CHAPTER SEVEN
_Shows how the Candy Wagon is visited in behalf of the Squirrel, andhow pride suffers a fall; how Miss Bentley turns to Vedantic Philosophyto drown her annoyance, and discovers how hard it is to forget when youwish to._
"When I reflect upon the small weight attaching to true worthunsupported by personal charm, I am tempted to turn cynic."
Dr. Prue closed her bag with a snap and lifted her arms to adjust ahatpin.
"Youth and beauty take the trick, that's a fact." Uncle Bob laughed asif he found it a delicious comedy.
They stood before the office window. At the gate the Apartment Pigeonswere fluttering around Margaret Elizabeth, while her ladyship gravelyadmonished them for some piece of mischief.
"I believe she is taming the terrors," remarked the doctor.
"She had them all in the other afternoon," said Uncle Bob, "sittingcross-legged on the floor like little Orientals, while she told themstories. Margaret Elizabeth can manage them!" His tone thrilled withpride.
"Yes, and Miss Kitty Molloy will drop anything she has on hand to workfor Miss Bentley; the market-man picks out his choicest fruit for her;and so it goes, if you call it managing. Well, I must be off. Good-by."
As Dr. Prue went out, Margaret Elizabeth, having dismissed the pigeonsfor the time being, came in, and sat down at her desk to finish aletter.
She wrote: "Yes, Uncle Bob and Cousin Prue argue as much as ever, andI suspect that more often than not I am the subject upon which theydisagree. I am in a state of disagreement about myself, father dear.Society is absorbing beyond anything I dreamed of, and if I had notpromised you to stop and think for at least ten minutes out of thefourteen hundred and forty, I fear I should have already become a realSociety Person."
At this point Uncle Bob looked in. "Well, how many parties on hand now?"he asked.
Margaret Elizabeth laid down her pen and counted them off on herfingers, beginning with a tea at five, theatre and supper afterward, andso on, till the supply of fingers threatened to become exhausted.
"Go on, I'll lend you mine," said Uncle Bob. "Prue says," he added,"that it is enough to kill you, but you look pretty strong."
"She wouldn't mind if I worked my fingers to the bone for her hospitalor the Suffrage Association, but I want a little fun first, Uncle Bob."Margaret Elizabeth supported an adorable chin in a pink palm andregarded her relative appealingly.
"That's what I tell Prue. It is natural you should like best to stay atPennington Park, and go about in a splendid machine. I don't blame youin the least, and I don't wish you to feel bound to come down here whenyou don't really care to. Much as I love to have you, I shall not behurt." Uncle Bob nodded at Margaret Elizabeth with a reassuring smilethat in spite of intentions was a bit wistful too.
"I don't believe you understand, and for that matter, neither do I. Ilove you best, and the Little Red Chimney, and this darling room. Therearen't any fairies at Pennington Park, but--I do like the whirl, thefun, the pretty things, and----"
"The admiration, Margaret Elizabeth; out with it. You'll feel better,"said Uncle Bob.
"Well, yes, people _do_ like me, and oh, I must show yousomething!" She sprang up, and from a box lying on the sofa she took afilmy, rose-coloured fabric. "What do you think of this?" she demanded,shaking out the shimmering folds before his surprised eyes.
He rose nobly to the occasion. "Why, it looks like a sunset cloud. Is itto wear?"
"Certainly. It is a pattern robe. Miss Kitty across the street is goingto put it together for me. She is a genius. Sunset cloud is very poetic.Thank you, Uncle Bob. And now I must finish my letter before I go overto Miss Kitty's, and then I promised the children I'd go with them tobuy some nuts for the squirrel. A bunny who has the courage to live sofar downtown should be rewarded. I wish you had been here, Uncle Bob, tojoin our society." Margaret Elizabeth sat down with the rosy cloud allabout her, and laughed at the recollection. "Never again will they throwa stone at his bunnyship. We laid our hands together so, and swore bythe paw of the cinnamon bear and the ear of the tailless cat, to takethe part of our brother beasts and birds. It was all on the spur of themoment, or I might have done better, but they were impressed."
UNCLE BOB]
"I should think so, indeed," remarked her uncle. "You are a sort ofphilanthropist after all."
"Yes, I have a very marked bump. That reminds me, if I don't see Dr.Prue, you tell her, please, that I am going to take Augustus McAllisterto the Suffrage meeting."
Having returned her robe to its box, Miss Bentley sat down at her deskand wrote furiously for five minutes, then folded her letter, put itin the envelope, and addressed, stamped, and sealed it, concluding thebusiness with a resolute fist. Shortly after, in the familiar grey suit,with the little grey hat jammed down anyhow on her bright hair, she wentforth, the box containing the sunset cloud under her arm.
Homage and admiration attended upon her within Miss Kitty's humbleestablishment, and waited outside in the persons of the adoring pigeons.Virginia, having been unable to keep the story of the Little Red Chimneyto herself, must now in consequence share her ladyship with the flock.But certain privileges were hers--to walk next to Miss Bentley and claspher disengaged hand; to carry her bag or book; to act as her primeminister in keeping order.
Thus Miss Bentley went her triumphant way that afternoon, allunconscious that there was any triumph about it. Not that she was whollyunaware of her own charm. As she confessed to Uncle Bob, she knew peopleliked her, and the knowledge was pleasing. She was now on her way to begracious to the Candy Man, and in this connection she had rehearsed aneat little scene in which she stood by and allowed the children to maketheir purchases, and then at the right moment asked easily if there hadbeen any more accidents on the corner of late, adding something abouthis kindness in helping her up, and so on. The Candy Man would of coursetouch his cap, for from Virginia's account he was rather a nice CandyMan, and reply, "Not at all, Miss," or "That's all right"; then shewould smile upon him and the incident would be closed.
The first half of the scene went off perfectly. The Candy Man wasselling taffy to a nurse-maid when they approached, and if he saw whowas coming, and if his heart was in his mouth, and if he felt a wildlonging to escape from the Candy Wagon, he gave no sign. To MargaretElizabeth, as they waited, he was a Candy Man in white jacket and cap,and nothing more.
The pigeons fluttered joyously. Miss Bentley uttered an impersonal goodafternoon, Virginia advanced, a silver quarter in her palm, and demandedchestnuts for the squirrel. The bag was filled and held out to her, andas she handed over the quarter in exchange she explained, gratuitously,"We'll perhaps eat _some_ of them ourselves."
At this the Candy Man looked up with a smile in his eyes, and met theglance of Miss Bentley, who immediately forgot all she had intended tosay, for these were the eyes that were not the eyes of Augustus. Therewas no excuse for arguing the question. She knew it.
The point was, after all, Margaret Elizabeth concluded in the solitudeof her own hearth-stone, not whether she had been equal to the occasionto-day--and she hadn't--but that he on a former occasion had been guiltyof base behaviour. If this were a real Candy Man, one might excuse him,but he plainly was not. There was a mystery, and she loathed mysteries.She was annoyed to the point of exasperation. She would dismiss him fromher mind now and forever.
Uncle Bob, reading the evening paper in the dining-room while Nancy setthe table, admitting as she passed back and forth an occasional savouryodor from the kitchen region, became aware of sounds in the hall whichbetokened some one descending the stairs in haste. The next momentMargaret Elizabeth stood in the doorway.
"Uncle Bob," she said, as she drew a long white glove over her elbow,her face shadowed by her plumy hat, "you remember you said it might beworse, and I insisted it couldn't be? You were right, it is infinitelyworse."
With this she was gone, and a premonitory buzz of great dignity andreserve from the street presently indicated that she was being borneaway in t
he Pennington car.
And now it was that Miss Bentley discovered how impossible it is toforget when you wish to. You may assist a treacherous memory with amemorandum, but no corresponding resource offers when you wish toforget. You may succeed in diverting your thoughts for a time, butsooner or later, ten to one, in the most illogical manner, the verything you seek to avoid forces itself upon your attention. What couldhave seemed further away from the Candy Man than ancient HindooPhilosophy? And into this she plunged to drown her annoyance, andincidentally help a fellow member of the Tuesday Club. MargaretElizabeth was ever ready to fill in a breach, and when Miss Allen cameto her in despair, having been positively forbidden to use her eyes,she obligingly agreed to help her.
The subject grew, as all subjects have a way of doing. It was aprovidential ordering, Uncle Bob remarked, enabling the writers ofpapers to take refuge from criticism in the impressive statement thatit is impossible to treat of the matter adequately in so short a space.Margaret Elizabeth laughed, and crossed out a paragraph at the bottom ofher first page, and then set out for the Public Library.
Seated in the Reference Room, with more books than she could read in ayear on the table before her, behold Miss Bentley presently inconsolablefor lack of a certain authority she chanced to remember in the collegelibrary at home. The whole force of the Reference Room mourned with her,for Margaret Elizabeth in the part of earnest student was no lesscaptivating than in her other roles.
"I know where there is a copy," said the youngest and wisest of theforce, "but it won't do you any good. Mr. Knight, the man the childrencall the Miser, has one."
"I'll go and ask him to let me see it. I'd like to know a real livemiser." Margaret Elizabeth closed the book she had in hand and rose.
The force gasped at her temerity. They had heard he was a horrid oldman; but the youngest observed wisely that probably he wouldn't bite.
Miss Bentley, however, having recently developed a bump of discretion,did first consult Dr. Prue in the matter, who responded, "Why certainly,I see no objection to your asking to see the book. Mr. Knight is aharmless, studious man. I have met him on two occasions when I wascalled in to attend his housekeeper, Mrs. Sampson, and he was courtesyitself. I will go with you and introduce you, if you like."
Virginia, hanging around and overhearing, begged to be allowed to gotoo. "I'd love to see the inside of his house," she urged.
She was assured she would find it stupid, but this was as nothingcompared with the glory of entering the abode of the Miser in companywith her ladyship, and the other pigeons looking enviously on outside.
Dr. Prue, of course, had no time to waste, so Margaret Elizabethhastened to find her pad and pencil, and across the street they wentforthwith. The Miser was discovered in his library, a spacious, shabbyroom, yet not too shabby for dignity, full of valuable and even rarethings, such as old prints and engravings, and most of all of books,which overflowed their shelves in a scholarly disorder not unfamiliarto Margaret Elizabeth.
With businesslike brevity Dr. Vandegrift presented her cousin and hercredentials to Mr. Knight, who, with a quaint and formal courtesy, washappy to oblige the daughter of an author so distinguished in his chosenfield.
Miss Bentley in her turn presented, with suitable gravity, Miss VirginiaBrooks, who promised to be quiet as a mouse, and whose eyes betrayed herdisappointment on discovering the inside of the Miser's house to be somuch like any other.
After the necessary stir attending upon the finding of the desiredvolume, and getting settled to work, profound quiet again rested uponthe library. Margaret Elizabeth wrote busily, her book propped upon asmall stand before her, while across the room Virginia softly turned theleaves of a huge volume of engravings, pausing now and then to rest hercheek in her palm and regard the Miser steadily for a moment.
The master of the library had the air of having forgotten their presencealtogether. Aided by a microscope, with a grave absorbed face, hestudied and compared a series of prints spread before him. So quiet wasit all, that the crackle and purr of the coal fire in the old-fashionedgrate made itself quite audible, and the leisurely tick of the clock inthe hall marked time solemnly.
Margaret Elizabeth's interest in Vedantic Philosophy began after a timeto wane, and she allowed her attention to wander about the room, fromobject to object, until it concentrated upon the student himself. Washe really a miser? she wondered. He did not look it. His was rather theface of an ascetic. Suddenly it flashed into her mind that here was thesad, grey man of that unforgettable conversation in the park.
Virginia slipped down and came to her side. "Is there really a room fullof gold?" she whispered.
Margaret Elizabeth shook her head sternly. It was time they were going.Her hand was tired. She would ask permission to come again. As shereturned her book to the shelf, she displaced a smaller one, a shabbyleather-bound book, at which she scarcely glanced, but upon whichVirginia seized.
"The Candy Man has one like this," she said. "Such a funny name! See?Only his is Vol. one and this is Vol. two."
Miss Bentley cared not at all what strange books the Candy Man owned,and said so, frowning so severely you could scarcely have believed herto be the same person who only a few minutes later was thanking theMiser with such alluring grace of manner.
She was welcome to come when she chose, she was assured, with gravepoliteness. His library was at her disposal.
"You have many beautiful things," said Margaret Elizabeth. "Thisportrait above the mantel, for instance, seems to me very interesting."
The portrait in question was rather a splendid one of a military-lookingman probably in his thirties. One of the best examples of Jouett's workit was generally considered, Mr. Knight explained, and said to have beenan admirable likeness of his uncle, General Waite, at the time it waspainted.
It was inexplicable that as Margaret Elizabeth gazed up at the generalthe eyes beneath the stern brows should become the eyes of the CandyMan. But her exasperation at this absurd illusion passed quickly intohorrified embarrassment, when Virginia, edging toward the master of thehouse, asked explosively, "Say, have you really got a room full ofgold?"
"There is one thing certain, you can never go there with me again," saidMiss Bentley, on their way across the street.
"But Aleck said----" began the culprit.
"Never mind what he said. Aleck is a very ignorant little boy. Peopledon't keep gold in rooms. If they have it they put it in the bank orsend it to the mint."
The Little Red Chimney: Being the Love Story of a Candy Man Page 8