled a
the time.

Latest of all, she opened her diary. " It's a
right, mother dear," she wrote. " I feel as thou

CHAPTER XII

IT was very quiet in the garden. It was that in-
effable instant when golden day, half swooning,
melts into the arms of ebon night. And it might
have been that marvelous moment when jocund
spring, standing tiptoe, receives the kiss of tragic
summer. Starless, the sky still held its peacock blue-
green against the dusk, although from its depths
bubbled a half moon, pearly like a tear. Stirless,
the air was like a still liquid through which the
lighted windows showed like rectangles of gold-leaf
pasted onto the house. Occasionally a breeze zig-
zagged across the grass and caught in the vines that
covered the ell, producing a faint green vibration in
their filmy tangles. But always on the way back it
gathered the perfumes of too many flowers, stag-
gered, sagged, died of its weight. Now and then,
one plaintive bird called to another plaintive bird;
and then the air would explode with twitters and
flutters. But always the last note was a drowsy
:ry, ending in sleep.

Ed Ollivant reached into his pocket for a match.
He lighted his pipe. Head back, hands clasped be-
hind him, his pipe curling downward, hugging the
tine of his chin, the smoke weaving upward, unroll-
ng a pale-gray ribbon, he contemplated the scene.

From the kitchen came the sound of dishes being
scraped and stacked.

281

282 The Pleasure of Your Company

A breeze stronger than the rest blew the curtai
aside. Snatches of talk came through to Ed.

u — formal, I'd just love to have it formal
be a family once more. You'd enjoy them too, Bi
— especially Mrs. MacVeagh, Mrs. Farrington, a
Miss Littledown. They're great swells. You kno
what I mean. They've got the air that swells alwa
have. You can tell that the instant you see it." T
curtain rustled back, slapped against the scree
blew outward again. u — always like this. V
had this same feeling every spring since I've bee
old enough to think. I'm always expectin
something wonderful to happen and it nev
does."

This was Ann's voice. Her notes swelled to th
normal round fullness, but in their depths quiver
something alien — a kind of wistfulness.

" Yes, I know. I've been through that enou
times myself. And it doesn't happen. It can't
done. Other things do, but not that wonderf
glorious, unexpected surprise that you've been wai

These were Bird Barton's words. And her to
also had the flute-like clearness with the dash
cynicism that normally characterized it.

Ed Ollivant strolled leisurely down the path
the back fence. His three sisters, under Bird Bar
ton's tutelage, had performed miracles in the yarc
And yet all they had done, seemingly, was to remov
the rotting old board-walks and to destroy the mang}
old flower-plots. It was all grass-grown now, broke
irregularly with bunches of flowers. The snow-
drops and crocuses had gone, but the hyacinths
daffodils, and narcissi were in the full flutter of theii

The Pleasure of Your Company 283

spring blooming. The vines that inclosed the yard
on two sides as with a green waterfall remained
untouched. In one corner, as of old, the lilac-bush
would swing its inverted cone of perfume and blos-
som against the globular pink-and-white mass of the
apple-tree. In the other corner the syringa would
glimmer white against the vague cloud of the smoke-
bush. Between them stood, undisturbed but re-
painted, the little hexagonal summer-house, a ruffle
of boldly-carved wooden lace trimming its roof, a
series of plump wooden acorns hanging from its
points, a golden weathervane, in the shape of a
galloping horse, curveting at its peak. And beyond
the little two-storied bird-house, repainted also,
gabled, towered, turreted, many-windowed and
many-doored, still maintained its perch at the top
of a high pole.

Leisurely surveying all these things, Ed walked
back to the house. He looked very handsome against
that background of spring and in that atmosphere of
twilight. His new gray suit carried a characteristic
note of a conventional smartness. But there was a
touch of personality given to his aspect by the vigor
with which his long-fingered hands manipulated his
pipe and the frankness with which he threw back his
handsome, correctly-featured blonde face to sniff the
encompassing fragrance.

From the kitchen came the hiss of hot water
pouring into the dishpan — " I feel so discouraged
and hastily withdrawn — " all very well to do the
house over " — a loud splash as the silver dropped
into the water — " keep asking myself what good it
has done " — a loud rattle as the dish-mop swished it

::

284 The Pleasure of Your Company

about — " what's it all for " — a loud crash as
silver dumped into the draining-pan.

Again Ed walked the length of the garden,
no longer looked upward to sniff the air. His eyes
were filmed with meditation. Years ago, this had
been a very different kind of a garden. Along all
the fences blazed a screen of morning-glories and
in front of them, as though on guard, stood files and
files of sunflowers. The center, cut into circle
squares, and triangles, bore old-fashioned flower
geranium, balsam, zinnia, marigold, heliotrop
fuchsia, Johnny-jump-ups, lemon verbena, and dus
miller. Perhaps, as he walked back and forth,
Ollivant saw the genius of the place — the gay spi
who had called all these quaint growths into bein
and had reveled in their heterogeneous color — a ta
blonde woman, robustly slim in an afternoon-gown
of organdie muslin, striped in black vines an
figured in purple iris, a broad flapping leghorn ha
trimmed with black velvet ribbons and bunches
lilac — a watering-pot in one hand and the tail of h
skirt in the other. And beside her a little cha
bareheaded, in white pique kilts, white socks co
ing halfway over bulging, brown, scratched le
and black ankle-ties fitting over short, plump, stubb
feet — a little, pudgy chap, blue-eyed and snub-nosec
dotted with freckles and capped with gold, wh
tugged at the watering-pot and chirped unavailingl
over and over, " Let me do it, mother."

Could that little chap be himself?

Again he came back to the door. He seate
himself in the old rustic seat. The curtain flev
back, rattled, flapped. With a sudden impatien
movement, Ann reached forward, jerked it up hali

The Pleasure of Your Company 285

way. Framed by the window-square and lighted by
the kitchen-lamp, the two faces came out like a por-
trait: Ann all peach-like colorings, velvety surfaces,
rounded contours, chestnut hair, golden eyes, scarlet
lips — flower of the discontent of her late teens ; Bird,
incisively but delicately cut, faintly but exquisitely
tinted, hair smoky-dark and curling, eyes gray and
star-set, lips soft and faintly pink — blossom of the
cynicism of her early twenties.

" — hasn't been through it herself? I tell you,
Bird, that unless you have a father and mother —
or a lot of money — you have no social standing
whatever. And oh, how I do hate being nobody!
I want to be somebody — you know what I mean —
to count. The other two girls don't mind it. Beckie
doesn't seem to think of it at all. Poor Beckie, she's
never been a girl really. When she was my age,
she was waiting hand and foot on poor mother, who
had just begun to be ill. And I don't think Lainey
ever thinks of these things, either. But Lainey and
I aren't the least bit alike. And, in fact, Lainey's
different from other girls. She loves to read more
than anything else. She'd rather read than eat.
And she's simply crazy about suffrage and Socialism
and labor and those awful I. W. W.'s You are too
— but, then, you like clothes and entertaining and
going places and smart things. Now I'm only a
regular girl, although I've never had a chance to
feel like one. Maybe I'd be interested in direct
action and votes for women and minimum wage if
I'd ever had the chance to do the things other girls
do. But now they just bore me and that's all there
is to it. I don't want to uplift anybody and I'm
not interested in the worthy poor. It isn't so bad

286 The Pleasure of Your Company

about clothes. I mean I'm not so unhappy as
might be about the way I dress. Of course I don'
really prefer to make my own gowns and trim m
own hats. I'd much rather go into one of the Boyl
ston Street shops and pick out just the suit and ha
that I like. But as long as I can't do that, I'd rathe
suits all covered with buttons and braid and littl
tabs and everything — or the gowns that a bum dres
maker would turn out. And sometimes I really lov
the little hats that I trim for myself. And often '.
think my little dresses have a sort of air to them
Wait a moment, I've got to empty this water — it'
getting cold."

11 You're perfectly right, Ann," Bird answered
" You're very original. With a little training at a
smart establishment, you could make wonderfu
clothes."

Again came the hiss of boiling water as Ann re
filled the dishpan. The clatter of china punctuatec
her talk, as a steady stream of plates, cups, anc
saucers flowed from her hands to the draining-par
and from the draining-pan to Bird's towel.

But it's a fact," Ann presently took up her nar
rative, " that I never get a chance to entertain the
way I'd like to. You don't know, Bird, how des-
perate it has made me at times. Why, when I got
in with that Peabody set last summer, I was nearly
crazy with delight just because they did such jolly
things and spent so much money. When it began
to get to me that there was something queer abou
them, I closed my eyes to it at first. I wouldn't admi
it to myself because I didn't want to see anything
• that would make it impossible for me to go abou

The Pleasure of Your Company 287

with them. And then things happened that I couldn't
pretend not to see and I had to cut them out. Ed
would have made me, anyway. But you don't know
how I enjoyed being with people who were doing ex-
pensive things all the time."

" Oh yes, I do," Bird answered. " You can't have
lived in New York and been poor there without
knowing what the joy of spending money is. The
only thing I do maintain about New York is that,
although you can spend more money there than in
any place I know, trying to have a good time, you
can also spend less there than anywhere else — and
still have a good time. Boston is very different in
that respect. It's like all small cities. People have
their good times in their own homes, shut off from
the world. There's something compressed and tight
and selfish about it. Now a metropolis is different.
It's generous and hospitable and open-handed. It
has a human lovable quality. It's like people who've
known the experience of being down-and-out. It
understands as they do. It takes you right into its
heart and asks no questions. Beside it, smaller
cities seem cold and cruel and suspicious and narrow-
minded."

The peacock sky darkened suddenly. It was as
though some power standing in the wings of the
sidereal stage had switched off a whole row of
lights. Fire seemed suddenly to blaze up behind the
pearly moon, changing it to crystal. And suddenly,
as though they had been thrown against it from be-
hind, the sky was peppered with stars — little crystal
stars holding a tiny taper of light. A pair of bird-
cries made little liquid drops of sound in the silence.
Still Ed sat quiet in the rustic seat. His pipe went

288 The Pleasure of Your Company

out. He reached for a match, started to strike it
and then, as though he thought better of his inten-
tion, dropped it back into his pocket.

11 Why, Bird," it was apparent that Bird's gen
eralization had flowed smoothly through Ann'
mind, catching on no snag of interest there,
have no social standing of any kind. I'm just hous
keeper for this family. Father and mother mad
this house a center for a lot of people. We wer
somebody then. But that's all gone. We're n
body now — especially me. The rest of the famil
have their good times, but they always have the
away from here. Their work has brought them int
contact with interesting people. I don't mean Rol
of course. He's too young to chase round with an
body but a lot of little High School boys and girl
that don't interest me any. Still, if mother was ali
and well, I know she'd want to exercise some super
vision over Roly's associates — she'd be giving little
parties for him all the time. Take Lainey, though
Lainey has rafts of friends that she's made at Hig
School and through her teaching. She enjoys them
immensely. I don't care for them very much —
they're too — sort of serious and high-brow. Anc
Beckie knows slews of people that she's met throug
the relatives. They don't interest me, to be sure —
they're too — kind of — countrified and back-number
Matt too — Matt has an awfully good time. He'
always going off on automobile-trips with people
You see Matt's such a sport. He understands any
motor. He's a crack shot. And then, being such a
dandy tennis-player — Who do you suppose he's beer
chasing round with lately? Eunice Littledown.
don't suppose you know who she is — not having bee

The Pleasure of Your Company 289

long in Boston — but she's a real swell and an awfully
original girl."

" I've seen her name in the social gossip," Bird
answered. " Tennis-player, isn't she? "

u Oh yes," Ann answered. " A perfect wonder.
And then she rides horseback and runs her own
machine and drives a four-in-hand, golfs, swims,
raises French poodles. She plays tennis a lot with
Matt. Then take Ed — he's so good-looking and
well-dressed and such a good dancer, and has such
beautiful manners, he's awfully popular. Why, Bird,
Ed knows people who are being mentioned in the
society gossip right along. And that Mrs. Mac-
Veagh he runs with so much is always being roasted
in Town Tattle. Gee, doesn't she give the smart
parties. But as for me, I haven't any crowd.
There's no chance for me to meet anybody."

Here Ann interrupted her own monologue with
a loud splash as she poured the dish-water into the
sink. She continued to talk, however, as she
scrubbed the tables, rinsed the draining-pan, wrung
out the dish-rag, put the dish-towels on the stove
to boil.

" Why, right here in Marlowe Place, there's a
Tuesday Afternoon Club; nine girls who have the
dandiest times. Maybe you've heard us mention
them: Edwina Allen, Edna Williamson, Miriam
Naylor, Marie Mapleson, and that gang. Jane
Forrester's president. They give teas together and
get up subscription-parties, luncheons, theater-
parties. Why, just a little while ago, they got up a
Bazaar of all Nations for suffrage — Ed and Matt
helped — they ^ore Dutch costumes. The Tuesday
Afternoon girls asked me to join them when they

290 The Pleasure of Your Company-
started, two years ago. But I didn't have the clothes
to go round with a crowd like that, nor the money.
I don't know that I would have enjoyed it, but I
would have liked to give it the once-over. I used
to know them quite intimately when I was younger —
when things you wore didn't count so much — but
now I never seem to see them, except when I mee
them on the street. They're just as nice to me a
ever — only we haven't the things in common tha
we used to have. There's another thing about it. I
never meet any men of my own age. I'm not man
crazy, but I think it's every girl's right to know men
Well, I can tell you, Bird, the other day, when
met Len Lorrimer on the street and he asked m

to go to tea with him And I would have gone

if I hadn't promised Ed I wouldn't. You see this
Len Lorrimer is a married man who doesn't liv
with his wife. Well, all I know is that I can't stan
this very long. Some time I'm going to run awa
and go on the stage."

Again the sky darkened. And now the power,
standing in the sidereal wings, had switched off
huge areas of light. The crystal moon changed to
a silver moon. The fire behind it toned to a uni-
form metallic glare. The crystal stars changed to
silver stars. The tiny lighted tapers turned to little
metallic twinkles. A cloud raced across the moon,
caught on its horns, clutched it, muffled it, with a
smoky gauze. More stars leaped into place — more
and more — until the sky, clogged with heavy glitter-
ing masses, began to sink closer to the earth. Th
last liquid bird-note dented the silence.

" Now we've got to hustle, Bird," Ann concluded,
" to get to the theater in time."

e

The Pleasure of Your Company 291

Ed arose, strolled leisurely out of the yard. Still
bareheaded, he strolled to the apothecary-shop at
the corner of Marlowe Place. He shut himself in
the telephone box. " Give me Back Bay 8786," he
demanded briskly. " Oh, Thomas, is Mrs. Mac-
Veagh at home ? Ask her to come to the telephone,
a favor of you? "

It was a prolonged talk. " The twenty-fifth,
then," Ed concluded. " Don't forget, will you?"

He strolled back to the house.

" Lainey," Ann called. " Beckie. Oh, wake up!
Do wake up! Beckie! Lainey! Lainey! Beck!"

The little blonde head stirred first. Lainey's lids,
thin as the petals of new-blown white violets, lifted
slowly from eyes vague as the hearts of new-blown
purple violets. Lainey's hair hung away from her
head like an empty golden bag that tapered to a
long, loose plait. Lainey did not rise. The little
brunette head stirred next. But Beckie came to an
upright position immediately, her stiff-lashed lids
snapping up from her green-brown eyes, her
mahogany-brown hair parted from her forehead to
her neck, erupting in two tightly-braided horns, one
over each ear. "What is it?" she demanded
crossly. u Ann Ollivant, look at that clock. I'd like
to spank you. The only morning I have to sleep
too."

The sun could not have been many minutes above
the horizon. The sky was blush-pink with the dregs
of dawn. The air was blush-soft with the dregs of
dew. The May world glittered prismatically. The
tiny gossamers that covered the grass bubbled moon-

292 The Pleasure of Your Company

stones, the cascade of vines that flowed from roof to
garden scattered diamonds.

M Oh, Beckie, don't get cross," Ann wheedled.
11 I've hardly slept all night — I mean only in patches.
I'm so excited about it. And I didn't wake you
last night, though I was simply dying to talk it over.
Bird wouldn't let me. She's fast asleep now. But
I couldn't keep it another moment."

44 Keep what?" Beckie's eyes had lost their last
film of sleep. But Lainey's lids began to droop
over her eyes. " Don't you dare go to sleep, Lainey
Ollivant," Ann admonished her sister. Lainey's
lids flew open again.

Ann's eyes seemed bigger than usual. They
gleamed with a fire that blazed higher and higher
each moment, as though the very Torch of Joy were
burning there. Her cheeks seemed pinker than
usual. They foamed with a rose color that grew
deeper and deeper every instant, as though the very
Fountain of Happiness were playing there. She
might not have slept, but she was youth and fresh-
ness incarnate as she sat there, tubbed, nightgowned,
and negligeed.

"Well, hurry up," Beckie grumbled. "Tell
us."

" Ed wants to give a party," Ann announced.
44 He says it's time we did some of the things that
father and mother used to do. And you can say
what you like, Beck, but it's because this house has
been done over — and looks so swell — that he wants
to show it off to his friends."

44 What kind of a " Beckie started to ask.

14 He doesn't know," Ann answered. " He's left
that all to us."

The Pleasure of Your Company 293

11 When did he " Lainey began.

11 Last night," Ann answered. u Bird and I were
getting something to eat after the theater when Ed
came in. He sat in the kitchen and talked with us
for nearly an hour. He said for me to go ahead and
do it right and he'd pay all the bills. Why he al-
most gave me — carte blanche "

14 Who's he going to " Beckie made a second

attempt.

" Everybody," Ann answered impressively. " He
said to make out a list at once — so's to be sure to
leave out nobody."

" What did you decide to — > — " Lainey also made
a second attempt.

" A reception," Ann responded. " Bird and I
talked the whole matter over before we closed our
eyes and both of us dead for sleep. At first we
thought of a tea — but that would have to be in the
afternoon and would leave out all the men. Then
we thought of a dance — but really these rooms aren't
big enough. That would mean hiring a hall and
then nobody'd see the house all fixed over new. Ed
didn't say as much to me, but Bird and I both got it
that he was dying to show the house to Mrs. Mac-
Veagh. For, of course, although Mrs. MacVeagh
has loads of money and she's as smart as she can
be, I doubt if she knows a Hepplewhite from a
Sheraton." Ann's eyes flashed a golden scorn of
that condition of gross ignorance from which she
.herself had emerged only a few months before.
u Besides, Bird and I both thought a dance wouldn't
be formal enough for a first function — and I'm crazy
to give something formal — so we decided on the re-
ception."

294 The Pleasure of Your Company

11 When will " Lainey began for the third

time.

" Ed wants it the twenty-fifth. I'm going to get
right to work on that list. I want all the address-
books in the family. Then we'll all have to get
together and talk things over — there'll be a lot of im-
portant matters to decide — what we'll wear, for
stance. You two have simply got to have nei
dresses. I am — if I have to pawn something. I'i
going to wear pink. Bird says she'll wear whit<
Lainey, you ought to have blue, and Beckie

" All my life," Beckie said, doing a little intei
rupting on her own account, M I have wanted a bla<
evening-dress trimmed with shiny silver stuff."

" Well, for once," Ann announced with a higl
sense of relief in her voice, " you and I agree 01
something, Beckie. I was going to say black. Thei
we've got to decide what we'll have to eat and wh;
form the invitations will take — and everything
Now you can go to sleep, if you want to."

When Beckie and Lainey entered the dining-room
for the late Sunday breakfast, they found the rest oi
the family all there ahead of them. Ed, with hi*
eternal air of being perfectly dressed for the oca
sipn, was hurrying through one paper; Matt, in tl
baggy corduroy trousers and the blue flannel shii
which with him spelled relaxation, was tearing
through another; Roly, in knickers and his Hi{
School sweater, was calling loudly for food. Ai
sat at the foot of the table, address-books, to the
number of four, piled in front of her. Her excite
ment had seeped to the farthest corner of the rooi
but she was still pouring it out. She interrupt*

The Pleasure of Your Company 295

herself long enough to place on the table the tra-
ditional Sunday breakfast of New England: baked
beans, warmed over from the night before ; brown-
browned; piccalilli; chili sauce. The rest of the
family fell on the food with the zest of delayed
breakfasters, but Ann confined herself to a cup of
coffee that was mostly hot milk. Alternately she
turned the pages of the address-books and shot
questions from brother to sister and back again.

" Now what shall we have to eat at the party? "
she demanded suddenly. " That's a question I
want you to think hard about.' '

" Well, if you're asking me," Roly said, com-
pletely burying a fish-ball in piccalilli, " I don't have
to think at all — ice-cream — bananas — griddle-cakes
with maple syrup — and floating island pudding."

" I'm not asking you, Roly," Ann announced
stormily. " And you'll oblige me by keeping out
of this discussion. Floating island padding! "

" Beer and hot-dogs for mine," Matt answered
with an equal celerity.

" Oh, my goodness, what a family!" Ann ex-
; claimed. " Matt, don't you understand this is a
| formal function. It is to be swell. Hot-dogs! "

" I should say something dainty" said Lainey the
pacifist. " Little delicate sandwiches, ice-cream in
pretty shapes, and darling little cakes."

11 Men don't want anything dainty" interposed

SBeckie with the contemptuous superiority of those

who have cooked for the other sex. " Men want

substantial things — cold meats, and salads and

pickles and olives and cheese and sardines."

"Oh, heavens, Beckie ! " Ann groaned, "you sound

296 The Pleasure of Your Company

like a delicatessen. Why don't you say boiled dinner
or clam-chowder? This isn't a barbecue. It's a
function. It's to be formal. You don't bother
whether people get enough to eat or whether they
like it or not — you just give them the correct thing."

" Why don't you wait and discuss this matter
with the caterer, Ann?" Ed suggested.

" I guess I'll have to," Ann admitted scathingly,
11 if this is all the help I'm going to get from this
family. My goodness, I've never suspected how
little class there is to you."

"What do you do at a party like this?" Roly
asked, as one who desires information. " Play
games? "

11 Oh, certainly," Ann answered in a tense voice.
M Of course. Kissing games — post-office — pillow —

clap-in-and-clap-out — spin the plate What a

family ! Roly, do you know what the word formal
means? "

u No," Roly admitted. " But I know one thing.
I'm not coming to this party until you hand out the
grub."

" That'll help some," Ann said darkly. " Now,"
she added with a new impetus, " we'll decide who's
going to be invited."

" I stipulate," Ed interposed, " that you invite all
the neighbors in Marlowe Place."

"All right," Ann agreed with a sigh. " Of
course I know I've got to do that. It means, though,
that old Mrs. Gookin will be here promptly at nine
to stay until the last one goes. And everybody'!
have to shout into that ear-trumpet."

" And all the relatives," Beckie added.

" I suppose so," Ann agreed with another sigh

The Pleasure of Your Company 297

11 And we've got such a million of them and such
homely ones. And then they're all so fat and take
up so much room. And I suppose Aunt Margaret
will wear that fierce black satin with the jet, that
she's worn ever since I can remember. Oh dear,
why couldn't it be fixed so you could choose your
own relatives." Her voice trailed into the silence
of despair and then suddenly leaped into enthusiasm
again. " Probably they'll have to take early trains.
I've been going through all these address-books,
making a choice — weeding out — you know what I
mean."

" Doing what? " Lainey demanded.

" Weeding out. Good heavens, Lainey, you don't
suppose I'm going to ask everybody. There's that
Mike Milligan — that I. W. W. friend of yours. You
don't think I'm going to invite a man that's always
getting arrested? "

" Oh, my grief, Lainey, are you going to carry
Socialism into your private life? I thought Socialism
was something you just believed in and let it go
at that. It's all right, I suppose, when it comes to
crops and railroads and banks and stocks and bonds,
but it certainly is going to put parties on the blink.
Why, he wouldn't know what to wear or how to act.
Do you think he'd want to come, boys?" Ann's
voice melted from conviction to entreaty as she
turned to her brothers for reinforcement.

" If he thinks there's going to be anything to eat,
he'll come," said Matt. " Sure ! If he's a regular
I. W. W."

Ann groaned. " And, Beckie, I wasn't going to
invite that queer Miss Larkin, who has St. Vitus's

298 The Pleasure of Your Company-
dance so her nose twitches like a rabbit. And, Matt,
you certainly don't expect me to invite Gus Clark,
after the way he took you out that time and got you
drunk."

"If you don't invite Mike Milligan," began
Lainey.

" If you don't invite Almedia Larkin," began
Beckie.

11 If you don't invite Gus Clark," began Matt.

" Don't invite me," they all ended in chorus.

Ann stared for an interval of silence in which
palpably exasperation grew to rage and boiled over.
" All right," she agreed finally, " I'll invite every-
body we know — that red-headed grocery-boy with
the harelip and the piano-tuner with the glass eye,
and the gas-man, whose false teeth jump up and
down when he talks — and the ash-man and the ice-
man and the policeman on the beat. Well, the
party's ruined for me with all those lemons coming."
There came another interval of silence, in which,
obviously out of the ruins of her plans, Ann built
another hope. " Do you think Mrs. MacVeagr
would care to come?" she asked Ed. "And Mrs
Farrington?" she asked Lainey. "And Misf

" I think probably Mrs. MacVeagh will come
Ed answered with an elaborate indifference. "
know nothing about her engagements, of course."

" I'm sure Mrs. Farrington would like to come
Lainey said. " She's always so sweet and lovely."

" I don't know anything about Miss Littledown
Matt replied, " except that she's a good sport, i
ever I saw one."

" Well then," Ann announced, as one who ma

-

The Pleasure of Your Company 299-

noble concession for the good of the majority, " I
suppose I might as well get the invitations out-
Perhaps the lemons will be sick or something, though
I never heard of such a case. Bird and I looked up
the correct form in the etiquette-book. I'll start
writing them at once."

" You'd better have them printed," Roly sug-

"Printed!" Ann breathed. "What a family!"

11 The invitations are out," Ann announced the
next night. " Do you suppose people will have the

ably wait to see if something better doesn't turn up."

" I started to go down to the caterer this morn-
ing," Ann said, talking straight through Roly's re-
mark, " and on the way a wonderful idea came to
me — to ask those girls — you know the Misses Colby
— who've opened that little tea-room on the Boule-
vard — to cater for me. I went in to see them and
they were perfectly lovely about it. They said that
they would love to do it, as they were dying to work
into this sort of thing. They said they'd come up
here some morning and look over our table things.
They said they liked to use the family's own stuff
wherever it was possible — so it wouldn't look hired
and rubber-stamp. I told them frankly that our
china and silver was awful. They looked disap-
pointed, but they went perfectly wild when I de-
scribed the Sheffield plate set. Well, we talked for
a long time and we designed, if I do say it myself,
the most artistic eats you can possibly imagine."

"When do you pass round the grub?" Roly

3<X) The Pleasure of Your Company

asked with interest. " I was talking with Dink
to-day and he says he doesn't want to come till

then."

Ann's glance must have sawed through Roly's
skull, but she went on, blithely ignoring him. " And
I called up Miss Walker and she's coming day after
to-morrow for a week. Then I went in town and
got samples of dress-goods. I'm going in early to-
morrow morning again. So, you girls can be mak-
ing up your minds to-night what you want. I'll meet
Bird at twelve to-morrow and, Beck, you at one.
Lainey, I suppose you'll trust to Bird's and my
judgment. Now you must remember that all next
week will be given over to dressmaking. I'll work
with Miss Walker all day and the rest of you car
help evenings. At least Beck and Bird will. Oi
course you won't be good for anything, Lainey."

11 Can't I read aloud to you while you're sewing,'
Lainey asked in an agony of good-will. u I'm jus
starting ' Marcus Aurelius ' again."

" If there's anything that would drive me ou
of my skin quicker than being read to while I wa
sewing," Ann was apparently addressing the cosmi
spirit, for she glared into space, " I'd like t«
know what it is. * Marcus Aurelius! ' What
family!"

" The acceptances are beginning to come in," An
announced the next day. " I got Mrs. MacVeagh ;
and Mrs. Farrington's and Miss Littledown's i i
the first mail. Oh, such smart stationery — so el< •
gant and simple — wait till I show you. And Mifc
Milligan. He wrote from the I. W. W. hea<
quarters and he inclosed a sticker which said som

The Pleasure of Your Company 301

thing about no hops being picked in California till
two men were out of prison — I forget their names —
and asked me if I wouldn't write to the governor
Lennon's, and got some silver stuff that put it all
over that we saw at Candler's."

" All right," Beckie said obediently.

"And, Lainey, Bird and I decided we wouldn't
let you get that deep-blue stuff you liked so much.
We chose a paler blue — with a silver thread — oh,
it's wonderful, it's like a night sky smothered in
moonshine. You never saw anything so lovely."

U A11 right," Lainey said docilely.

"What do you think happened to-day?" Ann
asked the next night. u Aunt Lottie came over this
morning and insisted on our borrowing her two
maids for the party — Hattie and Josie. Of course
I was delighted. Aunt Lot makes them wear such
correct aprons and caps and they're such swell-look-
ing darkies. And then — what do you think? — she
said we'd simply got to use her chest of silver and
her set of black Chinese. You remember it — it's
that English ware — oh, beautiful — -flowers and
pagodas in Chinese coloring against a background of
coal-black. Well, at first I wouldn't hear of it. But
she said she'd run all the risk of breakage. She
said it was the first real entertaining we'd done since
long before mother died and she wanted it to be
right. Well, when she talked of mother, the tears
came into her eyes and, of course, I said yes, right
away. Aunt Lottie says she's going to have a new
dress too — a black and white foulard. Oodles of
acceptances came to-day."

302 The Pleasure of Your Company

" Well, wonders will never cease," she greeted
them the next night. " Of all things that I didn't
expect. Old Mrs. Gookin called this morning and
asked me if I didn't want to borrow her tulips for
the party. She says she calculates that they'll be
in full bloom then — they're a little late. You know
she has boxes and boxes — she's a wizard at making
them grow. At first I couldn't think of it, and then,
suddenly, I saw how wonderful they'd be against that
new brown paper — how they'd just light the house
up. And I said yes. And then the next moment,
Betsy Murray called up and asked me if I didn't
want to use their brass candlesticks. She remem-
bered hearing me say how I loved candlelight. You
know she has wonderful candlesticks — some beauti-
ful sconces among them. Of course I said yes.
She's going to express them out to me the day of
the party. Well, Aunt Lot's maids and silver and
china and Mrs. Gookin's tulips and Betsy's candle-
sticks were too much for me. I beat it right down
to the Misses Colby. They were perfectly wild— «
they say they're going to pull off a party that'll make
people open their eyes. And then on my way back,
I met the Tuesday Afternoon girls all pouring out
of Edwina's. And they stopped me and they were
so nice, said they were all coming. They kepi
asking me if they couldn't help, and finally, I don'i
know how it came about — I didn't propose it, the]
offered it themselves — they asked if they couldn'
serve as floaters — to circulate round at the receptior
and introduce people and see that everybody had t
good time. Of course I said yes, and now I don'
feel the least bit worried about anything, becaus«

The Pleasure of Your Company 303

they all said they'd be here on the dot of nine.

" People have been calling me up all morning,"
Ann announced the next night, " to ask if they could
bring friends who were visiting them. It was
awfully nice the way they'd put it. ' I wouldn't ask
if she weren't a charming girl,' or, ' I wouldn't bother
you if he weren't a very interesting man.' But oh,
the awful scare Mrs. Hunter threw into me. She
said she wanted to bring a cousin — a man. And, at
first, I thought it was that one who has epilepsy and
I had a vision of him throwing a fit in the midst
of the party with Mrs. MacVeagh there and Mrs.
Farrington and Miss Littledown. Well, I nearly
threw a fit myself right there at the telephone."

"What do they do when they have fits? " Roly
asked in what was apparently a spirit of scientific
inquiry.

" Oh, gnash their teeth and roll their eyes and
kick," Ann answered with a superb assumption of
complete medical information.

" Say, if he's coming, I'm coming," Roly an-
nounced with interest.

" He isn't coming." Ann cruelly dashed his
hopes. " It wasn't that one. It's a poet that's com-
ing. Yes, the way they all said, * I wouldn't think of
happy."

" Oh, that reminds me," Roly broke in. " Dink
Hardy's mother asked me to-day whether it was to
be the twenty-first or the twenty-fifth — she couldn't
tell from your writing which it was. You know,
Ann, you never dot your i's or cross your f's. I told

304 The Pleasure of Your Company

you, you ought to have the invitations printed —
you're such a bum writer."

11 Oh, my stars ! " Ann ejaculated, " suppose they
come on the twenty-first instead of the twenty-fifth.
Oh, what shall I do. Well, I won't be home that
night. I won't face them."

Roly, ll ' Party Thursday.' "

" Now," Ann groaned, " I shall live in torment
until the party's over. Rafts of acceptances came
to-day."

" Well, this afternoon I called up a few people
that I hadn't heard from," Ann said the next night,
41 and they all said my invitations read for the
twenty-fifth; so I'm not bothering about that any
more. That one is probably the only invitation that
I did so badly. All I've got to worry about now is
the weather. Oh, Aunt Margaret called me up and
she told me she was going to have a new dress for
the party. It sounded perfectly royal as she de-
scribed it and it must have cost billions of dollars —
purple-velvet brocade on cloth-of-gold — swell goods
but, oh, the way it's going to be made ! She'll look
exactly like Queen Victoria. Except that she's going
to wear that fierce set of lava jewelry that she
bought in Naples on her honeymoon, forty-sever
years ago. Still with that dress and all that lovel}
hair, she'll give the party a lot of tone — if she'll onb
keep her mouth shut. But the moment she says, l .
ain't a-going to,' and, * I can't tell nawthing about it
— well, that make-up isn't going to do her a bit o
good. Oh, I'm so tired of dressmaking. Slews o
acceptances came to-day."

The Pleasure of Your Company 305

Out of this confusion emerged the night — a night
clear and warm, moonless but full of stars.

The two lower rooms thrown open, gleamed with
light, and rioted with color. On walls and tables
glittered candles in sticks of lustrous colonial brass
and simple colonial shapes. On the piano and man-
tels fluttered masses of tulips, blood-crimson and
butter-yellow, rising straight and trim from their
sheaths of green. The bared old maple table in the
dining-room glistened like a hexagonal section of
massy gold. Against it came out, in startling con-
trast, Aunt Lottie's dishes of black Chinese. Here,
too, glittered candles and fluttered tulips. Lainey,
Ann, and Bird, in their slim evening-gowns, made a
mass of color to which Beckie's black-and-silver con-
tributed another heightening note. Ed, in even-
ing-clothes, with his inalienable air of a care-
free royalty performing a standardized function,
strolled about as though waiting for the program
to begin. Matt, also in evening-clothes, with his in-
alienable air of an important official performing
a new duty, leaped from room to room, carrying
out Ann's last orders. Roly, not in evening-clothes,
but unnaturally clean, brushed, and polished, sur-
veyed everything with a strong expression of dis-
approval.

Suddenly, a paper appeared in Ann's hands.
" Now get together all of you, family/' she com-
manded, " right here in front of me. I've some last
instructions to give you. I've made out a list of
things you're not to do. Now listen! To begin
with, you're to remember, first, last, and always, to
keep it formal. I can't impress that on you too
often. Keep it formal/ For that's the only way;

306 The Pleasure of Your Company

we can make a success of this party. I have no
advice to give you, Ed, for you're the only member
of the family that I can always depend on to do the
right thing. Except this, please don't say anything
about dancing; for the party will degenerate the mo-
ment you do anything like that. I want this to be
absolutely correct. Now you, Matt — if you feel
thirsty, don't you go out and get beer from the ice-
chest, the way you're always doing. And, Beckie,
don't you ask for coffee in a big cup, the way you
did once at one of Aunt Lot's teas. And I nearly
died of mortification when you did it too. Lainey,
don't you dare mention the word Socialism. And if
you say the letters I. W. W., I shall scream and
faint. As for you, Roly, no matter what you start to
say, don't say it. It's sure to be some fierce break.
I have had all the chairs, as you see, moved out into
the kitchen. Nobody is to sit down."
- M Suppose people ask for chairs? " Matt queried.

14 Tell them to leave the house," Ann an-
swered.

" And don't let them form one of those ghastly
circles," she went on, her speed unimpaired. " If
they do, I shall call up the police or put in an alarm
of fire — anything to break it up. I will not have one
of those circles."

" Well, how are they going to talk comfortably? "
Beckie demanded.

"They're not to talk comfortably," Ann an-
swered. " They're to talk uncomfortably. This
isn't a party where you're supposed to have a good
time."

" Suppose," Ed suggested gravely, " we should
find a group enjoying themselves."

i

The Pleasure of Your Company 307

" Separate them at once," Ann said with her first
gleam of humor.

" Now don't say anything," she concluded, " that
would shock Mrs. MacVeagh, Mrs. Farrington, or
Miss Littledown. And, remember, KEEP IT
FORMAL!"

This was at eight. At nine Ann was saying,
" Well, I know it's going to be a failure. In the
first place, I can tell by the way I look. Did you
ever see anybody so yellow and haggard and hollow-
eyed? Why didn't I get some rouge? I never can
be entertaining when I know that I don't look well.
And in the second place, I can tell by the way I feel
that nobody's coming. You can always tell when
nobody's coming — there's a kind of dull, shivery,
empty, vacant, dead feeling in the atmosphere.
Those rooms seem like an empty prison to me. And
in the third place — oh, my goodness, there's the bell !
I wonder if Hattie'll hear it. Of course she won't.
She's not accustomed to the sound of our bell. You
go to the door, Matt. Oh no, don't do that. Tell
Hattie, somebody, will you? She isn't hearing it.
Yes, she is. No, she isn't. Here she comes. Re-
member, KEEP IT FORMAL! '

At halfpast nine a score of people had arrived.
The banished chairs, as though exorcised by a pres-
perfect circle in the front room. At one side Mrs.
Gookin, flourishing her ear-trumpet, held a small
group of the neighbors in a shouted conversation.
At the other side Aunt Margaret, fearfully and
wonderfully gorgeous, presided over a small court,

308 The Pleasure of Your Company

Gookin, translating timidity and inarticulateness int
the ear-trumpet. Beckie wove about Aunt Margaret,
matical — questions. Ann stood in the background,
glaring frenzied-eyed into space. " I don't care
what happens now," she hissed once to Bird. " The
Tuesday Afternoon girls have failed me. I know
Mrs. MacVeagh and Mrs. Farrington and Miss
Littledown aren't coming and it doesn't make any
difference what anybody does. They can hold a
temperance meeting if they want to."

At quarter to ten there were thirty people in the
room. Still the circle maintained an unbroken per-
fection. Still the two groups refused to mix. " Did
you ever hear anything like those Tuesday After-
noon girls not being here yet?" Ann asked Bird in

a bitter tone. " If ever I trust to Oh, my

goodness, there's Mrs. MacVeagh's motor! Matt,
Matt ! Mrs. MacVeagh's coming up the steps. Get
rid of those chairs."

"How can I?" Matt demanded. "People are
sitting on them."

14 Pull them from under them," Ann ordered in
a distracted tone.

"Where'll I put them?" There was a note
that approximated hysteria in Matt's masculine
tone. " I mean the people."

"Throw them out the window — the chairs, I
mean," Ann answered. M Til hold her upstairs talk-
ing while you get them to stand up — the people, I
mean. Praises be, here come the girls."

At ten there were nearly a hundred people in the
two rooms. Tall, lithe, brune, piquant, very pic-

The Pleasure of Your Company 309

turesque in her cherry and gold, the center of a
group of men, Mrs. MacVeagh was filling the room
with her staccato chatter and her fluting laugh.
Pretty and gay, the Tuesday Afternoon girls were
circulating briskly.

" Thank heavens," Ann said, " that terrible cir-
cle is broken up. Oh, Ed, here comes Mrs. Far-
rington. Who's that getting out of the motor with
her? Mike Milligan! Well, what — when — how
did she know him? M

At quarter past ten the rooms were filled. Slim,
delicate, blonde, exquisite, very elegant in her
evening-gown of black and white, the center of a
group of women, Mrs. Farrington was radiating an
atmosphere of cordiality to which the whole gather-
ing unconsciously responded. The Tuesday After-
noon girls had succeeded in introducing the relatives
to neighbors and neighbors to relatives; they had
broken the two groups ; mixed them.

" If only Miss Littledown would come," Ann
confided to Bird, " I'd be perfectly happy. Oh,
there's her car now. My gracious, isn't that a won-
derful gown — that combination of dragon's blood
crimson and saffron-yellow? Now the party's going
to be a success."

Color flashed like rose-velvet banners in Ann's
wan cheeks, light flashed like golden signal fires in
her dull eyes.

At halfpast ten the rooms were impassable. At
eleven the maid began to pass the food which, ac-
cording to Ann, she and the Misses Colby had
" designed " — salads carved with calyx and corolla

310 The Pleasure of Your Company

that looked like flowers set in crisp nests of tiny
lettuce leaves ; ices molded with stem and leaves that
looked like fruit surrounded by lustrous shavings
of frost candy; tiny sandwiches that were as pretty
as cakes; tiny cakes that were as brilliant as jewels;
coffee that ran melted topaz.

Presently people began to leave — the elderly rela-
tives first, the elderly neighbors next. " It's been a
great success, Ann," Aunt Lottie whispered, her
alive to see it." " I never tasted such victuals in my
life," Aunt Margaret announced in megaphone
accents. " I must have et about a dozen of them
little sandwiches." " Now, you children, keep it up,
after we old folks have gone," Mrs. Gookin com-
manded in stentorian tones. " You can't be young
but once, you know."

Suddenly the room was half empty.

" Say," Ann suggested, " why can't we dance?
Maud, can't the boys go over to your place and get
the Victrola?"

There came dancing and dancing and more
dancing.

In the midst of it, Ann went out into the kitchen
to dismiss the maids. She found Mrs. MacVeagh
and Matt, sitting opposite each other at the kitchen-
table, dividing a bottle of beer. She stopped to talk
with them. In the living-room the dancing stopped
suddenly. The music did not start up. As Ann
re-entered the dining-room, there came a burst of
applause. Mrs. Farrington, at Mike Milligan's re-
quest, was giving the peroration of a talk which she

<

The Pleasure of Your Company 311

quarters — u Free Speech Fights in California. " At
its close dancing started again. Suddenly there was
a clatter outside on the stairs. The living-room
doors flew open to admit Miss Littledown and Ed
in the Dutch costumes left over from the Bazaar of
All Nations. Amid plaudits, they executed a spirited
clog.

Then came dancing and dancing and more danc-
ing.

This was broken by a sudden raid on the ice-box
for beer and on the kitchen-closet for crackers and
cheese.

Then came dancing and dancing and more danc-
ing.

It was two o'clock before the last guest left. It
was three before Ed, Matt, and Roly, still dropping
remarks, mounted the stairs to their rooms. It was
four o'clock before Beckie, Lainey, and Bird, still
gasping comments, crawled into bed. Five o'clock
found Ann, still sparkle-eyed and joy-flushed, sit-
ting at the window.

" Oh, it was so beautiful," she sighed. " Just the
way I wanted it to be — so smart and correct and
formal at first, and so gay and unconventional and
informal at the end. Anybody can have a stiff dull
affair, but it takes a real social instinct to give a
party that's full of pep. I guess we've inherited
father's and mother's gift that way. Weren't Mrs.
MacVeagh and Mrs. Farrington and Miss Little-
down lovely? "

She waited.

" Yes," came almost inaudibly from her listeners.

312 The Pleasure of Your Company

11 Just think of Mrs. Farrington talking to the L
W. W.'s. I can't get over that. It's simply impossi-
ble nowadays to keep up with what's the correct thing
to do. You can do almost anything, though, and get
away with it, if you've got social position. And, oh —
just think of me forgetting this. Jane Forrester said
I simply must reconsider my refusal and join the
Tuesday Afternoon Club. Ed was standing near
and she appealed to him — and Ed said I must and
I'm going to. Later, Ed told me he'd pay any extra
expenses about entertaining. Wasn't that sweet of
him, Beckie?"

She waited.

11 Yes," came in sleep-laden notes from Beckie

u And I thought Miss Larkin was perfectly dear
in that quaint little, black-and-white striped soft
silk and that nice old lace and all those amethysts
and that darling bunch of pansies. She looked like
a real swell. You hardly noticed her St. Vitus's
dance. Mrs. Farrington was so nice to her. And
I don't know what I would have done if Gus Clark
hadn't helped Matt get the chairs out that time.
And, oh, Lainey, you didn't tell me that Mike Milli-
gan was such a peach dancer. I could die fox-
trotting with him. Did you do the hesitation with
him?"

She waited.

" Yes," came in drowse-filled accents from Lainey

"I feel just like a regular girl to-night," Anr
went on, her •vivacity unimpaired. * " I feel fiv(
years younger all of a sudden. I had a convictior
that I never was going to have any youth. But nov
I'm really going to have it. Isn't that lovely, Bird? '

She waited.

The Pleasure of Your Company 313

" Yes," came in slumber-drenched tones from
Bird.

There followed a long interval of silence.

An old moon, like a wrecked ship white-sailed,
was careening on a sky like a violet sea. Swarms
of stars, like tiny silver birds, hung about that ship ;
myriads of clouds, like filmy fairy fish, floated in
that sea. A breeze brought the breath of the hya-
cinths into the room; then the daffodils. A bird
dropped a little jewel of sound into the quiet air,
another and another, until the world was full of
wide-awake peepings. Suddenly above the furry
tree-line appeared a rose-gold disk.

" But best of it all is," Ann concluded — and this
time she spoke softly, as though she were addressing
the rising sun — " we're on the map again. The
Ollivant family has come back."

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Demon, The. C. N. and A. M. Williamson.
Double Life of Mr. Alfred Burton,

The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.
Duke's Motto, The. J. H. McCarthy.
Fire in Stubble. Baroness Orczy.
Flower of the Dusk. Myrtle Reed.

30

Methuen and Company Limited

wick.

Lavender and Old Lace. Myrtle Reed.
Light Freights. W. W. Jacobs.
Lodger, The. Mrs. Belloc Lowndes.

Love Pirate, The. C. N. and A. M.

Williamson.

Mayor of Tkoy, The. "Q."

Mess Deck, The. W. F. Shannon.

Mighty Atom, The. Marie Corelli.

Mirage. E. Temple Thurston.

Missing Delora, The. E. Phillips Oppen-
heiui.

Mr. Washington. Marjorie Bowen.

Mrs. Maxon Protests. Anthony Hope.

My Danish Sweetheart. W. Clark
Russell.

My Husband and I. Leo Tolstoy.

Mystery ok Dr. Fu-Manchu, The. Sax
Rohnicr.

Mystery of the Green Heart, The.
Max Pemberton.

Nine Days' Wonder, A. B. M. Croker.

Ocean Sleuth, The. Maurice Drake.

Old Rose and Silver. Myrtle Reed.

Methuen's Shilling Novels— continued.

Gate of the Desert, The. John Oxenham.

Gates ok Wrath, The. Arnold Bennett.

Bailey.

Golden Centipede, The. Louise Gerard.

Governor ok England, The. Marjorie
Bowen.

Guarded Flame, The. W. B. Maxwell.

Halo, The. Baroness von Hutten.

Heart of the Ancient Wood, The.
Charles G. I). Roberts.

Heather Moon, The. C. N. and A. M.

Williamson.

Hill Rise. W. B. Maxwell.

House ok Serravalle, The. Richard
Bagot.

Hyena ok Kallu, The. Louise Gerard.

Jane. Marie Corelli.

Joseph. Frank Danby.

Lady Betty Across the Water. C. N.
and A. M. Williamson.

Lalage's Lovers. G. A. Birmingham.

Lantern Bearers, The. Mrs. Alfred Sidg-

Pathway ok the Pioneer, The.

Wyllarde.
Peggy of the Bartons. B. M. Croker.
Peter and Jane. S. Macnaughtan.

Quest ok the Golden Rose, The. Johr
Oxenham.

Regent, The. Arnold Bennett.

Remington Sentence, The. W
Ridge.

Round the Red Lamp. Sir A. Conan

thall.
Sally. Dorothea Conyers.
Sandy Married. Dorothea Conyers.
Sea Captain, The. H. C. Bailey.
Sea Lady, The. H. G. Wells.
Search Party, The. G. A. Birmingham.
Secret Woman, The. Eden Phillpotts.

Set in Silver. C. N. and A. M. Wil

son.

Short Cruises. W. W. Jacobs.
Spanish Gold. G. A. Birmingham
Spinner in the Sun, A. Myrtle Reed
Street called Straight, The.
King.

Tales ok Mean Streets. Arthur Mor

Teresa or Watling Street.
Bennett.

There was a Crooked Man. Dolf Wyll

Tyrant, The. Mrs. Henry de la Pastu

Under the Red Robe. Stanley J. We

Unofficial Honeymoon, The. Do
Wyllarde.

Virginia Perfect. Peggy Webling.

Wallet of Kai Lung. Ernest Bramah.

Ware Case, The. George Pleydell.

Way Home, The. Basil King.

Way of these Women, The. E. Phil
Oppenheim.

Weaver of Webs, A. John Oxenham.

Wedding Day, The. C. N. and A.

Williamson.

White Fang. Jack London.

Wild Olive, The. Basil King.

Woman with the Fan, The. Ro
Hichens.

WO2. Maurice Drake.

Fiction

3i

Methuen's Sevenpenny Novels

Fcap. Svo. Jd. net

Angel. B. M. Croker.

Barbara Rebell. Mrs. Belloc Lowndes.

Blunder of an Innocent, The. E.

Maria Albanesi.
Broom Squire, The. S. Baring-Gould.
By Stroke of Sword. Andrew Balfour.
Count's Chauffeur, The. William le

Queux.
Derrick Vaughan, Novelist. Edna

Lyall.
Dodo. E. F. Benson.
Drama in Sunshine, A. H. A. Vachell.
Green Graves of Balgowrie, The. Jane

H. Findlater.
Heart of His Heart. E. M. Albanesi.
House of Whispers, The. William le

Queux.
Human Boy, The. Eden Phillpotts.
I Crown Thee King. Max Pemberton.
Inca's Treasure, The. E. Glanville.
In the Roar of the Sea. S. Baring-Gould.
Into Temptation. Alice Perrin.

Katherine the Arrogant. Mrs. B. M.
Croker.

Lady in the Car, The. William le Queux.

Late in Life. Alice Perrin.

Lone Pine. R. B. Townshend.

Master of Men. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Miser Hoadley's Secret. A. W. March-
mont.

Mixed Marriage, A. Mrs. F. E. Penny.

Moment's Error, A. A. W. Marchmont.

Mother's Son, A. B. and C. B. Fry.

Peter, a Parasite. E. Maria Albanesi.

Pomp of the Lavilettes, The. Sir Gilbert
Parker.

Prince Rupert the Buccaneer. C J.
Cutcliffe Hyne.

Princess Virginia, The. C. N. and A. M.
Williamson.

Profit and Loss. John Oxenham.

Red Derelict, The. Bertram Mitford.

Red House, The. E. Nesbit.

Sign of the Spider, The. Bertram Mitford

Son of the State, A. W. Pett Ridge.

WO a . Maurice Drake.

4/10/16

Printed by Morrison & Gibb Limited, Edinburgh

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".P
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