“I do.”
“But it’s nonsense! Julietta’s always ready to come and be an outdoor comrade for anybody; but it’s only because she’s such a good fellow she doesn’t stop to care whether she’s with old married men like John and me, or with the boys of her own age that she’d naturally like to be with a great deal better of course.”
“She’s almost my own age; she’s over thirty,” the grim Mrs. Simms informed him. “The ‘boys of her own age’ are busy elsewhere.”
“Well, she isn’t that kind of a schemer, no matter what her age is, and if she were, why, the last person on earth she’d pick out would be steady old John Tower. He’s absolutely devoted to Mildred, and everybody knows it. And, finally, if poor Julietta is trying to break up Mildred’s hearth and home, what in the world are you so sharp with me about?
If it’s John, and not me that Julietta’s after—”
“Didn’t I tell you she uses you as a foil? Who could criticize her for running after another woman’s husband when his own brother-in-law is always chaperoning them? She knows there’s talk—”
“She does? Well, I don’t. You say—”
“I certainly do. Of course there’s talk. There has been for some time.”
“Does Mildred share your idea?” he asked.
“She does — most unhappily!”
“Anne, do you mean to tell me that as sensible a woman as Mildred’s always seemed could actually let herself get worried about—”
“Any wife would,” Anne interrupted, severely. “Especially with a husband as odd as John Tower. So far as women are concerned he’s nothing but a grown-up child! He believes everything they tell him, and Julietta knows it. It’s because he is so perfectly simple and naïve and trustful — with women — that Mildred is wretched about him.”
“What’s she said to old John about it?”
“Nothing.”
“Why not?”
“Because if she did,” Mrs. Simms explained, “it might look as if she were jealous.”
“Well, she is, isn’t she?”
“Not at all. She’s terribly hurt, and naturally she’s angry and rather disgusted to think her husband would let such a person as Julietta Voss have so much effect upon him.”
Hobart’s intelligent forehead became lined with the effort to solve the puzzle before him. “You say she’s terribly hurt and she’s angry and she’s disgusted because she thinks her husband is letting another woman carry on with him; but she’s not jealous. How would you define jealousy, Anne?”
“As nothing that a girl like Julietta Voss could make a lady feel,” Anne returned, with no little heat. “Mildred is a lady — and I’m going back to her. Be kind enough to hurry with your ablutions, if you intend any.”
He went away meekly to obey, and when he returned to the veranda he still looked meek, though there was in his glance a sly skepticism readily visible to his wife. She was sitting by the veranda railing with her sister, who was staring forth into the darkness in a manner somewhat pathetic; but, as her brother-in-law thought her imaginings absurd, his sympathies were not greatly roused. “Hasn’t that old Don Giovanni of yours finished playing it out yet, Mildred?” he inquired.
Both ladies looked round at him over their shoulders, Mildred piteously, but Anne sternly. “There’s one great trouble with an unflagging humour,” Mrs. Simms said. “It never flags.”
“Dear me!” he exclaimed. “If Mildred thinks poor old John and Julietta — Mildred, you don’t for one minute honestly and truly—”
But Mildred made a gesture of agonized entreaty. “Please! Please!” she said in a low voice. “They’re coming!”
A peal of light laughter was heard from the darkness, and the figures of the two delaying players became visible within the outer reaches of the clubhouse lights. They were walking slowly, engaged in obviously cheerful conversation, and from the shoulders of the stalwart Tower were slung both bags containing the implements used in the game they had been playing. It was characteristic and like old John’s punctilious gallantry, his brother-in-law thought, to have seized upon both those bags the moment the caddies were dismissed. Miss Voss, almost as tall as he, was more than equal to carrying her own bag without effort.
She had the figure of a distance runner in training, lithe, hard, and active; and there was something lively, yet hard, too, in her tanned long face, which was a handsome face in spite of its length. But her eyes were what was most noticeable about her, for they were beautiful. They were brilliantly dark, and at times seemed to hold little dancing lights within them, as if they gave glimpses of secret laughter. All in all, she was a cheery companion for an outdoor afternoon, but by no manner of means a tricky witch, Mr. Hobart Simms decided, as he looked down smilingly upon her and upon that odd man, his brother-in-law and junior partner, old John Tower.
“Old John,” of an age not more than Hobart’s, was queer, Hobart thought; but his queerness did not alter the simple steadiness of character that made his intimates think and speak of him as “old John.” Moreover, his oddity lay mainly in his literal, simple truthfulness under all conditions, in his belief that others were as truthful as himself, and in an indefatigable formal politeness of manner, sometimes a little stately, that was really the expression of a kind heart.
The two came gaily up the steps, still laughing at something said out of hearing from the veranda, and Julietta gave a final fillip to their joke by reeling against her companion as they reached the top step. She steadied herself by clutching his shoulder, and seemed almost to hang upon him, for a moment or two, while she chid him. “Don’t make me laugh any more, or I’ll give you up as a partner and absolutely not play with you again to-morrow!” Then she turned briskly to Mildred. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long for your poor abducted husband, Mrs. Tower. I’m afraid he’s the kind of man who never gives up anything he sets out to do, even when he has to finish it in the dark. I suppose that’s why he’s a great man.”
“Do you think he’s a great man, Julietta?” Hobart Simms inquired in a carefully naïve manner.
“Everyone knows he is,” Julietta returned. “Of course you’re a great man, John, since Hobart asks me!”
“At least, it’s most lovely of you to say you think so,” Mr. Tower responded, bowing his dark head before her gratefully. “I’m only a feeble assistant to Hobart here, who really is a great man; but it’s charming of you to say I’m one, too. Really it’s most kind of you, Julietta.” He turned to his wife. “My dear, I hope you haven’t been waiting long, and I hope, if you have, you haven’t minded.”
“No, not at all,” she murmured. “But can’t we go now?”
“Just a moment. I must take these bags to the locker room and freshen up the least bit. Julietta, if you’ll give me the key to your locker I’ll have your bag put away for you.”
But Julietta laughed ruefully and shook her head. “Just leave the bag here. It takes every penny of my poor little allowance to keep me a member of the club. They charge too much for lockers. I told you the other day I didn’t have a locker.”
The kindly John struck his hands together in a sharp sound; he was shocked by his forgetfulness. “Dear me! So you did! Of course, you must allow me to make up for my omission. I’d meant to attend to that yesterday. Of course you must have a locker. I’ll see to it at once and bring you the key.”
Julietta said promptly, “How lovely of you!” and he went toward the French windows; but a murmur from his wife stopped him.
“John, it’s very late. Couldn’t you postpone seeing about lockers and things like that, and let’s be starting home?”
“In just a moment, my dear,” he said in the kindest tone. “I’ll just arrange about a locker for Julietta and leave our clubs. It won’t take a moment.”
“He’s so thoughtful always,” Julietta said, looking after him gratefully as he departed. “I think I never knew a man so careful about all the little things most men don’t seem even to be conscious of.�
��
“Thanks, Julietta,” Mr. Simms said, cheerfully, and was immediately aware that his wife looked at him with some tensity. She had not spoken since the arrival of Julietta and her companion upon the veranda. “Thanks for the rest of us.”
“Oh, you!” Julietta said; and the dancing lights in her extraordinary eyes sparkled as she turned to him. “You’re a great man really, as dear old John just explained, and we all know what everybody says about you and Julius Cæsar — or is it Napoleon? You’ve scattered fortunes around among your friends taking them into your corporations, the way he scattered kingdoms around among his relatives. You’re so great you don’t have to bother being thoughtful about little things.”
“Julietta,” he responded, “you sound like a testimonial banquet. I hope you’ll convince my wife, though.”
“She’d be the last to need convincing,” Julietta returned. “Wouldn’t you, Mrs. Simms?”
“I might be,” Anne replied, dryly. “Hobart, I think you’d better run and tell John he’s keeping us all waiting.”
But the absent gentleman returned before his brother-in-law, moving to obey, could go in search of him; and he came with a key in his hand. “There, Julietta, if you’ll be so kind as to use this—”
“You dear man!” she cried, enthusiastically. “Now just for that I’m going to forgive you for making me laugh so hard, and we’ll finish that game to-morrow, because Hobart didn’t play it out with us to-day. Don’t you think we could all three be here a wee bit earlier to-morrow — say by four o’clock?”
At this, Mildred Tower turned to her sister in an almost visible appeal for help; and Anne hurriedly endeavoured to respond with the succour besought.
“So far as Mr. Simms is concerned—” she began; but Tower, unaware that she was speaking, had already accepted Julietta’s invitation.
“Delightful,” he said, bowing. “Julietta, that will be delightful. I shall be here by four o’clock promptly. Thank you for thinking of it.”
“You’ll be sure to come, too, Hobart?” Julietta asked.
Hobart’s wife began again, and her tone was emphatic. “So far as Mr. Simms is concerned—”
But again she was interrupted, this time by her husband.
“Why, yes, Julietta,” he said, amiably, “I’d like very much to play it out. I’ll be here at four.”
For a moment or two there was a silence during which his consciousness that both his wife and his sister-in-law were looking at him became somewhat acute. Then, without even a murmur of leave-taking or any sound at all, Mildred Tower walked quickly to the steps, descended them, and went toward the waiting cars. Her sister, after a final look, which swept scorchingly over both gentlemen — though but one of them, her husband, was aware of its heat — turned sharply away and hurried after her.
Only the best of women are capable of doing things so embarrassing, thought the philosophical Mr. Simms; and then realized that his brother-in-law was not embarrassed at all.
“Wait a moment, my dear,” Tower called placidly after his wife. “Julietta has been kind enough to say we could drop her at her house on our way. She’s going with us.”
No response came from the hurrying Mrs. Tower.
“My dear!” her husband called. “Julietta is going to permit us—” Then, as Mildred disappeared silently into the interior of her car, he remarked with unsullied confidence, “She doesn’t hear me.”
Julietta laughed and put her hand upon his arm, looking up at him. “Do you think she wants me?”
“My dear Julietta! Of course she does. Everybody wants you. Why shouldn’t she?”
“Perhaps she thinks I live too far out of your way, and she’s in a hurry to eat her dinner,” Julietta said, wistfully. “It isn’t everyone that’s too generous to keep thinking of food when someone needs a little lift. It isn’t everybody who remembers all the little thoughtful things as you do, John, you know.”
“Nonsense!” he exclaimed. “Mildred will be only too delighted to have you, though I do appreciate your kind opinion of me.” He looked down at her hand, which was still upon his coat sleeve, and, taking it in one of his, tucked it under his arm. “You’re charming, Julietta,” he said, beaming upon her. “Indeed you are! Perfectly charming! Shall we go down and get into the car?”
It was time for the third person present during this little interview to depart, that person decided. “Hobart!” his wife called from her car, and her voice was threateningly eloquent.
Hobart delayed no longer, though he was thinking with some concentration just then; and, bidding Miss Voss and his brother-in-law a quick good-night, he went by them and hurried toward the summoning voice.
Descending the steps arm-in-arm, and talking, old John and Julietta did not seem to hear the word of farewell; — Hobart was some distance away when the scrupulous Tower called after him: “Hobart, did you say, ‘Good-night’? I beg your pardon; I was listening to Julietta. Good-night, Hobart. Goodnight, Anne.” Then, as Hobart got into his own car, he could hear his brother-in-law busily talking beside the other. “And now, my dear Julietta, if you’ll be so kind as to step in and sit beside Mildred, I believe you’ll be quite comfortable. There’s an extra rug, Julietta, if you—”
But Mrs. Simms had already spoken to her chauffeur, and the engine was in motion. As they drove away, she and her husband could still hear the thoughtful old John addressing himself to the subject of Julietta’s comfort, and replying to her thanks. “Not at all, my dear Julietta; it’s the greatest imaginable pleasure. And if you’ll be so kind as to allow me to place this other rug over your knees, Julietta—”
The Simms’ car passed out of hearing, and within the dark interior its owner continued to be thoughtful. He was still certain that Mildred indulged herself in mere folly when she worried about steady, simple old John. But he was not so sure of the artlessness of Julietta; — the final little interview upon the veranda had somewhat shaken his convictions in regard to Julietta.
“I suppose you’re pleased with yourself,” Mrs. Simms said, icily, after an extended silence.
“I couldn’t decline,” he returned, easily. “You didn’t give me a chance to.”
“Hobart, that’s really too much! You stopped me — interrupted me when I was in the very act of declining for you.”
“That was the reason,” he explained. “I couldn’t let you decline for me. It might have looked as though I let my wife do embarrassing things for me that I haven’t backbone enough to do for myself.”
“How diplomatic!” she said. “May I ask your real reason for accepting her invitation after what I’d just told you about her? Perhaps, though, it was merely to hurt Mildred and irritate me. In that case, you made a perfect success of what you intended.”
“It wasn’t precisely that,” he laughed. “For one thing, if what you and Mildred believe has any foundation, why, old John certainly needs a chaperon; and, for another thing, I wanted the chance to see for myself if there is any reason to believe what you told me.”
“Oh, so?” She uttered a little cry of triumph, and laughed in the tone of her outcry. “So you’re not so sure as you were a little while ago, when you implied that my mind was wandering! So you see there is something in it?”
“Only this: I admit the possibility that Julietta might want to have him attached to her as a sort of providing friend, to do little useful things for her and—”
“‘Little useful things’?” his wife said, scornfully. “Don’t you understand what type she belongs to? Only a few minutes ago you paid her caddy for her, and John rented a locker for her. Last week he got her a new set of golf clubs, Mildred told me. Julietta complained of her old ones, and he sent away for the most expensive clubs you can get in the country. When she said you put your friends into fortunes, she meant more than just to flatter you about the fortune you’ve put John Tower into; she meant you to begin to get the idea into your head that it would be pleasant some day to put her into one — or her worthless old
father, perhaps!”
Then, as Hobart laughed loudly at an idea apparently so far-fetched, Anne defended it. “Oh, I know it was only her impulse and not deliberate, just a chance shot of hers; but she never misses a possibility, and that possibility was somewhere in the back of her head. Of course, it isn’t you, but John that she’s playing for. She’d rather have played for you; but she didn’t see any chance, of course. She discovered John’s weakness and did see the chance with him.”
“What weakness, Anne?”
“Why, the poor old thing’s childlike acceptance of women at the face value they put upon themselves, and his quaint belief that they say everything they mean and mean everything they say — just as he does himself. Mildred’s helpless because he’s such a helpless idealist; he tells her the only thing he can’t bear in a woman is when she’s so small-minded as to speak slightingly of any other woman! All Mildred can do is to suffer and not speak. I never saw anything so pitiful as what she did when you hurt her feelings so terribly.”
“When I did what?”
“When you insulted her awhile ago,” Mrs. Simms explained with calm frigidity. “She knew I’d told you what she was suffering; — I’d just told her I had. And then she had not only to listen to her husband accepting that girl’s overtures for another long tête-à-tête with him to-morrow, but to hear you promising to lend countenance to it by being used again as you’ve already been used three times. It was the same as either telling Mildred that she’s a fool, imagining the whole thing, or that you approve of Julietta’s little plans and intend to lend your aid to further them. You might as well have slapped my sister in the face.”
“Dear me!” he exclaimed. “Don’t look at it that way! I didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t you?” Anne had no compunctions whatever in punishing him to the best of her ability. “You’d already mocked her for suffering what no woman in her position could help suffering. Then, in addition to what she was already trying to bear and not show, you gave her some more to bear — and she couldn’t trust herself to speak; she could only run from you!”
Collected Works of Booth Tarkington Page 383