“Oh yes?” said Irene, lifting her brows in a way that made her look exasperatingly like Laurie. Mrs. Trescott hated to think either of her children looked like the Trescotts. She wanted them to be like her family.
“Well, I’m sure I don’t know why I do so much for people when they are so ungrateful. I don’t know why I took all this trouble to have this party tomorrow night. I don’t believe Robena is a bit grateful, either.”
“Yes you do, Adele!” said Irene. “You know perfectly well that you did it to shake Laurie free from that rowdy little Marigold. By the way, has she replied to her invitation?”
“Oh yes, replied all right, jumped at the chance. ‘Miss Brooke accepts with pleasure.’ And then, what do you think came in just now from her? Regrets! Can you imagine it? After she had accepted! Now what do you make of that? Do you suppose she hadn’t money to get the right kind of gown? I understand they’re very poor.”
“That’s odd!” said Irene, struggling with a particularly sticky caramel. “No, I don’t believe it’s that. I tell you she’s clever. She could make a dress you couldn’t tell from Paris, if she wanted to. Doesn’t she give any reason?”
“‘A sudden change of circumstances,’” quoted the mother, lifting Marigold’s note with a disdainful thumb and finger as if it might contaminate. “I declare it’s discouraging, after all the trouble I’ve taken, and now to have her drop right out of the picture—all my work for nothing.”
“I’m not so sure it isn’t better for your plans,” said the sister-in-law thoughtfully. “She’s a clever piece and very fetching. She could put it all over that selfish beast of a Robena if she tried, although I’m not so sure but she’s too well bred to try.”
“What do you mean, Irene?”
“Oh, nothing at all, Adele. Wait till you see her sometime and you’ll understand. Does Laurie know she isn’t coming?”
“No, he doesn’t, and I don’t intend he shall. Not till it’s too late for him to walk out on me. And don’t you tell him, either! You’re the only one who knows it, and if he finds out I’ll know who told him.”
“What if the girl herself tells him?”
“Well, I’ll take good care to keep him so busy she won’t have a chance. He’s out now showing Robena the sights. She hasn’t ever been here before, and so there’s plenty to see. She’s wise to the situation, too. I gave her a quiet hint, and she certainly is a good ally. She doesn’t give him a minute even to call up on the telephone. We’ve managed so far to keep him away from it entirely, but Robena plans to follow him if the girl calls him up or anything and be around to hear what is said.”
“You surely make a lot of trouble,” said Irene. “She isn’t the only undesirable girl around these parts, and at that I’m not so sure she is so undesirable as she might be.”
“Irene! A poor minister’s daughter!”
“There are worse!” said Irene, lighting a cigarette.
“Well of course, but you know my son wouldn’t look at a girl like that!”
“Wouldn’t he? How do you know?”
“Irene! And you can talk that way about your own nephew?”
“Why, Adele, I wasn’t talking about him, I was talking about human nature. I haven’t much faith in human nature, not in these days, anyway.”
“But don’t you think it makes any difference how a child is born and brought up, my dear?”
“Not much!” said the sister-in-law. “I used to believe that bunk, but when I saw the way some of my friends got bravely over their training I decided there wasn’t so much to it as I had been taught.”
“I do wish you wouldn’t utter such sentiments, Irene. It isn’t respectable to say things like that!”
“Oh, very well, I take it all back; perhaps it was the fault of the upbringing after all. It didn’t go more than skin deep. But I still say if you would stop trying to manage Laurie and simply take his pocket money away and make him go to work, you would have better results. However, I’m only an old maid, and I’m not supposed to know how to bring up children, though if I didn’t do a better job of it than some people I know, I’d be willing to pay a fine. But what I’d like to know is: after you get Laurie pried loose from this penniless little person, how are you going to prevent his falling in love with something worse?”
“Really, Irene, I don’t like the way you talk. I’m sorry I mentioned it at all. I’d rather not say anything more about it.”
“Well, I’m just leaving now, anyway. Give my love to Laurie-boy; and tell him to drop in and see his young aunt someday, and I’ll give him some good advice. But perhaps you’d rather not as I’m afraid I’d advise him to stick to his Marigold and get out and go to work for her.”
“I certainly would rather not!” said the mother severely. “If I thought you meant all you say I certainly should be grieved about it. By the way, I wish you’d run over and take a hand at bridge some evening while Robena is here. Can’t you? Say Friday evening?”
“I’m afraid not, Adele. I might contaminate your child! Besides, I can’t abide that double-faced Robena, and I’m afraid I’d let her know it before the evening was over. Bye-bye! I wish you well in your campaign, but I think I see disappointment of some sort lurking around the corner for you!”
Irene put on her coat and went out smiling ironically, and Mrs. Trescott looked after her deeply annoyed.
Oh, dear me! she sighed, why does she always have to be so unpleasant? She wears on my spirit; I’m so susceptible to moods! Now I’m all worn out. She’s exactly like her brother! Always saying sarcastic things, and I’m not quite sure what she means by them! She’s tired me unutterably. And in some ways Laurie is just like her. Always thinks he’s entirely right. Dear me! I hope he doesn’t find out his little paragon has sent regrets. If we can only get him through Saturday night, I think he will come out all right. By that time he will get over his prejudice against Robena. I can see she’s making good headway. I caught his glance this morning when she came over and stood in the window with him and asked him if he wasn’t going to give her a good-morning kiss, and I actually believe if I hadn’t come into the room just then he would have done it. Once let him get to wooing Robena and he’ll be safe from all the little penniless designers anywhere. Robena is one who knows how to hold her own.
As Irene Trescott walked down the street in the morning sunshine, she was wondering about Laurie. Would he really be won away from his pretty little schoolteacher by that bold flirt? Well, perhaps it was just as well, for he would probably break the other girl’s heart if he stuck to her long enough to marry her. He never would have the courage to do it if his mother cut off his fortune or even threatened to. Irene loved her nephew, but she knew his limitations and had no illusions about him. He was a chip off the old block in more ways than one.
The morning went on, and Marigold at her desk in the schoolroom was conscious of an undercurrent of excitement. Even her small pupils noticed it and thought how pretty she looked with her cheeks so red and her eyes so bright.
For somehow Marigold had become increasingly certain that Laurie was going to call up pretty soon and make everything right, and if so, all the rest would surely work out beautifully somehow. Mother would understand. Mother always did!
But the morning wore on, recess, and then noon, and no Laurie. Afternoon session closed, and no message in the office for Marigold, though she stopped and inquired on her way out.
Well, perhaps he would call later. But, of course, with guests in the house and his mother demanding things of him, possibly he couldn’t get away. She probably ought to realize, too, that since he had said he might not be able to come for a day or two that he thought he had made it plain to her not to expect him. And perhaps he hadn’t been noticing the replies to the invitations. Of course, that was it. It wouldn’t enter his head but that she was coming. Well, it was just as well that she was going away, perhaps. She ought not to let Laurie feel too sure of her.
So she coaxed herself to put away all thoughts of La
urie and the party and enter into her mother’s preparations with at least a semblance of eagerness.
She found her mother waiting on the corner, the suit box in her hand, eyeing the great show window of François’s with hesitancy.
“Don’t you think perhaps you had better just take these back, dear, and let us go to some cheaper place for what I want?” she asked in a troubled voice.
“Not a bit of it,” said Marigold. “You like these dresses, and you’re going to have them. Come on!” And she breezed her mother through the big plate glass door and introduced her to Madame, who treated her like the lady she was and thereby more than won the daughter’s heart.
The shopping tour was a success from every point of view, and they had a good time every minute, both of them. There was something about Marigold today that her mother did not quite understand, something that restrained Mrs. Brooke from protesting against the pretty little accessories that the daughter was determined to buy for her and kept her feeling that she must play the game and give her child a good time to make up somehow for this mysterious sacrifice of the party that she still seemed so set upon. For she sensed the undertone of excitement, the firm set of the young lips, the determined sparkle in the bright eyes, and knew that underneath somewhere there was pain. Please God, it might be pain that led to something better, but still it was pain, and she must help all she could.
So they went happily through the shopping—shoes and hats and gloves—each urging some sweet little extra extravagance on the other. After all, what were a few dollars more or less if it helped her girl to go through the fire? And if it turned out that it wasn’t fire after all, well, the gloves and shoes and hats would be needed sometime and were all good buys.
A roomy suitcase of airplane-luggage style and an overnight bag to match were the final purchases, and they put their smaller parcels into them and carried them home with them.
“Now,” said Marigold firmly, as they got out of the bus at the corner near their home, “we are stopping at the tearoom for dinner. No, you needn’t protest. You are tired and hungry and so am I, and we have a lot to do tonight. Besides, I happen to know there isn’t much in the refrigerator for dinner tonight, and I forgot to telephone the order. This is my party, and I want you to be good and enjoy it.”
So Mrs. Brooke smilingly submitted again, and they had a steak and hot rolls and ice cream and coffee.
“It is a party!” said the mother, leaning wearily back in her chair, “and we’re having a lovely time!”
She noticed as they started to walk the few steps from the tearoom at the corner to their own small apartment a few doors up the block that Marigold had suddenly quickened her step and was noticeably silent. She sensed that the child was hoping that Laurie had telephoned.
But the woman who occupied the apartment across the hall and was kind enough to answer their telephone had nothing to report, and Mrs. Brooke, with a relieved sigh, saw that Marigold set her lips in a determinedly pleasant smile and went straight to the business of unpacking their purchases and talking about the details of their trip, giving herself no chance for sadness. Brave little girl!
There was the hem to sew, and Marigold insisted on doing it herself, making her mother rest awhile. After the dress had been tried on again and pressed and pronounced perfect, Marigold insisted on getting all the little things together that they would need and partly packing them. It was after eleven o’clock when they finally got to bed. The whole evening had gone by and still no word from Laurie. Mrs. Brooke kept longing in her heart that they might get away entirely without it. If Laurie would only keep away and Marigold could have this outing without him, who knew how her eyes might be opened to see that he was not the only friend the world contained. But she dared not pray insistently for things to come out as she desired. She wanted only her child’s happiness, and how was she to know which of all the possibilities was really in God’s plan for her dear one? So she prayed quietly in her heart as she lay in her bed in the darkness, Oh, Father, have Thine own way with my child! Don’t let her make any terrible mistakes. Bring about Thy will in her life.
But Marigold lay staring into the darkness and thinking of Laurie, her face burning now and again as she realized how much she had taken for granted in Laurie’s friendship and how little he had really done to actually commit himself.
And then her cheeks burned again at the thought of how she had been led along, and led along, to surrender this and that standard and opinion and yield to every whim of Laurie’s. There were not so many of these, perhaps, but in the darkness amid her heart searching, desperately facing her problems, they loomed large with her conscience, her young trained conscience that used to be so tender and so sharp before she ever met Laurie.
Dear God, she prayed suddenly, her hands clasped tensely, her young heart beating wildly, if You’ll only let Laurie be real, if You’ll only let him come back and be what I thought he was, I’ll never go into another nightclub with him, never, as long as I live. I promise You!
Then all at once it was as if God stood there and she realized what she had been doing, offering that small concession as bait to the great God to do something for her, even if it meant changing His plan for her life and Laurie’s. Oh, that was a dreadful thing to do! Please, God, forgive me! Forgive me! I ought not to have prayed that way. Oh, I’m all wrong! Please help me! I’m so unhappy!
She soon fell into an uneasy slumber that ended in that horrid dream of the high ledge again, and she woke in great distress, crying out for fear of falling down, down into space.
“Why, what is the matter, dear child!” said her mother bending over her. “Are you in pain?”
She stared wildly at her mother, standing there in the dimness of the room. Then she tried to shake off the reality of that dream and laugh.
“I—must have had a nightmare!” she explained, rubbing her eyes. “I guess it was that piece of mince pie I didn’t eat at the tearoom,” she giggled. “I’m all right now, Mother, get back to bed. You’ll catch cold! You haven’t your robe on!” She sprang up and, taking hold of her mother’s shoulders, led her back to bed, laughingly tucking her in, kissing her, and promising not to dream any more that night. The cold of her own room had somewhat dispelled the gloom of the dream, but she lay there for some time still in the power of that awful feeling that she was standing high on that ledge. If this went on she would be a nervous wreck, and that mustn’t happen. She had Mother to think of. Mother mustn’t be frightened. If she should get sick, what would Mother do? She had to snap out of this and do it quickly, and to that end she had to stop thinking about Laurie. If he telephoned, well and good; but if he didn’t, it was just going to be something she expected, that was all. She and Mother were going off to have a good time. She must forget about the party and the beautiful dress with its crimson sash. She must come down to living in her own world and not go creeping after another where she didn’t belong.
And, of course, it wasn’t as if she had been turned out of the other one. She had turned herself out, deliberately taken back the dress she had bought and sent regrets to the party. She had her pride still with her, anyway.
With that consolation, she turned over and went to sleep again, and when the morning came was able to look fairly cheerful and even a bit excited while they ate their breakfast.
“Now, Mother, don’t you get too tired,” she admonished as she hurried away to school. “Everything but a few trifles is packed, and I shall be home in plenty of time to see to those. You’ve no dinner to make. We’re getting that on the train. I’m so glad we decided to go by train instead of bus. I adore eating in the diner. And I got chairs in the Pullman, so we’ll have a swell rest before we eat.” She kissed her mother and hurried away, not allowing her eyes to lift and scan the road to see if a yellow roadster was hovering near, as once or twice it had done before when Laurie planned some special treat for her and wanted to make sure she would go. Laurie was out of the picture today, absolutely. She was not
going to spoil her radiance by any gloom.
She was able to carry this attitude through a rather trying day and came home excitedly with a piece of news.
“What do you think, Mother,” she said, bursting into the house like a child. “I have two days more vacation! Can you imagine it? And to think it should come just at this time. Isn’t it wonderful? I’ve always wanted to have a little time to look around Washington! Isn’t it grand, Mother? I don’t have to be back here till Wednesday morning.”
“Wonderful!” said the mother. “But how did it happen?”
“Oh, there’s something the matter with the boiler, and they’ve got to pull it to pieces. The workmen say they can’t possibly get it done before Tuesday night.”
“Well,” said the mother with softly shining eyes, “this whole expedition seems to have been prepared for us in detail, as if it were a gift from heaven!”
Marigold caught her breath sharply and smiled. “Yes, doesn’t it?” she said brightly.
And her mother, watching, wondered. Was this real or just put on for her benefit? It was hard to deceive mother-eyes.
But Mrs. Brooke noticed that Marigold was very particular about writing out the address and telephone number in Washington for Mrs. Waterman to give to anyone who might telephone during their absence, and most careful to call up little Johnny Masters, the paperboy, and ask him to save the daily papers for her until her return. It might be that Marigold had put aside her own wishes and was determined to give her mother all the happiness possible on this trip, but she wasn’t forgetting entirely the party she was leaving behind, for she made all arrangements to read its account in the society columns, and the mother sighed softly, even while she rejoiced that her girl would not be present at that party after all. What would the future days bring? Would Laurie come after her again when the grand display was over? Would the interval only serve perhaps to bring things to a crisis? Well, it was all in the Lord’s hands, and she could do nothing but trust it there.
The Flower Brides Page 7