CHAPTER XXVIII
For a week Lewis missed his father very much. Every time he came intothe flat its emptiness struck him, robbed him of gaiety, and made himfeel as though he walked in a dead man's shoes. He was very lonely.
"Helton," he said one night, "I wish things could talk--these old chairsand the table and that big worn-out couch, for instance."
"Lucky thing they can't, sir," mumbled Helton, holding the seam of thetable-cloth in his teeth while he folded it.
"Why?" said Lewis. "Why should it be lucky they can't? Don't you supposeif they had the power of talk, they'd have the power of discretion aswell, just as we have?"
"I don't know about that, sir," said Helton. "Things is servants justlike us serving-men is. The more wooden a serving-man is in the matterof talk, the easier it is for 'im to get a plice. If you ask me, sir, Iwould s'y as chairs is wooden and walls stone an' brick for the comfortof their betters, an' that they 'aven't any too much discretion as itis, let alone talking."
"Nelton," said Lewis, "I've been waiting to ask you something. I wonderif you could tell me."
"Can't s'y in the dark," said Nelton.
"It's this," said Lewis. "Everybody here--all dad's friends except LadyDerl--call him Grapes Leighton. Why? I've started to ask him two orthree times, but somehow something else seems to crop up in his mind,and he doesn't give me a chance to finish."
Nelton's lowered eyes flashed a shrewd look at Lewis's face.
"The exercise of discretion ennobles the profession," he said, andstopped, a dazed, pleased look in his face at hearing his own rhyme. Helaid the table-cloth down, took from his pocket the stub of a pencil,and wrote the words on his cuff. Then he picked up the cloth, laid itover his arm, and opened the door. As he went out he paused and saidover his shoulder: "Master Lewis, it would hurt the governor's feelin'sif you asked him or anybody else how he got the nime of Gripes."
Let a man but feel lonely, and his mind immediately harks along the backtrail of the past. In his lonely week Lewis frequently found himselfthinking back. It was only by thinking back that he could stay in theflat at all. Now for the first time he realized that he had beenstepping through life with seven-league boots. The future could notpossibly hold for him the tremendous distances of his past. How far hehad come since that first dim day at Consolation Cottage!
To every grown-up there is a dim day that marks the beginning of things,the first remembered day of childhood. Lewis could not fasten on anymemory older than the memory of a rickety cab, a tall, gloomy man, andthen a white-clad group on the steps of Consolation Cottage. Blackmammy, motherly Mrs. Leighton, curly-headed Shenton, and little Natalie,with her 'wumpled' skirt, who had stood on tiptoe to put her lips tohis, appeared before him now as part of the dawn of life.
As he looked back, he saw that the sun had risen hot on his day of life.It had struck down Shenton, blasted the Reverend Orme, withered AnnLeighton, and had turned plump little Natalie's body into a thin, wiryhome for hope. Natalie had always demanded joy even of little things.Did she still demand it? Where was Natalie? Lewis asked himself thequestion and felt a twinge of self-reproach. Life had been so full forhim that he had not stopped to think how empty it might be for Natalie,his friend.
How little he had done to trace her! Only the one letter. He decided towrite again, this time to Dom Francisco. If only he could talk toNatalie, what long tours it would take to tell and to hear all! A faintflush of anticipation was rising to his cheeks when a rap on the doorstartled him. Before he could look around Nelton announced, "A lady tosee you, sir."
Lewis leaped to his feet and stepped forward. Had one of the miracles hehad been taught to believe in come to pass? Had prayer been answered?The lady raised her arms and started to take off her veil. Then sheturned her back to Lewis.
"Do untie it for me," she drawled in the slow voice of Lady VioletManerlin.
Lewis felt his face fall, and was glad she had her back to him. He undidher veil with steady, leisurely fingers.
"This is awfully good of you," he said. "How did you know I was alone?"
"Telephoned Nelton, and told him not to say anything."
Vi took off her hat and jacket as well as her veil, and tossed the lotinto a chair. Then she sat down in a corner of the big couch before thefire, doubled one foot under her, tapped the floor with the other, andyawned. Lewis offered her a cigarette, took one himself, and then shareda match with her.
"It's good of you to take it so calmly," said Vi. "Are you one of thefools that must always have an explanation? I'll give you one, if youlike."
"Don't bother," said Lewis, smiling. "You've been bored--horribly bored.You looked out of the window, and saw the green things in the park, andremembered that there was only one bit in your list of humanity as greenand fresh as they, and you headed straight for it."
"Yes," drawled Vi, "like a cow making for the freshest tuft of grass inthe pasture. Thanks; but I'm almost sorry you told me why I came. That'sthe disappointing thing to us women. When we think we're doing somethingoriginal, somebody with a brain comes along and reduces it to firstelements, and we find we've only been natural."
Lewis straddled a chair, folded his arms on the back of it, and lookedVi over with a professional eye. She was posed for a painter, not for asculptor, but even so he found her worth looking at. A woman can't siton one foot, tap the floor with the other, and lean back, withoutshowing the lines of her body.
"Mere length," said Lewis, "is a great handicap to a woman, but addproportion to length, and you have the essentials of beauty. Short andpretty; long and beautiful. D'you get that? A short woman may bebeautiful as a table decoration, but let her stand up or lie down and,presto! she's just pretty."
Vi reached out one long arm toward the fire, and nicked off the ash fromher cigarette. She tried to hide the tremor that Lewis's words broughtto her limbs and the color that his frankly admiring eyes brought to thepallor of her cheeks. She was a woman that quivered under admiration.
"Have you never--don't you ever kiss women?" she asked, looking at himwith slanted eyes.
Lewis shrugged his shoulders.
"Oh, I suppose so. That is--well, to tell you the truth, I don'tremember."
For a second Vi stared at him; then she laughed, and he laughed withher.
"Oh! oh!" she cried, "I believe you're telling the truth!"
They sat and talked. Nelton brought in tea; then they sat and talkedsome more. A distant bell boomed seven o'clock. Vi started, rose slowlyto her feet, and stretched.
"Have you got your invitation for the Ruttle-Marter fancy-dress ballnext week?" she asked, stifling a yawn.
"No," said Lewis; "don't know 'em."
"That doesn't matter," said Vi. "I'll see that you get a card to-morrow.I'd like you to come. Nobody is supposed to know it, but I'm going todance. Will you come?"
"Oh, yes," said Lewis, rising; "I'll come. I've been a bit lonely sincedad went away." Then he smiled. "So I was wrong, after all."
"Wrong?" said Vi, staring at him, "When, how?"
"This is what you really came for--to ask me to see you dance," he said,laughing.
"Oh, was it?" said Vi. "I'm always wondering why I do things. Well, Isuppose I'd better go, but I hate to. I've been so comfy here. If you'donly press me, I might stay for dinner."
Lewis shook his head.
"Better not."
"Why?"
"Well, you're married, aren't you?"
"Yes," said Vi, grimly, her eyes narrowing.
"Well," said Lewis, "you've heard dad talk. He says marriage is just aninsurance policy to the mind of woman."
"Yes," said Vi, "and that the best place to keep it is away from thefire. Your dad's insight is simply weird. But if you think you're goingto start on life where he left off, let me tell you you'll be chewing aworn-out cud."
Lewis laughed.
"You would be right if I were to live life over on his lines. But Iwon't. He doesn't want me to. He never said so, but I just know."
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br /> Vi shrugged her shoulders.
"You have a lot of sense," she said. "There's nothing women dislikemore. Good-by." She held out her hand and stepped toward him. She seemedto misjudge the distance and half lose her balance. The full length ofher quivering body came up against Lewis. He felt her hot, sweet breathalmost on his mouth. He flushed. His arms started up from his sides andthen dropped again.
"Touch and go!" he gasped.
"Which?" drawled Vi, her mouth almost on his, her wide, gray eyes sonear that he closed his to save himself from blindness.
"Better make it 'go,'" said Lewis, and grinned.
"You've saved yourself," said Vi, with a laugh. "If you hadn't grinned,I'd have kissed you."
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