Crimson roses

by Grace Livingston Hill

  The soft flush of her cheeks mounted to her forehead, and her eyes were filled with half-frightened pleasure.

  " Oh, no! There is no one any more," and her voice had a faint quiver as she spoke; " but indeed you must not wait for me. I shall be very late, and it isn't at all necessary. I am quite used to going alone now. But I thank you very much just the same." She hurried away to the kitchen with a smile, her heart beating high at the thought of what it would have meant to her to have a man like that

  escort her home. It helped to keep her smile sweet and her eyes unhurt through all the clatter of the kitchen and the reproachful voices that met her and demanded to know where she had been.

  The young man lingered idly, watching her for a moment as she slipped away, pondering on the wistfulness of her eyes as she declined his offer. There was a look of resolution in his own eyes.

  " I shall wait all right! " he murmured to the red and black figures of the church carpet at his feet.

  Marion in the kitchen tying on her little frilled rubber apron was reflecting that the evening had been a rare treat after all its bad beginning, one which she would treasure among her happiest memories. This was the kind of talk for which her beauty-loving soul had longed. Now, she would go the very next night to the Public Library and find some books about those galleries and read and read and read until she knew all that could be known about those pictures and could talk about them intelligently. She wished she might have written down some of the names of the galleries, and the artists he had mentioned. If she ever had opportunity to meet him again she would try to summon courage to ask him to write them down for her. He would think her an awful ignoramus, of course, but it would be wonderful to know.

  At last the company m the chapel broke tip and the big room was cleared as if by magic.

  Lyman walked in a leisurely way around the room examining the inscriptions on the brass plates, underneath some memorial pictures that hung upon the walls. He could hear the gentle clink of china and silver in the kitchen. Only a group of Ladies Aiders were left in the big room holding a discussion^ in the middle of the room about their next bazaar.

  The janitor was picking up the lost handkerchiefs and gloves that always accumulate after an affair like this, and the voices of the younger people were heard in the hall saying gay good-nights.

  A burst of hilarious laughter came through the swinging door as someone went out, and then a group of pretty girls in bright evening cloaks looked in, jostling one another in the doorway.

  " Oh, here he is! " called one, and they all bore down upon him.

  " Come on Jefif! " called Isabel Cresson. " You didn't come in your car, did you? Uncle Rad says it isn't parked outside anywhere. He wants you to^ come with us. We'll drop you at your place."

  ''Thank you," said Lyman poKtely, "but you.

  see I'm waiting for a friend."

  " Oh! " said Isabel, slightly baffled for amoment^, 12

  "well, bring him along. There's plenty of room. Uncle Rad has the big car."

  " Impossible," said Lyman, smiling. " My friend may not be ready to go for sometime, and besides, I have my car. It is parked around the corner tonight. The street was full when I came. Thank you just the same."

  Isabel retired somewhat crestfallen, with many a lingering glance backward to discover if possible who was the favored friend.

  But at last even the Ladies Aiders departed and Lyman approached the kitchen cautiously.

  Marion thought she was all alone in the building with only the janitor out arranging the chairs in orderly rows for Sunday School. When she heard Lyman's voice she started:

  "I've come to wipe dishes for you!" he said gaily. " Give me a towel. I know how. I used to do it when I was a little boy."

  Marion's heart leaped and then her pleasure was shown in her eyes. He had stayed. Everybody else was gone and he had stayed to talk to her! Of course, he did not realize what an insignificant little girl she was, but that didn't matter for just once. She did so want to ask him some questions about those wonderful pictures and where she could find out more about them. And he was kind. He wouldn'*-

  mind if he did find out that she was only an ignorant girl who worked in a store. He seemed to like to help people.

  She protested against his working, but he took the towel and went at it as if he really knew how, polishing glasses like an old hand in the kitchen. Marion tied a clean apron around his neck, one that Mrs. Shuttle had left lying on the table, and they worked away as blithely as if they had known each other all their lives.

  Of course, it was like Isabel Cresson to make out she had left her gloves or her handkerchief or something and come back for them, just to find out if she could who that mysterious friend of Lyman's was, just to get another word with Lyman himself, perhaps.

  She pushed open the silent swinging door and looked in just as Marion was tying the apron around Lyman's neck, and she heard their laughter ringing out in unison, and saw that they were having a genuinely good time together. But they did not see her, and she let the door swing quickly back into place and searched no further for the gloves that were not lost, but went back angrily to the waiting car. So that was what Marion Warren was up to, chasing Jeff! Well, that had got to be looked into. That was not to be borne. Somebody had to warn

  Jeff. And somebody had to squelch that little upstart of a Marion. The idea! Marion Warren! What could he possibly see in her?

  " He's wiping dishes for that egg of a Marion Warren," she announced as she got into the car. '' I think you've got to get busy about that, Uncle Rad. I didn't know she was such a sly little cat! Of all the nerve! She w^as perfectly insulting to me tonight. Answered me back when I brought her a message and tried to make me out in a lie right before Jeff. Was it you who introduced her to him, Uncle Rad? I should think you'd better watch out what you do. Of course, he doesn't know anything about her. He doesn't know what common people they are, though I should think he might see if he "has any discernment. She doesn't belong in our set at all."

  " Well, you see he asked to h^ introduced," said the uncle apologetically. *' It's queer how men will be taken with a pretty face sometimes, and I told him about her, I informed him that she came from plain respectable people, and I really warned him. I shouldn't like her to get any false notions about him. She's a nice little thing and I had a great respect for her father."

  " Oh, you needn't worry about her! " said Isabel caustically. "If you had seen her vamp him to-night

  you'd know she could take care of herself. She's the slyest thing. She kept following him around. Ever}^where he turned there she was. Pretty? I don't see how you can say she is pretty! She looks as if she came out of the ark. She looks as if she was so innocent she belonged back in the dark ages. Look at her sallow cheeks and her white lips. She doesn't even know how to make herself look stylish. She just depends upon old stuff, rolling those great brown eyes of hers and looking demure. Old stuff, all of it. I don't see what makes Jeff fall for it, but he's so fearfully afraid of hurting people's feelings, of course, he'll stand anything. I really think it's up to you Uncle Rad to warn Jeff. He'll get her talked about you see. xnd I'll make it my business to see that Marion cuts out that kind of thing from now on, or I'll make it too hot for her in this church^ I won't stand for it, having Jeff made a goat of."

  "There, there! Isabel. Don't get excited," said her pacific uncle. " I'll manage it that Lyman will understand. You keep out of this. It'll all blow over. Lyman doesn't want to get mixed up withi a plain little thing like that, of course, so don't you worry. He'll never likely see her again. It seems he was interested in her because he saw her at a symphony concert and saw how interested she was in music. That's his line, you know, music and uplift

  and all that. He would be interested in a girl who was trying to uplift herself, you see, purely from a philanthropic point of view, that's his line, Isabel, that's his line."

  *' Yes, and that's her line, too, Uncle Rad. She always was poking around tr
ying to learn something more about everything. Nobody thought anything of her in school, she was a regular grind. She wasn't in the least popular. Of course, we had to be nice to her because she was in our classes, but she never was really taken in among the girls. Only now and then to speak to her about the lessons or something like that."

  "Yes," spoke up Aline who was riding home in the Radnor car, and who was noted for always saying the wrong thing. '' She used to do all our algebra problems for us, didn't she, Isabel? I remember once "

  But Isabel gave her a warning dig in the ribs and went loudly on:

  " She used to be the most demure little thing. I never dreamed she'd develop into a man hunter. But I'm done with her from now on, and I'll take care everybody knows just what she is."

  But Isabel Cresson had yet to discover that perhaps she had but just begun with the young woman in question.

  CHAPTER X

  The dishes were finished in about half the time it usually took to do them, for the helper proved most efficient.

  Marion closed and locked the cupboards and handed the key to the janitor with a feeling of elation that was utterly new to her. She felt like a little girl who was going out to play.

  They stepped out together into the starlight.

  " My car is just around the corner," said Lyman. " Will you wait here till I bring it, or shall we walk?"

  " Walk of course," said Marion joyously. To think of going home in a car! There had been few automobile rides in Marion's life and it seemed almost as great an event to her as a trip to Europe might have been to some people.

  " Shall we go the long way or the short way ? I'd like to show you a beautiful moonrise if you don't mind being a few minutes later getting home," he said.

  " Oh, that will be lovely! " gasped Marion. '' I have had very few rides lately, and I certainly shall enjoy it."

  " I hope you will allow me to take you again soon,

  then." He smiled, and they whirled away into what seemed to Marion like enchantment.

  They went through the park and out a little way into the country, through a suburb with lofty estates on either hand, and rolling golf greens lying like dark velvet. They saw the moon rise, too, over the crest of a hill, and saw it rippling over a stream down in the valley, and Lyman told her how he had watched it rise in Switzerland once, describing the rosy glow on the snow-capped mountains until she almost held her breath with the delight of it.

  And even then they were not very late coming home, for the little clock on Marion's bureau pointed only to half past twelve, and all that delight and wonder packed into one short hour since they had left the church. What a wonderful thing a high-powered car was. And Mr. Lyman wasn't a stranger in the city, after all. He had said they would ride soon again.

  When she climbed the stairs to her little third-story room her cheeks were glowing and her eyes were bright.

  " Oh, I mustn't, mustn't, be so happy as this 1 " she told herself in the mirror as she caught a glimpse of her own happy face. " It isn't right! I am making too much of a small courtesy. He is only being kind and polite. He probably saw how unpleasant those

  girls were being, and he wanted to make me forget it. I must realize that this doesn't mean a thing but Christian courtesy. Oh, I won't presume upon it, it was beautiful, and even if I never do see him again I shall always remember him with gratitude for the beautiful time he gave me to-night, and for the way he sort of championed me before Isabel."

  " Is it wicked, I wonder, to be glad that that other girl didn't get him to-night, and that he stayed and helped me?" she asked herself slowly. "I don't begrudge her the nice times she has; but she has so many of them, and I had just this one. No, that isn't true, either. I just will not be ungrateful."

  She went to a pretty little box on her bureau and peeped in at the shrivelled rose-leaves lying in rich heaps; and a soft fragrance stole out and sweetened the air. There were a great many beautiful things in her life, for which she was deeply thankful; and she would just take this beautiful evening, and enjoy the memory of it, shutting out all the disagreeable part, and remembering only that which was pleasant.

  But sleep did not come quickly to her eyes that night despite the fact that she was very tired. Every experience of the wonderful evening had been gone over, again and again. She thrilled anew with the delight of having someone care to stay and help her and talk to her, and lived again the beautiful ride.

  She told herself many times that she just simply must not let this bit of attention turn her head or make her discontented with her simple life. She would read and study the harder so that, if ever another opportunity came of talking with anyone like Mr. Lyman, she would be better able to do it. Then there was the last concert of the season to look forward to, and it promised to be the best of all. All together, the world was a happy place, and she was glad to be in it. Yet underneath it all ran the pleasant consciousness of Lyman's last words to her. He had hoped that they might meet soon again. Did he really mean it ? It seemed as if he did. And would they ever meet ? When and where would there ever be an opportunity ?

  But her harmless little triumph was but for the night. The next morning about eleven o'clock Isabel Cresson sailed down upon her, clad in a stunning fur coat, with orchids for a boutonniere and demanded to see her in a loud, imperative voice.

  Marion rose from the seat behind her special counter where she was fashioning some exquisite pink satin petals for a shoulder rose for a well-dressed woman who stood waiting, and greeted Isabel with a courteous smile. She had a premonition that Isabel meant no good in coming thus to her, but while she was not over cordial there was

  a sweet dignity about her that seemed to command respect.

  Marion still held the lovely pink folds of ribbon in her fingers and the needle was partly pulled through a stitch. There was that about her attitude that showed Isabel that she had no time to waste, so Isabel plunged in regardless of listeners, not even troubling to hush her voice. She spoke haughtily, as to one beneath her, and more than that, as if she had the right to talk, the right of a near friend or relative.

  " I just came in to wahn you, Marion, foah yoah own good," she began. " You can't get away with the stuff you put ovah last evening. It won't go down."

  There was a curious blending of loftiness and modern slang in her speech. But having got under way she forgot her practised accent. She raised her voice and became a little more explicit:

  " You know you can't expect people like those over in that church not to gossip, and, of course, everybody noticed you. I was so ashamed for you I didn't know what to do, to make yourself so conspicuous and fairly fling yourself at a young man like that. Of course, he's a gentleman and couldn't do a thing but be polite, or you'd have soon found out your mistake. And, of course, you know a young

  man in his position couldn't show attention to a girl like you without making talk. It simply isn't being done. And if he did he wouldn't mean a thing by it, but I don't suppose you knew that. I thought I'd better come and tell you.'^

  Marion had been simply frozen into dumbness by the thing that was happening to her, her smile congealed where it had been when Isabel first started her tirade. It didn't occur to her that she could do anything to stop it. It didn't occur to her to try and answer. What was there to say to such cruelties ? She just stood there and grew whiter, and her eyes grew larger and darker. A little slender straight figure like a lance standing there before that avalanche of blighting words!

  " You know just what kind of a girl they'll think you are! You understand, don't you ? You've always posed as being so terribly good, but you don't put that over any longer. We're wise to you now, and my advice to you is "

  But Isabel got no further, for the aisle man suddenly appeared and stepped up to her politely:

  " Is there anything the matter, madam, anything that we can set straight? Something about a purchase? " and Isabel looked up to see quite a crowd collecting in the offing.

  For Gladys Carr, who had c
hanced to pass that way as Isabel's tirade began, went scowling after the

  aisle man and happening to find him close at hand pulled him back with her.

  " It's one of these here fierce swells," she explained, " got a line of talk t'beat the band, and little Warren isn't saying a thing! Not a darned thing! You better go quick or there won't be any little Warren left." So the aisle man came at once. Marion with her quiet ways was somewhat of a relief in his busy days.

  It was a delicate matter, interceding between a customer and an employee, but he was a brave man and came courageously to the front. Isabel turned upon him haughtily, and replied in a tone that was intended to suppress him and send him off apologetically :

  " No, merely a personal mattah! You needn't intahfeah! " and then she turned back to Marion with a malicious glance:

  " Now, you're warned, Marion, and I wash my^ hands if you get into any furthah trouble. But re-membah! We won't stand for anothah such performance ! '*

  Then Isabel turned regardless of the staring onlookers and sailed away with her head in the air, and her fur coat swaggering insolently behind her.

  But Marion stood still where she had left her, staring blankly, the needle held in her inert hand, the rose falling from the fingers of the other hand.

  almost as if she had been dead. She was white as death.

  It was the voice of the customer who was waiting for her rose that recalled her to her senses and saved her from the whirling feeling that threatened to take her away entirely from the world of sense:

  " My dear," she said, " my dear, don't mind her! Anyone can see what she is at a glance. Such a tirade! She ought to have been arrested."

  Marion suddenly came back from the borderland, and sat down, taking up her half-finished rose, and trying to set a stitch with her trembling hands.

  " Never mind. Miss Warren. I wouldn't pay any attention to that," said the aisle man kindly, looking over his glasses at Marion's white face. He was an elderly man and had a young daughter of his own growing up. "If she comes back just you send for me."