Part 24

“You are a hard woman, Lucy. Maybe we’ll never see each other again.”

“I haven’t any hard feelings,” Lucy reasserted, staring over her mother’s head.

“Well, let’s have breakfast then. I don’t want to be late and hurried at the last. It makes you look like a fright.”

The two descended the stairs.

“I can’t eat in such a rush,” Mrs. Merwent complained at the table. “I _do_ hope there’ll be a good diner on the train.” She turned to John, “When does the suburban leave, John?”

“Oh, I’ve ordered a machine for you, Nannie. It’s muddy from the rain last night and it will be much more comfortable going down.”

“Thank you, John. You are always thinking of other people’s comfort and welfare. It was just like you to do that.”

The automobile came as they were finishing the meal.

Nannie ran into the kitchen.

“Good-bye, Katy,” she said.

“Good-bye, Miss Nannie. I hopes you all has a fine trip,” Katy responded, smiling her widest.

“I’m going to carry down your grips,” declared John. And he and Mrs. Merwent mounted the stairs together.

“The last time!” she breathed.

As they turned to quit her room she stared around her.

“I’m so sorry to leave it,” she murmured, her eyes dim.

John bit his lips.

Nannie removed the rosebud which she had pinned to her travelling suit.

“Wear it for me, John,” she sighed as she thrust it into the lapel of his coat.

He picked up the satchel and suit case and went out.

As the automobile moved off Nannie gazed back long and solemnly at the house. With the exception of Dimmie, who was still clamoring to go on the train with his grandmother, the party of four was silent during the ride.

Once inside the station John excused himself.

“Stay here a minute and I’ll get the tickets,” he instructed the women.

“Buy me a small box of candy, too, John,” Nannie requested.

“All right,” he acceded.

He soon returned carrying several magazines, a basket of fruit, a bunch of carnations, and the box of chocolates Nannie had requested.

During his absence Miss Powell had joined Lucy and Nannie. She greeted him affably as he approached the little group.

“Good morning. You look like a regular Santa Claus,” she smiled, extending her hand as John raised his hat. “Where’s Mr. Sprague? Didn’t he come?”

“Oh, no,” interrupted Nannie. “Mr. Sprague doesn’t put himself out for _everybody_ in the family.”

John handed over the tickets, the flowers, and the parcels.

“How lovely!” Nannie whispered, burying her nose in the bouquet. “Here, Jimmie.” She bestowed the box of sweetmeats on the child. “Don’t forget Nannie, will you, darling?”

“I want to go with you,” he stated, holding tightly to the box.

“Here, Nannie, you’re not treating yourself fair,” objected John. “If you ladies will excuse me again?” He bowed interrogatively toward Miss Powell.

“Certainly,” smiled the lady. “You aren’t going to allow Mrs. Merwent to deny herself, are you?”

“No,” said John. He walked across the waiting room to a fruit stand on the other side. When he came back he presented Nannie with a box of bonbons three or four times the size of the package she had given Dimmie.

“So you are going away, Mrs. Merwent?” resumed Miss Powell, after she and Nannie had expatiated on the dimensions of the sweetmeat box. “I hope you’ve had a pleasant visit. It has been so nice for Mrs. Winter to have had you with her. You’ll come back every year, I hope. When you return we must see more of each other.”

Nannie smiled graciously.

“Mother is going to be married,” announced Lucy suddenly.

Mrs. Merwent looked up quickly, then averted her face, and finally glanced at John. His air indicated that he was furious.

“Why, Lucy! Why--why, you mustn’t believe everything my daughter says, Miss Powell.” Nannie laughed nervously.

“O-oh, but I do. I’ve never had occasion to doubt Mrs. Winter’s veracity. My congratulations to the happy man!” and Miss Powell kissed Nannie. “I don’t blame him. You look like a girl. No one would believe that you were Mrs. Winter’s mother,” regarding Lucy. “Why didn’t you tell me before? Be sure you send me an invitation.”

“I’ll not forget--if it ever happens,” Nannie promised rather shamefacedly. She kept edging toward John whose eyes were fixed on the ground.

A uniformed official droned something unintelligible in a sing-song voice.

“That’s your train, Nannie,” John informed her abruptly. The party moved toward one of the gates.

“Good-bye, Lucy, I’m sorry to go,” Nannie murmured, hugging and kissing Lucy. “We may have had our little tiffs but it has done us both good. By the time I come back we’ll have forgotten all about them. Be sure to write me every week.”

“Good-bye, Jimmie.” She turned to her grandson.

“Dimmie,” he corrected, adding, “Ain’t I goin’?”

Nannie bent down and kissed him.

“I wish you were, darling,” she whispered.

“I want to go,” wailed Dimmie.

“No, you can’t go now,” she continued in the same whisper. “Your Mamma won’t let you. But when I come back we’ll ask Papa.”

The child began to cry lustily.

“Good-bye, Miss Powell.” Nannie kissed the newcomer again.

“Now, John.” Nannie drew him slightly apart from the others and raised her veil. “I’m going to kiss you after all,” she said, putting her arms around his neck. “Don’t forget me, dear John,” she murmured, sobbing a little. “And try to get along with Lucy, no matter how hard it is.”

John thrust a slip of paper into her hand.

“You can write me there, until I get a box number, Nannie,” he advised brokenly.

A porter took her bags and she passed through the gate. Before entering the train she turned and waved her handkerchief.

“Well, I must go to the office.” John gulped, blowing his nose and wiping his eyes.

“I’m going to do a little shopping. Won’t you come along, Mrs. Winter?” Miss Powell invited perfunctorily.

“No, thank you.” Lucy grasped Dimmie’s hand. “I must take this little boy home.”

* * * * *

Half an hour later, as John’s step was heard in the corridor, Jim, who was sitting at his table with his face buried in his hands, straightened himself and took up his drawing pencil.

John entered without any greeting and, going to his desk, began to examine his mail. After a moment he paused with an air of abstraction, and, removing from his button hole the flower that Nannie had given him, locked it in a convenient drawer and returned the key to his pocket.

Jim worked for some minutes and then rose from his chair.

“I believe I’ll go over to Benton Harbor and see about that material for Wilson’s next houses. Layard’s say that it would be best for one of us to look over the stone before cutting, as we can save considerable on the specifications by taking advantage of the natural rock wherever possible. It’s certainly worth while spending three days to save thirty per cent on the shaping expenses.”

“I’ll go over,” offered John quickly.

“Why, there’s no use going for one day. I don’t expect to be back till--let’s see--today is Wednesday--Thursday--Friday--Saturday--at least not till Sunday noon.”

“I’ll go,” repeated John. “You said yesterday that you ought to keep a close eye on that concrete work in the foundations of the other row of houses we’re building for Wilson. That’s more important than the stone.”

“But I didn’t like to ask you to be away from your family so long,” protested Jim.

“I’d like the trip,” explained John. “I’m in a state of nervous fidgets, and a change would do me good.”

“All right. Just as you like,” returned Jim with a curious expression.

“I’ll go home for lunch, and get off at three o’clock,” John continued.

“The drawings and specifications are in that file marked ‘W,’” indicated Jim. John took the papers and went out.

He was soon in the Rosedene train.

“I’m going across the lake on business and won’t be back till Sunday or Monday,” he announced when he reached home, coming into the dining room where Lucy was seated, sewing.

She looked startled, but her only remark was, “All right, John.”

“I’ll pack my suit case now,” he told her, and started upstairs.

“Shall I have luncheon at once?” she called to him.

“No. I haven’t time. I’ll get something on the boat going across,” he answered over his shoulder.

As he passed Nannie’s room the door was ajar and he saw that the windows were open and that the room had already been scrubbed and the bedding hung out to air.

In a few minutes he returned to the lower hall, his bag in his hand. Lucy was still seated in the dining room but she rose when she heard his step.

“Are you going, John?” she asked, coming to the hall door and leaning out. He hastened his pace.

“Good-bye,” he called, going out on the veranda without looking back.

“Good-bye, John.”

She sat down to her sewing again, the tears slowly chasing each other down her cheeks.

That evening when dinner was served Lucy called Dimmie and began the meal.

“Where’s Papa?” he inquired.

“Papa’s gone away for a little while, Son.”

“Has he gone where Nannie is?” pursued Dimmie eagerly.

“No--I don’t think so,” said Lucy after a little hesitation.

* * * * *

When Jim left the office for the day, he made his way to a restaurant where he often dined.

“What shall I bring you, Mr. Sprague?” questioned the waiter who always served him.

Jim took up the menu listlessly.

“The fish is very nice tonight,” suggested the man.

“I don’t want any fish!” exclaimed Jim with unwonted irritation. “I don’t want any dinner,” he decided abruptly, noticing that the waiter was lingering by the table. “Bring me a large cup of black coffee.”

When he had finished his coffee, he paid his bill and went out to the street. Here he boarded a surface car and was soon at his apartment house. Reaching his room, he put on a smoking jacket and lighted his pipe. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and began slowly pacing up and down the floor.

“He’ll never grade that stone right,” he remarked to the bookcase, pausing in his walk and relighting his pipe which had gone out.

Suddenly he went to the telephone and took down the receiver.

“Give me Rosedene----” He paused.

“What number did you say?” asked the operator.

“Never mind, thank you,” he responded, hanging up the receiver again.

Going to his wardrobe he exchanged the smoking jacket for a coat, and, taking his hat, descended in the elevator to the street. It was after nine o’clock when he found himself in front of a familiar station for suburban trains.

Entering the building he was soon seated in a departing car. He alighted at Rosedene and walked in the direction of the Winters’ house. As he passed it he gazed fixedly at the darkened upstairs windows. Half a block further on he turned back and repassed the house, still staring at the darkened panes. Then he continued his way to the station and from there returned to the city.

Lucy was lying in her room. She wept silently with Dimmie asleep in her arms.

* * * * *

After breakfast the next morning Dimmie began to search for his hat.

“You don’t need to go to kindergarten, Son. You can stay at home with Mother if you like,” said Lucy.

“But I want to go,” he argued. “There’s lots of little boys and girls goes and the teacher is dandy. We have lots of fun.”

“All right, Son. You can go if you’d rather,” consented Lucy sadly, “but there’s no use in your going over to Mrs. Hamilton’s any more so early. You can go from here when the wagon passes.”

“But I like to go early,” protested Dimmie. “Mrs. Hamilton always laughs an’ Stella an’ me play till the wagon comes. It’s too lonesome here.”

Lucy tied his little cravat and, fixing his hat on properly, allowed him to depart without further words.

XXXIV

When John returned on Sunday he again found Lucy seated in the dining room by an open window, a book in her lap.

“Hello!” he greeted, pausing in the doorway and setting down his suit case.

Lucy looked up.

Going over to her chair, he bent and kissed her forehead lightly. He seemed to have regained some of his former cheerful spirits. His color was nearer normal and his eyes were brighter.

“I think we ought to get rid of Katy, John,” advised Lucy that evening after dinner. “There are not so many in the family now and it will save money. I don’t really need her. I can do the work without any difficulty.”

“I don’t want you tied up here at home all the time,” he replied. “You need a girl.”

“But, John, a servant costs so much and I don’t mind the work a bit.”

“No. We can’t stay shut in the house night and day. We’ll go dotty.”

“All right, John. Just as you say.” Lucy sighed as she spoke.

“I’m sleepy,” said Dimmie yawning.

“All right, Sonny,” she said. “Kiss Papa good night.” And Lucy led the child away.

John entered the living room, and, seating himself at the piano, attempted to play the accompaniment to _Ouvrez tes yeux_.

When Lucy came downstairs again after putting Dimmie to bed, John rose.

“Let’s walk over to the Hamiltons’ for a few minutes,” he suggested.

“Why----” she began, and hesitated, adding hastily. “All right, John. Let me get a scarf from my room and speak to Katy.”

In her room she scrutinized her face in the mirror. Tears rolled down her pale cheeks. She wiped the tears viciously away, and, seizing a coarse wash cloth, rubbed her cheeks fiercely until a little color appeared in them.

When they arrived at the Hamiltons’ home the doctor met them at the door.

“Come in,” he invited cordially. “Mrs. Hamilton is putting Stella to bed. She’ll be down in a minute. How are you feeling by this time, Mrs. Winter? You’re looking better.”

“I’m feeling all right, thank you, Doctor.”

Doctor Hamilton pushed forward chairs for his visitors and they seated themselves.

“Your mother went away yesterday, didn’t she?” he continued. “Is she coming back soon?”

“Oh, probably not till next summer, anyway,” put in John.

“She’s been gone several days. She’s going to be married soon,” supplemented Lucy.

John gave her a quick accusing glance.

“Indeed,” commented Doctor Hamilton.

Mrs. Hamilton appeared in the doorway.

“Come on into the study, Mr. Winter, and smoke a cigar. We’ll leave the ladies to talk gossip,” urged the Doctor, rising.

“You mean leave the ladies in order _to_ talk gossip.” Mrs. Hamilton laughed as she straightened her husband’s cravat.

It was after ten o’clock when John and Lucy reached home.

“Let’s go to a show tomorrow night,” he proposed as he unlocked the front door. “I’ll get the tickets when I go down town.”

“All right, John,” Lucy acquiesced without demur.

“We ought to get out more than we’ve been in the habit of doing,” he went on. “It’s a good thing to know more people. We have practically no friends at all.”

“I don’t----” Lucy ventured. Then, checking herself, “We have a few good friends, John.”

“I don’t know who they are. I don’t count Jim Sprague as a friend any more, and Miss Storms, that you used to be so crazy about, has shown herself to be a two-faced cat. The Hamiltons are all right in their way, but----”

“I don’t think you are just to Miss Storms, John. She----”

“Now, see here, Lucy,” John’s face began to grow red, “if you are going to stick up for that woman after all she’s done, we might as well understand each other right now. I simply won’t have you----”

“Don’t be angry, John,” pleaded Lucy humbly. “I won’t say any more about her.”

“I don’t want you to have any more to do with her, either,” he dictated with suppressed vehemence.

“All right, John,” Lucy submitted again.

* * * * *

The following Sunday Mrs. Hamilton invited John and Lucy to tea.

“I suppose we might as well accept,” John had remarked when Lucy told him of the invitation. “We’ve no place else to go.”

They arrived early. The summer was established and a crimson sunset ended a brilliant day. Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton were seated on the porch and both rose as their visitors came up the walk.

“We were enjoying the view over our park,” Mrs. Hamilton observed facetiously, nodding toward the vacant ground which permitted an unobstructed view of the sky, and extending her hand as she spoke.

“Yes, indeed. There are worse places to live than Rosedene,” declared the doctor, pulling forward a rocking chair for Lucy.

“You used to stay at home so closely,” Mrs. Hamilton told her guests when the party was seated, “but now you seem to go out ’most every evening, and we want to see something of you.”

“How pretty!” interrupted Lucy uneasily, calling their attention to the thin new moon as it rose above the straggling houses.

“I suppose you are missing your mother,” Mrs. Hamilton resumed when the conversation paused again. “It was so long since you had seen her. I envied you having her with you. I haven’t seen my own mother for over two years. I was surprised when the doctor told me Mrs. Merwent was going to be married, though I don’t know why I should have been. She is certainly a wonderfully well preserved woman. I suppose you and Mr. Winter will go to the wedding.”

“I don’t think so.” Lucy glanced at John and Doctor Hamilton, who had withdrawn a little from the two women and were smoking together.

“I don’t care much for the Hamiltons,” John commented, as he and Lucy were on their way home. “I want to make friends that are not so dull and commonplace. Their idea of high-brow art goes about as far as the pictures on the popular magazine covers. I think I’ll join the Craftsman’s Club. Mathews of Layard’s belongs and he’s offered several times to put my name up. It will cost fifty dollars a year dues. A lot of artists belong and it would be a good place to spend an evening now and then.”

As they were preparing to retire John returned again to the subject of society.

“I think we ought to give a little dinner, Lucy,” he said. “We have been several places and we ought to do something to pay them all back. Besides, in that way you gradually get a larger circle of acquaintances.”

“All right, John,” agreed Lucy, “if you would like to--if you think we can afford it. I’ve no dinner gown, you know.”

“Oh, go ahead and get something. We’ll make up the list of people we want tomorrow night,” he insisted.

* * * * *

The next evening at dinner he burst forth in a sudden impatient tirade.

“What’s the matter with Katy, Lucy?” he exclaimed. “Since your mother’s not here to push her along she seems to have forgotten how to cook! This is certainly what I call a thin dinner.”

“It isn’t Katy, John. We have just the same cooking that we used to have before Mother came. I thought better to cut down our expenses.” Lucy colored as she spoke, but looked steadfastly at him. “Well, _I’m_ not ready to starve yet to save a penny, even if you are!”

After the meal they considered the list of invitations for the dinner.

“Miss Powell we want, of course,” John began. “I’ll think of a man for her. Oh, yes! There’s Mathews, Layard’s head bookkeeper. He’s a bachelor. Then there’s the Hamiltons. I suppose they’ll have to come. Miss Storms we don’t want--we don’t know many people, Lucy. Let’s see---- There’s Miss Lyle, and Mrs. Morris, too. They came to the tea you gave for Nannie, didn’t they? We must invite Mrs. Morris’s husband, too. I know him slightly. And we can find a man for Miss Lyle. Oh, yes. Jim Sprague. I’d rather not invite him, but I’m afraid people will talk. He used to practically live here. I guess we can’t get out of it. And we mustn’t leave out Nora Stimpson, although she’s seemed to forget that we are alive since we came out here. But she’s still at the Art School. I saw her the other day on the car. She’s on the faculty now. I’ll have to think of a man for her. Why, it’ll be quite a little dinner--just about the right size!”

* * * * *

The succeeding morning at the office, John handed Jim an envelope.

“Lucy is giving a little informal dinner,” he explained.

Jim read the invitation and put it in his pocket.

“I’m afraid I can’t come,” he observed after a moment’s consideration. “I was going to run over our Layard’s materials bills with Mathews Wednesday night.”

“Mr. Mathews is coming, too,” stated John stiffly, “so he won’t be able to work Wednesday night.”

“I had planned to see Wilson later in the evening,” pursued Jim, flushing. “He thinks he may want still another row of cottages built in the spring. However, I’ll see and let you know a little later.” And Jim left the office.

He took a car that passed Miss Storms’ apartment. It was a warm day.

“I hardly expected to find you in,” Jim remarked as he greeted her.

She smiled.

“You shouldn’t have found me, but the heat was stronger than my good resolutions.”

They began to talk earnestly.

“Thank you for coming, Jim,” she told him after a short conversation. He had risen and taken his hat. “I’m not invited. In fact things look as though I were dumped. I don’t know all--but you go.” She rose and laid her hand on his arm. “Don’t lose sight of that dear child,” she added seriously.

Jim nodded his head.

“You might call me up before the evening is over,” he suggested. “Neither one of them will answer the ’phone at a dinner party. It will give me a chance to get away in case my welcome is worn out.”

A half an hour later he entered the office.

“I think I’ll be able to come after all,” he said to John.

XXXV

The day before the dinner Lucy went shopping and purchased a ready-made dinner dress and some rouge.

“You’re looking so well, dear Mrs. Winter,” remarked Miss Powell, the next night when the guests were arriving.

Lucy’s gown was a white demi-toilette and her hair was dressed high. Her cheeks glowed brightly.

When Jim came he shook hands with kindly formality.

“I’m glad to see you looking better,” he said to Lucy.

“Thank you,” she replied, smiling.

When the dinner was over and the ladies had retired to the living room, Doctor Hamilton, who had moved next to Jim, offered him a cigar.

“You’re getting thin, young man,” the doctor observed. “I expect you’re working too hard.”

Jim took the cigar.

“See here, Doctor,” he replied in a joking tone, “you can’t get a new patient here. I’m feeling as fine as silk.”

“Well, don’t work too hard.” Doctor Hamilton lighted his own cigar.

Soon the hired waiter came to the table.

“A telephone message for Mr. Sprague,” he announced.

“Now you’re trying to make me jealous,” laughed the doctor. “If you were a colleague I’d accuse you of trying to make us think you had more patients than I.”

Jim rose and went to the hall.