CHAPTER III
TWO LITTLE CRIMES
And then in a few weeks winter had come down from over the hills acrossthe fields and captured the city streets with a blare of northern winds,which had been met and tempered by the mellow autumn breezes that hadbeen slow to retreat and abandon the gold and crimson banners stillfluttering on the trees. The snap and crackle of the Thanksgiving frosthad melted into a long lazy silence of a few more Indian summer days sothat, with lungs filled with the intoxicating draught of this late wineof October, everybody had ridden, driven, hunted, golfed and livedafield.
Then had come a second sweep of the northern winds and the city hadwakened out of its haze of desertion, turned up its lights, built up itsfires and put on the trappings of revelry and toil.
The major's logs were piled the higher and crackled the louder, and hiswelcome was even more genial to the chosen spirits which gathered aroundhis library table. He and Mrs. Buchanan had succeeded in prolonging thevisit of Caroline Darrah Brown into weeks and were now holding her intothe winter months with loving insistence.
The open-armed hospitality with which their very delightful little worldhad welcomed her had been positively entrancing to the girl and she hadentered into its gaieties with the joyous zest of the child that she was.Her own social experiences had been up to this time very limited, forshe had come straight from the convent in France into the household ofher semi-invalided father. He had had very few friends and in a vaguelyuncomfortable way she had been made to realize that her millions made herposition inaccessible; but by these delightful people to whom socialposition was a birthright, and wealth regarded only as a purchasing powerfor the necessities and gaieties of life, she had been adopted with muchenthusiasm. Her delight in the round of entertainments in her honor andthe innocent and slightly bewildered adventures she brought the major forconsultation kept him in a constant state of interested amusement. Suchadvice as he offered went far in preserving her unsophistication.
And so the late November days found him enjoying life with a decidedlyadded zest in things, though his Immortals claimed him the moment he wasleft to his own resources and at times he even became entirely obliviousto the eddies in the lives around him. One cold afternoon he sat in hischair, buried eyes-deep in one of his old books, while across from himsat Phoebe and Andrew Sevier, bending together over a large map spreadout before them. There were stacks of blueprints at their elbows andtheir conference had evidently been an interesting one.
"It's all wonderful, Andrew," Phoebe was saying, "and I'm proud indeedthat they have accepted your solution of such an important constructionproblem; but why must you go back? Aren't the commissions offered youhere, the plays and the demand for your writing enough? Why not stay athome for a year or two at least?"
"It's the _call_ of it, Phoebe," he answered. "I get restless and there'snothing for it but the hard work of the camp. It's lonely but it has itscompensations, for the visions come down there as they don't here. Youknow how I like to be with all of you; and it's home--but the depressiongets more than I can stand at times and I must go. You understand betterthan the rest, I think, and I always count on you to help me off." As hespoke he rested his head on his hands and looked across the table intothe fire. His eyes were somber and the strong lines in his face cut deepwith a grim melancholy.
Phoebe's frank eyes softened as they looked at him. They had grown uptogether, friends in something of a like fortune and she understood himwith a frank comradeship that comforted them both and went far to thedistraction of young David Kildare who, as he said, trusted Andrew butlooked for every possible surprising maneuver in the conduct of Phoebe.And because she understood Andrew Phoebe was silent for a time, tracingthe lines on his map with a pencil.
"Then you'll have to go," she said softly at last, "but don't stay solong again." She glanced across at the top of the major's head whichshowed a rampant white lock over the edge of his book. "We miss you; andyou owe it to some of us to come back oftener from now on."
"I always will," answered Andrew, quickly catching her meaning andsmiling with a responsive tenderness in a glance at the absorbed oldgentleman around the corner of the table. "It is harder to go this timethan ever, in a way; and yet the staying's worse. I'm giving myself untilspring, though I don't know why. I--"
Just then from the drawing-room beyond there came a crash of soft chordson the piano and David's voice rose high and sweet across the rooms. Hehad gone to the piano to sing for Caroline who never tired of his negromelodies and southern love songs. He also had a store of war ballads withwhich it delighted him to tease and regale her, but to-day his mood hadbeen decidedly on the sentimental vein.
"I want no stars in Heaven to guide me,I need no............................but, oh, the kingdom of my heart, love,Lies within thy loving arms...."
His voice dropped a note lower and the rest of the distinctly enunciatedwords failed to reach through the long rooms. Phoebe also failed tocatch a quick breath that Andrew drew as he began stacking a pile ofblue-prints into a leather case.
"David Kildare," remarked the old major as he looked up over his book,"makes song the vehicle of expression of as many emotions in onehalf-hour as the ordinary man lives through in a lifetime. Had you notbetter attend to the safeguarding of Caroline Darrah's unsophistication,Phoebe?"
"I wouldn't interrupt him for worlds, Major," laughed Phoebe as she arosefrom her chair. "I'm going to slip by the drawing-room and hurry down tothat meeting of the Civic Improvement Association from which I hope toget at least a half column. Andrew'll go in and see to them."
"Never!" answered Andrew promptly with a smile. "I'm going to beat aretreat and walk down with you. The major must assume thatresponsibility. Good-by!" And in a moment they had both made theirescape, to the major's vast amusement.
For the time being the music in the drawing-room had stopped and Davidand Caroline were deep in an animated conversation.
"The trouble about it is that I am about to have my light put out," Davidwas complaining as he sat on the piano-stool, glaring at a vase ofunoffending roses on a table. "Being a ray of sunshine around the housefor a sick poet is no job for a runabout child like me."
"But he's so much better now, David, that I should think you would beperfectly happy. Though of course you are still a little uneasy abouthim." As Caroline Darrah spoke she swayed the long-stemmed rose she heldin her hand and tipped it against one of its mates in the vase.
"Uneasy, nothing! There's not a thing in the world the matter with him;ribs are all in commission and his collar-bone hitched on again. It'sjust a case of moonie sulks with him. He never was the real glad boy, butnow he runs entirely to poetry and gloom. He won't go anywhere but overhere to chew book-rags with the major or to read goo to Phoebe, which shepasses on to you. Wish I'd let him die in the swamps; chasing away toPanama for him was my mistake, I see." And David ruffled a young rosethat drooped confidingly over toward him.
"Why did he ever go to Panama? Why does he build bridges and things?Other people like you and me can do that sort of thing; but he--," andCaroline Darrah raised her eyes full of naive questioning.
"Heavens, woman, poetry never in the world would grub-stake six feet ofhusky man! But that's just like you and Phoebe and all the other women.You would like to feed me to the alligators, but the poet must sit in theshade and chew eggs and grape juice. You trample on my feelings, child,"and David sighed plaintively.
Caroline eyed him a moment across the rose she held to her lips, thenlaughed delightedly.
"Indeed, indeed, I couldn't stand losing you, David, nor could Phoebe.Don't imagine it!" And Caroline confessed her affection for him with thena?vet? with which a child offers a flower.
The absolute entente cordiale which had existed between her and Phoebefrom the moment Mrs. Buchanan had presented them to each other in thedusk-shadowed library, had been extended to include David Kildare. He wasduly appreciative of her almost appealing friendship, chaffed her aboutthe three governors, dep
ended upon her to further his tumultuous suit,admired her beauty, insisted upon it in season and out, and initiated herinto the social intricacies of his gay set with the greatest glee.
"I don't trust you one little bit, Caroline Darrah Brown," David broke inon her moment's silent appreciation of him and his friendliness. "Youlook at him kinder partial-like, too."
"Oh, one _must_ admire him, his poems are so lovely! I have watched forthem from the first one years ago. Do you remember the one where he--"
"Don't remember a single line of a single one, and don't want to!Phoebe's always quoting them at me. She's got a book of 'em. See if Idon't smash him up some day if I have to listen to much more of it."David's face was a study in the contradictions of a tormented grin.
Caroline eyed him again for a moment across the rose and then they bothlaughed delightedly. But David was for the pressing of his point just thesame.
"Dear Daughter of the Three," he pleaded, "can't you help me out?Mollycoddle him a bit. Do, now, that's a good child! Keep him'interested', as _she_ calls it! You are quite as good to look at asPhoebe and are enough more--more,"--and David paused for a word thatwould compare Caroline's appeal and Phoebe's brisk challenge.
"Yes, I understand. I really am _more_ so; but how can I help you out ifhe never even sees me when I'm there?" And Caroline raised eyes to himthat held a hint of wistfulness in their banter.
"The old mole-eyed grump never sees anybody nor anything. But let's plota scheme. This three-handed game doesn't suit me; promise to be good andsit in. I haven't had Phoebe to myself for the long time. He needs aheart interest of his own--I'm tired of lending him mine. You're notbusy--that's a sweet girl! Don't make me feel I inherited you fornothing," said David in a most beguiling voice as he moved a shade nearerto her.
"I promise, I promise! If you take that tone with me, I'm afraid not to:but I feel you mistake my powers," and Caroline laid the rose across herknee and dropped her long lashes over her eyes. "I think I'll fail withyour poet; something tells me it is a vain task. Let's put it in thehands of the gods. It may interest them."
"No, I'm going to shoo him in here right now," answered David, bent uponthe immediate accomplishment of his scheme for the relief of his veryindependent lady-love from her friendly durance. "You just wait and get aline of moon-talk ready for him. Keep that rose in your hand and handleyour eyes carefully."
"Oh, but it's impossible!" exclaimed Caroline with real alarm in hervoice. She rose and the flower fell shattered at her feet. "I'm going tohave a little business talk with the major before Captain Cantrell andthe other gentlemen come. I have an appointment with him. Won't you leaveit to the gods?"
"No, for the gods might not know Phoebe. She'd hunt a hot brick for asick kitten if I was freezing to death, and besides I need her in mybusiness at this very moment."
"Caroline, my dear," said the major from the door into the library, "fromthe strenuosity in the tones of David Kildare I judge he is discussinghis usual topic. Phoebe and Andrew have just gone and left their good-bysfor you both."
"Now, Major," demanded David indignantly, "how could you let her get awaywhen you had her here?"
"Young man," answered the major, "the constraining of a woman of thesetimes is well-nigh impossible, as you should have found out after yourrepeated efforts in that direction."
"That's it, Major, you can't hang out any signal for them now; you haveto grab them as they go past, swing out into space and pray for strengthto hold on. I believe if you stood still they would come and feed out ofyour hand a heap quicker than they will be whistled down--if you can getthe nerve to try 'em. Think I'll go and see." And David took hisstudiedly unhurried departure.
"David Kildare translates courtship into strange modern terms," remarkedthe major as he led Caroline into the library and seated her in Mrs.Matilda's low chair near his own.
"The roses are blooming this morning, my dear," he said, lookingwith delight at the soft color in her cheeks and the stars in herblack-lashed, violet eyes. A shaft of sunlight glinted in the gold of herhair which was coiled low and from which little tendrils curled down onher white neck.
She was very dainty and lovely, was Caroline Darrah Brown, with theloveliness of a windflower and young with the innocent youngness of anApril day. She was slightly different from any girl the major had everknown and he observed her type with the greatest interest.
She had been tutored and trained and French-convented and specialized byadepts in the inculcating of every air and grace with which the women ofvaster wealth are expected to be equipped. Money and the girl had beenthe ruling passions of Peters Brown's life and the one had been all forthe serving purposes of the other. It had been the one aim of hisexistence to bring to a perfect flowering the new-born bud his southernwife had left him, and he had succeeded. Yet she seemed so slight awoman-thing to be bearing the burden of a great wealth and a greatloneliness that the major's eyes grew very tender as he asked:
"What is it, clear, a crumpled rose-leaf?"
"Major," she answered as her slender fingers opened and closed a book onthe table near her, "did you realize that two months have passed since Icame to--to--"
"Came _home_, child," prompted the major as he touched lightly therestless hand near his own.
"I am beginning to feel as if it might be that, and yet I don't know--notuntil I talk to you about it all. Everybody has been good to me. I feelthat they really care and I love it--and them all! But, Major, didyou--know--my father--well?"
"Yes, my dear." He answered, looking her straight in the eyes, "I knewPeters Brown and had pleasantly hostile relations with him always."
"This memorandum--I got it together before I came down here, while I wassettling up his estate. It is the list of the investments he made whilein the South for the twenty years after the war. I want to talk them overwith you." She looked at the major squarely and determinedly.
"Fire away," he answered with courage in his voice that belied thefeeling beneath it.
"I see that in eighteen seventy-nine he bought lumber lands from HayesDonelson. The price seems to have been practically nominal in view ofwhat he sold a part of them for three years later. Was Hayes DonelsonPhoebe's father? I want to know all about him."
"My dear, you are giving a large order for ancient history--CaptainDonelson couldn't fill it himself if he were alive. Those lumber landswere just a stick or two that he threw on the grand bonfire. He soldeverything he had and instituted and ran the most inflammatory newspaperin the South. He gloried in an attitude of non-reconstruction and diedwhen Phoebe was a year old. Her mother raised Phoebe by keeping boarders,but failed to raise the mortgage on the family home. She died trying andPhoebe has kept her own sleek little head above water since her sixteenthyear by reporting and editing Dimity Doings on the paper her fatherfounded. I think she has learned a pretty good swimming stroke by thistime. It is still a measure ahead of that of David Kildare and--"
"Oh, you _must_ help me make her take what would have been a fair pricefor those lands, Major. I'm determined--I--I--" Caroline's voice falteredbut her head was well up. "I'm determined; but we'll talk of that later.He bought the Cantrell land and divided it up into the first improvedcity addition. Was it, was it 'carpetbagging'?" She flushed as she saidthe word--"Was it pressure? Were the Cantrells in need?"
"Not for long, my dear, not for long! Mrs. Tom took that money and boughtcows for the east farm, ran a dairy in opposition to Matilda's and thengot her into a combine to ship gilt-edge to Cincinnati. I expected themto skim the milky way any night and put a star brand of butter on themarket. They made a great deal of money and were proportionately hard tomanage. Young Tom inherits from his mother and makes paying combines instocks. Old Tom hasn't a thing to do but sit in the sun and spin talesabout battles he was and was not in. It wouldn't do to drag up thatpinched period of his life; he is too expansive now to be made to recallit." The major smiled invitingly as if he had hopes of an interestedquestion that would turn the trend of the convers
ation, but CarolineDarrah held herself sternly to the matter in hand.
"And you, I see a sale of half of your land at--"
"Caroline Darrah Brown, look me straight in the eyes," interrupted themajor in a commanding voice. He sat up and bent his keen black eyes thatsparkled under his heavy white brows with absolute luminosity upon thegirl at his side. When aroused the major was a live wire and he wasbuckling on his sword to do battle with a woman-trouble, and a dire one.
"Now," he continued, "I'm going to say things to you that you are tounderstand and remember, young woman. Your father did come down among uswith what you have heard called a 'carpetbag' in his hands, but it wasn'tan _empty_ one: and while the sums he handed out to each of us might beconsidered inadequate, still they were a purchasing power at a timewhen things were congested for the lack of any circulating mediumwhatever. True, I sold him half my thousand acres for a song; but thesong fenced the other half, bought implements and stock, and made Matildapossible. She was eighteen and I was twenty-eight when we joined forcesand it was decidedly to the tune of your father's 'song'. It was the samewith the rest of his--friends. You must see that in the painful processesof reconstructing us the carpetbag had its uses. If it went awayplethoric with coal and iron and lumber, it left a little gold in itswake. And Peters Brown--"
"Major," said Caroline in a brave voice, "it killed him, the memory of itand not being able to bring me back to her people. He was changed and herealized that he left me very much alone in the world. If there had beenany of her immediate family alive we might have felt differently--buther friends--I didn't know that I would be welcomed. Now--now--I beginto hope. I want to give some of it back! I have so much--"
"Caroline, child," answered the major with a smile that was infinitelytender, "we don't need it! We've had a hand-to-hand fight to inherit theland of our fathers but we're building fortunes fast; we and theyoungsters. The gray line has closed up its ranks and toed hard marksuntil it presents a solid front once more; some of it bent and shaky butsupported on all sides by keen young blood. A solid front, I say, and afriendly one, flying no banners of bitterness--don't you like us?" andthe smile broadened until it warmed the very blood in Caroline Darrah'sheart.
"Yes," she said as she lifted her eyes to his and laid both her hands inthe lean strong one he held out for her then, "and all that awful feelinghas gone completely. I feel--feel new born!"
"And isn't it a great thing that we mortals are given a few extra nataldays? If we were born all at one time we couldn't so well enjoy theprocesses. Now, I intend to assume that fate has laid you on my door-stepand--"
"Dearie me," said Mrs. Buchanan as she sailed into the room with colorsflying in cheeks and eyes, "did Phoebe go on to that meeting after all?Did she promise to come back? Where's Andrew? Caroline, child, what haveyou and the major been doing all the afternoon? It's after four and youare both still indoors."
"I have been adopting Caroline Darrah and she has been adopting me,"answered the major as he caught hold of the lace that trailed from one ofhis wife's wrists. "I think I am about to persuade her to stay with us. Ifind I need attention occasionally and you are otherwise engaged for thewinter."
"Isn't he awful, Caroline," smiled Mrs. Matilda as she sank for a momenton a chair near them, "when I haven't a thought in the day that is notfor him? But I must hurry and tell Tempie that they will all be here fromthe philharmonic musicale for tea. Dear, please see that the flowers arearranged; I had to leave it to Jane this morning. I find I must run overand speak to Mrs. Shelby about something important, for a moment. Shall Ihave buttered biscuits or cake for tea? Caroline, love, just decide andtell Tempie. I'll be back in a minute," and depositing an airy kiss onthe major's scalp lock and bestowing a smile on Caroline, she departed.
The major listened until he heard the front door close then said with oneof his slow little smiles, "If I couldn't shut my eye and get a mentalpicture of her in a white sunbonnet with her skirts tucked up trudgingalong behind me dropping corn in the furrows as I opened them with theplow, I might feel that I ought to--er--remonstrate with her. But thereare bubbles in the nature of most women that will rise to the surface assoon as the cork is removed. Matilda is a good brand of extra dry and thecork was in a long time--rammed down tight--bless her!"
"She is the very dearest thing I ever knew," answered Caroline with acurly smile around her tender mouth. "A letter she wrote while under thepressure of the cork is my chiefest treasure. It was written to welcomeme when I was born and I found it last summer, old and yellow. It waswhat made me think I might come--_home_."
"That was like Matilda," answered the major with a smile in his eyes."She was putting in a claim for you then, though she didn't realize it.Women have always worked combinations by wireless at long time and longdistance. Better make it buttered biscuits, and Phoebe likes them withplenty of butter."
Tempie's adoption of Caroline Darrah had been as complete and asenthusiastic as the rest of them and she had proceeded forthwith to puther through a course of domestic instruction that delighted the hearts ofthem both. She never failed to bemoan the fate that had left the childignorant of matters of such importance and she was stern in her endeavorto correct the pernicious neglect. She had to admit, however, thatCaroline was an extraordinarily apt pupil and she laid it all to what shecalled "the Darrah strain of cooking blood," though she was as proud aspossible over each triumph. Nothing pleased them both more than to haveMrs. Buchanan occasionally leave culinary arrangements to theirco-administration.
An hour later a gay party was gathered around the table in thedrawing-room. The major sat near at hand enjoying it hugely, and hiscomments were dropped like philosophical crystals into the swell of theconversation.
Mrs. Cherry Lawrence had come in with Mrs. Matilda in all the bravery ofa most striking, becoming and expensive second mourning costume, and shewas keenly alive to every situation that might be made to compass eventhe smallest amount of gaiety. Her lavender embroideries were the onlyreminders of the existence of the departed Cherry, and their lavishnesswas a direct defiance of his years of effort in the curtailing of thetastes of his expensive wife.
Tom Cantrell's lean dark face of Indian cast lit up like a transparencywhen she arrived and he left Polly Farrell's side so quickly that Pollyalmost dropped the lemon fork with which she was maneuvering, in hersurprise at his sudden desertion. In a moment he had divested the widowof a long cloth and sable coat that would have made Cherry sit up andgroan if he had even had a grave-dream about it. She bestowed a smile onPolly, a still more impressive one on the major and sank into a chairnear Phoebe.
"Why, where is David Kildare?" she asked interestedly. "I thought hewould be here before me. He promised to come. Phoebe, you are sweet inthat dark gray. Has anybody anything interesting to tell?"
"I have," answered Polly as she passed Phoebe a cup and a mischievoussmile, for Mrs. Cherry's appointment with David tickled Polly's risiblesto an alarming extent. "There's the most heavenly man down here fromBoston to see Caroline Darrah Brown and she _neglects_ him. I'm so sorryfor him that I don't know what will happen. I'm--"
"Why, where is he?" interrupted Mrs. Cherry with the utmost cordiality.
They all laughed as Polly parted her charming lips and passed thequestioner the lemon slices with impressive obviousness.
"He's gone to the station to see about his horses that he has had shippeddown. We're going to hunt some more, no matter how cold; all of us,Caroline and David and the rest."
"Andrew Sevier hasn't hunted at all this fall, as fond of it as he is.He'll never come now that you've annexed a foreign element, Polly. He'samong strangers so much that he's rather absurd about wanting the closecircle of just his old friends to be unbroken when he's home. Where is heto-day?" As she spoke Mrs. Cherry had looked at Caroline Darrah with aglance in which Phoebe detected a slight insolence and at which the majornarrowed his observant eyes.
"Why, he's gone down to the station with Caroline's friend to see abouthaving the
horses sent out to Seven Oaks," answered Phoebe in a smoothcool voice. "I think all of us have been disappointed that Andrew has hadto be so careful since his accident; but now that he can come over hereevery day to book gloat with the major and have Mrs. Matilda and Tempie,to say nothing of Caroline Darrah, the new star cook-lady, to feed himup, I think we can go about our own affairs unworried over him." Thesweet smile that Phoebe bent upon the widow was so delicious that themajor rattled the sugar tongs on the tea-tray by way of relief from anunendurably suppressed chuckle.
"But when I hunt next David has promised me possums and persimmons," saidCaroline Darrah from her seat on the sofa beside Phoebe. She was totallyoblivious of the small tongue-tilt just completed. "He says the firstdamp night on the last quarter of the moon when the wind is from thesoutheast and--"
"Howdy, people!" came an interrupting call from the hall and at thatmoment David himself came into the room. "I'm late but I've been fourplaces hunting for you, Phoebe, and had three cups of tea in thescramble. However, I would like a buttered biscuit if somebody feeds itto me. I've had a knock-out blow and I've got news to tell."
"You can tell it before you get the biscuit," said Phoebe cold-heartedly,but she laid two crisp disks on the edge of his saucer. She apparentlyfailed to see that Mrs. Cherry was endeavoring to pass him the plate.
"It's only that Milly Overton has perpetrated two more crimes on thecommunity, at three-thirty to-day--assorted boy and girl." And Davidgrinned with sheer delight at having projected such a bomb in the circle.
"What!" demanded Phoebe while Mrs. Cherry lay back in her chair andfanned herself, and Mrs. Buchanan paused with suspended teapot.
"Yes," he answered jubilantly, "Of course little Mistake is only two anda quarter and Crimie can just toddle on his hocks at one and a fifthyears; but the two little crimes are here, and are going to stay. BillyBob is down at the club getting his back slapped off about it. He'saccessory you understand. He says Milly is radiant and wants all of youto come and see them right away. But what I want to see is GrandmaShelby--won't she rage? I'm going to send her a message ofcongratulations and then stand away. Just watch for--"
"Why--I don't quite understand," said Caroline Darrah as she leanedforward with puzzled eyes.
"Neither do any of the rest of us," answered David gleefully. "We didn'tunderstand how Billy Bob managed to pluck Mildred from the golden-dollarShelby stem in the first place, at a salary of one twenty-five a monthout at Hob's mills. But Billy Bob is the brave boy and he marched rightup and told the old lady about the first kid as soon as he came. Then sheglared at him and said in an awful tone, 'Mistake.' Billy Bob just oozedout of that door and Mistake the youngster has been ever since. I namedthe next Crimie before _she_ got to it. But watch her rage, poor olddame! It's up to somebody to remonstrate with Milly about this unbecomingconduct it seems to me," and David glanced around the little circle forhis laugh which he promptly received.
Only Phoebe sat with her head turned from him and Caroline Darrahexclaimed in distress:
"How could her mother not care for them?"
"Tempie," said Mrs. Buchanan, "pack up a basket of every kind of jelly.Get that little box I fixed day before yesterday; you know it; wasn't itfortunate that I embroidered two? And tell Jeff I want the carriage atsix."
"And, Tempie, tell Jeff to get you two bottles of that seventy-twobrandy; no, maybe the sixty-eight will be better; it's apple, and applesand colic bear a synthetic relation which in this case may be reversed.Those children must be started off in life properly." And the major'seyes shone with the most amused interest.
"What's that?" asked David in the general excitement that had arisen at afarther realization of his news. "Don't you want them to join the 'statewide' band, Major? Aren't you going to give them a chance to fly a whiteribbon?"
"Well, I don't know," answered the major with a judicial eye, "temperanceis a quality of mind and not solely of throat. Let's depend somewhat oneradication by future education and not give the colic a start."
"Don't you think it would be nice for you girls to drive down with me andtake the babies some congratulations and flowers, Phoebe?" asked Mrs.Buchanan an hour later as they all lingered over the empty cups. "Willyou come too, David?"
"Yes," answered Phoebe, "I think it would be lovely, but you and Carolinedrive down and I will walk in with David, I think. Ready, David?" AndPhoebe gathered up her muff and gloves and gave her hand to the major.
"David," she said after they had reached the street and were swingingalong in the early twilight; and as she spoke she looked him full in theface with her gray level glance that counted whenever she chose to useit, "is it your idea--do you think it fair to ridicule Mildred about--thebabies?"
"Why," answered the completely floored Kildare, "I just haven't any ideaon the subject. Everybody was laughing about it--and isn't it--er--alittle funny?"
"No," answered Phoebe emphatically, "it isn't _funny_ and if you begin tolaugh everybody else will. It may hurt Milly, she is so gentle and dear,and you are their best friend. I won't have it! I won't! I'm tired,anyway, of having fun made of all the sacred things in life. All of usswing around in a silly whirl and when a woman like Mildred begins tolive her life in a--er--natural way, we--ridicule! She is brave andstrong and works hard; and she has the _real_ things of life and makesthe sacrifices for them. While we--"
"Oh, heavenly hope, Phoebe!" gasped David Kildare, "don't rub it in! Isee it now--a lot of magazine stuff jogging the women up about the kidsand all--and here Milly is a hero and we--the jolly fun-pokers. I've gotto help 'em some way! Wish Billy Bob would sell me this last bunch; guesshe would--one, anyway?" And the contrite David gazed down at Phoebe inwhose upturned eyes there dawned a wealth of mirth.
"David," she said, perhaps more softly than she had ever spoken to him inall the days of his pursuit, "I know--I felt sure that you felt all rightabout it. I couldn't bear to have you say or do--"
"Now, I'll 'fess a thing to you that I didn't think wild horses coulddrag out of me, Phoebe. I was down there an hour ago in the back hall ofthat flat and Billy Bob let me hold the pair of 'em and squeeze 'em. Iguess we both--just shed a few, you know, because he was so excited. Menare such slobs at times--when women don't know about it." And Davidwinked fiercely at the early electric light that glowed warm against thewinter sky.
"And you are a very dear boy, David," said Phoebe softly as her handslipped out of her muff and dropped into his and rested there for justone enchanting half-second. "Dearer than you know in some ways. No, don'tthink of coming up with me, you've paid your visit of welcome. Goodnight! Yes, I think so--in the afternoon about three o'clock and we cango on to Mrs. Pepton's reception. Good night again!"
"Phoebe," he called after her, "the one with the yellow fuzz is the girl,buy her for me if you can flimflam Milly into it! Any old price, youknow. Hurrah, America for the Anglo-Saxons! Hurrah for Milly and Dixie!"
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