"Nothing. Except that I can't go to college after all. Papa can't
let me have the money."
Mrs. Harris settled herself on the faded cushions of her rocker.
"How much is it? Tell me about it, Vickie. Nobody's around."
Vickie told her what the conditions were, briefly and dryly, as if
she were talking to an enemy. Everyone was an enemy; all society
was against her. She told her grandmother the facts and then went
upstairs, refusing to be comforted.
Mrs. Harris saw her disappear through the kitchen door, and then
sat looking at the door, her face grave, her eyes stern and sad. A
poor factory-made piece of joiner's work seldom has to bear a look
of such intense, accusing sorrow; as if that flimsy pretence of
"grained" yellow pine were the door shut against all young
aspiration.
X
Mrs. Harris had decided to speak to Mr. Templeton, but
opportunities for seeing him alone were not frequent. She watched
out of the kitchen window, and when she next saw him go into the
barn to fork down hay for his horse, she threw an apron over her
head and followed him. She waylaid him as he came down from the
hayloft.
"Hillary, I want to see you about Vickie. I was wondering if you
could lay hand on any of the money you got for the sale of my house
back home."
Mr. Templeton was nervous. He began brushing his trousers with a
little whisk-broom he kept there, hanging on a nail.
"Why, no'm, Mrs. Harris. I couldn't just conveniently call in any
of it right now. You know we had to use part of it to get moved up
here from the mines."
"I know. But I thought if there was any left you could get at, we
could let Vickie have it. A body'd like to help the child."
"I'd like to, powerful well, Mrs. Harris. I would, indeedy. But
I'm afraid I can't manage it right now. The fellers I've loaned to
can't pay up this year. Maybe next year--" He was like a little
boy trying to escape a scolding, though he had never had a nagging
word from Mrs. Harris.
She looked downcast, but said nothing.
"It's all right, Mrs. Harris," he took on his brisk business tone
and hung up the brush. "The money's perfectly safe. It's well
invested."
Invested; that was a word men always held over women, Mrs. Harris
thought, and it always meant they could have none of their own
money. She sighed deeply.
"Well, if that's the way it is--" She turned away and went back to
the house on her flat heelless slippers, just in time; Victoria was
at that moment coming out to the kitchen with Hughie.
"Ma," she said, "can the little boy play out here, while I go down
town?"
XI
For the next few days Mrs. Harris was very sombre, and she was not
well. Several times in the kitchen she was seized with what she
called giddy spells, and Mandy had to help her to a chair and give
her a little brandy.
"Don't you say nothin', Mandy," she warned the girl. But Mandy
knew enough for that.
Mrs. Harris scarcely noticed how her strength was failing, because
she had so much on her mind. She was very proud, and she wanted to
do something that was hard for her to do. The difficulty was to
catch Mrs. Rosen alone.
On the afternoon when Victoria went to her weekly euchre, the old
lady beckoned Mandy and told her to run across the alley and fetch
Mrs. Rosen for a minute.
Mrs. Rosen was packing her trunk, but she came at once.
Grandmother awaited her in her chair in the play-room.
"I take it very kindly of you to come, Mrs. Rosen. I'm afraid it's
warm in here. Won't you have a fan?" She extended the palm leaf
she was holding.
"Keep it yourself, Grandma. You are not looking very well. Do you
feel badly, Grandma Harris?" She took the old lady's hand and
looked at her anxiously.
"Oh, no, ma'am! I'm as well as usual. The heat wears on me a
little, maybe. Have you seen Vickie lately, Mrs. Rosen?"
"Vickie? No. She hasn't run in for several days. These young
people are full of their own affairs, you know."
"I expect she's backward about seeing you, now that she's so
discouraged."
"Discouraged? Why, didn't the child get her scholarship after
all?"
"Yes'm, she did. But they write her she has to bring more money to
help her out; three hundred dollars. Mr. Templeton can't raise it
just now. We had so much sickness in that mountain town before we
moved up here, he got behind. Pore Vickie's downhearted."
"Oh, that is too bad! I expect you've been fretting over it, and
that is why you don't look like yourself. Now what can we do about
it?"
Mrs. Harris sighed and shook her head. "Vickie's trying to muster
courage to go around to her father's friends and borrow from one
and another. But we ain't been here long,--it ain't like we had
old friends here. I hate to have the child do it."
Mrs. Rosen looked perplexed. "I'm sure Mr. Rosen would help her.
He takes a great interest in Vickie."
"I thought maybe he could see his way to. That's why I sent Mandy
to fetch you."
"That was right, Grandma. Now let me think." Mrs. Rosen put up
her plump red-brown hand and leaned her chin upon it. "Day after
tomorrow I am going to run on to Chicago for my niece's wedding."
She saw her old friend's face fall. "Oh, I shan't be gone long;
ten days, perhaps. I will speak to Mr. Rosen tonight, and if
Vickie goes to him after I am off his hands, I'm sure he will help
her."
Mrs. Harris looked up at her with solemn gratitude. "Vickie ain't
the kind of girl would forget anything like that, Mrs. Rosen. Nor
I wouldn't forget it."
Mrs. Rosen patted her arm. "Grandma Harris," she exclaimed, "I
will just ask Mr. Rosen to do it for you! You know I care more
about the old folks than the young. If I take this worry off your
mind, I shall go away to the wedding with a light heart. Now
dismiss it. I am sure Mr. Rosen can arrange this himself for you,
and Vickie won't have to go about to these people here, and our
gossipy neighbours will never be the wiser." Mrs. Rosen poured
this out in her quick, authoritative tone, converting her th's into
d's, as she did when she was excited.
Mrs. Harris's red-brown eyes slowly filled with tears,--Mrs. Rosen
had never seen that happen before. But she simply said, with quiet
dignity: "Thank you, ma'am. I wouldn't have turned to nobody
else."
"That means I am an old friend already, doesn't it, Grandma? And
that's what I want to be. I am very jealous where Grandma Harris
is concerned!" She lightly kissed the back of the purple-veined
hand she had been holding, and ran home to her packing. Grandma
sat looking down at her hand. How easy it was for these foreigners
to say what they felt!
XII
Mrs. Harris knew she was failing. She was glad to be able to
conceal
it from Mrs. Rosen when that kind neighbour dashed in to
kiss her good-bye on the morning of her departure for Chicago.
Mrs. Templeton was, of course, present, and secrets could not be
discussed. Mrs. Rosen, in her stiff little brown travelling-hat,
her hands tightly gloved in brown kid, could only wink and nod to
Grandmother to tell her all was well. Then she went out and
climbed into the "hack" bound for the depot, which had stopped for
a moment at the Templetons' gate.
Mrs. Harris was thankful that her excitable friend hadn't noticed
anything unusual about her looks, and, above all, that she had made
no comment. She got through the day, and that evening, thank
goodness, Mr. Templeton took his wife to hear a company of
strolling players sing The Chimes of Normandy at the Opera House.
He loved music, and just now he was very eager to distract and
amuse Victoria. Grandma sent the twins out to play and went to bed
early.
Next morning, when she joined Mandy in the kitchen, Mandy noticed
something wrong.
"You set right down, Miz' Harris, an' let me git you some whisky.
Deed, ma'am, you look awful porely. You ought to tell Miss
Victoria an' let her send for the doctor."
"No, Mandy, I don't want no doctor. I've seen more sickness than
ever he has. Doctors can't do no more than linger you out, an'
I've always prayed I wouldn't last to be a burden. You git me some
whisky in hot water, and pour it on a piece of toast. I feel real
empty."
That afternoon when Mrs. Harris was taking her rest, for once she
lay down upon her lounge. Vickie came in, tense and excited, and
stopped for a moment.
"It's all right, Grandma. Mr. Rosen is going to lend me the money.
I won't have to go to anybody else. He won't ask Father to endorse
my note, either. He'll just take my name." Vickie rather shouted
this news at Mrs. Harris, as if the old lady were deaf, or slow of
understanding. She didn't thank her; she didn't know her
grandmother was in any way responsible for Mr. Rosen's offer,
though at the close of their interview he had said: "We won't
speak of our arrangement to anyone but your father. And I want you
to mention it to the old lady Harris. I know she has been worrying
about you."
Having brusquely announced her news, Vickie hurried away. There
was so much to do about getting ready, she didn't know where to
begin. She had no trunk and no clothes. Her winter coat, bought
two years ago, was so outgrown that she couldn't get into it. All
her shoes were run over at the heel and must go to the cobbler.
And she had only two weeks in which to do everything! She dashed
off.
Mrs. Harris sighed and closed her eyes happily. She thought with
modest pride that with people like the Rosens she had always "got
along nicely." It was only with the ill-bred and unclassified,
like this Mrs. Jackson next door, that she had disagreeable
experiences. Such folks, she told herself, had come out of nothing
and knew no better. She was afraid this inquisitive woman might
find her ailing and come prying round with unwelcome suggestions.
Mrs. Jackson did, indeed, call that very afternoon, with a
miserable contribution of veal-loaf as an excuse (all the
Templetons hated veal), but Mandy had been forewarned, and she was
resourceful. She met Mrs. Jackson at the kitchen door and blocked
the way.
"Sh-h-h, ma'am, Miz' Harris is asleep, havin' her nap. No'm, she
ain't porely, she's as usual. But Hughie had the colic last night
when Miss Victoria was at the show, an' kep' Miz' Harris awake."
Mrs. Jackson was loath to turn back. She had really come to find
out why Mrs. Rosen drove away in the depot hack yesterday morning.
Except at church socials, Mrs. Jackson did not meet people in Mrs.
Rosen's set.
The next day, when Mrs. Harris got up and sat on the edge of her
bed, her head began to swim, and she lay down again. Mandy peeped
into the play-room as soon as she came downstairs, and found the
old lady still in bed. She leaned over her and whispered:
"Ain't you feelin' well, Miz' Harris?"
"No, Mandy, I'm right porely," Mrs. Harris admitted.
"You stay where you air, ma'am. I'll git the breakfast fur the
chillun, an' take the other breakfast in fur Miss Victoria an' Mr.
Templeton." She hurried back to the kitchen, and Mrs. Harris went
to sleep.
Immediately after breakfast Vickie dashed off about her own
concerns, and the twins went to cut grass while the dew was still
on it. When Mandy was taking the other breakfast into the dining-
room, Mrs. Templeton came through the play-room.
"What's the matter, Ma? Are you sick?" she asked in an accusing
tone.
"No, Victoria, I ain't sick. I had a little giddy spell, and I
thought I'd lay still."
"You ought to be more careful what you eat, Ma. If you're going to
have another bilious spell, when everything is so upset anyhow, I
don't know what I'll do!" Victoria's voice broke. She hurried
back into her bedroom, feeling bitterly that there was no place in
that house to cry in, no spot where one could be alone, even with
misery; that the house and the people in it were choking her to
death.
Mrs. Harris sighed and closed her eyes. Things did seem to be
upset, though she didn't know just why. Mandy, however, had her
suspicions. While she waited on Mr. and Mrs. Templeton at
breakfast, narrowly observing their manner toward each other and
Victoria's swollen eyes and desperate expression, her suspicions
grew stronger.
Instead of going to his office, Mr. Templeton went to the barn and
ran out the buggy. Soon he brought out Cleveland, the black horse,
with his harness on. Mandy watched from the back window. After he
had hitched the horse to the buggy, he came into the kitchen to
wash his hands. While he dried them on the roller towel, he said
in his most business-like tone:
"I likely won't be back tonight, Mandy. I have to go out to my
farm, and I'll hardly get through my business there in time to come
home."
Then Mandy was sure. She had been through these times before, and
at such a crisis poor Mr. Templeton was always called away on
important business. When he had driven out through the alley and
up the street past Mrs. Rosen's, Mandy left her dishes and went in
to Mrs. Harris. She bent over and whispered low:
"Miz' Harris, I 'spect Miss Victoria's done found out she's goin'
to have another baby! It looks that way. She's gone back to bed."
Mrs. Harris lifted a warning finger. "Sh-h-h!"
"Oh yes'm, I won't say nothin'. I never do."
Mrs. Harris tried to face this possibility, but her mind didn't
seem strong enough--she dropped off into another doze.
All that morning Mrs. Templeton lay on her bed alone, the room
darkened and a handkerchief soaked in camphor tied round her
forehead. The twins had taken Ronald
off to watch them cut grass,
and Hughie played in the kitchen under Mandy's eye.
Now and then Victoria sat upright on the edge of the bed, beat her
hands together softly and looked desperately at the ceiling, then
about at those frail, confining walls. If only she could meet the
situation with violence, fight it, conquer it! But there was
nothing for it but stupid animal patience. She would have to go
through all that again, and nobody, not even Hillary, wanted
another baby,--poor as they were, and in this overcrowded house.
Anyhow, she told herself, she was ashamed to have another baby,
when she had a daughter old enough to go to college! She was sick
of it all; sick of dragging this chain of life that never let her
rest and periodically knotted and overpowered her; made her ill and
hideous for months, and then dropped another baby into her arms.
She had had babies enough; and there ought to be an end to such
apprehensions some time before you were old and ugly.
She wanted to run away, back to Tennessee, and lead a free, gay
life, as she had when she was first married. She could do a great
deal more with freedom than ever Vickie could. She was still
young, and she was still handsome; why must she be for ever shut up
in a little cluttered house with children and fresh babies and an
old woman and a stupid bound girl and a husband who wasn't very
successful? Life hadn't brought her what she expected when she
married Hillary Templeton; life hadn't used her right. She had
tried to keep up appearances, to dress well with very little to do
it on, to keep young for her husband and children. She had tried,
she had tried! Mrs. Templeton buried her face in the pillow and
smothered the sobs that shook the bed.
Hillary Templeton, on his drive out through the sage-brush, up into
the farming country that was irrigated from the North Platte, did
not feel altogether cheerful, though he whistled and sang to
himself on the way. He was sorry Victoria would have to go through
another time. It was awkward just now, too, when he was so short
of money. But he was naturally a cheerful man, modest in his
demands upon fortune, and easily diverted from unpleasant thoughts.
Before Cleveland had travelled half the eighteen miles to the farm,
his master was already looking forward to a visit with his tenants,
an old German couple who were fond of him because he never pushed
them in a hard year--so far, all the years had been hard--and he
sometimes brought them bananas and such delicacies from town.
Mrs. Heyse would open her best preserves for him, he knew, and kill
a chicken, and tonight he would have a clean bed in her spare room.
She always put a vase of flowers in his room when he stayed
overnight with them, and that pleased him very much. He felt like
a youth out there, and forgot all the bills he had somehow to meet,
and the loans he had made and couldn't collect. The Heyses kept
bees and raised turkeys, and had honeysuckle vines running over the
front porch. He loved all those things. Mr. Templeton touched
Cleveland with the whip, and as they sped along into the grass
country, sang softly:
"Old Jesse was a gem'man,
Way down in Tennessee."
XIII
Mandy had to manage the house herself that day, and she was not at
all sorry. There wasn't a great deal of variety in her life, and
she felt very important taking Mrs. Harris's place, giving the
children their dinner, and carrying a plate of milk toast to Mrs.
Templeton. She was worried about Mrs. Harris, however, and
remarked to the children at noon that she thought somebody ought to
"set" with their grandma. Vickie wasn't home for dinner. She had
her father's office to herself for the day and was making the most
of it, writing a long letter to Professor Chalmers. Mr. Rosen had