Part 16

“Oh, I couldn’t see him like this. I don’t care for any dinner.” Nannie sat up in bed and reached for the hand mirror which lay on her dressing table.

“I’ll send you up some then.”

“All right. You can tell Katy to bring me up a little something. I’d like some of the bisque I had her fix for John. He’ll feel hurt if I don’t taste it,” asserted Nannie apologetically.

Lucy made a motion toward the door but Mrs. Merwent held her hand.

“Wait a minute. Kiss me, Lucy. I’m so lonely.”

Lucy hesitated almost imperceptibly, and then bent down and kissed her mother’s cheek.

“Tell Katy she can send up the saucer of blanc mange she saved for me yesterday,” Nannie instructed as her daughter reached the door.

“What was the matter?” inquired John anxiously as he descended the stairs behind Lucy.

“Why, she was crying because she thought you were angry with her when you came home,” replied Lucy.

“Angry? I didn’t say anything to her.”

“I think it was your manner as much as what you said.”

“Well, I can’t be eternally thinking of my every word and intonation in this house. I’ll lose my mind. It’s first on one side, and then on the other. A man don’t know how to talk or act.”

“I don’t think you can quite compare us, John. I haven’t made any scenes like this.”

“No, but here you are jumping on me for not keeping your mother in a good humor, while I was only worried about you. You’re a very appreciative person, I must say!”

“I’m not jumping on you, John.”

“Well, you said I was the cause of all this to-do.”

“I didn’t say you were to blame, John.”

“Well, my good intentions weren’t very successful, if that’s so. You go around like the chief mourner at a funeral, and then when I make any attempt to help, you give me a slap like this.”

“You certainly don’t help me when you start situations like this one.” Lucy’s voice became cutting. “You don’t have to spend all day with her. It will take me a week to get her over the fit of blues she has.”

“Yes! That’s all the thanks I get for trying to show consideration! Talk about being misunderstood! I think I’ll keep my mouth shut after this.” John reseated himself at the table, and began to eat again in gloomy silence.

“John, what has gotten into you? You are so changed I hardly know you. Yow didn’t use to be so sensitive and childish.”

“Thank you,” he retorted sarcastically.

“Well, you are. Since Mother came you have gotten to be more like her every day. I think _I_ am the one who has a hard time. I feel sometimes as though I would lose _my_ mind.”

“That’s the second time you have said I was changed,” he snapped. “You are the one who is changed, and I think I can guess the reason. It’s not your mother half so much as it is someone else.”

“What do you mean?” demanded Lucy, her cheeks paling.

“Never mind what I mean. I don’t want to hear you accuse Nannie of anything more. If you are so warped that you think she has destroyed my manhood and made me into a baby, the less we have to say to each other, the better. She may be sensitive but she at least appreciates attempts at kindness, which you don’t.”

“I don’t want to talk any more,” announced Lucy wearily, with an effort at self control.

“Neither do I. I’m going down town,” he declared savagely. He threw down his napkin and went into the hall. Taking his hat from the stand, he left the house. Lucy heard the gate slam.

She took Dimmie up to bed.

It was Saturday night. John did not come in until past midnight.

* * * * *

Nannie did not get downstairs even for the usual late Sunday breakfast, and Katy took coffee, toast, eggs, and fruit to the bedroom. When the invalid finally appeared she was wearing an elaborate négligée. She clung to the walls, chairs, and tables, as she walked, and otherwise exhibited symptoms of extreme prostration.

When she came into the dining room, John, who was seated by the table, reading, looked up with an air of constraint.

Nannie greeted him in a faint voice. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he answered.

After a second’s hesitation, he put down his paper and rose and went toward her.

“You look pale, Nannie,” he remarked in a low tone, pushing forward an armchair, but avoiding her glance as he did so.

“I’m all right, John. It’s nothing,” she replied in the same weak voice. “Thank you so much,” she added, sinking into the chair.

“Let me get you a little port wine,” he offered, standing beside her and watching her face as she leaned back with closed eyes.

“Oh, no, John. Don’t bother. I’ll be better in a minute,” she protested, smiling bravely. Then, with a sigh, she reached into the bosom of her gown and took out an envelope. “I want you to mail this letter for me,” she continued, with an obvious effort.

John took the letter from her and stared at the address uncomfortably.

There was a pause.

“I slept so badly last night,” said Nannie, moving her head from one side to the other as it rested against the chair.

“Nannie!” John blurted out, unconsciously crushing the envelope in his hand as he spoke, “I didn’t mean anything last night. I didn’t intend to hurt your feelings at all. I was tired and worried, that’s all.”

His face flushed and he hesitated, gazing at her expectantly.

She did not answer at once, but when she opened her eyes she was smiling faintly. Reaching out her hand she laid it on his. He gave a relieved sigh.

“I know, John, dear! Lucy is so abnormal,” she breathed, tenderly sympathetic, lowering her voice and glancing toward the kitchen as she spoke.

“And you won’t talk any more about this confounded Professor Walsh?” John spread out the envelope and looked at it.

“I must write to him and acknowledge the check,” Nannie protested, accepting the letter which he held out.

“But you’ll tear this one up?” Nannie tore the paper in two and replaced the fragments in her dress.

“I thought you didn’t want me here any longer, John,” she murmured, averting her face.

“And that’s what you wrote him?” John was too full for further utterance.

“I told him I was coming back soon,” she admitted.

“Nannie!” John gasped reproachfully.

She touched his hand again. He caught her fingers and clasped them, but his expression was still hurt.

“You mustn’t be angry with me, John, dear!” she begged, lifting her face to his.

“I can’t be angry with you very long, but if you do that again----!”

“I won’t, John! I--I----” With an effort that looked heroic Nannie tried to rise but sank back in her chair. “I’m still so faint,” she apologised almost inaudibly.

“Don’t move, Nannie. I’ll get you the wine,” and John hurried to the pantry, returning with a glass and a bottle. “Take a good stiff drink,” he urged, pouring some of the liquor into the tumbler as he spoke.

She made a wry face as she sipped it.

“You are so good, John. I feel better now.”

“So do I,” said John.

“While Lucy is so morbid we must try to coöperate, John.” She lowered her voice again.

“You’re right, Nannie,” he agreed with conviction.

When Lucy entered the room a few moments later John and Mrs. Merwent were talking as though there had never been a misunderstanding between them.

XXIV

On Monday morning Nannie was descending the stairs when the telephone on the landing rang and she stopped to answer it.

“Is this Mrs. Winter?” a voice responded to her “hello.”

“Who is this speaking?” interrupted Nannie.

“It’s Miss Storms. Is that you, Lucy?”

Nannie hesitated a second.

“No. This is Mrs. Merwent. Mrs. Winter is upstairs. Is there anything I could tell her?”

“If you wouldn’t mind asking her to step to the ’phone I should be so obliged,” said Miss Storms.

“Oh, very well. Wait a minute. Hold the wire.” And Nannie went into the kitchen.

“That woman wants to speak to you on the ’phone,” she told Lucy. “It must be something very private as she insisted on your coming to the ’phone yourself. I told her you were busy.”

Lucy turned from the table where she was mixing cake batter.

“Whom do you mean? Miss Storms?” she asked.

“Of course. Who else!” Nannie replied impatiently.

Lucy went into the hall and, mounting to the landing, picked up the receiver.

“Good morning, Miss Storms,” she called.

“I’m sorry to bring you downstairs, but I wanted to speak to you personally, Lucy,” began Miss Storms.

“Why, I wasn’t upstairs,” Lucy explained.

“Well----” and Miss Storms paused, “anyway I’ve some news for you. Your father is here, and his wife. I wondered if you would like to see them here. Can you come and have a cup of tea with us this afternoon?”

“Oh, thank you. Of course I’ll come. When did they get in?” “Last night. Well, we’ll expect you, dear.”

“What time?”

“We’ll have tea about four o’clock, but you come as early as you can and stay as long as you can. Good-bye till afternoon.”

“Good-bye,” answered Lucy, “and thank you so much.”

Nannie had been listening.

“What did she want?” was demanded of Lucy as soon as she hung up the receiver.

“She wants me to take tea with her this afternoon.”

“Who is that you asked when they arrived? Some friends of hers she wants you to meet?”

“Yes,” returned Lucy, not knowing what else to say.

“She didn’t say anything about me?” pursued Nannie.

“No,” responded Lucy, relieved.

“Well, she doesn’t have to invite me if she doesn’t want to. I’m sure I’m not dying to have anything to do with either her or her friends. Of course it makes no difference to you whether your mother is given the cold shoulder or not. You go running after her just the same. Well, I don’t care. It doesn’t make any difference to me. She needn’t think I give it a single thought. I wouldn’t go to her teas if she begged me to, and I shouldn’t think you would either after the way she’s treated me. First, she puts that Mrs. Low up to making trouble between me and your father, and then she tries to ignore me. But all she has to do is to crook her finger, and you go tagging after her. I should think you’d have more pride about you than that, Lucy.”

“But, Mother----” expostulated Lucy.

“Oh, well, don’t mind me. Go on. I’m used to being ignored and humiliated. I can forgive and forget, but little credit do I get for it. Anybody is better than I am, in your eyes. Go on. Go to your tea. I’ll find someone who thinks I’m worth looking at. I was going down town with Miss Powell this afternoon anyway.” And Nannie sat down to her as yet untouched breakfast.

* * * * *

Lucy had just returned from her visit and was removing her hat and gloves before the hall mirror when John entered. She turned to face him and greeted him expectantly.

“Hello,” he answered sulkily.

“I’ve been to Miss Storms’,” Lucy volunteered.

“Oh, I know all about your Miss Storms!” John told her. “Where’s Nannie?” He glanced about inquiringly.

“She’s upstairs.” Lucy’s tone had become as distant as his own.

“I don’t think your father ought to have come to Chicago while Nannie was here,” he began, speaking in a low voice, but with some heat.

“What do you mean, John? I didn’t know you knew they were here.”

“Miss Storms brought them by the office in her machine. She said she had just driven you to the station. I don’t think you ought to have gone under the circumstances.” His speech became louder.

“Why?” demanded Lucy, looking at him.

“Out of consideration for Nannie, of course.”

“What would you have done?”

“I should have told Miss Storms.”

“Told her that I wouldn’t see my own father? I couldn’t do that, John. He’s dearer than anyone else in the world, after you and Dimmie, and----” Lucy paused.

“More so than your own mother,” accused John.

A noise was heard. John stepped to the foot of the stairs and saw Nannie disappear in the upper hallway.

“I wonder if she heard,” he mused, frowning.

Lucy’s face grew hard. She turned and mounted the stairs.

“Dinner is ready, Mother,” she called, knocking at Mrs. Merwent’s door.

There was no answer. Lucy repeated the knock several times, always with the same result. John had followed her.

“I’ll talk to Nannie,” he announced pugnaciously.

Lucy turned away.

He tapped at the door. “Don’t you want some dinner?” he called in a voice that he tried to make careless.

Mrs. Merwent did not reply, but he could hear the sound of soft sobbing within. He tapped again. “Please try to eat some dinner, Nannie,” he called once more pleadingly. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

“No thank you, dear John. I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t swallow food. I o-oh,” and the sobbing was redoubled.

When John returned to the dining room Lucy was at the table. He seated himself in silence.

“She won’t come,” he announced gloomily after a few moments. “Now you see what you’ve done. Nannie is heartbroken.”

“I don’t see that I’ve done it,” retorted Lucy quickly. “I couldn’t help their coming to Chicago, and I didn’t tell her about it.”

“Well, if you had refused to go,” argued John, “and told Miss Storms you didn’t care to see the woman your father had deserted your mother for----”

“That would have been a good way to keep it from Mamma, who was listening to every word I said!” Lucy gazed at John defiantly.

“At any rate, if you had refused without any explanation Nannie would have needed to know nothing.”

“If she had not listened to what wasn’t intended for her ears she would have needed to know nothing.”

“How could she help hearing when we were talking in the hall?”

Lucy did not reply.

“I think you ought to take your stand, Lucy, without vacillating.”

“What do you mean by taking my stand, John?”

“Well, you are either on Nannie’s side, or you are on your father’s side. You can’t be on both.”

“I don’t see why not. That is just the stand I’ve taken. I’m not to blame for the divorce and I have a right to see my father whenever I wish.”

“Not after the way he has treated Nannie!” John answered hotly.

“I see her after the way she has treated him!” Lucy returned with equal heat.

“Lucy, do you mean to say that you have taken your father’s side against Nannie?” John interrogated incredulously. “I’ve just said that I’ve taken neither side.”

“But if you took sides, it would be for him,” persisted John.

“Yes,” admitted Lucy.

Dimmie came in through the kitchen doorway and halted by the table. Lucy drew her to him, and he leaned against her chair. John took no notice of him.

“Lucy, I am surprised. How a woman can turn against her own mother----”

“What about her own father?” Lucy interrupted angrily.

“You are unjust, cruel and ungrateful,” continued John, paying no attention to her question.

Lucy was white.

“It is entirely my own affair,” she said coldly. “Suppose we don’t discuss it further.”

“It’s not your own affair,” contradicted John, “and I don’t propose to see you insult and humiliate your mother in any such way.”

“You have no right to dictate to me in this matter or any other.” Lucy rose from the table, her eyes blazing.

John sprang up and went out through the hall, slamming the front door after him.

“What is Papa mad about?” Dimmie asked of his mother.

Lucy sat down again and buried her face in her arms on the table.

* * * * *

As Lucy had not taken any dinner to her the previous evening, Mrs. Merwent appeared at the breakfast table at an unwonted hour, shortly after John’s departure for the office. She was almost without rouge and wore the négligée of the previous Sunday, a creation of grey and rose.

“I’m not hungry,” she explained as she seated herself and began to eat. “Every bite I take chokes me. But I am so empty and weak that I must take some nourishment or I’ll be sick.”

Lucy sat down wearily, saying nothing.

“I never saw such coarseness before in my whole life,” resumed Nannie. “The idea of that woman calling you up to go and see your father and that creature while I was actually in your house! I suppose that is fine feeling here in the North.”

Katy had gone to market, so it was Lucy who went into the kitchen when Nannie was ready for hot waffles.

“I suppose you saw her,” continued Mrs. Merwent, when Lucy returned.

“Have another cup of coffee, Mother.”

“I think I had better. I feel faint and dizzy.”

Lucy poured the coffee and pushed the bacon and eggs nearer her mother’s plate.

“You saw her, didn’t you?” repeated Nannie, helping herself to waffles and taking more bacon and eggs.

“Saw whom?” asked Lucy.

“You know whom I mean, Lucy. There’s no use trying to get out of it.”

“I’m not trying to get out of anything, Mother. I saw Miss Storms and Papa and--Papa’s wife.” Lucy hesitated a little over the last two words.

“I hope she dresses better than she used to in Russellville,” remarked Nannie.

Lucy was silent.

“Did she say anything about me?” Nannie took another waffle.

“No, Mother. No one mentioned you.”

“I see. Nobody even thought of me. Did that woman seem very fond of your father?”

“Who? Miss Storms?” interrogated Lucy, in a lame attempt at pleasantry.

“You know whom I mean, Lucy. It’s not funny to me if it _is_ to you.”

“Let’s not discuss Papa’s wife.” Lucy showed that she anticipated an outburst.

“Why not?” insisted Nannie virtuously.

“Because----” Lucy looked out the window.

“Because what?” demanded her mother.

“Why, don’t you think it’s in--well, bad taste, Mother?”

The explosion came.

“You’re a nice one to try to teach me good taste and propriety!” Nannie’s voice was suddenly raised to its highest pitch. “I may be divorced but I was never talked about while I was living with your father.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Lucy regarded her mother steadily.

“No, of course you don’t!” taunted Nannie. “Well, other people do. A married woman ought to be satisfied with the friendship of her husband.”

“If you are referring to Jim Sprague,” Lucy’s tone was menacing, “my friendship for him or anybody else is none of your business.”

She had risen. Her breast heaved and her nostrils widened as she gazed at her mother.

“Why, Lucy! How can you fly into such a passion!” Nannie was frightened. “I didn’t say there was anything wrong about it.”

“You said people were talking about us,” accused Lucy in a trembling voice.

“Why, no, I didn’t. I only meant that I was afraid people might talk.”

“That wasn’t what you said.” Lucy was very pale and continued to eye her mother steadily.

“You misunderstood me, Lucy. You are always misunderstanding me,” protested Mrs. Merwent soothingly. “I only consider your own welfare, and at the least thing you flare up like you hated me--over the merest trifles. I think I’m the one who ought to get angry.” Nannie assumed an air of injury.

“Oh, I’m too tired to talk about it, Mother.” Lucy’s eyes filled with tears.

“Yes, ‘Mother’! You always used to call me ‘Mamma’.”

Lucy did not reply.

“I suppose you didn’t get a chance to talk a minute alone with your father,” resumed Mrs. Merwent, as if nothing had happened. “Did you?” she repeated after a moment’s silence.

“Yes.”

“Did he say anything about me?” Nannie went on.

“I told you once, Mother, that nobody said anything about you.” “Well, did he seem conscience stricken and ashamed of what he had done?”

“No. Please let’s not talk about it.”

“I suppose then he looked happy?”

Lucy did not answer.

“Of course he did,” concluded Nannie, “and you said nothing at all about it. You were afraid to tell him what you thought of his crime. You are a nice daughter----”

Lucy went into the kitchen.

Nannie, having finished her meal, rose from the table and followed.

“Did you tell him what we think of his cruel and contemptible action? I suppose that creature gloats over it. What did you say to him, Lucy?”

Dimmie bounded into the room, breathless from play.

“Mother,” Lucy’s manner was defensive, “I wish you wouldn’t insist on knowing what it is better not to discuss.” Then, turning to the child she added, “Get your hat, Son. It’s time for you to go to Mrs. Hamilton’s. The wagon will be there pretty soon.”

“Then you did not take my part at all?” continued Mrs. Merwent tenaciously.

Again Lucy made no reply.

“You took his side, and the side of that odious snake in the grass who tempted him away from us. I should have thought that your self respect would have kept you from making friends with her, even if your mother’s suffering couldn’t. She’s no better than a common----”

“Mother!” Lucy’s eyes were dangerous once more.

“And that sneaking Miss Storms is no better. I----”

“Stop!” cried Lucy in a voice of command.

Mrs. Merwent paused involuntarily and shrank back.

“So far I have taken nobody’s part in this matter, Mother, and have tried to blame nobody. But if you are wise you will not make it too hard for me.”

“I suppose that means that you are going to take your father’s side,” sneered Nannie.

“It means just what I say,” Lucy was growing angrier with every word, “but I will not listen to you insult my father, or Miss Storms, who is my friend, or my father’s wife----”

“Who is also your friend,” supplied Nannie with another sneer.

“Yes, she is,” declared Lucy defiantly. “And they all had the decency not to discuss you in your absence,” she finished bitterly.

“And I’m not decent!” her mother almost screamed, throwing a cup she held in her hand on the kitchen table.

The cup broke into a dozen pieces and Dimmie, who had been listening with open mouth, began to cry from fright. Mrs. Merwent rushed from the kitchen upstairs.

Lucy took Dimmie to Mrs. Hamilton’s house. The carry-all arrived as they were approaching. After Stella and Dimmie were safely ensconced in the vehicle Lucy followed Mrs. Hamilton into the house.

“You look all tired out, Mrs. Winter,” Lucy’s neighbor observed as they seated themselves in the neat kitchen.

The tears started to Lucy’s eyes.

“I just felt as if it would do me good to see you, Mrs. Hamilton,” she replied.

“How is your mother?” Lucy’s hostess inquired pleasantly, a few moments later. “I’m afraid she thinks I’m never going to get over to see her. She was out when I called after the tea, and I’m just so busy I haven’t time to turn around. I wish she’d do as I said and just run in now and then.”

“She’s been going out a good deal. Is little Stella over her cold? She seems quite well again.” Lucy changed the subject quickly, looking uncomfortable.

Mrs. Hamilton had risen to open a window and did not hear.