He arranged them clumsily at last across the back of the desk-chair with an attempt at imitation of the way they had laid across the chair in the store-window. Then he stepped back in the shadow of the hall, and looked again.
While he stood thus, and before he was aware, Jack came stealing in with his arms full of bundles, and started back with an embarrassed laugh at seeing his brother. In fact, it would have been hard to tell which brother felt the more sheepish at being caught in what he was doing. Jack recovered first, and came springing up the last three steps at a bound, and stood looking into the room. Then he tiptoed across, and looked at the cap and gown approvingly.
“Good work, old boy!” he applauded joyously. “I didn’t know you had it in you. I don’t know what they’re for, but they seem to belong. Now just cast an eye at what I’ve got.”
He set the largest package on the floor, and went into the bathroom with the others. In a moment he returned carrying two slender crystal vases, one holding a single perfect rose, white with a flush of rose color in its heart. This he set upon the top of the little white desk. The other vase held half a dozen glorious pink buds, and this he set on the bureau, where the flowers were reflected in the mirror and sent their fragrance through the room.
“Some class, Jack! You’ve beat me to it!” declared his older brother.
“Not yet,” said Jack, and rushed out for his other package. This was two pictures, delicate pastels framed in a silver, one a bit of ocean, real and vivid, green waves flecked with white foam, the other a bit of brook and birch-tree, with the evening sky all rose and silver in the west behind the etching of the fine branches.
He hung the pictures in the two bare places on the wall that had seemed to cry out for something, and then they stood back to take in the effect.
Outside, the trolley car was stopping. Something moved Jack to step to the window and look out.
“She’s come. Elsie’s come! Let’s beat it downstairs!”
And, gathering up the papers and the hammer, they made a hasty retreat to the kitchen, from which they presently issued decorously as if they had not thought of being anywhere else.
Chapter 12
Breakfast at Aunt Esther’s that Friday morning had been a very sad and dreadful affair. Aunt Esther’s eyes had that wan look, a bit red around the edges that said she had been crying half the night. It was not unbecoming for Aunt Esther to cry, but it was depressing. Elsie was made to feel that she was the cause of the deep grief. She felt almost desperate; yet, as the days of that last week had dragged themselves by, she had been more and more convinced that her duty lay at Morningside, and not in this home where everything was so perfect and lovely.
The two cousins were absorbed in their mail, which had lain by their plates as they entered. All the week they had treated Elsie with a gentle, condescending patience that one accords to very young naughty children who are not only giving us pain, but are hurting some one very dear to us. They were doing their best to show Elsie she was an ungrateful girl to reward their dear mother for all she had done for her, by running away.
Uncle James had exploded a bomb in the midst of this scene by suddenly laying down his paper and saying to his wife:
“My dear, if Elsie still thinks that her place is at Morning-side, and she is intending to go there tomorrow, I think we should see about sending her things out today for her. She will want her own furniture and everything that is in her bedroom, of course.”
There was dead silence, during which Elsie gasped and tried to get voice to answer; but she could only cast one grateful glance at her uncle and then struggle with the tears that threatened to get the better of her. Her two cousins looked up with a glance of disapproval that said as plainly as words could have done that their father was simply crazy to mention such an idea; and Aunt Esther put on a severe front, and finally spoke.
“No, James, I don’t intend to send Elsie’s things out to Morningside at present. It would be a useless expenditure of time and money. Elsie will soon discover that her wild, quick attempt is impossible; and then she will have to come back, and the things would have all the wear and tear of the moving. Let Elsie first put her fine theories to the test and see if she can endure Morningside before we attempt to sugar-coat Morningside for her further blinding. Elsie had better see her father’s home as it is—as it was when we took her from it—and then she will be able to judge which she prefers for her home.”
It was cruel speech, and stabbed Elsie to the quick. She cast one anguished glance at her aunt, and rose from her place at the table, looking toward her uncle.
“Uncle James,” she said, and her voice was trembling with sobs that she was holding back, “you are very kind; but Aunt Esther is right. It is better for me to go to my father’s house as it is, and not take any of the luxuries of this life that you have so kindly spread around me. I thank you for the thought, but I couldn’t possibly take anything away from the lovely room I have occupied. I would rather think of its being here just as I left it. Besides, I am my father’s daughter and I should be content with such things as he can furnish me. Please don’t worry about it; I shall be all right. And please excuse me now; I shall have to hurry to catch my car.”
With this speech and a great choke in her voice Elsie managed to leave the room without utterly breaking down.
She went quickly up to her room, cast a few last things into her trunk that stood packed and ready, locked it, put the key into her pocket, and hurried downstairs. The good-byes were very hard. Aunt and cousins kissed her coldly and turned away in hurt silence. Elsie tried to speak but broke down in sobs. But her uncle put a comforting arm about her and said, “Never mind, little girl. Things won’t always seem dark. I honor you for what you are doing, but remember we love you, and this home is yours whenever you need it.”
She stopped at an express office, and left an order for a man to call and take her trunk to Morningside.
She wrote a brief little note to her aunt, saying that she thought it best, under the circumstances, that she should not return that night to cause them any more pain, and she hoped they would forgive and love her again sometime. This note she sent by a messenger boy. Then she went to the stores, and bought a few things she knew she would need in her new life, and would have no other opportunity to buy. These included some simple inexpensive bedding for her own room; and she was much troubled when she found it could not be sent out until the next morning. However, she decided to make the best of it. She could surely get along for one night, especially if her trunk reached there before night.
Her purchases had delayed her, so that it was almost supper-time when she reached Morningside and entered dubiously the house she meant to try to make a home.
With a sigh she threw down the packages she was carrying, and began to take off her hat and coat. A sense of defeat seized her. She wondered whether, after all she had not been, as her aunt said, “unrealistic” in her action. Perhaps it was true that life out here would be intolerable to her. Perhaps she would see it when it was too late to retreat and after she had hurt the dear ones who had been real father and mother and sisters to her. And there was that dusty little dark room upstairs. She must go up and face it now. There was no putting it off till another time. She must sleep there tonight. She had, as it were, burned her bridges behind her, and could not return. Disagreeable as it might be, that ugly empty room upstairs was her one retreat from an uncongenial world. What had she been thinking about to dare to make this final move?
In the dim light of the hall visions of her little childhood came out and grimaced at her. Sad times when her mother was sick, and poor servants ruled the house. Times when her father had been inadequate to the situation, and her brothers had been noisy and unfeeling. All the lovely five years that intervened between that time and this receded, and allured her, and made her heart cry out after it as she was giving it up. This was her final surrender, this her moment of sacrifice. But the only audible evidence of it was that s
igh.
The two big, eager boys in hiding in the pantry heard that sigh with alarm. They looked at each other as if a momentous thing had happened. The sigh seemed to menace all their hopes, and strike at everything they had tried to do; and their faces went blank with a startled fear. Then a sudden revelation came to them of what it must be to leave a home such as their sister had left, and come to this dull, lonely place with shadows and dust to welcome her. Simultaneously they broke forth from their hiding boisterously, with perhaps the same idea, of comforting her and tiding her through this, her first hard moment of real homecoming.
The sighs were forgotten in the boys’ rough and joyous greeting. They seemed to outdo their own shy, naturally reserved natures, and to have polished their wits for the occasion. Their spirits sparkled and bubbled over with fun and wit, and Elsie’s sighs turned into laughter.
Jack turned on the lights all over the first floor as if to celebrate, and, seizing his sister, whirled her around and around, finally landing her in the big chair in the front room. Gene hurried to get her a glass of water, and all the time they were noisily telling her how glad they were that she had come tonight instead of waiting until tomorrow. It never occurred to any of them that there was such a thing as dinner, and nothing in the house to get it with, or, at least, very near to nothing. They just sat together, and talked nothings, merely happy to be there together and know that they belonged, that this pleasant thing they had been hoping for had come to pass, and they were of the same household at least. At least, this was what the boys felt. And Elsie forgot her fears and her pangs of conscience, and knew for a surety that she had been right in coming.
The pleasant dinner table at her aunt’s, with all its attendant comforts and delicious odors and tastes and beauties, faded from her vision. The dust and forlornness of this place faded also, and she was just in the dear place where she was loved and belonged. She forgot that there was a dreary little room upstairs where she would have to go by and by and make it into an abiding-place for herself. She was genuinely glad she was here, drawbacks, dust, dismalness, and all.
And now that she was here, and the room upstairs ready to the last little perfection they knew how to procure, those two big, foolish men-children took a panic lest she should go up and see it. It suddenly seemed to them to have been an audacious thing for them to do. They ought to have waited and let her choose her own wallpaper and furniture. They ought to have given her perhaps some other room, a bigger, brighter one. They ought not to have gone into the little details so thoroughly, presuming to pick out a lady’s decorations and even her adornments. Their faces burned with consciousness, as if that room could flare itself right down through the ceiling, and flaunt its rosy colors in their faces, and declare that they had done it. And so they worked with all their might to keep her from going upstairs.
Not that she was anxious. She was having a good time there. She would put off the dreary little room till it was time to sleep. Why worry about it? She could go to sleep at once when she got in it, and forget it.
Presently the father came, wondering at the sounds of hilarity and the bright lights; and then all at once Elsie realized that the primary duty of a woman in a home is to see that her family is well fed; and there had not been a thing done to get this one fed at all!
Pell-mell they all rushed to the kitchen to take account of stock. A few potatoes in the basket, enough to roast. Elsie ordered them washed and put in the oven at once. Not a scrap of meat in the house, and only two eggs! It was after six o’clock, and the store was closed. No chance to replenish the larder.
“Well, I’ll make some waffles!” she declared, rummaging in the closet to make sure the waffle iron was there. So, while Gene scrubbed away at the black old waffle iron, and her father and Jack followed her orders, putting on butter, milk, jelly, and molasses in lieu of maple syrup, Elsie stirred up her waffle batter.
That was a great supper, as they sat around the kitchen table to be handy to the waffle iron so that nobody need be away baking. Nothing else could have made them so forget that they were new together as that impromptu kitchen supper.
And when it was over, and everything was in order, they lingered still, about the piano, singing. And all the while the thought of that little room upstairs was growing more and more insistent in all their minds, till finally the old father could stand it no longer, and suggested that Elsie would be tired and they had better be sending her to see whether she could make herself comfortable in any of their rooms for the night.
So at last Elsie herself made a move, and, catching up her hat and bag, declared she must go up and make her bed. All at once she remembered that her trunk had not come yet, and wondered what could be the meaning of it, and how she was to get on without it. Had Aunt Esther refused to let it go, or had the delivery man forgotten? If it was due to Aunt Esther, Elsie felt she would never ask for her trunk. The sense of hurt from those she loved stung her as she went upstairs, and made her conscious once more of the strange place and new surroundings. Her feet lagged as they neared her door, and her hand sought idly for the place to turn on the light. She wanted nothing else so much as to cry.
Then the light sprang on, and she stood transfixed. What fairyland was this to which she had entered? What exquisite bower for a lady fair? She passed her hand over her eyes and rubbed them. She could not believe her senses. She turned, and looked back down the stairs she had just mounted, to make sure she was in her right mind and this was really her father’s house. Then she looked again.
Yes, it was all true. The ugly bed of clumsy fashion had vanished. The seedy rug was no more. The dusty bureau and rickety bookcase were gone. And in their place were fair, beautiful furnishings fit for a princess.
She looked on the white bed made with such clumsy precision, touched the rosy stain eider-down quilt, noted the soft gray walls ending in roses, the curtains, the bureau, the desk with its rosy-shaped lamp, the roses, and the little, foolish negligee; and tears of happiness stood in her eyes. Then all at once she knew that they stood for love, a great, new, glad love that had come to welcome her in her new home; and her heart overflowed in a cry of surprised joy.
It never even once occurred to her to wonder whether perhaps her aunt and uncle might have done this. She knew they had not. They would never have made it so attractive to her away from them. She knew the dear people downstairs, who were keeping so wonderfully quiet down there, had done it, to let her know how glad they were she had come.
With that one little cry of joy she dropped the things she was carrying, and sprang forward into the room. She seized the little rose silk gown, and threw it on about her shoulders. She pulled the silly little fretwork of silver and rosebuds down about her pretty hair; and, taking one of the rosebuds from the vase on the bureau, she fastened it at her throat. Then she turned and flew softly down the stairs with a quick little pleased sound and a great light in her eyes.
The three big men who stood there with bated breath watching for her coming, fearful of her coming, hoping and dreading in their childishness what she might say or think, broad, helpless, self-conscious smiles on their faces, were overwhelmed with the beauty of her in her fantastic garb, with the little crown of silver stuff on her head and the rose at her throat.
She rushed from one to another of them, embracing them fervently and saying all the dear, appreciative little things that a girl of that age knows how to say when she is very happy over a gift.
The two brothers fairly beamed under her delight, and the jealous father hastened to say that he would have a sleeping-porch built out of her room if she would like it, and they were going to have a fireplace made in the parlor. The man was coming Saturday afternoon to make estimates.
And then they all had to go up to the beautiful new room together, and look at everything, and talk it all over again. And in the midst of it the delivery man arrived with Elsie’s trunk, although it was after eleven o’clock. He had got lost, and had been wandering around Mornings
ide for two hours.
There was just room for the trunk between the desk and the foot of the bed, and the boys unstrapped it with many flourishes. It was so good to have her come to stay! Something really happening in the old house after all these years of famine! It was great!
The heart of the old house seemed to be throbbing joyously when at last everything was quiet and they all lay down to sleep. Elsie in her lovely rose-lined nest lay down most happily, her face wreathed in smiles, her eyes alight. She had not a thought of being lonely. Not even a thought of the lovely bed and the blue satin eider-down quilt she had left behind. For wasn’t rose-color as lovely as blue any day? This couldn’t be called a sacrifice with somebody ready everywhere to make things beautiful for her. Whatever the future days might hold in store for her, this night had been perfect. She drew a deep breath, and snuggled down beneath her soft coverings, conscious of the breath of roses, of the shimmer of the moonlight as it glanced across the silver picture-frames and glinted on the frostwork of the silver cap. How glad they were, those two boys! How dear they were! How wonderful of them to go to all that trouble to get that room ready for her! How they had outdone anything she had tried to do for them! It was just too great for words! The cap—and the gown—and the roses!
THE HONOR GIRL Page 10