LIKE A WOLF ON THE FOLD
I
Aggie has always been in the habit of observing the anniversary of Mr.Wiggins's death. Aggie has the anniversary habit, anyhow, and her lifeis a succession: of small feast-days, on which she wears mental crape orwedding garments--depending on the occasion. Tish and I always rememberthese occasions appropriately, sending flowers on the anniversaries ofthe passing away of Aggie's parents; grandparents; a niece who died inbirth; her cousin, Sarah Webb, who married a missionary and wasswallowed whole by a large snake,--except her shoes, which the reptilerefused and of which Aggie possesses the right, given her by thestricken husband; and, of course, Mr. Wiggins.
For Mr. Wiggins Tish and I generally send the same things eachyear--Tish a wreath of autumn foliage and I a sheaf of wheat tied with alavender ribbon. The program seldom varies. We drive to the cemetery inthe afternoon and Aggie places the sheaf and the wreath on Mr. Wiggins'slast resting-place, after first removing the lavender ribbon, of whichshe makes cap bows through the year and an occasional pin-cushion orfancy-work bag; then home to chicken and waffles, which had been Mr.Wiggins's favorite meal. In the evening Charlie Sands generally comes inand we play a rubber or two of bridge.
On the thirtieth anniversary of Mr. Wiggins's falling off a roof andbreaking his neck, Tish was late in arriving, and I found Aggie sittingalone, dressed in black, with a tissue-paper bundle in her lap. I put mysheaf on the table and untied my bonnet-strings.
"Where's Tish?" I asked.
"Not here yet."
Something in Aggie's tone made me look at her. She was eyeing the bundlein her lap.
"I got a paler shade of ribbon this time," I said, seeing she made nocomment on the sheaf. "It's a better color for me if you're going tomake my Christmas present out of it this year again. Where's Tish'swreath?"
"Here." Aggie pointed dispiritedly to the bundle in her lap and went onrocking.
"That! That's no wreath."
In reply Aggie lifted the tissue paper and shook out, with hands thattrembled with indignation, a lace-and-linen centerpiece. She held it upbefore me and we eyed each other over it. Both of us understood.
"Tish is changed, Lizzie," Aggie said hollowly. "Ask her for bread thesedays and she gives you a Cluny-lace fandangle. On mother's anniversaryshe sent me a set of doilies; and when Charlie Sands was in the hospitalwith appendicitis she took him a pair of pillow shams. It's that Syrian!"
Both of us knew. We had seen Tish's apartment change from a sedate andspinsterly retreat to a riot of lace covers on the mantel, on the backsof chairs, on the stands, on the pillows--everywhere. We had watchedher Marseilles bedspreads give way to hem-stitched covers, with bolstersto match. We had seen Tish go through a cold winter clad in a successionof sleazy silk kimonos instead of her flannel dressing-gown; terriblekimonos--green and yellow and red and pink, that looked like fruitsalads and were just as heating.
"It's that dratted Syrian!" cried Aggie--and at that Tish came in. Shestood inside the door and eyed us.
"What about him?" she demanded. "If I choose to take a poor starvingChristian youth and assist him by buying from him what I need--what Ineed!--that's my affair, isn't it? Tufik was starving and I took himin."
"He took you in, all right!" Aggie sniffed. "A great, mustached, dirty,palavering foreigner, who's probably got a harem at home and no respectfor women!"
Tish glanced at my sheaf and at the centerpiece. She was dressed as shealways dressed on Mr. Wiggins's day--in black; but she had a new lacecollar with a jabot, and we knew where she had got it. She saw our eyeson it and she had the grace to flush.
"Once for all," she snapped, "I intend to look after this unfortunateSyrian! If my friends object, I shall be deeply sorry; but, so far asI care, they may object until they are purple in the face and theirtongues hang out. I've been sending my money to foreign missions longenough; I'm doing my missionary work at home now."
"He'll marry you!" This from Aggie.
Tish ignored her. "His father is an honored citizen of Beirut, of thenobility. The family is impoverished, being Christian, and grosslyimposed on by the Turks. Tufik speaks French and English as well asMohammedan. They offered him a high government position if he woulddesert the Christian faith; but he refused firmly. He came to thiscountry for religious freedom; at any moment they may come after him andtake him back."
A glint of hope came to me. I made a mental note to write to the mayor,or whatever they call him over there, and tell him where he could locatehis wandering boy.
"He loves the God of America," said Tish.
"Money!" Aggie jeered.
"And he is so pathetic, so grateful! I told Hannah at noon to-day--that'swhat delayed me--to give him his lunch. He was starving; I thought we'dnever fill him. And when it was over, he stooped in the sweetest way,while she was gathering up the empty dishes, and kissed her hand. It wastouching!"
"Very!" I said dryly. "What did Hannah do?"
"She's a fool! She broke a cup on his head."
Mr. Wiggins's anniversary was not a success. Part of this was due toTish, who talked of Tufik steadily--of his youth; of the wonderfulbargains she secured from him; of his belief that this was the land ofopportunity--Aggie sniffed; of his familiarity with the Bible andBiblical places; of the search the Turks were making for him. Theatmosphere was not cleared by Aggie's taking the Cluny-lace centerpieceto the cemetery and placing it, with my sheaf, on Mr. Wiggins's grave.
As we got into Tish's machine to go back, Aggie was undeniably peevish.She caught cold, too, and was sneezing--as she always does when she isirritated or excited.
"Where to?" asked Tish from the driving-seat, looking straight ahead andpulling on her gloves. From where we sat we could still see the dot ofwhite on the grass that was the centerpiece.
"Back to the house," Aggie snapped, "to have some chicken and wafflesand Tufik for dinner!"
Tish drove home in cold silence. As well as we could tell from her back,she was not so much indignant as she was determined. Thus we do notbelieve that she willfully drove over every rut and thank-you-ma'am onthe road, scattering us generously over the tonneau, and finally, whenAggie, who was the lighter, was tossed against the top and sprained herneck, eliciting a protest from us. She replied in an abstracted tone,which showed where her mind was.
"It would be rougher on a camel," she said absently. "Tufik was tellingme the other day--"
Aggie had got her head straight by that time and was holding it withboth hands to avoid jarring. She looked goaded and desperate; and, asshe said afterward, the thing slipped out before she knew she was morethan thinking it.
"Oh, damn Tufik!" she said.
Fortunately at that moment we blew out a tire and apparently Tish didnot hear her. While I was jacking up the car and Tish was getting thekey of the toolbox out of her stocking, Aggie sat sullenly in her placeand watched us.
"I suppose," she gibed, "a camel never blows out a tire!"
"It might," Tish said grimly, "if it heard an oath from the lips of amiddle-aged Sunday-school teacher!"
We ate Mr. Wiggins's anniversary dinner without any great hilarity.Aggie's neck was very stiff and she had turned in the collar of herdress and wrapped flannels wrung out of lamp oil round it. When shewished to address either Tish or myself she held her head rigid andturned her whole body in her chair; and when she felt a sneeze coming onshe clutched wildly at her head with both hands as if she expected it tofly off.
Tufik was not mentioned, though twice Tish got as far as Tu-- and thenthought better of it; but her mind was on him and we knew it. She workedthe conversation round to Bible history and triumphantly demandedwhether we knew that Sodom and Gomorrah are towns to-day, and that astreet-car line is contemplated to them from some place or other--itdeveloped later that she meant Tyre and Sidon. Once she suggested thatAggie's sideboard needed new linens, but after a look at Aggie's rigidhead she let it go at that.
No one was sorry when, with dinner almost over, and Aggie lifting h
erice-cream spoon straight up in front of her and opening her mouth witha sort of lockjaw movement, the bell rang. We thought it was CharlieSands. It was not. Aggie faced the doorway and I saw her eyes widen.Tish and I turned.
A boy stood in the doorway--a shrinking, timid, brown-eyed youngOriental, very dark of skin, very white of teeth, very black of hair--aslim youth of eighteen, possibly twenty, in a shabby blue suit, brokenshoes, and a celluloid collar. Twisting between nervous brown fingers,not as clean as they might have been, was a tissue-paper package.
"My friends!" he said, and smiled.
Tish is an extraordinary woman. She did not say a word. She sat stilland let the smile get in its work. Its first effect was on Aggie's neck,which she forgot. Tufik's timid eyes rested for a moment on Tish andbrightened. Then like a benediction they turned to mine, and came to astop on Aggie. He took a step farther into the room.
"My friend's friend are my friend," he said. "America is my friend--thisso great God's country!"
Aggie put down her ice-cream spoon and closed her mouth, which had beenopen.
"Come in, Tufik," said Tish; "and I am sure Miss Pilkington would likeyou to sit down."
Tufik still stood with his eyes fixed on Aggie, twisting his package.
"My friend has said," he observed--he was quite calm and divinelytrustful--"My friend has said that this is for Miss Pilk a sad day. Myfriend is my mother; I have but her and God. Unless--but perhaps I havetwo new friend also--no?"
"Of course we are your friends," said Aggie, feeling for the table-bellwith her foot. "We are--aren't we, Lizzie?"
Tufik turned and looked at me wistfully. It came over me then what anawful thing it must be to be so far from home and knowing nobody, andhaving to wear trousers and celluloid collars instead of robes andturbans, and eat potatoes and fried things instead of olives and figsand dates, and to be in danger of being taken back and made into aMohammedan and having to keep a harem.
"Certainly," I assented. "If you are good we will be your friends."
He flashed a boyish smile at me.
"I am good," he said calmly--"as the angels I am good. I have here aletter from a priest. I give it to you. Read!"
He got a very dirty envelope from his pocket and brought it round thetable to me. "See!" he said. "The priest says: 'Of all my children Tufiklies next my heart.'"
He held the letter out to me; but it looked as if it had been copiedfrom an Egyptian monument and was about as legible as an outbreak ofmeasles.
"This," he said gently, pointing, "is the priest's blessing. I carryit ever. It brings me friends." He put the paper away and drew a longbreath; then surveyed us all with shining eyes. "It has brought me you."
We were rather overwhelmed. Aggie's maid having responded to the bell,Aggie ordered ice cream for Tufik and a chair drawn to the table; butthe chair Tufik refused with a little, smiling bow.
"It is not right that I sit," he said. "I stand in the presence of mythree mothers. But first--I forget--my gift! For the sadness, MissPilk!"
He held out the tissue-paper package and Aggie opened it. Tufik's giftproved to be a small linen doily, with a Cluny-lace border!
We were gone from that moment--I know it now, looking back. Gone! Wewere lost the moment Tufik stood in the doorway, smiling and bowing.Tish saw us going; and with the calmness of the lost sat there nibblingcake and watching us through her spectacles--and raised not a hand.
Aggie looked at the doily and Tufik looked at her.
"That's--that's really very nice of you," said Aggie. "I thank you."
Tufik came over and stood beside her.
"I give with my heart," he said shyly. "I have had nobody--in all solarge this country--nobody! And now--I have you!" Aggie saw--but toolate. He bent over and touched his lips to her hands. "The Bible says:'To him that overcometh I will give the morning star!' I haveovercometh--ah, so much!--the sea; the cold, wet England; the EllisIsland; the hunger; the aching of one who has no love, no money! Andnow--I have the morning star!"
He looked at us all three at once--Charlie Sands said this wasimpossible, until he met Tufik. Aggie was fairly palpitant and Tish wassmug, positively smug. As for me, I roused with a start to find myselfsugaring my ice cream.
Charlie Sands was delayed that night. He came in about nine o'clock andfound Tufik telling us about his home and his people and the shepherdson the hills about Damascus and the olive trees in sunlight. Wehalf-expected Tufik to adopt Charlie Sands as a father; but he contentedhimself with a low Oriental salute, and shortly after he bowed himselfaway.
Charlie Sands stood looking after him and smiling to himself. "Prettysmooth boy, that!" he said.
"Smooth nothing!" Tish snapped, getting the bridge score. "He's asad-hearted and lonely boy; and we are going to do the kindest thing--weare going to help him to help himself."
"Oh, he'll help himself all right!" observed Charlie Sands. "But, sincehis people are Christians, I wish you'd tell me how he knows so muchabout the inside of a harem!"
Seeing that comment annoyed us, he ceased, and we fell to our bridgegame; but more than once his eye fell on Aggie's doily, and he mutteredsomething about the Assyrian coming down like a wolf on the fold.
Tish: The Chronicle of Her Escapades and Excursions Page 6