Part 23

“No, dear. But don’t you see, John, what staying under the circumstances would mean? It puts me in a position--Lucy will stop at nothing, John. I think she’s capable of making us trouble with other people. I’ve--I’ve----” Here Nannie looked at the floor, embarrassed. “I’ve heard her go so far as to hint that she’d write to Cousin Minnie and Professor Walsh and--and old friends of the family like Judge Dodd and other people!”

“Professor Walsh!” John almost roared. “Let her write to Professor Walsh! I’ll go to Russellville and break his neck if necessary!”

“I know, John,” Nannie was fearful now, “but that wouldn’t save me, if slurs were cast on my--my reputation. I’m a misjudged woman, John, and after Arthur’s heartlessness has placed me in such a false position I can’t afford to risk such a thing.”

John regarded her undecidedly.

“Don’t you think I’m able to take care of you, Nannie?” he asked in a trembling voice.

“You would do all you could, John,” Nannie’s voice broke too, “but some things are beyond your power.”

“And do you mean to say that we have to submit to this because Lucy has the drop on us--that we can’t stop her from stooping to a lot of underhand lying?” he demanded, defiance in his tone.

“Remember she’s done none of this,” Nannie continued hastily. “It’s only,” again she looked away from him, “that certain things she’s said have made me afraid she might. Anyway--now it’s all arranged----”

Katy came in to clear the table and Nannie led the way into the living room.

“Don’t turn on the light,” John objected peevishly as she moved toward the electric switch.

They seated themselves in the dim radiance that filtered in from the hall.

“Nannie, you’ve got to give it up,” he repeated suddenly. “Put it off for a month or two anyway,” he begged unsteadily.

“If Lucy were different! Oh, John, if Lucy only would----” She took one of his hands in both of hers.

John’s fist clenched.

“I won’t forget what she’s done to us in a hurry!” he cried, glancing away from Nannie as he spoke. There was a cruel edge to his tone.

“It’s her abnormal state. Oh, you poor, dear boy! And to think you must bear all this and that I can’t do anything to ease your burden! I saw this coming, John, and I didn’t dare to tell you what she was forcing me to.” Nannie talked hurriedly. Half sobs broke in on her words.

John bent forward and leaned his brow against the hands that held his own. There was a long pause.

“How long ago did you decide this?” he demanded, looking up suddenly and pressing her fingers so that she winced.

“I’ve been trying to decide a long time, John. You don’t know all Lucy says to me when you’re away. I made up my mind definitely a--a few days ago. The telegram really has nothing to do with it, though I half expected from what Professor Walsh had written that he would send one.”

“When are you going?” John went on with painful intensity.

“It’s better for me to go right away, dear. I think I’ll leave day after tomorrow.”

John withdrew his hand and clasped his bowed head.

“Day after tomorrow!” he repeated, almost groaning. “The day we were to see the sculptures!” He laughed bitterly.

“Don’t, John,” begged Nannie. “You frighten me.”

Again the two became silent.

“If only _you_ weren’t the one to suffer!” Nannie exclaimed at last. “There is so much in our lives that is the same!”

“Yes, Nannie.”

“Your attitude toward Lucy is so noble, John! She doesn’t realize how much she has to be thankful for in your forbearance. Oh, John, to think that I should be in any way responsible, even innocently, for ruining your life!”

“You’re not responsible for what Lucy does, Nannie.”

“Oh, John, perhaps later----”

“Yes, yes!” he said eagerly.

“Maybe Lucy won’t always be so strange and exacting.”

Another pause.

“Nannie!” John’s voice was smothered and his breath came quickly. “If you’ll only cut out that talk about marrying! I can stand anything but that! I can’t stand it, Nannie. I can’t stand it! Say you’re not going to be married, Nannie?”

She did not answer at once.

“Not--right away, at least, dear boy,” she conceded finally, stroking his hair with her free hand.

John lifted his head and sighed deeply.

“Well, Nannie, if you really think it’s for the best, I suppose you’ll have to go, for the present, at least,” he resumed in a different tone.

“Don’t you want me to sing to you now, John?” Nannie offered, smiling bravely. “I’ll be too tired tomorrow night.”

“Yes, sing to me.”

Nannie sang _Ouvrez tes yeux_.

When Dr. Hamilton reached home he found Lucy and Dimmie still there. Dimmie was sound asleep. At Lucy’s request the Doctor picked the little boy up and carried him through the back way to the Winter home, delivering him into his mother’s arms at the kitchen door.

Lucy entered the house softly. As she mounted the stairs with her burden she saw John and Nannie in the living room. They did not observe her and she did not make her presence known.

It was late when they followed her. John found her door locked. All was dark and quiet. He slept in Jim’s room.

XXXII

“Shall I stay at home and help you with your trunks?” John offered at breakfast. He seemed depressed and addressed his remarks only to Nannie.

“No, thank you, John,” she replied. She gazed at him sympathetically. As a concession to unwontedly early rising she wore a beribboned négligée and a boudoir cap that was very becoming. “It’s so good and thoughtful of you to offer, but I can pack my things very well alone. But you mustn’t forget to send the express man out early this evening, for I don’t want any doubt about the baggage going on the same train with me.”

The two spoke as though they were alone. A perfect understanding seemed to exist between them. Lucy did not make a comment.

“Well, I’ll go to the office, then,” he decided, rising.

“It’s time for you to get ready, Dimmie.” Lucy turned to the little boy who sat beside her.

“Let him stay at home today, Lucy,” proposed Mrs. Merwent.

“Why, he oughtn’t to miss a day,” Lucy objected.

“Very well, if you dislike my seeing him my last day here!” Nannie assumed her most aggrieved air.

“Let him stay,” John ordered shortly.

“All right,” acquiesced Lucy without further discussion.

Nannie followed John to the front door where they held a whispered colloquy. When he had gone she went upstairs to begin her packing.

“Lucy!” she called after a few minutes.

Lucy came into the bedroom.

“Will you help me fold these things? I can’t do _everything_ alone.”

“Of course,” Lucy responded impassively, beginning to arrange the garments indicated. “Where do you want them put?”

“Well, wait a minute. Give me time to turn around. Not that way, Lucy! If you’re going to mix things all up, you’d better leave it for me to do.” Mrs. Merwent’s tone showed increasing irritation. “I might have known you couldn’t bear to do anything for me. I ought to have learned that much this summer. I’ve learned several other things.”

“Tell me how you want them done, and I’ll do my best to please you.” Lucy’s manner was still composed.

“Oh, don’t try to be a martyr at this late hour, Lucy!” snapped Nannie. “It’s too transparent. You’ve gotten rid of me and so you can afford to be saintly about it. Your Mr. Sprague was very clever but I understand perfectly well now why you went to consult him.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.” Lucy gazed blankly at her mother.

“Oh, no! Of course you haven’t! You know a great deal better than I do. You needn’t lie to me.”

Lucy seemed scarcely to heed.

“Let’s not quarrel the last day we are together,” she said in a low voice.

“No, ‘let’s not quarrel,’” mocked Nannie. “Let’s sit here and have you crow over me.”

“How am I crowing over you?” Lucy inquired almost listlessly.

“You know just as well as I do,” accused Mrs. Merwent. “If you think I haven’t seen through the scheme you and your Mr. Sprague have worked from the very beginning, you’re greatly mistaken. But let me tell you one thing, Lucy. You haven’t got as much to feel jubilant over as you think you have.”

“I’m sure I _don’t_ know what you mean,” reiterated Lucy.

“Well, you’ll see what I mean.”

“You’re right that I have nothing to feel jubilant over.” Lucy lifted spiritless eyes to her mother’s face. Nannie turned away.

The two women worked for some time in silence.

“Here, you pack these wash things in the bottom of the other trunk. I want to go over my laces and see if they’re all here,” instructed Nannie at length. “I suppose Mr. Sprague will begin to come out here twice a week to spend the night again, as soon as I’ve left.”

“Please don’t talk about Mr. Sprague,” requested Lucy dully, beginning the work her mother had ordered.

Nannie’s expression was virtuous.

“Yes! I should think you’d be ashamed to talk about him,” she remarked reprovingly.

“I’m not ashamed of anything,” Lucy’s voice gained involuntary vehemence, “but if you intend talking like this I’m going out of the house.”

“Oh, it’s not necessary, Lucy. It’s not necessary. _I’m_ going out of the house tomorrow, and if you want me to I can go today. I’ll go down town and stay at a hotel as soon as my baggage is ready.”

Lucy continued to pack in silence for several minutes.

“Not that way, Lucy. I showed you once how I wanted them folded,” complained Mrs. Merwent, interrupting the work with an impatient gesture.

“I’m doing the best I can.”

“That’s right! Lose your temper. One would think we might get along without a fuss for one day, especially as I’m going away for I don’t know how long.”

“I’m not quarreling.”

“No, but you’re so hard, Lucy. You don’t seem to have a grain of affection in your heart.”

“I don’t think I’m the only one who’s hard.”

“Why can’t you be like you used to before you left home? I do long for a little affection sometimes. You’re my only child, and I’ve tried so hard.” Nannie ceased her occupation in order to wipe her eyes. “But you are so cold and hostile! Every trifling thing is an excuse for getting angry and hurting me.” Sitting by the trunk, Mrs. Merwent began to weep. “Oh, Lucy, you are so _ungrateful_. I overlooked all the past and came here, and--and you’ve treated me so! I’m sure it’s not my fault. If I were at all to blame--if--why, the fact that your husband and even your own child feel kindly toward me shows I’m not. It’s only you. You are so cold and unnatural. I feel sometimes that I haven’t got any child. I’m all--alone--in the world----” and Nannie hid her face in her hands and sobbed aloud.

Lucy went on laying garments in the trunk.

“You’ve got Professor Walsh,” she said.

“Lucy!” Nannie’s tone was eloquent of reproach. “How _cruel_ of you! How cruel----!” The sobs were redoubled. “I don’t know--that I--would ever have--thought of marrying--again, if you had been--different,” she asserted brokenly.

“How different?”

“Oh, I know it’s no use, Lucy,” Nannie spoke reproachfully, drying her eyes. “You don’t know what a daughter could mean to a mother’s heart.”

“Yes, I do,” affirmed Lucy softly, pausing in her work.

“Well, I hope if you ever have one, she won’t misunderstand you as you have me. I know how much the sympathy of my own dear mother meant to _me_.”

Lucy began to lay garments in the trunk again.

“Is there anything else?” she asked after a moment.

“No, but wait a minute. Let’s make up. Let’s not separate with hard feelings like this.” Nannie left the pile of clothes she was sorting and came toward her daughter. “I can’t bear to have you hate me,” she explained, tears in her eyes again.

“I don’t hate you.”

“I’m glad.” Nannie bent over Lucy. “I shall go away now feeling different. I’m sure by the next time I visit you we will have come to understand each other better.”

Lucy hastily scrambled to her feet. Murmuring something about luncheon, she almost ran from the room and down the stairs.

About two o’clock the transfer wagon came and the trunks were loaded into it. Mrs. Merwent’s expression became worried as she watched the departing motor truck.

“I’m sure that man won’t take them to the right station,” she prophesied to Lucy.

“Yes, he will. That’s the largest express company in the city. They’ll be perfectly safe.”

“The man didn’t look honest to me, Lucy.” But Lucy had left the hall.

Nannie was still at the front door when John opened the gate.

“I came early,” he remarked in an undertone as he greeted her.

“Yes. It’s our last evening, John,” answered Nannie sorrowfully. “I’ve just been telephoning Miss Powell to say good-bye. She says she’s coming to the station in the morning to see me off.”

“That’s nice,” he commented indifferently.

He regarded her careful toilette and the white rose in her belt with melancholy approval.

“I’m all in over this thing, Nannie,” he told her, lowering his voice confidentially. His face evidenced his perturbation.

“Dear John! I know!” She squeezed his arm. “Did you tell Mr. Sprague I was going?” she inquired abruptly a little later.

“Yes,” answered John.

“What did he say?”

“He said that you had made quite a long visit.”

“He didn’t say he was coming to the station, did he?”

“No, he didn’t say anything else about it.”

“Do you know, John, Mr. Sprague hasn’t even treated me with common ordinary courtesy since I’ve been here?”

“Don’t you worry, Nannie. He’ll hear from me about it, all right. Jim Sprague has changed. He’s not the man he used to be at all.”

“I don’t think he ever was a true friend to you, John.”

“Well, I’ve got my eyes open at last, Nannie--thanks to you.”

“Oh, John, if I didn’t have to think about how Lucy is treating you. She--she’s not--her morbidness is really bad for Jimmie, too. But then you bear everything so nobly. You are--oh, I don’t know what to call it! If all men had your patience and forbearance this world would be a very different place for some of us. _I_ appreciate it for her if she don’t for herself.” There was a catch in Nannie’s voice.

“You’ve had nothing from me you don’t deserve, Nannie.” John did not look at her as he spoke.

“I’ve always tried to help you and study your interests, John. I feel so grateful to you. I’ll never forget how kind and good you’ve been to me. You’ve been better than anyone else in the world----”

“I don’t see how anybody could help being good to you, Nannie.”

At this juncture Lucy appeared on the stairs with Dimmie. Almost simultaneously Katy thrust her head through the dining room doorway.

“Dinnah’s ready, Miss Nannie. Kin I put it on de table?” she inquired.

“Don’t ask _me_, Katy,” said Nannie peevishly. “Mrs. Winter is your mistress. You’ll have to ask her.”

“Yes, Katy, you may serve dinner,” Lucy put in quietly.

Just as the family were seating themselves there was a clap of thunder. Katy waddled from one window to another, lowering the sashes. As she closed the last a flurry of rain spattered on the glass.

“Ugh! Lucy, I must say your Chicago climate is awful,” remarked Mrs. Merwent. “I wouldn’t live here for any consideration on earth. I don’t see how you stand it. I can’t understand why so many people stay here when there are other places fit to live in.”

“Lots of them can’t help themselves.”

“Well, at least I should think that you’d want to live in a little more accessible part of town. It’s practically impossible to get down to the shopping district unless the weather happens to be good.”

“We can’t afford to live anywhere closer in.”

“Maybe we can some time,” interposed John. “I’ve often thought we ought to try to get a place that was nearer to where respectable people live. Jim Sprague is the one who wished this proposition on us.”

“We were as much in for it as he was,” Lucy stated coldly.

“May be _you_ were,” retorted John sharply.

“And I certainly think, Lucy, that you have the most unfriendly and unattractive set of neighbors. That Mrs. Hamilton that you think so much of, for instance. She has absolutely no taste at all. I wouldn’t be seen on the street with her. Miss Powell is the only one I have met here who is at all congenial.”

“Mrs. Hamilton is a good woman and a beautiful mother.” Lucy defended her friend warmly.

“A contrast to me,” Nannie suggested bitterly.

“I wasn’t comparing her to anybody,” retorted Lucy. “I only meant _I_ wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen with her any place.”

“Well, anyway it was meant as a rebuke for what I said. You can’t get out of that, Lucy.”

“I wasn’t rebuking anybody,” contested Lucy wearily.

“Then you shouldn’t make that kind of speeches,” John argued indignantly.

“I didn’t start this,” said Lucy rebelliously.

“No, but you never miss a chance to give me a dig, no matter what the conversation is about,” Nannie persisted accusingly.

“It’s not true!” Lucy flushed angrily.

“It is true,” declared John remorselessly.

Lucy’s eyes filled with tears. She rose from the table and went into the hall.

“_Now_ what’s the matter?” Nannie called after her.

Without replying, Lucy mounted the stairs.

“Let her go, Nannie, if she wants to lose her temper and pout about nothing again. I might as well get used to this sort of thing now that you’re leaving.” John drummed on the table with his knuckles.

Nannie took his hand.

“_Dear_ John,” she whispered.

“Don’t Mamma want Nannie to go?” asked Dimmie, who was staring curiously at the interchange of glances in which his elders were indulging.

“Oh, hell, Dimmie! You go to bed!” John exclaimed nervously, rising and moving to the window where he remained with his back turned.

“_You_ are sorry, aren’t you, Jimmie?” Nannie’s voice was full of emotion.

“Uh huh, but you’re goin’ to take me with you,” Dimmie replied, with his mouth full. He swallowed hastily.

“Yes, of course,” agreed Mrs. Merwent. Then, to John, “He’s _so_ much like you, John. Oh, John, won’t it be awful if Lucy----” She stopped, looking unspeakable things. “A morbid atmosphere reacts so on a child,” she explained.

“Uncle Jim says I’m like Mamma,” observed Dimmie, taking another bite of bread and butter.

“Of course _he_ would say so.” Nannie nodded and raised her brows significantly.

John glowered out the window a moment, then came back to his place at the table in silence.

When dinner was over, Dimmie followed John and Nannie into the living room.

“Go upstairs to bed as I told you,” reiterated John to the child.

“But I want to stay,” Dimmie parleyed.

“Do as I say,” commanded his father.

The little boy left the room, his chin quivering and the tears in his eyes about to fall. Mrs. Merwent ran after him.

“Here, kiss Nannie,” she whispered. “I’m going to get you some more candy when I go down town in the morning.”

Dimmie, after allowing himself to be kissed, ascended the stairs reluctantly. Nannie went back to John, sighing as she seated herself near him.

“Oh, John,” she sighed regretfully, “there are so few hours left!”

He smoked in moody silence.

“John.” She laid a hand on his knee.

“Yes?” He turned his head away and tried vainly to control his shaking voice.

“You _will_ think of me, John?”

“My God, Nannie, don’t talk rot!” He tossed his cigarette into the empty fireplace.

“And, John--I’m afraid Lucy wouldn’t understand it--but we might--might write to each other now and then.” She spoke softly. Her hand continued to rest on his knee, but her face was averted. John did not reply at once and she added, “I might send the letters to the office.” Then, after a moment’s hesitation, “If it wasn’t for Mr. Sprague.”

“Damn Mr. Sprague!” John rose and ran his fingers through his hair. “I could arrange that, Nannie. People are so confoundedly evil minded! But you could write to a box number.”

“Oh, John, can you bear it without me? My thoughts will be with you all the time, John.”

Nannie rose too, and they confronted one another.

“Yes, Nannie, I suppose I can bear it,” he answered at last. He placed one hand over his eyes. “I wish there wasn’t so confounded much light!” he supplemented with agitated irrelevance.

Nannie’s response was to go to the switch and press the button. The only light which now remained in the living room was the faint glow that came through the dining room transom. The summer rain beat against the window panes.

“Sit here, John,” Nannie suggested softly, and the two seated themselves on the sofa.

They remained silent for a long time. Katy, on her way to bed, knocked on the door discreetly. Mrs. Merwent made a little exclamation.

“What do you care what Katy thinks? She’s not the first person who has seen evil in innocent things,” growled John, at the same time rising.

“I’se locked up all de back. You all wants breakfas’ pow’ful soon, don’ you, Miss Nannie?” the negress inquired in the doorway, not accepting Mrs. Merwent’s hasty invitation to enter.

“Yes, Katy, I want early breakfast,” Nannie informed her.

“Good night, Miss Nannie. Good night, Mr. Winter.”

“Good night,” responded Mrs. Merwent.

John made no response.

It was after midnight when Nannie declared that she must retire in order to rest herself for her journey. John switched on the light.

“John----” she hesitated.

“Yes, Nannie?”

“There is nothing in the world so unpleasant to me as asking for money, but----” She paused.

“Yes, Nannie?” John repeated, his tone warm.

Her face flushed under the rouge.

“_Dear_ boy!” she murmured gratefully. “You see I didn’t have time to write to Professor Walsh, and there are all the expenses of the journey,” she added apologetically.

John took out his pocket book with trembling fingers.

“I don’t see where _he_ comes into it,” he grumbled unsteadily, taking out some money. “Will this be enough?” Rather shamefacedly he held up two bills.

Mrs. Merwent glanced at the denominations as she received them.

“Oh, John, you oughtn’t--ought you?” she protested weakly.

“There would be more than that if I had it to give!” he insisted.

“When I get to Russellville---- Oh, John!” Nannie crumpled the money in one hand. The other she placed on his shoulder.

He met her eyes. She leaned forward with a hasty movement and kissed his cheek.

“I may not have a chance tomorrow,” she whispered, then, turning quickly into the hall, went up the steps.

John heard her door close. He ascended the stairs after her very slowly.

XXXIII

Nannie’s alarm clock roused her when the sky was yet grey with dawn, but the details of her toilette were so exactingly executed and the final preparations for departure so numerous that the air had already begun to lose its early freshness when she emerged from her room.

“Lucy!” she called to her daughter in a flustered manner. “Please come and help me finish packing these suit cases.”

Lucy obeyed.

When all was ready Mrs. Merwent halted in front of her.