CHAPTER X
A WRECKED CANNA BED
Raridan was at the station to meet Evelyn's guests, as he had promised.He had established a claim upon their notice on the occasion of one ofhis visits to Evelyn at college, and he greeted them with an air ofpossession which would have been intolerable in another man. He pressedMiss Warren for news of the Connecticut nutmeg crop, and hoped that MissMarshall had not lost her accent in crossing the Missouri, while hebegged their baggage checks and waved their minor impedimenta into thehands of the station porters.
Wise men, long ago, abandoned the hope of accounting for collegefriendships in either sex, and there was nothing proved in Evelyn's caseby her choice of these young women as her intimate friends. Annie Warrenwas as reserved and quiet as Evelyn could be in her soberest moments;Belle Marshall was as frank and friendly as Evelyn became in herlightest moods. Evelyn had been the beauty of her class; her two friendswere what is called, by people that wish to be kind, nice looking. AnnieWarren had been the best scholar in her class; Belle Marshall had beenamong the poorest; and Evelyn had maintained a happy medium between thetwo. And so it fortunately happened that the trio mitigated oneanother's imperfections.
Evelyn had summoned her guests at this time principally to have theirsupport through the carnival. They made light of the perplexities anddifficulties of Evelyn's own participation when she unfolded them; therewould be a lot of fun in it, they thought, and they deemed it, too, arecognition of Evelyn's fine qualities. They were fresh from college andthey could see nothing in the carnival and the coronation of thecarnival's queen that was inconsistent with a girl's dignity; it rankedat least with some of the festivals of girl's colleges. The whole matterpresently resolved itself into the question of clothes, and Evelyn'scoronation gown was laid before them and duly praised.
"It is worth while," declared Miss Marshall, "to have a chance to wearclothes like that just once in your life."
Evelyn had discussed with her father ways and means of entertaining herguests; he was anxious for her to celebrate her home-coming with a greatdeal of entertaining. He preferred large functions, perhaps for thereason that he could lose himself better in them than in smallgatherings, in which his responsibilities as host could not be dodged.In a large company he could take one or two of his old friends into acorner and enjoy a smoke with them. He wished Evelyn to give a lawnparty before the blight of fall came upon his flowers and shrubbery; butshe persuaded him to wait until after the carnival. He still felt alittle guilty about having asked Evelyn to appear in this public way,but she showed no resentment; she was honestly glad to do anything thatwould please him. The ball was near at hand and she proposed that theygive a small dinner in the interval.
"I'll ask Warry and Mr. Saxton." People were already coupling Saxton'sname with Raridan's.
"Oh, yes, that's all right."
"I don't want very many; I'd like to ask the Whipples;" she went on,with the anxious, far-away look that comes into the eyes of a woman whois weighing dinner guests or matching fabrics.
"Can't you ask Wheaton?" ventured Mr. Porter cautiously from behind hispaper. Men grow humble in such matters from the long series ofrejections to which they are subjected by the women of their households.
"If you say so," Evelyn assented. "He isn't exciting, but Belle Marshallcan get on with anybody. I'm out of practice and won't try too many.Mrs. Whipple will help over the hard places."
Finally, however, her party numbered ten, but it seemed to Wheaton alarge assemblage. He had never taken a lady in to dinner before, but hehad studied a book of etiquette, and the chapter on "Dining Out" hadgiven him a hint of what was expected. It had not, however, supplied himwith a fund of talk, but he was glad to find, when he reached the table,that the company was so small that talk could be general, and he wasthankful for the shelter made for him by the light banter which followedthe settling of chairs. Saxton went in with Evelyn, who wished to makeamends for his clumsy reception on the occasion of his first appearancein the house.
"I'm glad you could come to our board once without being snubbed by themaid," she said to John, when they were seated.
"I came under convoy of Mr. Raridan this time. I find that he is prettyhard to lose."
"Oh, he's a splendid guide! He declares that there are just asinteresting things to see here in Clarkson as there are in Rome orVenice. He told Miss Warren this afternoon that it would take him amonth to show her half the sights."
"He certainly makes things interesting. His local history isdelightful."
"Yes; father tells him that he knows nearly everything, but that thepity is it isn't all true. You see, Warry and I have known each otheralways. The Raridans lived very near us, just over the way."
"He has shown me the place; it's on the clay sugar loaf across thestreet."
"Isn't it shameful of him not to bring his ancestral home down to thestreet level?"
"Oh, he says he'd rather burn the money. It seems that he fought theassessment as long as he could and has refused to abide by it. He enjoysfighting it in the courts. It gives him something to do."
"That's like Warry. He can be more steadfast in error than anybody."
Raridan was exchanging chaff with Miss Marshall across the table andWheaton was stranded for the moment.
"You must tell us about that Chinaman at your bachelors' house, Mr.Wheaton. Mr. Raridan has told me many funny stories about him, but Ithink he makes up most of them."
"I'd hardly dare repudiate any of Mr. Raridan's stories; but I'll saythat we couldn't get on without the Chinaman. He's a very faithfulfellow."
"But Mr. Raridan says he isn't!" exclaimed Evelyn. "He says that youbachelors suffer terribly from his mistakes, and that he can't keep anyrice for use at weddings because the Oriental takes it out of hispockets and makes puddings of it."
"That must be one of Mr. Raridan's jokes," said Wheaton. "We have had norice pudding since I went to live at The Bachelors'." Wheaton wassuspicious of Raridan's jokes. He was not always sure that he caught thepoint of them. He saw that Saxton, who sat opposite him, got on verywell with Miss Porter, and he was surprised at this; he had thoughtSaxton very slow, and yet he seemed to be as much at his ease asRaridan, who was Wheaton's ideal master of social accomplishment. He wassomewhat dismayed by the array of silver beside his plate, and he foundhimself covertly taking his cue from Saxton, who seemed to make hischoice without difficulty. It dawned on him presently that the forks andspoons were arranged in order; that it was not necessary to exercise anyjudgment of selection, and he felt elated to see how easily it wasmanaged. In his relief he engaged Miss Marshall in a talk aboutRichmond. He knew the names of banks and bankers there, from havinglooked them up in the bank directories in the course of business. Heliked the Southern girl's vivacity, though he thought Evelyn muchhandsomer and more dignified. She asked him whether he played golf,which had just been introduced into Clarkson, and he was forced to admitthat he did not; and he ventured to add that he had heard it called anold man's game. When she replied that she shouldn't imagine then that itwould interest him particularly, he felt foolish and could not think ofanything to say in reply. Raridan again claimed Miss Marshall'sattention, and Wheaton was drawn into talk with Evelyn and Saxton.
"Mr. Saxton has never seen one of our carnivals," she said, "and neitherhave I. You know I've missed them by being away so much."
"They expect to have a great entertainment this year," said Wheaton. Hewas sorry for the secrecy with which the names of the principalparticipants were guarded; he would have liked to say something to MissPorter about it, but he did not dare, with Saxton listening. Moreover,he was not sure that she had consented to take part.
"I suppose it's a good deal like amateur theatricals, only on a largerscale," suggested Saxton.
"That's not taking the carnival in the right spirit," said Evelyn. "Theword amateur is jarring, I think. We must try to imagine that King Midasreally and truly comes floating down the Missouri River on a barge,supported by his men
of magic, and that they are met by a delegation ofthe wise men of Clarkson, all properly clad, and escorted to the localparthenon, or whatever it is called, where the keys of the city aregiven to him. I'm sure it's all very plausible."
"But I don't see," said Saxton, "why all the western towns that go infor these carnivals have to go back to mythology and medieval customs.Why don't they use something indigenous,--the Indians for instance?"
"They're too recent," Evelyn answered. "The people around here--a goodmany of them, at least--were here before the savages had all gone. Andthose whose fathers and mothers were scalped might take it asunpleasantly suggestive if a lot of white men, dressed up as Indians,paraded themselves through the streets."
"What was that about Indians?" demanded Mr. Porter, who had been busyexchanging reminiscences with Mrs. Whipple. "Why, there hasn't been anIndian on the place for twenty years!"
"Oh yes, there has, father," said Evelyn. "It was only five years agothat there were two in this room. Don't you remember, when Warry had hishobby for educating Indian youth? He brought those boys up here forChristmas dinner."
"I remember; and they didn't like turkey," added Mr. Porter. "They werehungry for their native bear meat."
"It's too bad," said Raridan sorrowfully, "that a man never can livedown his good deeds."
Raridan liked to pretend that Clarkson society had a deep philosophywhich he alone understood. He had fallen into his favorite role as asocial sage for the benefit of the strangers, and Mrs. Whipple wascorrecting or denying what he said. He had assured the table that thesupreme social test was whether people could walk on their own hardwoodfloors and rugs without taking the long slide into eternity. Philistinescould buy hardwood floors, but only the elect could walk on them.
"Society in Clarkson is easily classified," said Raridan readily, asthough he had often given thought to this subject. "There are threeclasses of homes in this town, namely, those in which no servants arekept, those in which two are kept, and those in which the maids wearcaps."
"Warry is going from bad to worse," declared Mrs. Whipple. "I'm sure hecould give in advance the menu of any dinner he's asked to."
"A tax on the memory and not on the imagination," retorted Warry.
Miss Warren was asking Mr. Porter's opinion of local politicalconditions which were just then attracting wide-spread attention. Mr.Porter was expressing his distrust of a leader who had leaped into fameby a violent arraignment of the rich.
"It wouldn't be so terribly hard for us all to get rich," said Warry. "Isometimes marvel at the squalor about us. All that a man need do is toconcentrate his attention on one thing, and if he is capable of earninga dollar a day he can just as easily earn ten thousand a year. Why"--hecontinued earnestly, "I knew a fellow in Peoria, who devised a schemefor building duplicates of some of the architectural wonders of the OldWorld in American cities. His plan was to send out a million postalcards inviting a dollar apiece from a million people. Almost anybody cangive away a dollar and not miss it."
"How did the scheme work?" asked Mr. Porter.
"It wasn't tested," answered Warry. "The doctors in the sanitariumwouldn't let him out long enough to mail his postal cards."
General Whipple persuaded Miss Marshall to tell a negro story, which shedid delightfully, while the table listened. Southerners are, after all,the most natural talkers we have and the only ones who can talk freelyof themselves without offense. Her speech was musical, and she told herstory with a nice sense of its dramatic quality. At the climax, afterthe laughter had abated, she asked, with an air of surprise at theirpleasure in her tale:
"Didn't you all ever hear that story before?" She was guiltless of finalr's, and her drawl was delicious.
"Oh, Miss Marshall! I _knew_ you'd say it!" Raridan appealed to theothers to be sure of witnesses.
"What are you all laughing at?" demanded the girl, flushing and smilingabout her.
"Oh, you did it twice!"
"I _didn't_ say it, Mr. Raridan," she said, with dignity. "I never saidthat after I went North to school."
"Well, Belle," said Evelyn, "I'm heartily ashamed of you. After all wedid in college to break you of it, you are at it again though you'vebeen only a few months away from us."
"It's hopeless, I'm afraid," said Miss Warren. "You know, Evelyn, shesaid 'I-alls' when she first came to college."
They had their coffee on the veranda, where the lights from within madea pleasant dusk about them. Porter's heart was warm with the joy ofEvelyn's home-coming. She had been away from him so much that he wasrealizing for the first time the common experience of fathers, who findthat their daughters have escaped suddenly and inexplicably fromgirlhood into womanhood; and yet the girl heart in her had not lost itsfreshness nor its thirst for pleasure. She had carried off her littlecompany charmingly; Porter had enjoyed it himself, and he felt youngagain in the presence of youth.
General Whipple had attached himself to one of the couples of youngpeople that were strolling here and there in the grounds. Porter andMrs. Whipple held the veranda alone; both were unconsciously watchingEvelyn and Saxton as they walked back and forth in front of the house,talking gaily; and Porter smiled at the eagerness and quickness of hermovements. Saxton's deliberateness contrasted oddly with the girl'slight step. Such a girl must marry a man worthy of her; there could beno question of that; and for the first time the thought of losing herrose in his heart and numbed it.
Porter's cigar had gone out, a fact to which Mrs. Whipple called hisattention.
"I've heard that it's a great compliment for a man to let his cigar goout when he's talking to a woman. But I don't believe my chatter wasresponsible for it this time." She nodded toward Evelyn, as if sheunderstood what had been in his thought.
"She's very fine. Both handsome and sensible, and at our age we know howrare the combination is."
"I shall have to trust you to keep an eye on her. I want her to know theright people." He spoke between the flashes of the cigar he wasrelighting.
"Don't worry about her. You may trust her around the world. Evelyn hasalready manifested an interest in my advice," she added, smiling toherself in the dark,--"and she didn't seem much pleased with it!"
Evelyn and Saxton had met the others, who were coming up from the walks,and there was a redistribution at the house; it was too beautiful to goin, they said, and the strolling abroad continued. A great flood ofmoonlight poured over the grounds. A breeze stole up from the valley andmade a soothing rustle in the trees. Evelyn rescued Wheaton and MissWarren from each other; she sent Raridan away to impart, as he said,further western lore to the Yankee. She followed, with Wheaton, the arcwhich the others were transcribing. A feeling of elation possessed him.The tide of good fortune was bearing him far, but memory played hide andseek with him as he walked there talking to Evelyn Porter; he was struckwith the unreality of this new experience. He was afraid of blundering;of failing to meet even the trifling demands of her careless talk. Heremembered once, in his train-boy days, having pressed upon a prettygirl one of Miss Braddon's novels; and the girl's scornful rejection ofthe book and of himself came back and mocked him. Raridan's merry laughrang out suddenly far across the lawn; he had done more with his lifethan Raridan would ever do with his; Raridan was a foolish fellow.Saxton passed them with Miss Marshall; Saxton was dull; he had failed inthe cattle business. James Wheaton was not a town's jester, and he wasnot a failure. Evelyn was telling him some of Belle Marshall's pranks atschool.
"She was the greatest cut-up. I suppose she'll never change. I don'tbelieve we do change so much as the wiseacres pretend, do you?"
She was aware that she had talked a great deal and threw out this lineto him a little desperately; he was proving even more difficult than shehad imagined him. He had been thinking of his mother--forgotten thesemany years--who was old even when he left home. He remembered her onlyas the dominant figure of the steaming kitchen where she had ministeredwith rough kindness and severity to her uncouth brood. His sisters--whatloutish, b
rawling girls they were, and how they fought over whateversilly finery they were able to procure for themselves! A faintflower-scent rose from the soft skirts of the tall young woman besidehim. He hated himself for his memories.
He felt suddenly alarmed by her question, which seemed to aim at theundercurrent of his own silent thought.
"There are those of us who ought to change," he said.
The others had straggled back toward the veranda and were disappearingindoors.
"They seem to be going in. We can find our way through the sun-porch; Isuppose it might be called a moon-porch, too," she said, leading theway.
They heard the sound of the piano through the open windows, and a girl'svoice broke gaily into song.
"It's Belle. She does sing those coon songs wonderfully. Let us waithere until she finishes this one." The sun-porch opened from thedining-room. They could see beyond it, into the drawing-room; the singerwas in plain view, sitting at the piano; Raridan stood facing her,keeping time with an imaginary baton.
A man came unobserved to the glass door of the porch and stoodunsteadily peering in. He was very dirty and balanced himself in thatabandon with which intoxicated men belie Newton's discovery. He hadgained the top step with difficulty; the light from the window blindedhim and for a moment he stood within the inclosure blinking. An uglygrin spread over his face as he made out the two figures by the window,and he began a laborious journey toward them. He tried to tiptoe, andthis added further to his embarrassments; but the figures by the windowwere intent on the song and did not hear him. He drew slowly nearer; onemore step and he would have concluded his journey. He poised on his toesbefore taking it, but the law of gravitation now asserted itself. Helunged forward heavily, casting himself upon Wheaton, and nearlyknocking him from his feet.
"Jimmy," he blurted in a drunken voice. "Jim-my!"
Evelyn turned quickly and shrank back with a cry. Wheaton was slowlyrallying from the shock of his surprise. He grabbed the man by the armsand began pushing him toward the door.
"Don't be alarmed," he said over his shoulder to Evelyn, who had shrunkback against the wall. "I'll manage him."
This, however, was not so easily done. The tramp, as Evelyn supposed himto be, had been sobered by Wheaton's attack. He clasped his fingersabout Wheaton's throat and planted his feet firmly. He clearly intendedto stand his ground, and he dug his fingers into Wheaton's neck with theintention of hurting.
"Father!" cried Evelyn once, but the song was growing noisier toward itsend and the circle about the piano did not hear. She was about to callagain when a heavy step sounded outside on the walk and Bishop Delafieldcame swiftly into the porch. He had entered the grounds from the rearand was walking around the house to the front door.
"Quick! that man there,--I'll call the others!" cried Evelyn, stillshrinking against the wall. Wheaton had been forced to his knees and hisassailant was choking him. But there was no need of other help. Thebishop had already seized the tramp about the body with his great hands,tearing him from Wheaton's neck. He strode, with the squirming figure inhis grasp, toward an open window at the back of the glass inclosure, andpushed the man out. There was a great snorting and threshing below. Thehill dipped abruptly away from this side of the house and the man hadfallen several feet, into a flower bed.
"Get away from here," the bishop said, in his deep voice, "and be quickabout it." The man rose and ran swiftly down the slope toward thestreet.
The bishop walked back to the window. The others had now hurried out inresponse to Evelyn's peremptory calls, and she was telling of thetramp's visit, while Wheaton received their condolences, and readjustedhis tie. His collar and shirt-front showed signs of contact with dirt.
"It was a tramp," said Evelyn, as the others plied her with questions,"and he attacked Mr. Wheaton."
"Where's he gone?" demanded Porter, excitedly.
"There he goes," said the bishop, pointing toward the window. "Hesmelled horribly of whisky, and I dropped him gently out of the window.The shock seems to have inspired his legs."
"I'll have the police--," began Porter.
"Oh, he's gone now, Mr. Porter," said Wheaton coolly, as he restoredhis tie. "Bishop Delafield disposed of him so vigorously that he'llhardly come back."
"Yes, let him go," said the bishop, wiping his hands on hishandkerchief. "I'm only afraid, Porter, that I've spoiled your bestcanna bed."
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