Chapter X: Part 10

As he ascended the stairs, he saw through the transom of Lucy’s door that her light was burning. He had been sleeping in Jim’s room for some time past, and now made his way toward it. As he was opposite Lucy’s door he heard her call softly.

“Why don’t you come in, John?” she asked.

He halted and, after a slight hesitation, turned the handle of the lock and entered. Lucy was sitting on the edge of the bed braiding her hair. She smiled pityingly at his troubled face.

“I heard you go out,” she said. “I expect you had a disagreeable time, didn’t you? What did she say?”

“Why, I had a talk with Nannie,” John parried somewhat uncertainly, “and she has agreed to--to--not to--interfere in the running of the house, and to--well, _you_ know--cut out the kind of things that get on your nerves. I thought that if she would quit worrying you,” he went on rapidly, “that it would be more--more, well, more considerate and--better, not to actually put her out of the house, at least not without any warning.” He rattled the keys in his pocket, avoiding Lucy’s gaze. “Of course if she continues to--to--that is, I mean if you don’t want her at all, we can later gradually--and----”

“And you didn’t dare tell her to go?” Lucy sprang to her feet. Her loose hair flowing down from her pale face gave her a ghost-like appearance.

“Now, Lucy,” pleaded John, his eyes meeting hers for an instant and then falling, “I really don’t think we ought to----” His voice died away.

Lucy gathered up some clothing from the bed and walked past him into the hall. A second later he heard the door of Jim’s room shut and the key turn.

John went twice to the locked door, but did not knock. Finally he went to bed in Lucy’s room. He lay restless for a long time. Once he imagined he could hear Lucy sobbing, and at length he rose to investigate. He could distinguish nothing but Nannie’s gentle snoring, and returned to bed.

After midnight he fell into a sound sleep.

XXX

When John awoke it was late and he hastened to dress. On reaching the lower hall he found the front door open. Mrs. Merwent stood on the porch staring up and down the street.

“Where in the world is Lucy?” she began. “I heard her go to Mr. Sprague’s room last night, but the door was open this morning when I went past to go down to the kitchen.”

John had a frightened expression.

“She must have gone out for an early walk,” suggested Nannie, after a minute’s time. “She used to do such things often when she was a girl, whenever she got angry.”

“It looks like it was going to rain, too,” commented John worriedly.

He reëntered the hall and took his hat from the stand.

“Did you have a quarrel last night?” Nannie catechised in a matter of fact way.

“No,” he denied shortly.

“Well, come on in, John. Don’t go out now. Wait a minute.” He had made a motion toward the door. “Eat something first. She’ll probably be back before we finish.”

He hesitated, turning his hat in his hands.

“Come on,” she coaxed. “There’s nothing to worry about.” Then, as he vacillated, she caught hold of his arm. “I’ll give you some coffee right away. The waffles won’t be fit to eat if you let them get cold, and Katy has already put them on the table. You can go and look for Lucy afterwards. She’s not gone far.”

As they turned to go in Dimmie appeared on the stairs in his night clothes.

“I want my breakfast,” he clamored. “Where’s Mamma? She ain’t in her room.” “Mamma will be back in a little while, Jimmie,” said Mrs. Merwent soothingly. “Come on and I’ll give you your breakfast.”

* * * * *

Lucy was in the train bound for the city.

She sat staring straight before her at the back of the next car seat. There were very few people going to town so early, and no one was seated beside her. Her lips moved as the train sped on.

“Jim is the only one,” she repeated over and over.

She was, if possible, paler than ever, and her eyes shone with a peculiar light.

At the station she boarded an electric car that passed the apartment house where Jim lived. She and John had been there several times together. In front of her sat a little boy in a wide sailor hat, and on the same seat was a middle-aged woman. The boy evinced all a child’s interest in his surroundings, and at length, turning around, wriggled to his knees and smiled up into Lucy’s face. His blue eyes, bobbed hair, and fresh color really suggested Dimmie, and to Lucy, in her overwrought state, the resemblance was startling.

“I can’t! Oh, I can’t do it!” she murmured passionately, to the child’s intense surprise.

His eyes opened wide and he stopped smiling, half frightened as she bent over and kissed his cheek. The middle-aged woman jerked him back into the seat and scrutinized Lucy suspiciously. Lucy rang the bell and descended from the car at the next corner.

“I’ll go back! I’ll go back!” she whimpered, as a punished child submits to an angry parent.

It had begun to drizzle. She was unmindful of the rain falling on her hat and of her bedraggled skirts. Tears rolled down her cheeks and fell with the rain drops to the pavement. She walked unsteadily and her breast heaved. Reaching the station she took the next train to Rosedene.

Midway between the station and the house she met John, who was striding along quickly, and anxiously scanning the street up and down.

“Where in the world have you been, Lucy? I’ve been worried almost crazy!” he exclaimed pettishly, coming up to her.

Staring straight before her, she did not answer or pause. John followed her to the house, glancing furtively, from time to time, at her immobile profile.

“Lucy! What in the world do you go out without telling anybody for?” cried Nannie who had been waiting in the hall. “It’s been raining, too. John and I were nervous about you.”

Without replying, Lucy proceeded upstairs. Dimmie ran through the upper hall to meet her.

“Hello, Mamma!” he called. “I thought you’d runned away. Nannie dressed me.”

Lucy caught him in her arms and went into her room, locking the door. Pulling him down beside her on the bed, she burst into a terrifying paroxysm of weeping. Dimmie soon began to cry also, from fright, and Lucy grew calmer.

“Oh, little son, little son!” she moaned again and again.

Soon Dimmie slipped to the floor and began to play with her work box, while she remained in the same position, utterly exhausted.

“It’s past time for you to go to Mrs. Hamilton’s, dear,” she observed finally, looking at the alarm clock on the table by the bed, and, at the same time, rising.

She brushed his hair and brought his hat from the wardrobe.

“Kiss Mother.”

Dimmie obeyed, then clattered down the stairs.

Once alone, Lucy rearranged her hair carefully, put on a fresh house dress, and descended to the living room.

John was walking up and down when Lucy appeared. They could hear Nannie in the dining room instructing Katy regarding luncheon. The windows were open and the breeze that stirred the curtains smelled of the rain and of some aromatic weed that grew high and thick in the adjoining meadow.

“You’ll miss your train, John,” Lucy suggested gently as she entered the room. She had regained her usual composure.

John consulted his watch. “It’s gone long ago,” he replied moodily.

“Well, you can catch the next one if you start at once.” Lucy picked up the small clock that stood beside Nannie’s metronome on the piano. “Go on,” she continued as he hesitated. “There’s no need for your staying.”

“Well, Lucy, if you’re going to do things like this at a moment’s notice, how can I----?”

“I’m not going to do anything more,” she returned calmly. “Go on to the office. You needn’t worry about me any more.”

“Well, if I was certain that you----”

“You can be certain,” assured Lucy quickly.

“Well, good-bye, then.” John moved slowly toward the hall.

“Good-bye, John,” Lucy answered.

The front door had scarcely closed after him when Nannie came in from the dining room.

“I was just giving Katy orders about luncheon, Lucy,” remarked Nannie suavely, “but of course if you want something different you can tell her and it will be all right.”

“It’s all right as it is, Mamma,” said Lucy.

Mrs. Merwent raised her eyebrows.

“Well! I’m glad you’ve started to call me by my right name.” Lucy did not speak and Nannie continued virtuously. “It’s just as you say about luncheon, Lucy. You are the mistress. I’m sure _I_ don’t want to do or say anything that will make unpleasantness. John has enough to worry about without us disagreeing. I wish we could get along without so many misunderstandings, Lucy. I’m sure I do _my_ part.”

“I wish so too, Mamma.” Lucy’s tone was free from irritation or sarcasm.

“Well, Lucy, maybe we can from now on. I know nobody tries harder or wants more to have things pleasant than I do.”

“Did you notice where my mending was put, Mamma?” Lucy inquired after a moment in the same propitiatory manner.

“Wait a minute. I think it’s under that flower stand.” Nannie brightened appreciably. “Did you find it?” she called back, on her way to the kitchen.

“Oh, yes. Here it is.” Lucy gave a trembling sigh and seated herself.

* * * * *

At almost the same moment that Lucy took up her sewing Jim was walking slowly down the boulevard, his fists in his coat pockets and his eyes fixed on the ground.

He did not notice Miss Storms’s car until it was drawn up to the kerb beside him, almost within reach.

She opened the door and leaned out.

“Get in, Jim. I want to talk to you a little,” she called. Jim obeyed without a word.

“Where were you going?” she asked, shaking hands with him.

“Nowhere in particular,” he answered.

Miss Storms gave an order through the speaking trumpet to her chauffeur, and the car started slowly.

“Jim, you’re a good boy,” she began.

“I’d rather have you think so than almost anyone,” he replied with a slight smile.

“But you’re not very deep,” she continued, smiling back at him.

“That’s no news,” he returned.

“I’ve been thinking of Lucy night and day lately. It’s up to you to straighten this thing out, Jim. I’ve tried and I can’t.”

Jim stared at the passing vehicles for several moments before he spoke.

“I know what you mean, Miss Storms. It’s no go. I’ve tried too, and only balled things all up.” He looked straight at her an instant, then glanced away once more, coloring painfully.

“But I’m helpless, Jim.”

“So am I.”

“Just wait a second.” Miss Storms touched his sleeve with her gloved fingers. “It isn’t just that Lucy’s mother thinks I’ve aided and abetted Ellen Low in stealing her husband. The trouble is that I’m not a man.” Jim’s smile was wry.

“Being a man wouldn’t help you any, Miss Storms.” He fumbled a tassel on the window curtain at his side. “I’ve tried to help Lucy all I could--and John,” he added.

Miss Storms scrutinized him with kindly eyes. He grew red to his hair.

“You poor boy!” she said at length, squeezing his hand. “Do you know, I’m inclined to fall in love with you myself.”

“Miss Storms,” he stammered, “that is--I’m afraid you don’t----”

“I’m afraid I do.” She contradicted him affectionately, releasing him and turning to the window. “Do you want to smoke?” she resumed abruptly.

“I’m afraid I’ll contaminate your cushions and curtains,” he objected.

“I wish they never had anything worse than you and your pipe around them!” Her expression was whimsical.

Jim lit his pipe.

“You’re a bad strategist, Jim,” she went on. “What is needed is attack and not defence. And Jim,” she laid her hand on his arm again, “we must save things _as they are_.”

“I understand.” He nodded. “You needn’t be afraid of me now.” He did not see the pity in her eyes at the “now.” “I don’t know what more I can do--either good or harm,” he supplemented.

“You can do everything--nearly.”

“I don’t see what you mean, Miss Storms.”

The ironical lines about her mouth deepened.

“Nobody sees,” she retorted almost impatiently. “That’s just it. Jim, I want you to memorize something. It may do you good.”

“What is it?” Jim looked puzzled.

Miss Storms held up one finger as though speaking to a child, and repeated gravely,

“Three blind mice,
See how they run.
They all run after the farmer’s wife.
She cut off their tails with a carving knife.
Did you ever see such fools in your life,
As three blind mice?”

Jim regarded her with a curious expression.

“That’s it,” she ended. “There’s nothing more that could be said.”

“We’re blind mice, all right,” Jim remarked without spirit, as if to himself.

“Poor boy!” Miss Storms spoke simply, almost with tenderness.

“She’s cut more than our tails off,” he growled huskily.

Miss Storms laid her hand softly on his.

“Miss Storms, if you’ll tell me what to do, I’ll do it.” His voice had a new note.

“A flank movement is the best, Jim. You must tell Lucy’s mother that you are going to Russellville and will see the Professor Walsh she is going to marry.”

“Oh!” There was understanding and admiration in Jim’s voice.

“You might mention Minnie Sheldon, too, and I’ll find out a few more from some old letters of Ellen Low’s I have. As I told you, I am helpless on account of Ellen and Arthur Merwent. Anything I might do would make things worse, but you are exactly in the position to succeed, Jim, and it will be easy.”

“I wonder where Lucy’s mother could go,” he mused.

“Ruthlessness appears to be a purely female trait.” Miss Storms’ half humorous air was full of bitterness.

“Oh, I’ll do it all right,” Jim promised. “Don’t you worry.”

“I won’t. I’ll call you up and give you the ammunition early in the morning.”

“We’re only two blocks from the office. Let me out here,” requested Jim, observing the buildings. “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, Jim.” They shook hands warmly.

* * * * *

John’s expression as he came into the house in the evening was worried and uncertain. He had left the office a little earlier than usual and reached Rosedene on a train which arrived there before the customary hour. He found Lucy, Dimmie, and Nannie sitting in the dining room. Lucy was reading aloud to Dimmie from a book of fairy tales and Mrs. Merwent was embroidering some underwear she had purchased on the previous day in consultation with Miss Powell. As John entered both women ceased their employment.

“Did you find everything all right at the office?” Lucy inquired with her usual simple manner.

“And are you all tired out, John?” added Nannie, smiling at him.

“No, I’m not tired,” he answered. “I was worried, that’s all.” As he spoke, he seated himself and lit a cigarette.

“Don’t worry, John,” Lucy said, drawing Dimmie to her side.

“No,” supplemented Mrs. Merwent. “There’s nothing to worry about, you poor boy.”

“Well, I’m glad if there isn’t.” He drew a long breath.

“I’m going down town again in the morning,” Nannie continued a moment later. “I just must get some more of this _lingérie_. It’s perfectly lovely. I’m going to show you _part_ of what I bought after dinner, John.” She laughed coquettishly.

“Anyone would think you were making a _trousseau_,” he commented jealously.

Nannie became suddenly serious.

“No, John. Not for the present, at least.”

There was a brief pause.

“I see Carter’s are selling out. You might add to your collection there, Mamma.” Lucy’s hands moved uneasily over Dimmie’s hair as she talked. As she turned toward the child the light falling on her face revealed its haggard outlines.

No one responded to her remark. She glanced up and caught John’s gaze fixed on her mother. He drew another sigh of evident relief.

“Do you know,” he began with something of his old expansive manner, pushing his hair back from his forehead, “I went to see the sculptures of that new Polish artist today at lunch time. He is the beginning of a new movement away from the Rodin worship of sex and emotion in art.”

“I don’t think they ought to allow some statues to be exhibited,” declared Nannie.

“It isn’t so much the moral or ethical objection that influences me,” John elaborated, “but, as I have said before, I don’t believe in the emotional and literary in art. The artist’s business is to create beauty, not to comment upon it. The public is intelligent enough to understand and appreciate real artistic achievement, without tricks to call their attention to it. You really ought to see the exhibit, Lucy.”

“I should like to,” said Lucy encouragingly.

“And I too,” seconded Nannie.

“Well, we’ll all go,” he proposed.

John talked much during dinner. When it was over and Lucy had accompanied Dimmie up to bed, Nannie turned to John sweetly.

“I’ll sing to you a little, John,” she suggested.

“Yes, Nannie,” he acquiesced. He stretched his arms over his head in a gesture of well being. “I feel in the mood for music tonight,” he added comfortably.

Nannie seated herself at the piano. Lighting a cigarette, John reclined in the Morris chair beside her.

* * * * *

The next day John whistled as he walked to the station.

“Good morning,” he called as he entered the office.

Jim was bending over a filing case and looked up with slight surprise.

“Good morning,” he said. “How is everybody at your house?”

“Oh, everybody’s well,” John answered, and, picking up his mail, began to whistle again. “Nannie is coming down town on the nine-thirty to do some shopping,” he observed as he was opening a letter a moment later.

Jim glanced up again, but was silent.

The two worked on without further conversation until about nine o’clock, when Jim rose. He reached for his hat. “When will you be back?” John inquired, tilting his chair toward the wall and opening his cigarette case.

“Not till after lunch,” Jim informed him. “I’m going several places, Layard’s among them.”

On reaching the street, however, Jim boarded a car from which he descended near the station that was the terminus for suburban trains from Rosedene, and when Mrs. Merwent emerged from the building he was one of the first pedestrians she encountered.

“How do you do, Mrs. Merwent?” He greeted her pleasantly, raising his hat as he spoke. “Aren’t you lost in this great city all alone?”

“Why, how do you do, Mr. Sprague?” cooed Nannie, shaking hands. “What a pleasant surprise! I thought you were at the office with John.”

“I was until a few minutes ago,” he explained, turning and walking beside her. “I’m out hunting for lath and cement now, but I’m glad to have run across you. I’ve been wanting to have a little talk with you for a long time.”

“Yes?” responded Nannie, scrutinizing him sharply from under her hat.

“Are you in a hurry now?” continued Jim. “Can’t I take you somewhere where we can sit down and have a soft drink?”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Sprague,” she declined, “but I _am_ rather in a hurry. I am anxious to get back to Lucy, you know. She depends so on me, and just now she’s not as well as usual.”

“Is she worse?” Jim half halted.

“No. Just about as usual.” Nannie took note of his perturbation. “I think the summers here are trying on her. I wish she could get away to the country for a couple of months.”

Jim quickened his pace.

“Well, of course I don’t want to detain you, Mrs. Merwent, but what I want to say won’t take more than ten minutes. Suppose we walk about in this little park a moment. It’s almost empty and we’ll be practically alone.” “Why, Mr. Sprague,” Nannie laughed nervously, “you almost frighten me. You talk like a--conspirator!”

“Don’t be afraid. I’m not dangerous. Here, let’s go this way.” And he led her from the street into a shady promenade.

Nannie, hesitating slightly at first, smiled and conversed about the weather, the occasional people they met in the course of their walk, and other irrelevant topics.

“Now what was it you wanted to tell me, Mr. Sprague?” she insisted suddenly as they neared the center of the park.

“Well, it is this, Mrs. Merwent. I am going to Russellville.”

Nannie, of course, could not change her artificial color, but her eyes and mouth opened their widest.

“On business?” she inquired uncomfortably.

“No. I am going to see Professor Walsh, and Mr. and Mrs. Sheldon, and Mr. Blair, and Judge Dodd, and several other friends of yours.”

Nannie sat down on a bench by the path. Jim seated himself on the same bench, a little distance from her. His brown eyes appeared yellowish in the sunlight as they looked straight into hers.

“Wha--what for?” she faltered in a voice she strove in vain to control.

“I want to talk to them.”

“Why, you don’t know any of them,” objected Mrs. Merwent perplexedly, her eyes falling before his.

“No. But I shall take letters of introduction from Professor Walsh’s cousin and others--letters which will enable me to know them and to have their confidence.”

“Professor Walsh’s cousin?” interrogated Nannie, her voice unsteady. “How did you know about Professor Walsh? I never heard of his cousin. Where does he live?”

“Here in Chicago.”

“Why, Professor Walsh never told me,” she confessed blankly. “He never even said he had a relative near here. Who is he?”

“He’s a lawyer. He was consultant to Mr. Merwent’s attorney in the divorce case against you. Professor Walsh himself gave Mr. Merwent the letter of introduction.” Nannie’s eyes opened even wider, if possible, at this.

“But what are you going for? What are you going to do?” she continued.

“I’m going to talk to your friends, Mrs. Merwent.”

“You’re trying to scare me.” Nannie made a feeble attempt at bravado. “What have I got to do with all this? You have nothing to tell my friends about me.”

“Yes, I have,” Jim asserted vigorously.

“What?” demanded Mrs. Merwent, her hands shaking as she played with her purse and parasol handle.

“I’m going to ask them, especially Professor Walsh, if they approve of what you are doing to your daughter’s home.”

Nannie gazed at him defiantly.

“What am I doing?”

“We probably shouldn’t agree as to that, Mrs. Merwent, but I shall give them my version of it.”

Nannie was visibly working up her anger.

“This is pure spite, Mr. Sprague. You have never liked me, because I saw through your weakness for Lucy, but you can’t frighten me. I suppose _she’s_ put you up to this! I can tell my story, too, and we’ll see who comes out of it best.”

“Now, you’re bluffing, Mrs. Merwent, and it won’t go. I am quite ready to believe that you would befoul your daughter’s name to try to clear yourself, but you know as well as I do that it wouldn’t save you. In any case your daughter could not possibly be in a worse situation than she is, and, if you want war, we’ll leave it to your friends and hers to decide. She hasn’t the slightest idea that I am doing this. I think that’s all I wanted to say, Mrs. Merwent.” And Jim rose.

“Have you written to Professor Walsh?” inquired Nannie weakly.

“Not yet,” Jim admitted grimly.

“It will be a fine thing for a _man_ to do, going around talking about a woman behind her back!”

“We won’t discuss that, Mrs. Merwent.”

“I don’t know--I don’t understand what you mean by all this, Mr. Sprague. One thing is sure, I shall tell Lucy and John about your threats.” “Do!” Jim dared, turning to go.

“Wait a minute, Mr. Sprague.” Nannie was staring about aimlessly in every direction. “I--I don’t know how long I shall stay in Chicago. Of course your insinuations are ridiculous, but I hate to hurt Lucy’s feelings, especially when she is already in such a nervous state, and make trouble between you and John. So far as I am concerned you could go to Russellville every day, but Lucy is very dear to me. She is my only child. If you made trouble for me remember it would involve her.” As Mrs. Merwent stared at Jim tears rose to her eyes but they did not altogether veil her look of hate and bafflement.

“I’m not going for a week, Mrs. Merwent,” Jim told her inexorably. Then, raising his hat, he left her sitting on the bench.

In the station, before taking the Rosedene train, Mrs. Merwent lingered for twenty minutes or more in the neighborhood of the telegraph office. Finally, with sudden decision she approached the desk and dispatched a message.

XXXI

When Nannie alighted from the train at Rosedene she walked up the street to the Winters’ house with a more rapid stride than was her custom, and showed signs of nervousness and impatience while she waited for Katy to open the front door.

Entering the hall, she almost ran up the stairs. In her room she removed her gloves but left her hat on, and, without even glancing in the mirror, sat down to write a letter.

The missive was quickly finished and addressed to Professor Walsh. She then took up her gloves once more and descended to the street, dropping the envelope in the nearest post box. After noting the time of the next mail collection, she returned slowly to the house.

Katy appeared somewhat surprised at being summoned to the door by Mrs. Merwent a second time. Nannie made no remark.

On reaching her room she now removed hat and gloves and carefully touched up her rouge, washed her hands, and repolished her nails. Making her way to the dining room she encountered Lucy.

“You’re back early, Mamma,” Lucy commented when she saw Nannie. “Did you get the underwear you wanted?”

“No,” sighed her mother sadly. “It was all gone when I got to the store, so I came right back.” She stared at Lucy’s hair, which was arranged with more care than usual, and at the white organdie dress which was only donned occasionally. “You must be expecting Mr. Sprague out tonight, Lucy,” she gibed, viciously. “Well, don’t accuse _me_ of being the only one weak enough to care about my looks.”

“I don’t, Mamma.” There was a barely perceptible tremor in Lucy’s voice, but her manner was as calm and unswerving as ever. Mrs. Merwent walked to the window and stood gazing at the gnarled elm tree and Dimmie’s dangling swing. She passed her hand over her forehead several times and tapped her foot uneasily on the floor.

“Don’t you feel well?” Lucy inquired at last.

Nannie turned and her eyes were full of tears.

“Oh, Lucy,” she cried piteously, “you haven’t meant all the terrible things you’ve said, have you? We’ve got nobody in the world but each other, and--it hurts me so for there to be any kind of hard feelings!”

Lucy hesitated only an instant.

“I don’t think there are any hard feelings, Mamma,” she replied. Her voice was low. Her eyes rested on Dimmie, who was looking at a picture book as he lay stretched on his stomach on the floor beside her.

Nannie came over and knelt by her daughter.

“Kiss me, Lucy! Oh, Lucy, I couldn’t bear to go away so misjudged and----” Mrs. Merwent broke off her speech with a half sob.

Dimmie, laying aside his book, sat up and regarded the two with interest.

“You aren’t going away, Mamma,” Lucy said, trying to make her tone matter of fact, and at the same time submitting to her mother’s kiss. Her breast heaved and two vivid spots of color tinged her cheeks.

“Oh, Lucy, you don’t _want_ me to go! Say you don’t want me to go!” Nannie implored.

“Why, no-o, Mamma,” Lucy answered reluctantly, moistening her lips. “I thought that was all settled,” she added. “I didn’t know that----” She stopped speaking and regarded her mother with eager surprise.

Nannie rose to her feet.

“I have made up my mind to go. Of course I’m glad you’ll miss me, and I shall leave without any hard feelings. But I’ve been so misunderstood, and now that I----” She clasped and unclasped her hands.

“But where can you go? You can’t go back to Cousin Minnie.” Lucy’s tone was strange. She caressed Dimmie’s hair with trembling fingers and avoided her mother’s glance. “No, Lucy. I certainly couldn’t accept Minnie Sheldon’s charity again, after the way she has treated me.”

Lucy stood up too. Her eyes were very bright. Involuntarily she put one hand on her bosom. Nannie watched her.

“Oh, Lucy, I want to be loved! I want to be loved!” Nannie protested suddenly, dissolving into tears again.

Placing one arm about her mother’s shoulders, Lucy’s eyes sought Dimmie across Nannie’s bent head.

“So do I,” she murmured fervently, almost as if to herself.

“What makes you look so nice?” Dimmie asked Lucy suddenly.

Mrs. Merwent lifted her head.

“_You’re_ not glad I’m going away! Oh, Jimmie, you don’t want Nannie to go, do you?”

He jumped up and ran to her.

“When Nannie goes away on the cars, do you want to go with her? I’ve got some more chocolate drops upstairs,” she whispered.

“You bet I would!” he replied enthusiastically. “Where are they?”

“Don’t give him candy just before meals, Mamma,” Lucy requested gently.

“Oh, it won’t hurt this time. I’m going upstairs and I’ll get them.”

“I’m so afraid it’ll make him sick,” remonstrated Lucy. “Here, Son, wait till after dinner. Don’t eat them now. Be a good boy.”

“No,” returned Dimmie rebelliously, backing away from his mother. “I want ’em now. Please get ’em, Nannie.”

“We must mind Mamma or she’ll be angry. Because I’m going away, you know, Jimmie. Wait a minute, dear. Dinner’ll soon be ready, and I’ll take you on the train with me if you’re a good boy.”

Dimmie compromised without further parley.

When John arrived Lucy greeted him with suppressed excitement, but he seemed to observe nothing unusual. Dinner was served. Nannie entered the dining room smiling mournfully, and placed a rose at his plate.

“Did you get your shopping done?” he queried. “No,” she responded. “I didn’t get what I wanted and came back early.”

After a few moment’s silence John laid down his knife and fork.

“What’s the matter, Nannie? You’re not eating anything,” he commented.

“Mamma ain’t eatin’ nothin’ neither,” observed Dimmie.

“Yes, I am.” Lucy hastily took up her knife and fork.

“Why, I’m eating as much as usual, John.” Nannie resumed her meal. “You know I never eat very heartily. Did you have a hard day at the office?”

“No, indeed,” John declared. “I’m feeling fine. When shall we go and see the sculptures?”

Mrs. Merwent was neglecting her food again, and seemed not to hear. She wiped her eyes furtively.

“Why don’t you answer, Nannie?” he insisted reproachfully. “I asked you when you wanted to go and see the sculptures. And you aren’t eating again. What’s the matter? Are you dreaming?”

“No, John,” she sighed, “I’m not dreaming. What was it you said?”

John glanced from Nannie to Lucy and frowned.

“When do you want to go and see the sculptures I spoke of?” he repeated with less enthusiasm.

“Why--I don’t know. Let’s see---- When had you rather go, Lucy?”

“Any day that is convenient for John.”

“Well, let’s see----” Nannie regarded her plate abstractedly.

“Would day after tomorrow do?” suggested John, still covertly scrutinizing the two women.

“Why, yes--let’s see--day after tomorrow----” Mrs. Merwent’s eyes and voice trailed off into space again.

“I’ll declare, Nannie,” remarked John with some irritation, “you act as though you were a thousand miles away. Are you worried about anything?”

“No-o. That is--nothing in particular,” she amended.

“Well, then, shall we settle on day after tomorrow?”

“Why, yes, day after tomorrow will suit me.”

“Well, then, you two come down to the office after lunch and we’ll go.” John took up his fork again.

The door bell rang and Katy came from the hall with a telegram in her hand. Nannie reached for it, but John, unaware of her motion, took the envelope from the servant. He read the address and passed it across the table.

“It’s for you, Nannie.”

“Thank you.” She dropped the envelope in her plate and picked it up again.

“Why don’t you read it?”

“I don’t like telegrams!” interjected Lucy. “I’m afraid of them. Maybe something’s the matter with Cousin Minnie.”

“Nonsense!” ejaculated John. “It’s probably something very simple. Read it and see. Where is it from?”

“It’s from R-Russellville,” Nannie stammered, opening it with uncertain movements and tearing the message half across in the process.

“What does it say? Is anybody sick?” Lucy queried.

“Who is it from?” insisted John.

“It’s--it’s from--it’s from Professor Walsh,” Mrs. Merwent informed them unsteadily, reading the telegram.

“What’s the matter with _him_?” sneered John.

“Why, he--you know he--his interest in me----” Nannie began with a changed air of mingled relief and importance.

“Does he have to send telegrams to tell you about it?” demanded John contemptuously. “Can’t he wait for the mails? He’s gotten along with letters pretty well, so far!”

Lucy was observing her mother strangely.

“He’s been trying his best for weeks and weeks to get me to say when--when--to name--to decide----” Nannie hesitated, regarding John beseechingly.

“To name the day, eh!” snorted John, ignoring the look intended for him.

Lucy sat tense in her chair.

“Yes, John,” Nannie spoke almost apologetically, “that’s what he wants. He--he’s very persistent. He wants me to come to Russellville at once.”

“Humph! It’s a funny notion to get all of a sudden. He’s been patient enough until now.”

“John!” Mrs. Merwent’s voice quavered.

His glance encountered hers reluctantly.

Lucy was the personification of palpitating expectation. The color flamed in her cheeks and her eyes were like scintillating stars.

“When do you think you will go, Mamma?” she asked, taking Dimmie’s hand in hers and leaning forward as she spoke.

“Why, I don’t know. I----” Nannie began evasively.

John watched Lucy an instant. Becoming aware of his scrutiny, she turned her head and their glances met. John’s lip curled.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” he exclaimed, throwing down his napkin and pushing his chair back from the table.

Lucy said nothing, but the color left her face. Her grip on Dimmie’s hand tightened. John rose.

“Of all the contemptible scheming and plotting! If you were determined to insult your mother why did you have to do it behind my back? If we have to fight, let us at least be decent about it, and fight in the open!” John’s tone was scathing and with each word his voice reached a higher pitch. He stared at Lucy scornfully.

“What do you mean, John?” she began in a bewildered manner. Then she exclaimed indignantly, “Oh, how dare you!” She rose. One hand still clutched Dimmie.

“Now, John, Lucy didn’t mean----” Nannie, showing her fright, spoke soothingly.

“Oh, I know, Nannie! ‘Lucy didn’t mean!’ She don’t want you out of the house, I suppose! She hasn’t been driving you and me half crazy ever since you came with her suspicions and jealousy!”

“Remember what I told you, John Winter!” Lucy warned, her eyes steely.

“Oh, I’ll remember!” John’s gaze was lowered for an instant. Then his ire came to the aid of his courage. “I’ll remember, but you can’t threaten me into forgetting my self respect!” he declared defiantly.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. The news that Mamma was going was as much a surprise to me as it was to you.”

“John----” Nannie went no further.

“Oh, I know you didn’t have anything to do with the telegram, but that doesn’t alter what I say.” He glared at Lucy. “I saw how you were looking at Nannie, as if you could hardly wait for the moment to come when you could get her out of the house!”

“Now, John, surely when _I’m_ willing to forgive Lucy----” Nannie’s air was soft and uncertain.

“Come, Dimmie!” Lucy almost jerked the whimpering child from his chair, and, holding his hand, led him into the kitchen.

She left her own yard by the gate which adjoined Dr. Hamilton’s premises.

“Come right in, Mrs. Winter,” Mrs. Hamilton’s maid-of-all work greeted them at the back door. “Mrs. Hamilton is in the dining room.” And the girl led Lucy through the kitchen.

“May I come in?” petitioned Lucy in an unsteady voice at the threshold of the dining room.

“Dear me, yes,” Mrs. Hamilton said encouragingly.

She was rocking Stella to sleep and did not rise but held out her hand. Lucy seized it.

“I just wanted to sit with you a little while, Mrs. Hamilton.”

“I’m so glad you came.” Mrs. Hamilton reached her unoccupied arm around Stella and patted Lucy’s hand. “Draw up the other rocking chair. The Doctor is out on another maternity case and I’m all alone again. I was thinking about you. How is your mother?”

Without answering, Lucy placed a rocking chair near Mrs. Hamilton and took Dimmie into her lap.

* * * * *

As soon as she and John were alone, Mrs. Merwent, who had risen also during the altercation between John and Lucy, reseated herself at the table in silence and wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.

“Won’t you sit down, John?” she urged compassionately.

Without speaking, he complied. He lighted another cigarette and, when Katy entered, asked for a second cup of coffee.

“Is Mrs. Winter in the kitchen?” Nannie inquired of the negress. “No, Miss Nannie. She done went out de back way. I ’specs she’s over to Mis’ Hamilton’s.”

“Oh, John, if there was anything else I could do I wouldn’t need to leave you,” faltered Nannie sadly after Katy had returned to the kitchen. “I was driven to this because Lucy has made no other course possible!”

“Driven to it!” echoed John savagely. “Lucy’s got nothing to say about it! What did you say to make that fellow send you such a telegram?”

“Nothing, John.” Nannie gazed at him with swimming eyes. He rumpled his hair viciously. “You dear boy,” she murmured with tears in her voice.

John look at her sceptically. His lip quivered slightly.

“Really, didn’t you fix this thing up, Nannie?” he asked with a wounded, distrustful air. “I never believed you’d lead me on into thinking things were getting better while you were planning to----” He could say no more. He crumpled his napkin into a ball and turned his face away, placing one hand to his eyes.

“John!” Nannie reproached, “do you suppose it’s been easy for me to seem lighthearted when I realized that I must give up--so much--that which means so much to me?”

“Then why not cut it out? You must cut it out! It’s absurd! It’s ridiculous! I won’t believe it. Why only this morning---- I don’t see how you can torture me like this, Nannie. You know you’ve come here to stay with us always. Why you’re a part of my home--part of my life, Nannie! Do you think I’m going to submit to all this tamely, to please Lucy! She’ll find out I’m not the weak, soft proposition she imagines. We’ll fight it out and see who’s running things in this house. Never you fear, Nannie, I won’t have you shoved out in the street. We’ll stand together and Lucy can rant and rave all she pleases. By God, I won’t have it! I’ll fight it to the last ditch! You’re her own mother, and if she doesn’t realize that she owes anything to you, _I_ do, and I’ll make her--make her stand up to her obligations whether she wants to or not. She’ll either accept my standards in this household or--if she’s going to have me she’s got to--I’m the master here whether she likes it or not! She evidently thought when she married me that I was a man without any backbone, exactly the opposite of Jim Sprague! I’ll show her! I’ll show her, I tell you! She shan’t tear you away from me, Nannie! She----” Almost inarticulate with angry emotion, he was striding up and down the room. He halted near Nannie’s chair, clenching and unclenching his fists as he stared away from her.

“John, dear,” Nannie’s voice was subdued, “we must talk reasonably.”

He snorted.

“I suppose that means bend to Lucy’s will!” he interjected bitterly.

Nannie was patient.

“No, dear. But don’t you see, John, what staying under the circumstances would mean? It puts me in a position--Lucy will stop at nothing, John. I think she’s capable of making us trouble with other people. I’ve--I’ve----” Here Nannie looked at the floor, embarrassed. “I’ve heard her go so far as to hint that she’d write to Cousin Minnie and Professor Walsh and--and old friends of the family like Judge Dodd and other people!”

“Professor Walsh!” John almost roared. “Let her write to Professor Walsh! I’ll go to Russellville and break his neck if necessary!”

“I know, John,” Nannie was fearful now, “but that wouldn’t save me, if slurs were cast on my--my reputation. I’m a misjudged woman, John, and after Arthur’s heartlessness has placed me in such a false position I can’t afford to risk such a thing.”

John regarded her undecidedly.

“Don’t you think I’m able to take care of you, Nannie?” he asked in a trembling voice.

“You would do all you could, John,” Nannie’s voice broke too, “but some things are beyond your power.”

“And do you mean to say that we have to submit to this because Lucy has the drop on us--that we can’t stop her from stooping to a lot of underhand lying?” he demanded, defiance in his tone.

“Remember she’s done none of this,” Nannie continued hastily. “It’s only,” again she looked away from him, “that certain things she’s said have made me afraid she might. Anyway--now it’s all arranged----”

Katy came in to clear the table and Nannie led the way into the living room.

“Don’t turn on the light,” John objected peevishly as she moved toward the electric switch.

They seated themselves in the dim radiance that filtered in from the hall.

“Nannie, you’ve got to give it up,” he repeated suddenly. “Put it off for a month or two anyway,” he begged unsteadily.

“If Lucy were different! Oh, John, if Lucy only would----” She took one of his hands in both of hers.

John’s fist clenched.

“I won’t forget what she’s done to us in a hurry!” he cried, glancing away from Nannie as he spoke. There was a cruel edge to his tone.

“It’s her abnormal state. Oh, you poor, dear boy! And to think you must bear all this and that I can’t do anything to ease your burden! I saw this coming, John, and I didn’t dare to tell you what she was forcing me to.” Nannie talked hurriedly. Half sobs broke in on her words.

John bent forward and leaned his brow against the hands that held his own. There was a long pause.

“How long ago did you decide this?” he demanded, looking up suddenly and pressing her fingers so that she winced.

“I’ve been trying to decide a long time, John. You don’t know all Lucy says to me when you’re away. I made up my mind definitely a--a few days ago. The telegram really has nothing to do with it, though I half expected from what Professor Walsh had written that he would send one.”

“When are you going?” John went on with painful intensity.

“It’s better for me to go right away, dear. I think I’ll leave day after tomorrow.”

John withdrew his hand and clasped his bowed head.

“Day after tomorrow!” he repeated, almost groaning. “The day we were to see the sculptures!” He laughed bitterly.

“Don’t, John,” begged Nannie. “You frighten me.”

Again the two became silent.

“If only _you_ weren’t the one to suffer!” Nannie exclaimed at last. “There is so much in our lives that is the same!”

“Yes, Nannie.”

“Your attitude toward Lucy is so noble, John! She doesn’t realize how much she has to be thankful for in your forbearance. Oh, John, to think that I should be in any way responsible, even innocently, for ruining your life!”

“You’re not responsible for what Lucy does, Nannie.”

“Oh, John, perhaps later----”

“Yes, yes!” he said eagerly.

“Maybe Lucy won’t always be so strange and exacting.”

Another pause.

“Nannie!” John’s voice was smothered and his breath came quickly. “If you’ll only cut out that talk about marrying! I can stand anything but that! I can’t stand it, Nannie. I can’t stand it! Say you’re not going to be married, Nannie?”

She did not answer at once.

“Not--right away, at least, dear boy,” she conceded finally, stroking his hair with her free hand.

John lifted his head and sighed deeply.

“Well, Nannie, if you really think it’s for the best, I suppose you’ll have to go, for the present, at least,” he resumed in a different tone.

“Don’t you want me to sing to you now, John?” Nannie offered, smiling bravely. “I’ll be too tired tomorrow night.”

“Yes, sing to me.”

Nannie sang _Ouvrez tes yeux_.

When Dr. Hamilton reached home he found Lucy and Dimmie still there. Dimmie was sound asleep. At Lucy’s request the Doctor picked the little boy up and carried him through the back way to the Winter home, delivering him into his mother’s arms at the kitchen door.

Lucy entered the house softly. As she mounted the stairs with her burden she saw John and Nannie in the living room. They did not observe her and she did not make her presence known.

It was late when they followed her. John found her door locked. All was dark and quiet. He slept in Jim’s room.

XXXII

“Shall I stay at home and help you with your trunks?” John offered at breakfast. He seemed depressed and addressed his remarks only to Nannie.

“No, thank you, John,” she replied. She gazed at him sympathetically. As a concession to unwontedly early rising she wore a beribboned négligée and a boudoir cap that was very becoming. “It’s so good and thoughtful of you to offer, but I can pack my things very well alone. But you mustn’t forget to send the express man out early this evening, for I don’t want any doubt about the baggage going on the same train with me.”

The two spoke as though they were alone. A perfect understanding seemed to exist between them. Lucy did not make a comment.

“Well, I’ll go to the office, then,” he decided, rising.

“It’s time for you to get ready, Dimmie.” Lucy turned to the little boy who sat beside her.

“Let him stay at home today, Lucy,” proposed Mrs. Merwent.

“Why, he oughtn’t to miss a day,” Lucy objected.

“Very well, if you dislike my seeing him my last day here!” Nannie assumed her most aggrieved air.

“Let him stay,” John ordered shortly.

“All right,” acquiesced Lucy without further discussion.

Nannie followed John to the front door where they held a whispered colloquy. When he had gone she went upstairs to begin her packing.

“Lucy!” she called after a few minutes.

Lucy came into the bedroom.

“Will you help me fold these things? I can’t do _everything_ alone.”

“Of course,” Lucy responded impassively, beginning to arrange the garments indicated. “Where do you want them put?”

“Well, wait a minute. Give me time to turn around. Not that way, Lucy! If you’re going to mix things all up, you’d better leave it for me to do.” Mrs. Merwent’s tone showed increasing irritation. “I might have known you couldn’t bear to do anything for me. I ought to have learned that much this summer. I’ve learned several other things.”

“Tell me how you want them done, and I’ll do my best to please you.” Lucy’s manner was still composed.

“Oh, don’t try to be a martyr at this late hour, Lucy!” snapped Nannie. “It’s too transparent. You’ve gotten rid of me and so you can afford to be saintly about it. Your Mr. Sprague was very clever but I understand perfectly well now why you went to consult him.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.” Lucy gazed blankly at her mother.

“Oh, no! Of course you haven’t! You know a great deal better than I do. You needn’t lie to me.”

Lucy seemed scarcely to heed.

“Let’s not quarrel the last day we are together,” she said in a low voice.

“No, ‘let’s not quarrel,’” mocked Nannie. “Let’s sit here and have you crow over me.”

“How am I crowing over you?” Lucy inquired almost listlessly.

“You know just as well as I do,” accused Mrs. Merwent. “If you think I haven’t seen through the scheme you and your Mr. Sprague have worked from the very beginning, you’re greatly mistaken. But let me tell you one thing, Lucy. You haven’t got as much to feel jubilant over as you think you have.”

“I’m sure I _don’t_ know what you mean,” reiterated Lucy.

“Well, you’ll see what I mean.”

“You’re right that I have nothing to feel jubilant over.” Lucy lifted spiritless eyes to her mother’s face. Nannie turned away.

The two women worked for some time in silence.

“Here, you pack these wash things in the bottom of the other trunk. I want to go over my laces and see if they’re all here,” instructed Nannie at length. “I suppose Mr. Sprague will begin to come out here twice a week to spend the night again, as soon as I’ve left.”

“Please don’t talk about Mr. Sprague,” requested Lucy dully, beginning the work her mother had ordered.

Nannie’s expression was virtuous.

“Yes! I should think you’d be ashamed to talk about him,” she remarked reprovingly.

“I’m not ashamed of anything,” Lucy’s voice gained involuntary vehemence, “but if you intend talking like this I’m going out of the house.”

“Oh, it’s not necessary, Lucy. It’s not necessary. _I’m_ going out of the house tomorrow, and if you want me to I can go today. I’ll go down town and stay at a hotel as soon as my baggage is ready.”

Lucy continued to pack in silence for several minutes.

“Not that way, Lucy. I showed you once how I wanted them folded,” complained Mrs. Merwent, interrupting the work with an impatient gesture.

“I’m doing the best I can.”

“That’s right! Lose your temper. One would think we might get along without a fuss for one day, especially as I’m going away for I don’t know how long.”

“I’m not quarreling.”

“No, but you’re so hard, Lucy. You don’t seem to have a grain of affection in your heart.”

“I don’t think I’m the only one who’s hard.”

“Why can’t you be like you used to before you left home? I do long for a little affection sometimes. You’re my only child, and I’ve tried so hard.” Nannie ceased her occupation in order to wipe her eyes. “But you are so cold and hostile! Every trifling thing is an excuse for getting angry and hurting me.” Sitting by the trunk, Mrs. Merwent began to weep. “Oh, Lucy, you are so _ungrateful_. I overlooked all the past and came here, and--and you’ve treated me so! I’m sure it’s not my fault. If I were at all to blame--if--why, the fact that your husband and even your own child feel kindly toward me shows I’m not. It’s only you. You are so cold and unnatural. I feel sometimes that I haven’t got any child. I’m all--alone--in the world----” and Nannie hid her face in her hands and sobbed aloud.

Lucy went on laying garments in the trunk.

“You’ve got Professor Walsh,” she said.

“Lucy!” Nannie’s tone was eloquent of reproach. “How _cruel_ of you! How cruel----!” The sobs were redoubled. “I don’t know--that I--would ever have--thought of marrying--again, if you had been--different,” she asserted brokenly.

“How different?”

“Oh, I know it’s no use, Lucy,” Nannie spoke reproachfully, drying her eyes. “You don’t know what a daughter could mean to a mother’s heart.”

“Yes, I do,” affirmed Lucy softly, pausing in her work.

“Well, I hope if you ever have one, she won’t misunderstand you as you have me. I know how much the sympathy of my own dear mother meant to _me_.”

Lucy began to lay garments in the trunk again.

“Is there anything else?” she asked after a moment.

“No, but wait a minute. Let’s make up. Let’s not separate with hard feelings like this.” Nannie left the pile of clothes she was sorting and came toward her daughter. “I can’t bear to have you hate me,” she explained, tears in her eyes again.

“I don’t hate you.”

“I’m glad.” Nannie bent over Lucy. “I shall go away now feeling different. I’m sure by the next time I visit you we will have come to understand each other better.”