Part 22
John talked much during dinner. When it was over and Lucy had accompanied Dimmie up to bed, Nannie turned to John sweetly.
“I’ll sing to you a little, John,” she suggested.
“Yes, Nannie,” he acquiesced. He stretched his arms over his head in a gesture of well being. “I feel in the mood for music tonight,” he added comfortably.
Nannie seated herself at the piano. Lighting a cigarette, John reclined in the Morris chair beside her.
* * * * *
The next day John whistled as he walked to the station.
“Good morning,” he called as he entered the office.
Jim was bending over a filing case and looked up with slight surprise.
“Good morning,” he said. “How is everybody at your house?”
“Oh, everybody’s well,” John answered, and, picking up his mail, began to whistle again. “Nannie is coming down town on the nine-thirty to do some shopping,” he observed as he was opening a letter a moment later.
Jim glanced up again, but was silent.
The two worked on without further conversation until about nine o’clock, when Jim rose. He reached for his hat. “When will you be back?” John inquired, tilting his chair toward the wall and opening his cigarette case.
“Not till after lunch,” Jim informed him. “I’m going several places, Layard’s among them.”
On reaching the street, however, Jim boarded a car from which he descended near the station that was the terminus for suburban trains from Rosedene, and when Mrs. Merwent emerged from the building he was one of the first pedestrians she encountered.
“How do you do, Mrs. Merwent?” He greeted her pleasantly, raising his hat as he spoke. “Aren’t you lost in this great city all alone?”
“Why, how do you do, Mr. Sprague?” cooed Nannie, shaking hands. “What a pleasant surprise! I thought you were at the office with John.”
“I was until a few minutes ago,” he explained, turning and walking beside her. “I’m out hunting for lath and cement now, but I’m glad to have run across you. I’ve been wanting to have a little talk with you for a long time.”
“Yes?” responded Nannie, scrutinizing him sharply from under her hat.
“Are you in a hurry now?” continued Jim. “Can’t I take you somewhere where we can sit down and have a soft drink?”
“Why, thank you, Mr. Sprague,” she declined, “but I _am_ rather in a hurry. I am anxious to get back to Lucy, you know. She depends so on me, and just now she’s not as well as usual.”
“Is she worse?” Jim half halted.
“No. Just about as usual.” Nannie took note of his perturbation. “I think the summers here are trying on her. I wish she could get away to the country for a couple of months.”
Jim quickened his pace.
“Well, of course I don’t want to detain you, Mrs. Merwent, but what I want to say won’t take more than ten minutes. Suppose we walk about in this little park a moment. It’s almost empty and we’ll be practically alone.” “Why, Mr. Sprague,” Nannie laughed nervously, “you almost frighten me. You talk like a--conspirator!”
“Don’t be afraid. I’m not dangerous. Here, let’s go this way.” And he led her from the street into a shady promenade.
Nannie, hesitating slightly at first, smiled and conversed about the weather, the occasional people they met in the course of their walk, and other irrelevant topics.
“Now what was it you wanted to tell me, Mr. Sprague?” she insisted suddenly as they neared the center of the park.
“Well, it is this, Mrs. Merwent. I am going to Russellville.”
Nannie, of course, could not change her artificial color, but her eyes and mouth opened their widest.
“On business?” she inquired uncomfortably.
“No. I am going to see Professor Walsh, and Mr. and Mrs. Sheldon, and Mr. Blair, and Judge Dodd, and several other friends of yours.”
Nannie sat down on a bench by the path. Jim seated himself on the same bench, a little distance from her. His brown eyes appeared yellowish in the sunlight as they looked straight into hers.
“Wha--what for?” she faltered in a voice she strove in vain to control.
“I want to talk to them.”
“Why, you don’t know any of them,” objected Mrs. Merwent perplexedly, her eyes falling before his.
“No. But I shall take letters of introduction from Professor Walsh’s cousin and others--letters which will enable me to know them and to have their confidence.”
“Professor Walsh’s cousin?” interrogated Nannie, her voice unsteady. “How did you know about Professor Walsh? I never heard of his cousin. Where does he live?”
“Here in Chicago.”
“Why, Professor Walsh never told me,” she confessed blankly. “He never even said he had a relative near here. Who is he?”
“He’s a lawyer. He was consultant to Mr. Merwent’s attorney in the divorce case against you. Professor Walsh himself gave Mr. Merwent the letter of introduction.” Nannie’s eyes opened even wider, if possible, at this.
“But what are you going for? What are you going to do?” she continued.
“I’m going to talk to your friends, Mrs. Merwent.”
“You’re trying to scare me.” Nannie made a feeble attempt at bravado. “What have I got to do with all this? You have nothing to tell my friends about me.”
“Yes, I have,” Jim asserted vigorously.
“What?” demanded Mrs. Merwent, her hands shaking as she played with her purse and parasol handle.
“I’m going to ask them, especially Professor Walsh, if they approve of what you are doing to your daughter’s home.”
Nannie gazed at him defiantly.
“What am I doing?”
“We probably shouldn’t agree as to that, Mrs. Merwent, but I shall give them my version of it.”
Nannie was visibly working up her anger.
“This is pure spite, Mr. Sprague. You have never liked me, because I saw through your weakness for Lucy, but you can’t frighten me. I suppose _she’s_ put you up to this! I can tell my story, too, and we’ll see who comes out of it best.”
“Now, you’re bluffing, Mrs. Merwent, and it won’t go. I am quite ready to believe that you would befoul your daughter’s name to try to clear yourself, but you know as well as I do that it wouldn’t save you. In any case your daughter could not possibly be in a worse situation than she is, and, if you want war, we’ll leave it to your friends and hers to decide. She hasn’t the slightest idea that I am doing this. I think that’s all I wanted to say, Mrs. Merwent.” And Jim rose.
“Have you written to Professor Walsh?” inquired Nannie weakly.
“Not yet,” Jim admitted grimly.
“It will be a fine thing for a _man_ to do, going around talking about a woman behind her back!”
“We won’t discuss that, Mrs. Merwent.”
“I don’t know--I don’t understand what you mean by all this, Mr. Sprague. One thing is sure, I shall tell Lucy and John about your threats.” “Do!” Jim dared, turning to go.
“Wait a minute, Mr. Sprague.” Nannie was staring about aimlessly in every direction. “I--I don’t know how long I shall stay in Chicago. Of course your insinuations are ridiculous, but I hate to hurt Lucy’s feelings, especially when she is already in such a nervous state, and make trouble between you and John. So far as I am concerned you could go to Russellville every day, but Lucy is very dear to me. She is my only child. If you made trouble for me remember it would involve her.” As Mrs. Merwent stared at Jim tears rose to her eyes but they did not altogether veil her look of hate and bafflement.
“I’m not going for a week, Mrs. Merwent,” Jim told her inexorably. Then, raising his hat, he left her sitting on the bench.
In the station, before taking the Rosedene train, Mrs. Merwent lingered for twenty minutes or more in the neighborhood of the telegraph office. Finally, with sudden decision she approached the desk and dispatched a message.
XXXI
When Nannie alighted from the train at Rosedene she walked up the street to the Winters’ house with a more rapid stride than was her custom, and showed signs of nervousness and impatience while she waited for Katy to open the front door.
Entering the hall, she almost ran up the stairs. In her room she removed her gloves but left her hat on, and, without even glancing in the mirror, sat down to write a letter.
The missive was quickly finished and addressed to Professor Walsh. She then took up her gloves once more and descended to the street, dropping the envelope in the nearest post box. After noting the time of the next mail collection, she returned slowly to the house.
Katy appeared somewhat surprised at being summoned to the door by Mrs. Merwent a second time. Nannie made no remark.
On reaching her room she now removed hat and gloves and carefully touched up her rouge, washed her hands, and repolished her nails. Making her way to the dining room she encountered Lucy.
“You’re back early, Mamma,” Lucy commented when she saw Nannie. “Did you get the underwear you wanted?”
“No,” sighed her mother sadly. “It was all gone when I got to the store, so I came right back.” She stared at Lucy’s hair, which was arranged with more care than usual, and at the white organdie dress which was only donned occasionally. “You must be expecting Mr. Sprague out tonight, Lucy,” she gibed, viciously. “Well, don’t accuse _me_ of being the only one weak enough to care about my looks.”
“I don’t, Mamma.” There was a barely perceptible tremor in Lucy’s voice, but her manner was as calm and unswerving as ever. Mrs. Merwent walked to the window and stood gazing at the gnarled elm tree and Dimmie’s dangling swing. She passed her hand over her forehead several times and tapped her foot uneasily on the floor.
“Don’t you feel well?” Lucy inquired at last.
Nannie turned and her eyes were full of tears.
“Oh, Lucy,” she cried piteously, “you haven’t meant all the terrible things you’ve said, have you? We’ve got nobody in the world but each other, and--it hurts me so for there to be any kind of hard feelings!”
Lucy hesitated only an instant.
“I don’t think there are any hard feelings, Mamma,” she replied. Her voice was low. Her eyes rested on Dimmie, who was looking at a picture book as he lay stretched on his stomach on the floor beside her.
Nannie came over and knelt by her daughter.
“Kiss me, Lucy! Oh, Lucy, I couldn’t bear to go away so misjudged and----” Mrs. Merwent broke off her speech with a half sob.
Dimmie, laying aside his book, sat up and regarded the two with interest.
“You aren’t going away, Mamma,” Lucy said, trying to make her tone matter of fact, and at the same time submitting to her mother’s kiss. Her breast heaved and two vivid spots of color tinged her cheeks.
“Oh, Lucy, you don’t _want_ me to go! Say you don’t want me to go!” Nannie implored.
“Why, no-o, Mamma,” Lucy answered reluctantly, moistening her lips. “I thought that was all settled,” she added. “I didn’t know that----” She stopped speaking and regarded her mother with eager surprise.
Nannie rose to her feet.
“I have made up my mind to go. Of course I’m glad you’ll miss me, and I shall leave without any hard feelings. But I’ve been so misunderstood, and now that I----” She clasped and unclasped her hands.
“But where can you go? You can’t go back to Cousin Minnie.” Lucy’s tone was strange. She caressed Dimmie’s hair with trembling fingers and avoided her mother’s glance. “No, Lucy. I certainly couldn’t accept Minnie Sheldon’s charity again, after the way she has treated me.”
Lucy stood up too. Her eyes were very bright. Involuntarily she put one hand on her bosom. Nannie watched her.
“Oh, Lucy, I want to be loved! I want to be loved!” Nannie protested suddenly, dissolving into tears again.
Placing one arm about her mother’s shoulders, Lucy’s eyes sought Dimmie across Nannie’s bent head.
“So do I,” she murmured fervently, almost as if to herself.
“What makes you look so nice?” Dimmie asked Lucy suddenly.
Mrs. Merwent lifted her head.
“_You’re_ not glad I’m going away! Oh, Jimmie, you don’t want Nannie to go, do you?”
He jumped up and ran to her.
“When Nannie goes away on the cars, do you want to go with her? I’ve got some more chocolate drops upstairs,” she whispered.
“You bet I would!” he replied enthusiastically. “Where are they?”
“Don’t give him candy just before meals, Mamma,” Lucy requested gently.
“Oh, it won’t hurt this time. I’m going upstairs and I’ll get them.”
“I’m so afraid it’ll make him sick,” remonstrated Lucy. “Here, Son, wait till after dinner. Don’t eat them now. Be a good boy.”
“No,” returned Dimmie rebelliously, backing away from his mother. “I want ’em now. Please get ’em, Nannie.”
“We must mind Mamma or she’ll be angry. Because I’m going away, you know, Jimmie. Wait a minute, dear. Dinner’ll soon be ready, and I’ll take you on the train with me if you’re a good boy.”
Dimmie compromised without further parley.
When John arrived Lucy greeted him with suppressed excitement, but he seemed to observe nothing unusual. Dinner was served. Nannie entered the dining room smiling mournfully, and placed a rose at his plate.
“Did you get your shopping done?” he queried. “No,” she responded. “I didn’t get what I wanted and came back early.”
After a few moment’s silence John laid down his knife and fork.
“What’s the matter, Nannie? You’re not eating anything,” he commented.
“Mamma ain’t eatin’ nothin’ neither,” observed Dimmie.
“Yes, I am.” Lucy hastily took up her knife and fork.
“Why, I’m eating as much as usual, John.” Nannie resumed her meal. “You know I never eat very heartily. Did you have a hard day at the office?”
“No, indeed,” John declared. “I’m feeling fine. When shall we go and see the sculptures?”
Mrs. Merwent was neglecting her food again, and seemed not to hear. She wiped her eyes furtively.
“Why don’t you answer, Nannie?” he insisted reproachfully. “I asked you when you wanted to go and see the sculptures. And you aren’t eating again. What’s the matter? Are you dreaming?”
“No, John,” she sighed, “I’m not dreaming. What was it you said?”
John glanced from Nannie to Lucy and frowned.
“When do you want to go and see the sculptures I spoke of?” he repeated with less enthusiasm.
“Why--I don’t know. Let’s see---- When had you rather go, Lucy?”
“Any day that is convenient for John.”
“Well, let’s see----” Nannie regarded her plate abstractedly.
“Would day after tomorrow do?” suggested John, still covertly scrutinizing the two women.
“Why, yes--let’s see--day after tomorrow----” Mrs. Merwent’s eyes and voice trailed off into space again.
“I’ll declare, Nannie,” remarked John with some irritation, “you act as though you were a thousand miles away. Are you worried about anything?”
“No-o. That is--nothing in particular,” she amended.
“Well, then, shall we settle on day after tomorrow?”
“Why, yes, day after tomorrow will suit me.”
“Well, then, you two come down to the office after lunch and we’ll go.” John took up his fork again.
The door bell rang and Katy came from the hall with a telegram in her hand. Nannie reached for it, but John, unaware of her motion, took the envelope from the servant. He read the address and passed it across the table.
“It’s for you, Nannie.”
“Thank you.” She dropped the envelope in her plate and picked it up again.
“Why don’t you read it?”
“I don’t like telegrams!” interjected Lucy. “I’m afraid of them. Maybe something’s the matter with Cousin Minnie.”
“Nonsense!” ejaculated John. “It’s probably something very simple. Read it and see. Where is it from?”
“It’s from R-Russellville,” Nannie stammered, opening it with uncertain movements and tearing the message half across in the process.
“What does it say? Is anybody sick?” Lucy queried.
“Who is it from?” insisted John.
“It’s--it’s from--it’s from Professor Walsh,” Mrs. Merwent informed them unsteadily, reading the telegram.
“What’s the matter with _him_?” sneered John.
“Why, he--you know he--his interest in me----” Nannie began with a changed air of mingled relief and importance.
“Does he have to send telegrams to tell you about it?” demanded John contemptuously. “Can’t he wait for the mails? He’s gotten along with letters pretty well, so far!”
Lucy was observing her mother strangely.
“He’s been trying his best for weeks and weeks to get me to say when--when--to name--to decide----” Nannie hesitated, regarding John beseechingly.
“To name the day, eh!” snorted John, ignoring the look intended for him.
Lucy sat tense in her chair.
“Yes, John,” Nannie spoke almost apologetically, “that’s what he wants. He--he’s very persistent. He wants me to come to Russellville at once.”
“Humph! It’s a funny notion to get all of a sudden. He’s been patient enough until now.”
“John!” Mrs. Merwent’s voice quavered.
His glance encountered hers reluctantly.
Lucy was the personification of palpitating expectation. The color flamed in her cheeks and her eyes were like scintillating stars.
“When do you think you will go, Mamma?” she asked, taking Dimmie’s hand in hers and leaning forward as she spoke.
“Why, I don’t know. I----” Nannie began evasively.
John watched Lucy an instant. Becoming aware of his scrutiny, she turned her head and their glances met. John’s lip curled.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” he exclaimed, throwing down his napkin and pushing his chair back from the table.
Lucy said nothing, but the color left her face. Her grip on Dimmie’s hand tightened. John rose.
“Of all the contemptible scheming and plotting! If you were determined to insult your mother why did you have to do it behind my back? If we have to fight, let us at least be decent about it, and fight in the open!” John’s tone was scathing and with each word his voice reached a higher pitch. He stared at Lucy scornfully.
“What do you mean, John?” she began in a bewildered manner. Then she exclaimed indignantly, “Oh, how dare you!” She rose. One hand still clutched Dimmie.
“Now, John, Lucy didn’t mean----” Nannie, showing her fright, spoke soothingly.
“Oh, I know, Nannie! ‘Lucy didn’t mean!’ She don’t want you out of the house, I suppose! She hasn’t been driving you and me half crazy ever since you came with her suspicions and jealousy!”
“Remember what I told you, John Winter!” Lucy warned, her eyes steely.
“Oh, I’ll remember!” John’s gaze was lowered for an instant. Then his ire came to the aid of his courage. “I’ll remember, but you can’t threaten me into forgetting my self respect!” he declared defiantly.
“I don’t know what you are talking about. The news that Mamma was going was as much a surprise to me as it was to you.”
“John----” Nannie went no further.
“Oh, I know you didn’t have anything to do with the telegram, but that doesn’t alter what I say.” He glared at Lucy. “I saw how you were looking at Nannie, as if you could hardly wait for the moment to come when you could get her out of the house!”
“Now, John, surely when _I’m_ willing to forgive Lucy----” Nannie’s air was soft and uncertain.
“Come, Dimmie!” Lucy almost jerked the whimpering child from his chair, and, holding his hand, led him into the kitchen.
She left her own yard by the gate which adjoined Dr. Hamilton’s premises.
“Come right in, Mrs. Winter,” Mrs. Hamilton’s maid-of-all work greeted them at the back door. “Mrs. Hamilton is in the dining room.” And the girl led Lucy through the kitchen.
“May I come in?” petitioned Lucy in an unsteady voice at the threshold of the dining room.
“Dear me, yes,” Mrs. Hamilton said encouragingly.
She was rocking Stella to sleep and did not rise but held out her hand. Lucy seized it.
“I just wanted to sit with you a little while, Mrs. Hamilton.”
“I’m so glad you came.” Mrs. Hamilton reached her unoccupied arm around Stella and patted Lucy’s hand. “Draw up the other rocking chair. The Doctor is out on another maternity case and I’m all alone again. I was thinking about you. How is your mother?”
Without answering, Lucy placed a rocking chair near Mrs. Hamilton and took Dimmie into her lap.
* * * * *
As soon as she and John were alone, Mrs. Merwent, who had risen also during the altercation between John and Lucy, reseated herself at the table in silence and wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.
“Won’t you sit down, John?” she urged compassionately.
Without speaking, he complied. He lighted another cigarette and, when Katy entered, asked for a second cup of coffee.
“Is Mrs. Winter in the kitchen?” Nannie inquired of the negress. “No, Miss Nannie. She done went out de back way. I ’specs she’s over to Mis’ Hamilton’s.”
“Oh, John, if there was anything else I could do I wouldn’t need to leave you,” faltered Nannie sadly after Katy had returned to the kitchen. “I was driven to this because Lucy has made no other course possible!”
“Driven to it!” echoed John savagely. “Lucy’s got nothing to say about it! What did you say to make that fellow send you such a telegram?”
“Nothing, John.” Nannie gazed at him with swimming eyes. He rumpled his hair viciously. “You dear boy,” she murmured with tears in her voice.
John look at her sceptically. His lip quivered slightly.
“Really, didn’t you fix this thing up, Nannie?” he asked with a wounded, distrustful air. “I never believed you’d lead me on into thinking things were getting better while you were planning to----” He could say no more. He crumpled his napkin into a ball and turned his face away, placing one hand to his eyes.
“John!” Nannie reproached, “do you suppose it’s been easy for me to seem lighthearted when I realized that I must give up--so much--that which means so much to me?”
“Then why not cut it out? You must cut it out! It’s absurd! It’s ridiculous! I won’t believe it. Why only this morning---- I don’t see how you can torture me like this, Nannie. You know you’ve come here to stay with us always. Why you’re a part of my home--part of my life, Nannie! Do you think I’m going to submit to all this tamely, to please Lucy! She’ll find out I’m not the weak, soft proposition she imagines. We’ll fight it out and see who’s running things in this house. Never you fear, Nannie, I won’t have you shoved out in the street. We’ll stand together and Lucy can rant and rave all she pleases. By God, I won’t have it! I’ll fight it to the last ditch! You’re her own mother, and if she doesn’t realize that she owes anything to you, _I_ do, and I’ll make her--make her stand up to her obligations whether she wants to or not. She’ll either accept my standards in this household or--if she’s going to have me she’s got to--I’m the master here whether she likes it or not! She evidently thought when she married me that I was a man without any backbone, exactly the opposite of Jim Sprague! I’ll show her! I’ll show her, I tell you! She shan’t tear you away from me, Nannie! She----” Almost inarticulate with angry emotion, he was striding up and down the room. He halted near Nannie’s chair, clenching and unclenching his fists as he stared away from her.
“John, dear,” Nannie’s voice was subdued, “we must talk reasonably.”
He snorted.
“I suppose that means bend to Lucy’s will!” he interjected bitterly.
Nannie was patient.