Flower of the Dusk

by Myrtle Reed

  VII

  An Afternoon Call

  The rap at the Norths' front door was of the sort which would impel thedead to rise and answer it. Before the echo of the imperative summonshad died away, Miriam had opened it and admitted Miss Mattie.

  [Sidenote: Bein' Neighbourly]

  "I was sewin' over to my house," announced the visitor, settling herselfcomfortably, "and I surmised as how you might be sewin' over here, soI thought we might as well set together for a spell. I believe in bein'neighbourly."

  Barbara smiled a welcome and Miriam brought in a quilt which she wasbinding by hand. As she worked, she studied Miss Mattie furtively, andwith an air of detachment.

  "I come over on the trail Roger has wore in the grass," continued MissMattie, biting off her thread with a snap. "He's organised himself intosort of a travellin' library, I take it, what with transportin' books atall hours back and forth. After I go to bed, Roger lets himself out andsneaks over here, carryin' readin' matter both ways. But land's sake,"she chuckled, "I ain't carin' what he does after I get sleepy. I wasnever one to stay up after nine o'clock for the sake of entertainment.If there's sickness, or anythin' like that, of course it's a differentmatter.

  "Roger's pa was always a great one for readin', and we've both inheritedit from him. Roger sits with his books and I sit with my paper, and weboth read, never sayin' a word to each other, till almost nine o'clock.We're what you might call a literary family.

  [Sidenote: "Jewel of a Girl"]

  "I'm just readin' a perfectly beautiful story called _Margaret Merriman,or the Maiden's Mad Marriage_. Margaret must have been worth lookin' at,for she had golden hair and eyes like sapphires and ruby lips and pearlyteeth. I was readin' the description of her to Roger, and he said sheseemed to be what some people would call 'a jewel of a girl.'

  "Margaret Merriman's mother died when she was an infant in arms, justlike your ma, Barbara, and left her to her pa. Her pa didn't marryagain, though several was settin' their caps for him on account of himbein' young and handsome and havin' a lot of money. I suppose bein' awidower had somethin' to do with it, too. It does beat all how womenwill run after a widower. I suppose they want a man who's already beentrained, but, speakin' for myself, I've always felt as if I'd ratherhave somethin' fresh and do my own trainin'--women's notions differ soabout husbands.

  [Sidenote: Training Husbands]

  "Just think what it would be to marry a man, thinkin' he was alltrained, and to find out that it had been done wrong. You'd have tobegin all over again, and it'd be harder than startin' in with absoluteignorance. The man would get restless, too. When he thought he wasgraduated and was about ready to begin on a post-graduate course, he'dfind himself in the kindergarten, studyin' with beads and singin' aboutlittle raindrops.

  "Gettin' an idea into a man's head is like furnishin' a room. If you canonce get a piece of furniture where you want it, it can stay there untilit's worn out or busted, except for occasional dustin' and repairin'.You can add from time to time as you have to, but if you attempt torefurnish a room that's all furnished, and do it all at once, you'rebound to make more disturbance than housecleanin'.

  "It has to be done slow and careful, unless you have a likin' for rows,and if you're one of those kind of women that's forever changin' theirminds about furniture and their husband's ideas, you're bound to have aterrible restless marriage.

  "Roger's pa was fresh when I took him, but, unbeknownst to me, he'd donehis own furnishin', and the pieces was dreadful set and hard to move.Some of 'em I slid out gently and others took some manouverin', butsteady work tells on anythin'. He was thinkin' as I wanted him to aboutmost things, though, when he died, and that's sayin' a good deal, for hedidn't die until after we'd been married seven years and three monthsand eighteen days. If he wasn't really thinkin' right, he was pretendin'to, and that's enough to satisfy any reasonable woman.

  [Sidenote: The Will]

  "Margaret Merriman's pa died when she was at the tender age of ten, andhe left all his money to a distant relation in trust for Margaret, therelative bein' supposed to spend the income on her. If Margaret diedbefore she was of age, the relative was to keep it, and if she shouldmarry before she was of age, the relative was to keep it, too. But,livin' to eighteen' and marryin' afterwards, it was all to beMargaret's, and the relative wasn't to have as much as a two-cent stampwith the mucilage licked off.

  "This relative was a sweet-faced lady with a large mole on her rightcheek. Margaret used to call her 'Moley,' when she was mad at her, whichwas right frequent. Her name was Magdalene Mather and she'd been marriedthree times. She was dreadful careless with her husbands and had mislaid'em all. Not bein' able to find 'em again, she just reckoned on theirbein' dead and was thinkin' of marryin' some more.

  [Sidenote: Keeping Margaret Young]

  "Seems to me it's a mistake for anybody to marry more'n once. In one ofRoger's books it says somethin' about a second marriage bein' thetriumph of hope over experience. Magdalene Mather was dreadful hopefuland kept thinkin' that maybe she could get somebody who would stay withher without bein' chained up. Meanwhile it was to her interest to keeplittle Margaret as young as possible.

  "Margaret thought she was ten when she went to live with Magdalene, butshe soon learned that it was a mistake and she got to be only seven inless'n half an hour. Magdalene put shorter dresses on her and kept herin white and gave her shoes without any heels, and these little shortsocks that show a foot or so of bare leg and which is indecent, iffashionable.

  "Margaret's birthdays kept gettin' farther and farther apart, and assoon as the neighbours begun to notice that Margaret wasn't agin' likeeverybody else, why, Magdalene would just pack up and go to a new place.

  "She didn't go to school, but had private teachers, because it was inthe will that she was to be educated like a real lady. Any teacher whothought Margaret was too far advanced for her age got fired the minuteit was spoke of, and pretty soon Margaret got onto it herself. She usedto tell teachers she liked to say that she was very backward in herstudies, and tell those she didn't like that Aunty Magdalene would bedreadful pleased to hear that she was improvin' in her readin' and'rithmetic and grammar.

  "Meanwhile Nature was workin' in Margaret's interest and she was growin'taller and taller every day. The short socks had to be took off becausepeople laughed so, and Magdalene had to let her braid her hair insteadof havin' it cut Dutch and tied with a ribbon. When she was eighteen,she thought she was thirteen, and she was wearin' dresses that come toher shoe tops, and her hair in one braid down her back, and dreadfulyoung hats and no jewels, though her pa had left her a small trunk fullof rubies and diamonds and pearls. Magdalene was wearin' the jewelsherself. They were movin' around pretty rapid about this time, and goin'from city to city in order to find better teachers for 'the dear child'as Magdalene used to call her.

  [Sidenote: The Conductor]

  "One day, soon after they'd gone to a new city, Margaret was goin' downtown to take her music lesson. She went alone because Magdalene was laidup with a headache and wanted the house quiet. When the conductor comealong for the fare, Margaret was lookin' out of the window, and,absent-minded like, she give him a penny instead of a nickel.

  "The conductor give it back to her, and asked her if she was so youngshe could go for half fare, and Margaret says, right sharp, when shegive him the nickel, 'It's not so long since I was travellin' onhalf-fare.'

  "The conductor says: 'I'd hate to have been hangin' up by the thumbssince you was,' says he. Of course this made Margaret good and mad, andshe says to the conductor, 'How old do you think I am?'

  "The conductor says: 'I ain't paid to think durin' union hours, butI imagine that you ain't old enough to lie about your age.'

  [Sidenote: Ronald Macdonald]

  "Just then an old woman with a green parrot in a big cage fell off thecar while she was gettin' off backwards as usual, and Margaret didn'thave no more chance to fight with the conductor. She saw, however, thathe was terrible good lookin'--lik
e the dummy in the tailor's window. Itsays in the story that 'Ronald Macdonald'--that was his name--was ashandsome as a young Greek god and, though lowly in station, he wouldhave adorned a title had it been his.'

  "Margaret got to doin' some thinkin' about herself, and wonderin' why itwas she didn't seem to age none. And whenever she happened to get ontoRonald Macdonald's car, she noticed that he was awful polite andchivalrous to women. He waited patiently when any two of 'em wasdecidin' who was to pay the fare and findin' their purses, and sayin','You must let me pay next time,' and he would tickle a cryin' babyunder the chin and make it bill and coo like a bird.

  "Did you ever see a baby bill? I never did neither, but that's what itsaid in the paper. I suppose it has some reference to the expense oftheir comin' and their keep through the whoopin' cough stage and themeasles, and so on. There don't neither of you know nothin' about it'cause you ain't married, but when Roger come, his pa was obliged tomortgage the house, and the mortgage didn't get took off until Roger wasout of dresses and goin' to school and beginnin' to write with ink.

  [Sidenote: Fine Manners]

  "Let me see--what was I talkin' about? Oh, yes--Ronald Macdonald's finemanners. When a woman give him five pennies instead of a nickel, he wasalways just as polite to her as he was to anybody, and would help heroff the car and carry her bundles to the corner for her, and everythinglike that. Of course Margaret couldn't help noticin' this and likin' himfor it though she was still mad at him for what he said about her age.

  "One morning Margaret give him a quarter so's he'd have to make change,and while he was doin' it, she says to him, 'How nice it must be to rideall day without payin' for it.'

  "'I'm under age,' says Ronald Macdonald, with a smile that showed allhis beautiful teeth and his ruby lips under his black waxed mustache.

  "'Get out,' says Margaret, surprised.

  "'I am, though,' says Ronald, confidentially. 'I'm just nineteen. Howold are you?'

  "'Thirteen,' says Margaret, softly.

  "'Don't renig,' says Ronald. 'I think we're pretty near of an age.'

  "When Margaret got home, she looked up 'renig' in the dictionary, but itwasn't there. She was too smart to ask Magdalene, but she kept onthinkin'.

  [Sidenote: Chance Acquaintances]

  "One day, while she was goin' down in the car, two men came in and satby her. They was chance acquaintances, it seemed, havin' just met at thehotel. 'Your face is terrible familiar to me,' one of the men said.'I've seen you before, or your picture, or something, somewhere. Upon mysoul, I believe your picture is hung up in my last wife's boudoir.'

  "'Good God,' says the other man, turnin' as pale as death, 'did youmarry Magdalene Mather, too?'

  "'I did,' says the first man.

  "'Then, brother,' says the second man, 'let us get off at the nextcorner and go and drown our mutual sorrow in drink.'

  "After they got off, Margaret went out to Ronald, and she says to him:'There goes two of my aunt's husbands. She's had three, and there's twoof 'em, right there.'

  "'Well,' says Ronald, 'if Aunty ain't got a death certificate and two orthree divorces put away somewhere, she stands right in line to getcanned for a few years for bigamy. You don't look like you had an auntthat was a trigamist,' says he.

  "Margaret didn't understand much of this, but she still kept thinkin'.One day while Magdalene was at an afternoon reception, wearin' all ofMargaret's jewels, Margaret looked all through her private belongings tosee if she could find any divorces, and she come on a family Bible withthe date of her birth in it, and her father's will.

  [Sidenote: Facts of the Case]

  "Soon, she understands the whole game, and by doin' a small sum insubtraction, she sees that she is goin' on nineteen now. She's afraid toleave the proofs in the house over night, so she wraps 'em up in anewspaper, and flies with 'em to her only friend Ronald Macdonald, andasks him to keep 'em for her until she comes after 'em. He says he willguard them with his life.

  "When Margaret goes back after them, havin' decided to face her aunt anddemand her inheritance, Ronald has already read 'em, but of course hedon't let on that he has. He convinces her that she ought to get marriedbefore she faces her aunt, so that a husband's strong arm will be athand to defend her through the terrible ordeal.

  "Margaret thinks she sees a way out, for she has been studyin' up on lawin the meantime, and she remembers how Ronald has told her he is underage, and she knows the marriage won't be legal, but will serve todeceive her aunt.

  [Sidenote: The Climax]

  "So she flies with him and they are married, and then when they confrontMagdalene with the will, and the family Bible and their marriagecertificate, and tell her she is a trigamist, and they will make troublefor her if she don't do right by 'em, Magdalene sobs out, 'Oh, Heaven, Iam lost!' and falls in a dead faint from which she don't come out forsix weeks.

  "In the meantime, Margaret has thanked Ronald Macdonald for his greatkindness, and says he can go now, as the marriage ain't legal, he bein'under age and not havin' his parents' consent. Ronald gives a long, loudlaugh and then he digs up his family Bible and shows Margaret how he isalmost twenty-five and old enough to be married, and that women have nopatent on lyin' about their ages, and that he is not going away.

  "Margaret swoons, and when she comes to, she finds that Ronald hasresigned his job as a street-car conductor, and has bought some fineclothes on her credit, and is prepared to live happy ever afterward. Hebids eternal farewell to work in a long and impassioned speech that's sofull of fine language that it would do credit to a minister, and thereMargaret is, in a trap of her own makin', with a husband to take careof her money instead of an aunt. Next week, I'll know more about how itturns out, but that's as far as I've got now. Ain't it a perfectlybeautiful story?"

  Miriam muttered some sort of answer, but Barbara smiled. "It is veryinteresting," she said, kindly. "I've never read anything like it."

  [Sidenote: Going the Rounds]

  "It's a lot better'n the books you and Roger waste your time over,"returned the guest, much gratified; "but I can't lend you the papers,cause there's five waitin' after the postmaster's wife, and goodnessknows how many of them has promised others. I don't mind runnin' overonce in a while, though, and tellin' you about 'em while I sew.

  "It keeps 'em fresh in my memory," she added, happily, "and Roger is sobusy with his law books he don't have time to listen to 'em except atsupper. He reads law every evening now, and he didn't used to. Guess heain't wasting so much time as he was. Been down to the hotel yet?" sheasked, inclining her head toward Miriam.

  "Once," answered Miriam, reluctantly.

  [Sidenote: Gossip]

  "There ain't many come yet," the postmaster's wife tells me. "There's ayoung lady at the hotel named Miss Eloise Wynne, and every day butSaturday she gets a letter from the city, addressed in a man's writin'.And every afternoon, when the boy brings the hotel mail down to go outon the night train, there's a big white square envelope in a woman'swritin' addressed to Doctor Allan Conrad, some place in the city. Theenvelope smells sweet, but the writin' is dreadful big andsploshy-lookin'. Know anything about her?" Miss Mattie gazed sharply atMiriam over her spectacles.

  "No," returned Miriam, decisively.

  "Thought maybe you would. Anyhow, you don't need to be so sharp aboutit, cause there's no harm in askin' a civil question. My mother alwaystaught me that a civil question called for a civil answer. I shouldthink, from the letters and all, that he was her steady company,shouldn't you?"

  "It's possible," assented Barbara, seeing that Miriam did not intend toreply.

  "There's some talk at the sewin' circle of gettin' you one of them handsewin' machines," continued Miss Mattie, "so's you could sew more andbetter."

  Barbara flushed painfully. "Thank you," she answered, "but I couldn'tuse it. I much prefer to do all my work by hand."

  "All right," assented Miss Mattie, good-humouredly. "It ain't our ideato force a sewin' machine onto anybody that don't want it. We can u
sesome of the money in gettin' a door-mat for the front door of thechurch. And, if I was you, I wouldn't let my pa run around so much byhimself. If he wants to borrow a dog to go with him, Roger would bewillin' to lend him Judge Bascom's Fido. If the Judge wasn't willin',Roger would try to persuade him. Lendin' Fido would make law easier forRoger and be a great help to your pa.

  "I must go, now, and get supper. Good-bye. I've enjoyed my visit ever somuch. Come over sometime, Miriam--you ain't very sociable. Good-bye."

  The two women watched Miss Mattie scudding blithely over the trailwhich, as she said, Roger had worn in the grass. Miriam looked after hergloomily, but Barbara was laughing.

  "Don't look so cross, Aunty," chided Barbara. "No one ever came here whowas so easy to entertain."

  "Humph," grunted Miriam, and went out.

  [Sidenote: Relief]

  But even Barbara sighed in relief when she was left alone. Sheunderstood some of Roger's difficulties of which he never spoke, andrealised that the much-maligned "Bascom liver" could not be heldresponsible for all his discontent.

  She wondered what Roger's father had been like, and did not wonder thathe was unhappy, if his nature was in any way akin to his son's. But hermother? How could she have failed to appreciate the beautiful old fatherwhom Barbara loved with all the passion and strength of her youngheart!

  [Sidenote: The Secret]

  "He mustn't know," said Barbara to herself, for the hundredth time."Father must never know."