" 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 chanced 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."
Marion thanked him with her eyes, but she could not utter a word yet. Her throat seemed dry and cold. She felt numb all over.
"Who was that poor stew?" asked Gladys, making a trip past the counter as the aisle man turned away. " Some lady, I'll say! Say, M'rian, you should worry about her! She can't put anything over on any of us, we're wise to you, see? The poor fish must be blind not to know you ain't that kind of a baby! Great cats! I'd like to meet her on a dark
night and teach her a few. It's my opinion she's jealous, an' that's the whole story! "
Marion lifted a grateful glance toward Gladys as she hurried away, and then turned to her customer:
*' I'm so ashamed," she said, with a catch in her breath as though she were going to cry. " There wasn't—any—occasion—whatever! "
"Of course not! " said the customer sympathetically. " That was an outrageous attack. That girl ought to have been arrested. You could have her arrested, you know. You needn't be ashamed at all. If you decide to have her arrested I'll be glad to be a witness for you. You have my address, just let me know. I shouldn't let her get away with a thing like that."
Marion sat and worked silently through the long afternoon like one crushed. She felt so humiliatecS that it seemed to her she never could rise again and look anybody in the face.
And all the time Isabel's cruel arraignment was going over and over in her mind and she was reviewing moment by moment the evening before and trying to see what it could have been in her conduct that had merited such an attack. Of course, she knew that she had done nothing wrong. Could it be true that people were talking about her? If so, why? Was it such an unheard of thing that a young man
should be nice to a girl, even if she wasn't of his social degree ? Just for one evening. And of course he couldn't be expected to know who she was. She looked nice and behaved herself, what more was necessary at a church affair where all were supposed to be brethren ? But it seemed that was not enough. She should not have gone to the social. She should not have allowed anyone to speak to her. She ought not to have any good times at all, she told herself bitterly.
She tried to rise above the shock of it and be her natural self. But continually the trouble returned no matter what line of reasoning she used. What had Isabel meant, for instance, by saying " in his position," was there something peculiar about Mr. Lyman? Was he perhaps married? Or divorced? There were a great many people divorced in these days of course. Perhaps that was what Isabel meant. Of course, that might have been what made people talk if they all knew it. But if he was divorced, who had he bought the ribbon roses for? She had always supposed they were for his wife. But perhaps they were for some girl. Perhaps he had a great many girl friends. Well, why not? Most young men had. Would that then make it a sin for another girl to sit and talk with him a little while? He had only been kind, and stayed to help her afterwards. He had been sorry for the way that the other young
people treated her. That was why he took her for that ride. Her cheeks burned red at the thought. What more might not Isabel have said if she had known about the ride? But of course she could not possibly have known that.
Well, she must learn a terrible lesson by this, not to have anything more to do with young men as long as she lived, not even if all the superintendents and ministers of the universe introduced her. Not even if they appeared to be angels come down to earth.
As for this Mr. Lyman, she would think no more about him. She would likely never see him again anyway, in spite of what he had said. That was only a polite way of saying good-night. Perhaps she would go to another church for a while so that she would not have to see any of the people who had been talking about her so dreadfully. Or no, that would only be to make them think she was ashamed of herself. No, she would go, quietly, as she always had gone, attend service and go home alone. Let them think what they pleased for a while. It could not really injure her. They would soon discover that it was not true, and it would be forgotten.
But as for this Mr. Lyman, she could see that he was far above her in every way, of course, cultured and travelled, and wealthy, and it were far better for her to keep out of his sight. He was likely
only studying her type. Writers did that, she had read. Perhaps he was a writer. Now she had thought of it, it seemed quite to fit him. Well, she would keep entirely away from him from this time forth, and just as soon as she felt she could reasonably withdraw from the church without causing more gossip she would do so. It would come hard to leave her Sunday School class and the minister and his wife, for they were the only two real friends she was sure of in the city.
So she gradually lifted her little head like a lily that had been stricken, and was trying hard to revive, and tried to look as if nothing had happened.
The next time she saw Lyman was two days later, Sunday night after church. He had been sitting three seats behind her all the service but she had not been aware of it.
For a moment her heart beat wildly and she wondered what to do. But she could not turn and flee in the church with people coming down the aisle. If she waited in her seat that would only make her more conspicuous, and she could not go up and talk to the minister for he was down at the front door shaking hands with people. Even Mrs. Stewart was nowhere to be seen. She had no excuse but to walk out and down the aisle as everybody else was doing. He was waiting for her in his pew with the evi-
dent intention of walk
ing by her side, and she did not know how to prevent it. She could not walk by with downcast eyes and pretend not to see him, or know him. He had already seen the recognition in her face as their eyes met when she turned to go out of her pew. And after all, why should she not walk down the aisle by his side? Was there Anything wrong in that?
At the door they came upon Isabel and her uncte talking with a group of people, and Isabel darted her a meaningful look which pierced her like an arrow. She longed to slip out the open door and run down the street away in the dark. But of course she could not do that.
She was so overwrought that she could not think of a way to dismiss Lyman, and before she realized it he was helping her down the steps and leading her toward his car which was parked almost in front of the door.
"Oh, but I mustn't," she said shrinking away from him. "I thank you so much, but, I mustn't trouble you any more."
"But, I don't understand," he said, looking at her disappointedly. "Aren't you going home? Well, it's right on my way to drop you there, so please don't suggest trouble. It will be a pleasure."
She was too embarrassed to know what to do,
and only anxious to get out of sight of the people who were streaming out of the church now, and looking in their direction. She could see Isabel coming toward the door, too, peering out. She got into the seat quickly and shrank back out of sight only anxious to end the scene, but not before Isabel had sighted her, she feared. She must find some way to let Mr. Lyman know that he could not attend her any more. She would tell him her humble origin on the way home and that would end it.
But while she was thinking about it, trying to frame a sentence which would not sound too much as if she were presuming upon his slight attentions, she found herself at her own door, and she merely found words to thank him for the ride and say good-night. After all perhaps this was best. She would just stay away from the church and from every other place where he would be likely to be, and he would soon forget her.
As for herself, would anything ever make her forget this taste of another life that she had enjoyed for a brief season? Well, perhaps the time might come when the horror of what she had passed through would blow away like a death-laden fog, and she might have for her own, the memory of those interesting talks, and the glimpses into travel and literature that he had given her.
CHAPTER XI
From time to time Monday morning, as she sat and wrought her flower work, Isabel's glance of hate recurred to her. It seemed a glance that needed thinking about. There had been recrimination in it. Marion had seemingly transgressed again, she supposed, by walking down that aisle with Lyman, although it was perfectly plain that there was nothing else for her to do unless she made a scene out of it and refused to speak to him. But what would Isabel do next? Was it conceivable that she would '.go to Lyman with some tale about herself? Well, she must endure that, too, perhaps. But what was all this happening to her for? She had always tried to do right. Even in this matter of staying in the city when the others went to the farm her conscience was clear. It could not be punishment for her selfishness could it?
Dr. Stewart had once preached about tests. He had said that every Christian had to be tried by fire in some way, just as steel rails were tested before they were put in a railroad, to see if they were strong enough to bear the weight that was to be put upon them. Just as bridges were tested, and steam engines, and all sorts of machinery. God tested us by hard
things. Well, if she were sure that was it, she might be able to endure it better. He had promised to be near and help. The words kept coming to her: "God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able, but will with the testing also make a way of escape, that ye may be able to bear it." And apparently the way of escape did not mean getting out of the testing entirely when it began to seem too hard, because it said, "that ye may be able to bear it." Well, if she was being tested she wanted to come through it in a way that would give God the glory. She didn't want to be a miserable weak failure of a Christian.
All that morning as she worked away the words kept going over in her heart, "God is faithful, God is faithful," and they comforted her.
"What makes ya so silent this morning, M'rian?" asked Gladys, lingering by her counter. "Ya ain't worried about that tough egg of a high flyer yet, are ya? She ain't worth it, M'rian. I give you my word. She can't touch you."
But just then there came a call from the velvet ribbon-counter. "Miss Warren was wanted on the 'phone," and Marion was relieved that she did not have to reply. When she returned the giddy Gladys would have forgotten all about it.
It was a strange voice on the telephone, a young man. He said he was president of the Christian
Endeavor Society in her church, and he gave his name, Dick Struthers. That she knev^ w^as the name of the young man who was the present president. But the voice did not sound familiar. However, she had seldom heard Dick Struthers speak. He was a shy quiet fellow, not given to words.
The voice said that there was to be a Christian Endeavor dinner held that evening at a nice quiet little hotel, some sort of a celebration of something, he seemed vague as to what it was for. He said Mrs. Stewart, the minister's wife, had asked him to call her up and make special request that Marion Warren attend. They needed a few of the older young people along to give dignity to the affair, and Mrs. Stewart had especially wanted Marion. She would have called herself but she was just leaving with Doctor Stewart for New York to attend a wedding, and hadn't time. No, it didn't cost anything. It was paid for out of the treasury. It was to be a real nice time. Marion would go, wouldn't she? One of the boys would call for her in a car at half past six. Could she be ready then? Where would she be? At home or at the store? Well, just what was her present address, he had forgotten. No, she didn't need to go home to dress up, it wasn't a dress affair. Come right from the store if she wanted to.
.When Marion returned to her ribbons she had
a troubled look. She did not want to go to that dinner. She was not in the Christian Endeavor Society now, had not been for several years, not since her mother was taken sick. She did not know the members very well, but they were just boys and girls of course from fourteen up. Of course it wasn't like going among older strangers. She hated to say no when Mrs. Stewart had made it a special request, and now she was committed to it, when she would so much rather have spent the evening studying in her room. She had meant not to have anything more to do with affairs at the church, not for a long time, anyway, till gossip had been forgotten and her reputation was established again—if such a thing were possible.
But this was only boys and girls.
Well, she had promised, anyway, and it was too late to back out. %
So she hurried home the minute she was free, and donned a fresher dress and smoothed her hair.
She was scarcely ready when Mrs. Nash came up to say her car was at the door. The sad old landlady patted her cheek and told her she was looking real pretty, and to have a good time, and Marion went down somehow cheered by her friendliness.
She got into the car before she noticed that there
was no one in it whom she knew. There were two young men in the front seat, and she was put into the back seat with two girls swathed in long cloaks, sitting back in the shadow. They merely nodded when they were introduced and neither of them spoke a word the whole way, save to answer in monosyllables indifferently when Marion suggested that it was a pleasant evening, and that this dinner was something she had not heard about until that morning. She began to think they were a grumpy lot. The two boys continually smoked cigarettes, and she could get no responses from any of them. At last she gave up the effort deciding that they were very young and embarrassed, and she lapsed into silence and her own thoughts.
They had gone a good many miles and had been travelling what she judged must be nearly three quarters of an hour when they finally drew up beside a wide rambling building set among tall trees, with what looked in the darkness like beautiful gr
ounds around them. There were red-shaded lamps in the windows, and a sound of music and laughter came through the wide-swung door.
The young men helped the girls out and they all went inside. The look of the place bewildered Marion. It did not seem like a hotel nor yet a home, but they went up a staircase, and there was a room
with many comfortable looking chairs and couches, and a piano. There were red-shaded lamps here, too, A jazz orchestra was playing, and two young people, a man and a girl, were dancing in the middle of the room. Was this the kind of thing she had been sent to guard against? Did Mrs. Stewart want her to see that none of the wild young things whom she was supposed to be chaperoning did anything un-^eem]y for young people belonging to a church organization? Her heart sank, because she felt that she would be most ineffectual in stopping anything that anybody wanted to do if many of the society were like the two girls who had ridden with her.
Much troubled in mind she followed the young people w^ith whom she had come, threw off her wraps in the dressing room, and turned to find the two ^irls who accompanied her dressed in a most unsuitable manner. They were wearing indecently short dresses of chiifon with many sketchy floaters and draperies which did not drape, and when she saw the girls in the light they were not young, they had an old coarse look. She wondered where they came from. Some new members perhaps that the minister's wife was trying to get hold of.
They paid no attention to Marion, but went to the mirror and began to apply cosmetics freely. Marion went and looked out of the window at a
wide stretch of dim blue hills and starry sky, and wished she had not come. This was the last, the very last social affair of that church that she would ever attend. She would tell Mrs. Stewart all about it, and then she would never go to any more things among the young people again. She felt very unhappy.
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