Wild Wings

by Margaret Piper Chalmers

  CHAPTER XXI

  HARRISON CRESSY REVERTS

  Left to himself, Harrison Cressy discovered to his annoyance that therewas no train out of Dunbury for two hours. That was the worst of theselittle one-horse towns. You might as well be dead as alive in 'em. By thetime he had smoked his after-dinner cigar he felt as if he might as wellbe dead himself. He felt suddenly heavy, old, almost decrepit, thoughthat morning when he had left Boston he had considered himself in theprime of life and vigor. Hang it! He was sixty-nine. A man was about donefor at sixty-nine, all but ready to turn into his grave. And he withoutson or grandson. Lord! What a swindle life was anyway!

  Well, there was no use sitting still groaning. He would get up and take alittle walk until train time. Maybe it was his liver that made him feelso confoundedly rotten and no count. A little exercise would do him good.

  Absentmindedly he noted, as he strolled down the elm-shaded streets, theneatness of the lawns, the gay flower beds, the hammocks and swings outunder the trees as if people really lived out of doors here. There wereanimate evidences of the fact everywhere. Children played here and therein shady spaces under big trees. Pretty girls on wide, hospitable-lookingporches chatted and drank lemonade and knitted. A lithe, red-haired lassin white played tennis on a smooth dirt court with a tall, clean lookingyouth. As Mr. Cressy passed the girl cried out, "Love all" and themillionaire smiled. It occurred to him it was not so hard to love all ina village like this. It was only in cities that you hated your neighborand did him first lest you be done yourself.

  He hadn't been loose in a country town like this for years. He had almostforgotten what they were like when you didn't shoot through them in amotor car, rushing always to get somewhere else. His casual saunter downthe quiet street was oddly soothing to his nerves, awoke happy, yethalf-sad memories.

  He had met and loved Carlotta's mother in a country town. The lilacs hadbeen in bloom and the orioles had stood sponsor for his first Sundaycall. They had become engaged by the time the asters were out. The nextlilac time they had been married. A third spring and the little Carlottahad come. They had both been disappointed at its not being a boy, but thelittle girl was a wonder, with hair as gold as buttercups, eyes like woodviolets and a laugh that lilted and gurgled like the little brook down inthe meadow.

  And then, two years later, the boy had come, come and drifted off to somefar place. It had been a bitter blow to Rose as well as to HarrisonCressy, especially as they said there never could be any more children.Rose grew frail, did not rally or regain her strength. They advised asanitarium in the Adirondacks for her. She had gone, but it had been ofno use. By the time they brought in the first gentians Rose had driftedoff after her little son. Carlotta and her father were alone.

  By this time Harrison Cressy had begun to show the authentic Midastouch. Only the little Carlotta stood between him and sheer, sordidmoney grubbing. And even she was an excuse for the getting of alwaysmore and more wealth. He told himself Carlotta should be a veritableprincess, should go always clad in the finest, have of the best, besurrounded always by the most beautiful. She should know only joy andlight and laughter.

  Thinking these thoughts, Carlotta's father sighed. For now at lastCarlotta wanted something he could not give her, was learning aftertwenty-two years of cloudless joy the bitter way of tears. Why hadn'tthat stubborn boy surrendered?

  For that matter why didn't Carlotta surrender? This was a new idea toHarrison Cressy. All the time he had been talking to Philip Lambert hehad been seeing Carlotta only in relation to Crest House and the BeaconStreet mansion. But just now he had been recalling her mother under verydifferent associations. Rose had been content with a tiny little cottageset in a green yard gay with bright old fashioned flowers. He and Rosehad nested as happily as the orioles in the maples, especially after thegold-haired baby came. Was Carlotta so different from Rose? Was herhappiness such a different kind of thing? Were women not pretty muchalike at heart? Did they not want about the same things?

  Carlotta loved this lad of hers as Rose had loved himself. Was it her ownfather who was cheating her out of happiness because he had taught her tobelieve that money and limousines and great houses and many servants andsilken robes are happiness? If he had talked to her of other things, toldher about her mother and the happy old days among the lilacs and orioles,with little but love to nest with, couldn't he have made her see thingsmore truly, shown her that love was the main thing, that money could notbuy happiness? One could not buy much of anything that was worth buyingHarrison Cressy thought. One could purchase only the worthless. That wasthe everlasting failure of money.

  He remembered the boy's, "I love Carlotta. But I don't love her enough tolet her or you buy me." It was true. Neither he nor his daughter had beenable to purchase the lad's integrity, his good faith, his ideals. AndHarrison Cressy was thankful from the bottom of his heart that it was so.

  He turned his steps back to the village and as he did so an orioleflashed out of the shrubbery near him, and passed like a flame out ofsight among the trees. This was a good sign. Orioles had nested everyyear in the maple tree by the little white house where Carlotta had beenborn. Carlotta herself had always loved them. "Pretty, pretty, birdie!"she had been wont to call out. "Come, daddy, let's follow him and seewhere he goes."

  He would go home and tell Carlotta all this, make her see that herhappiness was in her own hands. No, it was the boy's story. If Carlottawould not follow the orioles and her own heart for Philip Lambert shewould not for any argument of his.

  By this time a distant puff of smoke gave evidence that the Boston trainwas already on its way, leaving Harrison Cressy in Dunbury. Not that hecared. He had business still to transact ere he departed, a new battle tofight. He walked with the firm elastic step of a youth back to town. Whatdid it matter if you were sixty-nine when the best things of life werestill ahead of you?

  Accordingly Phil was a second time that day surprised by the unheraldedarrival of Carlotta's father, a rather dusty, weary and limp-lookinggentleman this time, but exuding a sort of benignant serenity that hadnot been there early in the day.

  "Hello," greeted the millionaire blandly. "Missed my train--got tobrowsing round the town like an old billy goat. Not sorry though. It is anice little town. Mind if I sit down? I'm a bit blown." And dropping on astool Mr. Cressy fanned himself with his panama and grinned at Philip, agrin the young man could not quite fathom. What new trick had the cleverold financier at the bottom of his mind? Phil hoped he had not got to gothrough the thing again. Once had been quite enough for one day.

  "Let me send out for something cool to drink, Mr. Cressy. You must behorribly hot. It is warm in here, even with all the fans going. Hi,there, Tommy!" Philip summoned a freckled, red-haired youth fromsomewhere in the background. "Run over to Greene's and get a lemonade forthis gentleman, will you?"

  "Right, Mr. Phil." The boy saluted--an odd salute, Mr. Cressy noted. Itwas rendered with the right hand, the three middle fingers held up, thethumb bent over touching the nail of the little finger. The saluter stoodvery straight as he went through the ceremony and looked very seriousabout it. "Queer!" thought the onlooker. The messenger boys he knew didnot behave like that when you gave them an order.

  Philip excused himself to attend to a customer and in a moment thered-haired lad was back with a tall glass of lemonade clinkingdelightfully with ice. Mr. Cressy took it and set it down on the counterwhile he fumbled for his wallet and produced a dollar bill.

  To his amazement the boy's grin faded, and he drew himself up withdignity.

  "No, thank you, sir," he said to the proffered greenback. "I'm a Scoutand Scouts don't take tips."

  "What!" gasped Harrison Cressy. In all his life he did not recall meetinga boy who ever refused money before. He began to think there wassomething uncanny about this town of Dunbury. First a young man who couldnot be bought at any price. And now a boy who wouldn't take a tip forservice rendered.

  "I said I was a Scout," repeated the lad patiently
. "And Scouts don'ttake tips. We are supposed to do one good turn every day, anyway, and Ihadn't gotten mine in before. I'm only a Tenderfoot but I'm most readyfor my second class tests. Mr. Phil's going to try me out in first aid assoon as he gets time."

  "Mr. Phil! What's he got to do with it?" inquired Mr. Cressy, after along, satisfying swig of lemonade.

  "He is our Scout-master and a peach of a one too. He is going to take uson a hike tomorrow."

  "Tomorrow? Tomorrow is Sunday, young man." The Methodist in HarrisonCressy rose to the surface.

  "I know. We all go to church and Sunday school in the morning. Mr. Philwon't take us unless we do. But in the afternoon he thinks it is allright to go on a hike. We don't practise signaling and things like that,but we get in a lot of nature study. I can identify all my ten trees nowand a whole lot more besides, and I've got a bird list of over sixty."

  "You don't say so?" Harrison Cressy was plainly impressed. "So your Mr.Phil gives a good deal of time to that sort of thing, does he?" he added,his eyes seeking Philip Lambert in the distance.

  "Should say he did. I guess he gives about all the time he has outsideof the store. He's a dandy Scout-master. What he says goes, you betcher."

  Remembering the scene at the luncheon table that day, Harrison Cressythought it quite probable. What Philip had said had gone "you betcher" onthat occasion with a vengeance. So young Lambert gave his off hours tobusiness of this sort. Most of Carlotta's male friends gave most oftheirs to polo, jazz, and chorus girls. He began to covet Philip morethan ever for a possible, and he hoped probable, son-in-law.

  It played into his purposes excellently that Philip on returning invitedhim to supper on the Hill that night. He wanted to meet the boy's people,especially the mother. Carlotta had told him once that Philip's motherwas the most wonderful person in the world.

  Seated at the long table in the Lambert dining-room Harrison Cressyenjoyed a meal such as his chef-ridden soul had almost forgotten couldexist--a meal so simple yet so delectable that he dreamed of it for daysafterward.

  But the food, excellent as it was, was only a small part of thesignificance of the occasion. It was a revelation to the millionaire toknow that a family could gather around the board like this and have sucha thoroughly delightful time all round. There was gay talk and readylaughter, a fine flavor of old-fashioned courtesy and hospitality andgood will in everything that was said or done.

  The Lambert girls--the pretty twins and the younger, slim slip of alassie, Elinor--were charming, fresh, natural, unspoiled, very differentfrom and far more to his taste than most of the young women who came toCrest House--hot-house products, over-sophisticated, cynical, toofamiliar with rouge and cigarettes and the game of love and lure,huntresses more or less, the whole pack of them. It seemed girls couldstill be plain girls on this enchanted Hill--girls who would makewonderful wives some day for some lucky men.

  But the mother! She was the secret of it all, quite as remarkable asCarlotta had said. She was extraordinarily well read, talked well on adozen subjects as to which he was himself but vaguely informed, and shewas evidently even more extraordinarily busy. There was talk of a BetterBabies movement in which she was interested, of a Red Cross Chapter atwhich she had spent the afternoon, of a committee meeting of the localWoman's Club which was bringing a noted English poet-lecturer to town.There were Chatauqua plans in view, and a new children's reading room inthe public library with a story-telling hour of which Clare was to be incharge. A hundred things indicated that Mrs. Lambert was by no meansconfined to the four walls of her home for interests and activities. Yether home was exquisitely kept and she was a mother first of all. Onecould see that every moment. It was "Mums, this" and "Mums, that" fromthem all. The life of the home clearly pivoted about her.

  Harrison Cressy found himself wishing that Carlotta could have known amotherhood like that. Rose had gone so soon. Carlotta had never knownwhat she missed. Perhaps Mr. Cressy himself had not known until he sawMrs. Lambert and realized what a mother might be. Poor Carlotta! He hadgiven her a great deal. At least, until this, afternoon, he had thoughthe had. But he had never given her anything at all comparable to whatthis quiet village store-keeper and his wife had given to their son anddaughters. He hadn't had it to give. He had been poor, after all, allalong. Though he hadn't suspected it until now.

  After supper Stuart Lambert had slipped quickly away, bidding his sonstay up on the Hill a little longer with their guest. Phil had demurred,but had been quietly overruled and had acquiesced perforce. Poor Dad!There had not been a moment all day to relieve his mind about Mr.Cressy's offer. Not once had the father and son been alone. Phil wasafraid his father was taking the thing a good deal to heart, and itworried him. He had counted on talking it over together as they went backto the store but his father had willed otherwise.

  It was with Carlotta's father instead of his own that Philip talked firstafter all.

  "See here, Philip," began Mr. Cressy as they descended the Hill in"Lizzie." "I went at this all wrong. So did Carlotta. I understandbetter now. I've been back in the past this afternoon, remembering whatit means to live in the country and love and mate there in the goodold-fashioned way as Carlotta's mother and I did. It is what I want herto do with you. Do you get that, boy? I want her to come to Dunbury. Iwant her to have a piece of your mother. Carlotta never knew what it wasto have a mother. It is mostly my fault she doesn't see any clearer. Youmustn't blame her, lad."

  "I don't," said Phil. "I love her."

  "I know you do. And she loves you. Go to her. Make her see. Make hermarry you and be happy."

  Phil was silent, not because he was not moved by the older man's plea butbecause he was almost too moved to speak. It rather took his breath awayto have Harrison Cressy on his side like this. It was almost tooincredible, and yet there was no mistaking the sincerity in the other'swords or on his face. Carlotta's father did want Carlotta to come to himon his Hill.

  But would Carlotta want it? That was the question. For himself hesought no higher road to follow than the one where his father andmother had blazed the trail through fair weather and stormy these manyyears. But would Carlotta be content to travel so with him? He did notknow. At any rate he could ask her, try once more to make her see, asher father put it.

  He turned to his companion with a sober smile at this point in hisreflections.

  "Thank you, Mr. Cressy. I will try again and I know it is going to make agreat deal of difference to Carlotta--and to me--to have you on my side.Perhaps she will see it differently this time. I--hope so."

  "Lord, boy, so do I!" groaned Mr. Cressy. "You will come back to CrestHouse tomorrow with me?"

  Phil hesitated, considered, shook his head.

  "I'll come next Saturday. I can't get away tomorrow," he said.

  "Why not? For the Lord's sake, boy, get it over!"

  Phil smiled but shook his head. He too wanted to get it over. He couldhardly wait to get to Carlotta, would have started that moment if hecould have done so. But there were clear-cut reasons why he could not gotomorrow, obligations that held him fast in Dunbury.

  "I can't go tomorrow because I have promised my boys a hike," heexplained.

  Harrison Cressy nearly exploded.

  "Heavens, man! What does a parcel of kids amount to when it comes togetting you a wife? You can call off your hike, can't you?"

  "I could, but it would be hard on a good many of them. They count on it agood deal. Some of them have given up other pleasures they might have hadon account of it. Tommy has, for instance. His uncle asked him to go toWorcester with him in his car, and he refused because of his date withme. They are all bribed to church and Sunday School by the means. One ofthe things Scouting stands for is sticking to your job and your word. Idon't think it is exactly up to the Scoutmaster to dodge hisresponsibilities when he preaches the other kind of thing. Of course, ifit were a life and death matter, it would be different. It isn't. I havewaited a good many weeks to see Carlotta. I can wait one more."


  Harrison Cressy grunted. He hardly knew whether to fly into a rage withthis extraordinary young man or to clap him on the back and tell him heliked him better and better every minute. He contented himself byrepeating a remark he had made earlier in the day.

  "You are a darn fool, young man." Then he added, half against his will,"But I like your darnfoolness, hang me if I don't!"

  Phil had a strenuous two hours in the store with never a minute to get athis father. It was not until the last customer had departed, the lastclerk fled away and the clock striking eleven that the father and sonwere alone.

  Philip came over to where the older man stood. His heart smote him whenhe saw how utterly worn and weary the other looked, as if he had suddenlyadded a full ten years to his age since morning. His characteristicbuoyancy seemed to have deserted him for once.

  "Dad, I've not had a minute alone with you all day. I am sorry Mr. Cressybothered you about that blue sky proposition of his. I never would havelet him if I had known. Of course there was nothing in it. I didn'tconsider it for a minute."

  Stuart Lambert smiled wearily and sat down on the counter.

  "I am afraid you have given up more than we realized, Philip, in cominginto the store. Mr. Cressy gave me a glimpse into things that I knewnothing about. You should have told us."

  "There was nothing to tell. I've given up nothing that was mine. I toldCarlotta all along she would have to come to me. I couldn't come to her.My whole life is here with you. It is what I have wanted ever since I hadthe sense to want anything but to enjoy my fool self. But even then Ididn't appreciate what it would be like to be here with you. I couldn't,till I had tried it and found out first hand what kind of a man my dadwas. I am absolutely satisfied. If Mr. Cressy had offered me a million ayear I wouldn't have taken it. It wouldn't have been the slightesttemptation even--" he smiled a little sadly--"even with Carlotta thrownin. I don't want to get Carlotta that way."

  "You say you are satisfied, Philip. Maybe that is so. But you arenot happy."

  "I wasn't, just at first. I was a fool. I let the thing swamp me forawhile. Mums helped pull me out of the slough and since then I've beenfinding out that happiness is--well, a kind of by-product. Like thekingdom of heaven it doesn't come for observation. I have had about asmuch happiness here with you, and with Mums and the girls at home, andwith my Scouts in the woods, as I deserve, maybe more. I'm going to tryto get Carlotta. I haven't given up hope. I'm going down to Sea View nextweek to ask her again and maybe things will be different this time. Herfather is on my side now, which is a great help. He has got the HolidayHill viewpoint all at once. He wants Carlotta to come to me--us. So do I,with all my heart. But whether she does or doesn't, I am here with you aslong as you want me, first last and all the time and glad to be. Pleasebelieve that, Dad, always."

  Stuart Lambert rose.

  "Philip, you don't know what it means to me to hear you say this." Therewas a little break in the older man's voice, the suggestion of pentemotion. "It nearly killed me to think I ought to give you up. You aresure you are not making too much of a sacrifice?"

  "Dad! Please don't say that word to me. There isn't any sacrifice. It iswhat I want. I haven't been a very good son always. Even this summer I amafraid I haven't come up to all you expected of me, especially just atfirst when I was wrapped up in myself and my own concerns too much to seethat doing a good job in the store was only a small part of what I washere in Dunbury to do. But anyway I am prouder than I can tell you to beyour son and I am going to try my darndest to live up to the sign if youwill let me stay on being the minor part of it."

  He held out his hand and his father took it. There were tears in theolder man's eyes. A moment later the store was dark as the two passed outshoulder to shoulder beneath the sign of STUART LAMBERT AND SON.