The Rich Mrs. Burgoyne

by Kathleen Thompson Norris

  CHAPTER XIII

  The earliest daylight of July Fourth found Santa Paloma already astir.Dew was heavy on the ropes of flowers and greens, and the flags andbunting that made brilliant all the line of the day's march; and longscarfs of fog lingered on the hills, but for all that, and despite thedelicious fragrant chill of the morning air, nobody doubted that theday would be hot and cloudless, and the evening perfect for fireworks.Lawn-sprinklers began to whir busily in the sweet shaded gardens longbefore the sunlight reached them; windows and doors were flung open tothe air; women, sweeping garden-paths and sidewalks with gay energy,called greetings up and down the street to one another. Chairs weredragged out-of-doors; limp flags began to stir in the sunny air; otherflags squeakily mounted their poles. At every window bunting showed;the schoolhouse was half-hidden in red, white, and blue; the women'sclubhouse was festooned with evergreens and Japanese lanterns; and theMail office, the grand stand opposite, the shops, and the bank, allfluttered with gay colors. Children shouted and scampered everywhere;gathered in fascinated groups about the ice-cream and candy and popcornbooths that sprang up at every corner; met arriving cousins and auntsat the train; ran on last-minute errands. Occasionally a whole packageof exploding firecrackers smote the warm still air.

  By half-past ten every window on the line of march, every dooryard andporch, had its group of watchers. Wagons and motor-cars, from thesurrounding villages and ranches, blocked the side streets. It was verywarm, and fans and lemonade had a lively sale.

  From the two available windows of the Mail office, three persons, aseager as the most eager child, watched the gathering crowds, and waitedfor the Flower Parade. They were Mrs. Apostleman, stately in blacklace, and regally fanning, Sidney Burgoyne, looking her very prettiestin crisp white, with a scarlet scarf over her arm, and Barry Valentine,who looked unusually festive himself in white flannels. All three werein wild spirits.

  "Hark, here they come!" said Sidney at last, drawing her head in from along inspection of the street. She had been waving and callinggreetings in every direction for a pleasant half-hour. Now eleven hadboomed from the town-hall clock, and a general restlessness andwiltedness began to affect the waiting crowds.

  Barry immediately dangled almost his entire length across the windowsill, and screwed his person about for a look.

  "H'yar dey come, li'l miss, sho's yo' bawn!" he announced joyfully."There's the band!"

  Here they came, sure enough, under the flags and garlands, through thenoonday heat. Only vague brassy notes and the general craning of necksindicated their approach now; but in another five minutes the uniformedband was actually in view, and the National Guard after it,tremendously popular, and the Native Sons, with another band, and theveterans, thin, silver-headed old men in half a dozen carriages, andmore open carriages. One held the Governor and his wife, the formerbowing and smiling right and left, and saluted by the rising schoolchildren, when he seated himself in the judges' stand, with the shrill,thrilling notes of the national anthem.

  And then another band, and--at last!--the slow-moving, flower-coveredcarriages and motors, a long, wonderful, brilliant line of them.White-clad children in rose-smothered pony-carts, pretty girls in asetting of scarlet carnations, more pretty girls half-hidden in bobbingand nodding daisies--every one more charming than the last. There werewhite horses as dazzling as soap and powder could make them; horseswhose black flanks glistened as dark as coal, and there was a tandem ofcream-colored horses that tossed rosettes of pink Shirley poppies intheir ears. The Whites' motor-car, covered with pink carnations, andfilled with good-looking lads flying the colors of the Women's Club andthe nation's flag, won a special round of applause. Mrs. Burgoyne andBarry loyally clapped for the Pratt motor-car, from which JoannaBurgoyne and Lizzie Pratt's children were beaming upon the world.

  "But what are they halting for, and what are they clapping?" Sidneypresently demanded, when a break in the line and a sudden outburst ofcheering and applause interrupted the parade. Barry again hung at adangerous angle from the window. Presently he sat back, his face onebroad smile.

  "It's us," he remarked simply. "Wait until you see us; we're the creamof the whole show!"

  Too excited to speak, Sidney knelt breathless at the sill, her eyesfixed upon the spot where the cause of the excitement must appear. Shewas perhaps the only one of all the watchers who did not applaud, asthe eight powerful oxen came slowly down the sunshiny street, guided bythe tall, lean driver who walked beside them, and dragging the greatwagon and its freight of rapturous children.

  Only an old hay-wagon, after all; only a team of shabby oxen, such as athousand lumber-camps in California might supply; only a score or moreof the ill-nourished, untrained children of the very poor; but what anenchantment of love and hope and summer-time had been flung over themall! The body of the wagon was entirely hidden by exquisite hydrangeas;the wheels were moving disks of the pale pink and blue blossoms; theoxen, their horns gilded, their polished hoofs twinkling as they moved,wore yokes that seemed solidly made of the flowers, and great ropes ofblossoms hid the swinging chains. Over each animal a brilliant coverhad been flung; and at the head of each a young Indian boy, magnificentin wampum and fringed leather, feathers and beads, walked sedately. Thechildren were grouped, pyramid-fashion, on the wagon, in a nest ofhydrangea blooms, the pink, and cream, and blue of their gowns blendingwith the flowers all about them, the sunlight shining full in theirhappy eyes. Over their shoulders were garlands of poppies, roses,sweet-peas, daisies, carnations, lilies, or other blossoms; their handswere full of flowers. But it was the radiance of their faces that shonebrightest, after all. It was the little consumptive's ecstatic smile,as she sat resting against an invisible support; it was the joy in MaryScott's thin eager face, framed now in her loosened dark hair, and withthe shadow, like her crutch, laid aside for a while, that somehowbrought tears to the eyes that watched. Santa Paloma cheered andapplauded these forgotten children of hers; and the children laughedand waved their hands in return.

  Youth and happiness and summer-time incarnate, the vision went on itsway, down the bright street; and other carriages followed it, and werepraised as those that had gone before had been. But no entry in anyflower parade that Santa Paloma had ever known, was as much discussedas this one. Indeed, it began a new era; but that was later on. WhenMrs. Burgoyne's plain white frock appeared among the elaborate gownsworn at the club luncheon that afternoon, she was quite overwhelmed bycongratulations. She went away very early, to superintend thechildren's luncheon at the Hall, and then Mrs. White had a chance totell the distinguished guests who she was, and that she could wellafford to play Lady Bountiful to the Santa Paloma children.

  "One wouldn't imagine it, she seems absolutely simple and unspoiled,"said Mrs. Governor.

  "She is!" said Mrs. Lloyd unexpectedly.

  "I told her how scared most of us had been at the mere idea of hercoming here, Parker," Mrs. Lloyd told her husband later, "and howfriendly she is, and that she always wears little wash dresses, andthat the other girls are beginning to wear checked aprons and things,because her girls do! Of course, I said it sort of laughingly, youknow, but I don't think Clara White liked it ONE BIT, and I don't care!Clara is rather mad at me, anyway," she went on, musingly, "becauseyesterday she telephoned that she was going to send that Armenianpeddler over here, with some Madeira lunch cloths. They WERE beauties,and only twenty-three dollars; you'd pay fifty for them at RaphaelWeil's--they're smuggled, I suppose! But I simply said, 'Clara, I can'tafford it!' and let it go at that. She laughed--quite cattily,Parker!--and said, 'Oh, that's rather funny!' But I don't care whetherClara White thinks I'm copying Mrs. Burgoyne or not! I might as wellcopy her as somebody else!"

  Mrs. Burgoyne and Barry Valentine went down-town on the evening of thegreat day, to see the fireworks and the crowds, and to hear theannouncements of prize-winners. Santa Paloma was in holiday mood, andthe two entered into the spirit of the hour like irresponsiblechildren. It was a warm, wonderful summer night; the sky was
close andthickly spangled with stars. Main Street bobbed with Japanese lanterns,rang with happy voices and laughter. The jostling, pushing currents ofmen in summer suits, and joyous girls in thin gowns, were allgood-natured. Sidney found friends on all sides, and laughed and calledher greetings as gaily as anyone.

  Barry had a rare opportunity to watch her unobserved, as she went herhappy way; the earnest happy brightness in her eyes, when some shabbylittle woman from Old Paloma laid a timid hand on her arm, her adoringinterest in the fat babies that slumbered heavily on paternalshoulders, her ready use of names, "Isn't this fun, Agnes?"--"Youhaven't lost Harry, have you, Mrs. O'Brien?"--"Don't you and yourfriend want to come and have some ice-cream with us, Josie?"

  "But we mustn't waste too much time here, Barry," she would say now andthen; for at eight o'clock a "grand concert program and distribution ofprizes" was scheduled to take place at the town hall, and Sidney wasanxious not to miss an instant of it. "Don't worry, I'll get youthere!" Barry would answer reassuringly, amused at her eagerness.

  And true to his word, he stopped her at the wide doorway of the concerthall, fully five minutes before the hour, and they found themselvesjoining the slow stream of men and women and children that was pouringup the wide, dingy stairway. Everyone was trying, in all good humor, topress ahead of everyone else, inspired with the sudden agonizingconviction that in the next two minutes every desirable seat wouldcertainly be gone. Even Sidney, familiar as she was with every grandopera house in the world, felt the infection, and asked rathernervously if any of the seats were reserved.

  "Don't worry; we'll get seats," said the imperturbable Barry, andseveral children in their neighborhood laughed out in sudden exquisiterelief.

  Seats indeed there were, although the front rows were filling fast, andall the aisle-chairs were taken by squirming, restless small children.Mrs. Burgoyne sat down, and studied the hall with delighted eyes. Itwas ordinarily only a shabby, enormous, high-ceiled room, filled withrows of chairs, and with an elevated stage at the far end. But, likeall Santa Paloma, it was in holiday trim to-night. All thewindows--wide open to the summer darkness--were framed in bunting anddrooping flowers, and on the stage were potted palms and crossed flags.Great masses of bamboo and California ferns were tied with red, whiteand blue streamers between the windows, and, beside these decorations,which were new for the occasion, were purple and yellow banners, leftfrom the night of the Native Sons' Grand Ball and Reception, a monthago, and, arched above the stage the single word "Welcome" in letterstwo feet high, which dated back to the Ladies of Saint Rose's ParishAnnual Fair and Entertainment, in May. If the combined effect of thesewas not wholly artistic, at least it was very gay, and the murmur ofvoices and laughter all over the hall was gay, too, and gay almost tointoxication it was to hear the musicians tentatively and subduedlytrying their instruments up by the piano, with their sleek heads closetogether.

  Presently every chair in the house had its occupant, and the youngerelement began a spasmodic sort of clapping, as a delicate hint to theagitated managers, who were behind the scenes, running blindly aboutwith worn scraps of scribbled paper in their hands, desperatelyattempting to call the roll of their performers. When Joe, the janitor,came out onto the stage, he was royally applauded, although he did nomore than move a tin stand on which there were numbered cards, from oneside of the stage to the other, and change the number in view from "18"to "1."

  Fathers and mothers, perspiring, clean and good-natured, smiled uponyouthful impatience and impertinence to-night, as they sat fanning anddiscussing the newcomers, or leaned forward or backward for hilariousscraps of conversation with their neighbors. Lovers, as alwaysoblivious of time, sat entirely indifferent to the rise or fall of thecurtain, the girls with demurely dropped lashes, the men deep in lowmonotones, their faces close to the lovely faces so near, their armsflung, in all absent-mindedness, across the backs of the ladies'chairs. And any motherly heart might have been stirred with an achingsort of tenderness, as Sidney Burgoyne's was, at the sight of so muchawkward, budding manliness, so many shining pompadours, and carefullypolished shoes and outrageous cravats--so many silky, filleted littleheads, and innocent young bosoms half-hidden by all sorts of daintylittle conspiracies of lace and lawn. Youth, enchanting, self-absorbed,important, had coolly taken possession of the hall, as it does ofeverything, for its own happy plans, and something of the gossamerbeauty of it seemed to be clouding older and wiser eyes to-night.Sidney found her eyes resting upon Barry's big, shapely hand, as heleaned forward, deep in conversation with Dr. Brown, in the chairahead, and she was conscious that she wanted to sit back and shut hereyes, and draw a deep breath of sheer irrational happiness because thisWAS Barry next to her, and that he liked to be there.

  Presently the hall thrilled to see two modest-looking and obviouslyembarrassed men come out to seat themselves in the half-circle ofchairs that lined the stage, and a moment later applause broke out forthe Mayor and his wife, and the members of the Flower Parade Committeeof Arrangements, and for the nondescript persons who invariably fill insuch a group, and for the kindly, smiling Governor, and the ladies ofhis party, and for the Willard Whites, who, with the easiest manners inthe world, were in actual conversation with the great people as theycame upon the stage.

  At the sight of them, Mrs. Carew, still vigorously clapping, leanedover to say to Mrs. Burgoyne:

  "Look at Clara White! And we were wondering why they didn't come in!Wouldn't she make you TIRED!"

  "You might kiss her hand, when you go up to get your prize, Mrs.Burgoyne," suggested Barry, and a general giggle went the rounds.

  "If I get a prize," said Sidney, in alarm, "you've got to go up, Icouldn't!"

  "We'll see--" Barry began, his voice drowned by the opening crash ofthe band.

  There followed what the three papers of Santa Paloma were unanimous thenext day in describing as the most brilliant and enjoyable concert evergiven in Santa Paloma. It was received with immense enthusiasm,entirely unaffected by the fact that everyone present had heard MissEmelie Jeanne Foster sing "Twickenham Ferry" before, with "Dawn" as anencore, and was familiar also with the selections of the StringedInstrument Club, and had listened to young Doctor Perry's impassionedtenor many times. As for George O'Connor, with his irresistiblelaughing song, and the song about the train that went to Morro to-day,he was more popular every time he appeared, and was greeted now by madapplause, and shouts of "There's George!" and "Hello, George!"

  And the Home Boys' Quartette from Emville was quite new, and varioussolo singers and a "lady elocutionist" from San Francisco were heardfor the first time. The latter, who was on the program merely for a"Recitation--Selected," was so successful with "Pauline Pavlovna," and"Seein' Things at Night" that it was nearly ten o'clock before theGovernor was introduced.

  However, he was at last duly presented to the applauding hundreds, andcame forward to the footlights to address them, and made everyone laughand feel friendly by saying immediately that he knew they hadn't comeout that evening to hear an old man make a long speech.

  He said he didn't believe in speechmaking much, he believed in DOINGthings; there were always a lot of people to stand around and makespeeches, like himself--and there was more laughter.

  He said that he knew the business of the evening was the giving out ofthese prizes here--he didn't know what was in these boxes--he indicatedthe daintily wrapped and tied packages that stood on the little tablein the middle of the stage--but he thought every lady in the hall wouldknow before she went home, and perhaps some one of them would tellhim--and there was more laughter. He said he hoped that there wassomething mighty nice in the largest box, because he understood that itwas to go to a fairy-godmother; he didn't know whether the good peoplein the hall believed in fairies or not, but he knew that some of thechildren in Old Paloma did, and he had seen and heard enough that dayto make him believe in 'em too! He'd heard of a fairy years ago whomade a coach-and-four out of a pumpkin, but he didn't think that wasany harder than to make a coach-a
nd-six out of a hay-wagon, and puttwenty Cinderellas into it instead of one. He said it gave him greatpride and pleasure to announce that the first prize for to-day'sbeautiful contest had been unanimously awarded to--

  Sidney Burgoyne, watching him with fascinated eyes, her breath comingfast and unevenly, her color brightening and fading, heard only somuch, and then, with a desperate impulse to get away, half rose to herfeet.

  But she was too late. Long before the Governor reached her name, asudden outburst of laughter and clapping shook the hall, there was afriendly stir and murmur about her; a hundred voices came to her ears,"It's Mrs. Burgoyne, of course!--She's got it! She's got the firstprize!--Go on up, Mrs. Burgoyne! You've got it!--Isn't thatGREAT,--she's got it! Go up and get it!"

  "You've got first prize, I guess. You'll have to go up for it," Barryurged her.

  "He didn't say so!" Sidney protested nervously. But she let herself behalf-pushed into the aisle, and somehow reached the three little stepsthat led up to the platform, and found herself facing His Excellency,in an uproar of applause.

  The Governor said a few smiling words as he put a large box into herhands; Sidney knew this because she saw his lips move, but the househad gone quite mad by this time, and not a word was audible. Everyonein the hall knew that a tall loving-cup was in the box, for it had beenon exhibition in the window of Postag's jewelry store for three weeks.It was of silver, and lined with gold, both metals shining with anunearthly and flawless radiance; and there was "Awarded--as a FirstPrize--in the Twelfth Floral Parade--of Santa Paloma, California" cutbeautifully into one side, and a scroll all ready, on the other side,to be engraved with the lucky winner's name.

  She had been joking for two or three weeks about the possibility ofthis very occurrence, had been half-expecting it all day, but nowsuddenly all the joke seemed gone out of it, and she was only curiouslystirred and shaken. She looked confusedly down at the sea of facesbelow her, smiles were everywhere, the eyes that were upon her werefull of all affection and pride--She had done so little after all, shesaid to herself, with sudden humility, almost with shame. And it was sopoignantly sweet to realize that they loved her, that she was one ofthemselves, they were glad she had won, she who had been a stranger toall of them only a few months ago!

  Her eyes full of sudden tears, her lip shaking, she could only bow andbow again, and then, just as her smile threatened to become entirelyeclipsed, she managed a husky "Thank you all so much!" and descendedthe steps rapidly, to slip into her chair between Barry and GeorgeCarew.

  "You know, you oughtn't to make a long tedious speech like that on anoccasion like this, Sid," Barry said, when she had somewhat recoveredher equilibrium, and the silver loving cup was unwrapped, and was beingpassed admiringly from hand to hand.

  "Don't!" she said warningly, "or you'll have me weeping on yourshoulder!"

  Instead of which she was her gayest self, and accepted endlesscongratulations with joyous composure, as the audience streamed outinto the reviving festivity of Main Street. The tide was turning in onedirection now, for there were to be "fireworks and a stupendous bandconcert" immediately following the concert, in a vacant lot not faraway.

  And presently they all found themselves seated on the fragrant grass,under the stars. George Carew, at Sidney's feet, solemnly wrappedsections of molasses popcorn in oiled paper, and passed them to theladies. Barry's coat made a comfortable seat for Mrs. Burgoyne andlittle Mrs. Brown; Barry himself was just behind, and Mrs. Carew andher big son beside them. All about, in the darkness, were other groups:mothers and fathers and alert, chattering children. Alice Carter, thebig mill-girl, radiant now, and with a hoarse, inarticulate, adoringyoung plumber in tow, went by them, and stooped to whisper something toMrs. Burgoyne. "I wish you WOULD come, Alice!" the lady answeredeagerly, as they went on.

  Then the rockets began to hiss up toward the stars, each falling showerof light greeted with a long rapturous "Ah-h-h!" Catherine-wheelssputtered nearer the ground; red lights made eerie great spots ofillumination here and there, against which dark little figures moved.

  "I don't know that I ever had a happier day in my life!" said SidneyBurgoyne.