CHAPTER VI
NEW FRIENDS AND OLD
'Twould be too bad to be true, my dear, And wonders never cease; Twould be too bad to be true, my dear, If all one's swans were geese!
Vivian's startled cry of welcome was heard by Susie, perched on thestairs with several eager youths gathered as close as might be abouther, and several pairs of hands helped her swift descent to greet herbrother.
Miss Orella, dropping Mr. Dykeman's arm, came flying from the ball-room.
"Oh, Morton! Morton! When did you come? Why didn't you let us know?Oh, my _dear_ boy!"
She haled him into their special parlor, took his hat away from him,pulled out the most comfortable chair.
"Have you had supper? And to think that we haven't a room for you! Butthere's to be one vacant--next week. I'll see that there is. Youshall have my room, dear boy. Oh, I am so glad to see you!"
Susie gave him a sisterly hug, while he kissed her, somewhat gingerly,on the cheek, and then she perched herself on the arm of a chair andgazed upon him with affectionate interest. Vivian gazed also, busilyengaged in fitting present facts to past memories.
Surely he had not looked just like that! The Morton of her girlhood'sdream had a clear complexion, a bright eye, a brave and gallantlook--the voice only had not changed.
But here was Morton in present fact, something taller, it seemed, anda good deal heavier, well dressed in a rather vivid way, and makingmerry over his aunt's devotion.
"Well, if it doesn't seem like old times to have Aunt 'Rella running'round like a hen with her head cut off, to wait on me." The similewas not unjust, though certainly ungracious, but his aunt was far toohappy to resent it.
"You sit right still!" she said. "I'll go and bring you some supper.You must be hungry."
"Now do sit down and hear to reason, Auntie!" he said, reaching out adetaining hand and pulling her into a seat beside him. "I'm not hungrya little bit; had a good feed on the diner. Never mind about theroom--I don't know how long I can stay--and I left my grip at theAllen House anyway. How well you're looking, Auntie! I declare I'dhardly have known you! And here's little Susie--a regular belle! AndVivian--don't suppose I dare call you Vivian now, Miss Lane?"
Vivian gave a little embarrassed laugh. If he had used her first nameshe would never have noticed it. Now that he asked her, she hardlyknew what answer to make, but presently said:
"Why, of course, I always call you Morton."
"Well, I'll come when you call me," he cheerfully replied, leaningforward, elbows on knees, and looking around the pretty room.
"How well you're fixed here. Guess it was a wise move, Aunt 'Rella.But I'd never have dreamed you'd do it. Your Dr. Bellair must havebeen a powerful promoter to get you all out here. I wouldn't havethought anybody in Bainville could move--but me. Why, there's Grandma,as I live!" and he made a low bow.
Mrs. Pettigrew, hearing of his arrival from the various would-bepartners of the two girls, had come to the door and stood thereregarding him with a non-committal expression. At this address shefrowned perceptibly.
"My name is Mrs. Pettigrew, young man. I've known you since you were ascallawag in short pants, but I'm no Grandma of yours."
"A thousand pardons! Please excuse me, Mrs. Pettigrew," he said withexaggerated politeness. "Won't you be seated?" And he set a chair forher with a flourish.
"Thanks, no," she said. "I'll go back," and went back forthwith,attended by Mr. Skee.
"One of these happy family reunions, ma'am?" he asked with approvinginterest. "If there's one thing I do admire, it's a happy surprise."
"'Tis some of a surprise," Mrs. Pettigrew admitted, and became ratherglum, in spite of Mr. Skee's undeniably entertaining conversation.
"Some sort of a fandango going on?" Morton asked after a few ratherstiff moments. "Don't let me interrupt! On with the dance! Let joy beunconfined! And if she must"--he looked at Vivian, and went onsomewhat lamely--"dance, why not dance with me? May I have thepleasure, Miss Lane?"
"Oh, no," cried Miss Orella, "we'd much rather be with you!"
"But I'd rather dance than talk, any time," said he, and crooked hiselbow to Vivian with an impressive bow.
Somewhat uncertain in her own mind, and unwilling to again disappointFordham Greer, who had already lost one dance and was visibly waitingfor her in the hall, the girl hesitated; but Susie said, "Go on, givehim part of one. I'll tell Mr. Greer." So Vivian took Morton'sproffered arm and returned to the floor.
She had never danced with him in the old days; no special memory washere to contrast with the present; yet something seemed vaguely wrong.He danced well, but more actively than she admired, and during therest of the evening devoted himself to the various ladies with an airof long usage.
She was glad when the dancing was over and he had finally departed forhis hotel, glad when Susie had at last ceased chattering and droppedreluctantly to sleep.
For a long time she lay awake trying to straighten out things in hermind and account to herself for the sense of vague confusion whichoppressed her.
Morton had come back! That was the prominent thing, of which sherepeatedly assured herself. How often she had looked forward to thatmoment, and felt in anticipation a vivid joy. She had thought of it ina hundred ways, always with pleasure, but never in this particularway--among so many strangers.
It must be that which confused her, she thought, for she was extremelysensitive to the attitude of those about her. She felt an unspokencriticism of Morton on the part of her new friends in the house, andresented it; yet in her own mind a faint comparison would obtrudeitself between his manners and those of Jimmie Saunders or Mr. Greer,for instance. The young Scotchman she had seen regarding Morton withan undisguised dislike, and this she inwardly resented, even whileherself disliking his bearing to his aunt--and to her grandmother.
It was all contradictory and unsatisfying, and she fell asleep sayingover to herself, "He has come back! He has come back!" and trying tofeel happy.
Aunt Orella was happy at any rate. She would not rest until herbeloved nephew was installed in the house, practically turning out Mr.Gibbs in order to accommodate him. Morton protested, talked ofbusiness and of having to go away at any time; and Mr. Gibbs, whostill "mealed" with them, secretly wished he would.
But Morton did not go away. It was a long time since he had been pettedand waited on, and he enjoyed it hugely, treating his aunt with aserio-comic affection that was sometimes funny, sometimes disagreeable.
At least Susie found it so. Her first surprise over, she fell back ona fund of sound common sense, strengthened by present experience, andfound a good deal to criticise in her returned brother. She was soyoung when he left, and he had teased her so unmercifully in thosedays, that her early memories of him were rather mixed in sentiment,and now he appeared, not as the unquestioned idol of a manless familyin a well-nigh manless town, but as one among many; and of those manyseveral were easily his superiors.
He was her brother, and she loved him, of course; but there were somany wanting to be "brothers" if not more, and they were so much morepolite! Morton petted, patronized and teased her, and she took it allin good part, as after the manner of brothers, but his demeanor withother people was not to her mind.
His adoring aunt, finding no fault whatever with this well-loved nephew,lavished upon him the affection of her unused motherhood, and he seemedto find it a patent joke, open to everyone, that she should be so fond.
To this and, indeed, to his general walk and conversation, Mrs.Pettigrew took great exception.
"Fine boy--Rella's nephew!" she said to Dr. Bellair late one nightwhen, seeing a light over her neighbor's transom, she dropped in for alittle chat. Conversation seemed easier for her here than in theatmosphere of Bainville.
"Fine boy--eh? Nice complexion!"
Dr. Bellair was reading a heavy-weight book by a heavier-weightspecialist. She laid it down, took off her eyeglasses, and rubbed them.
"Better not kiss him," she s
aid.
"I thought as much!" said Grandma. "I _thought_ as much! Huh!"
"Nice world, isn't it?" the doctor suggested genially.
"Nothing the matter with the world, that I know of," her visitoranswered.
"Nice people, then--how's that?"
"Nothing the matter with the people but foolishness--plainfoolishness. Good land! Shall we _never_ learn anything!"
"Not till it's too late apparently," the doctor gloomily agreed,turning slowly in her swivel chair. "That boy never was taughtanything to protect him. What did Rella know? Or for that matter, whatdo any boys' fathers and mothers know? Nothing, you'd think. If theydo, they won't teach it to their children."
"Time they did!" said the old lady decidedly. "High time they did!It's never too late to learn. I've learned a lot out of you and yourbooks, Jane Bellair. Interesting reading! I don't suppose you couldgive an absolute opinion now, could you?"
"No," said Dr. Bellair gravely, "no, I couldn't; not yet, anyway."
"Well, we've got to keep our eyes open," Mrs. Pettigrew concluded."When I think of that girl of mine----"
"Yes--or any girl," the doctor added.
"You look out for any girl--that's your business; I'll look out formine--if I can."
Mrs. Pettigrew's were not the only eyes to scrutinize Morton Elder.Through the peep-hole in the swing door to the kitchen, Jeanne Jeaunewatched him darkly with one hand on her lean chest.
She kept her watch on whatever went on in that dining-room, and on thetwo elderly waitresses whom she had helped Miss Elder to secure whenthe house filled up. They were rather painfully unattractive, butseemed likely to stay where no young and pretty damsel could becounted on for a year. Morton joked with perseverance about theirlooks, and those who were most devoted to Susie seemed to admire hiswit, while Vivian's special admirers found it pointless in theextreme.
"Your waitresses are the limit, Auntie," he said, "but the cook is allto the good. Is she a plain cook or a handsome one?"
"Handsome is as handsome does, young man," Mrs. Pettigrew pointedlyreplied. "Mrs. Jones is a first-class cook and her looks are neitherhere nor there."
"You fill me with curiosity," he replied. "I must go out and make heracquaintance. I always get solid with the cook; it's worth while."
The face at the peep-hole darkened and turned away with a bitter anddetermined look, and Master Theophile was hastened at his work till hisdim intelligence wondered, and then blessed with an unexpected cookie.
Vivian, Morton watched and followed assiduously. She was much changedfrom what he remembered--the young, frightened, slender girl he hadkissed under the lilac bushes, a kiss long since forgotten among many.
Perhaps the very number of his subsequent acquaintances during avaried and not markedly successful career in the newer states madethis type of New England womanhood more marked. Girls he had known ofvarious sorts, women old and young had been kind to him, for Mortonhad the rough good looks and fluent manner which easily find their wayto the good will of many female hearts; but this gentle refinement ofmanner and delicate beauty had a novel charm for him.
Sitting by his aunt at meals he studied Vivian opposite, he watchedher in their few quiet evenings together, under the soft lamplight onMiss Elder's beloved "center table;" and studied her continually inthe stimulating presence of many equally devoted men.
All that was best in him was stirred by her quiet grace, her reservedfriendliness; and the spur of rivalry was by no means wanting. Boththe girls had their full share of masculine attention in that busyhouseful, each having her own particular devotees, and the position ofcomforter to the others.
Morton became openly devoted to Vivian, and followed her about, seekingevery occasion to be alone with her, a thing difficult to accomplish.
"I don't ever get a chance to see anything of you," he said. "Come on,take a walk with me--won't you?"
"You can see me all day, practically," she answered. "It seems to methat I never saw a man with so little to do."
"Now that's too bad, Vivian! Just because a fellow's out of a job fora while! It isn't the first time, either; in my business you worklike--like anything, part of the time, and then get laid off. I workhard enough when I'm at it."
"Do you like it--that kind of work?" the girl asked.
They were sitting in the family parlor, but the big hall was as usualwell occupied, and some one or more of the boarders always eager to comein. Miss Elder at this moment had departed for special conference withher cook, and Susie was at the theatre with Jimmie Saunders. FordhamGreer had asked Vivian, as had Morton also, but she declined both on theground that she didn't like that kind of play. Mrs. Pettigrew, beingjoked too persistently about her fondness for "long whist," had retiredto her room--but then, her room was divided from the parlor only by athin partition and a door with a most inefficacious latch.
"Come over here by the fire," said Morton, "and I'll tell you allabout it."
He seated himself on a sofa, comfortably adjacent to the fireplace,but Vivian preferred a low rocker.
"I suppose you mean travelling--and selling goods?" he pursued. "Yes,I like it. There's lots of change--and you meet people. I'd hate to beshut up in an office."
"But do you--get anywhere with it? Is there any outlook for you?Anything worth doing?"
"There's a good bit of money to be made, if you mean that; that is, ifa fellow's a good salesman. I'm no slouch myself, when I feel in themood. But it's easy come, easy go, you see. And it's uncertain. Thereare times like this, with nothing doing."
"I didn't mean money, altogether," said the girl meditatively, "butthe work itself; I don't see any future for you."
Morton was pleased with her interest. Reaching between his knees heseized the edge of the small sofa and dragged it a little nearer,quite unconscious that the act was distasteful to her.
Though twenty-five years old, Vivian was extremely young in many ways,and her introspection had spent itself in tending the inner shrine ofhis early image. That ikon was now jarringly displaced by thisinsistent presence, and she could not satisfy herself yet as towhether the change pleased or displeased her. Again and again hismanner antagonized her, but his visible devotion carried an undeniableappeal, and his voice stirred the deep well of emotion in her heart.
"Look here, Vivian," he said, "you've no idea how it goes through meto have you speak like that! You see I've been knocking around herefor all this time, and I haven't had a soul to take an interest. Afellow needs the society of good women--like you."
It is an old appeal, and always reaches the mark. To any women it is acompliment, and to a young girl, doubly alluring. As she looked athim, the very things she most disliked, his too free manner, hiscoarsened complexion, a certain look about the eyes, suddenly assumeda new interest as proofs of his loneliness and lack of rightcompanionship. What Mrs. St. Cloud had told her of the ennoblinginfluence of a true woman, flashed upon her mind.
"You see, I had no mother," he said simply--"and Aunt Rella spoiledme--." He looked now like the boy she used to know.
"Of course I ought to have behaved better," he admitted. "I wasungrateful--I can see it now. But it did seem to me I couldn't standthat town a day longer!"
She could sympathize with this feeling and showed it.
"Then when a fellow knocks around as I have so long, he gets to wherehe doesn't care a hang for anything. Seeing you again makes a lot ofdifference, Vivian. I think, perhaps--I could take a new start."
"Oh do! Do!" she said eagerly. "You're young enough, Morton. You cando anything if you'll make up your mind to it."
"And you'll help me?"
"Of course I'll help you--if I can," said she.
A feeling of sincere remorse for wasted opportunities rose in theyoung man's mind; also, in the presence of this pure-eyed girl, asense of shame for his previous habits. He walked to the window, hishands in his pockets, and looked out blankly for a moment.
"A fellow does a lot of things he shouldn't," he began, cle
aring histhroat; she met him more than half way with the overflowing generosityof youth and ignorance:
"Never mind what you've done, Morton--you're going to do differentlynow! Susie'll be so proud of you--and Aunt Orella!"
"And you?" He turned upon her suddenly.
"Oh--I? Of course! I shall be very proud of my old friend."
She met his eyes bravely, with a lovely look of hope and courage, andagain his heart smote him.
"I hope you will," he said and straightened his broad shouldersmanfully.
"Morton Elder!" cried his aunt, bustling in with deep concern in hervoice, "What's this I hear about you're having a sore throat?"
"Nothing, I hope," said he cheerfully.
"Now, Morton"--Vivian showed new solicitude--"you know you have got asore throat; Susie told me."
"Well, I wish she'd hold her tongue," he protested. "It's nothing atall--be all right in a jiffy. No, I won't take any of your fixings,Auntie."
"I want Dr. Bellair to look at it anyhow," said his aunt, anxiously."She'll know if it's diphtheritic or anything. She's coming in."
"She can just go out again," he said with real annoyance. "If there'sanything I've no use for it's a woman doctor!"
"Oh hush, hush!" cried Vivian, too late.
"Don't apologize," said Dr. Bellair from her doorway. "I'm not in theleast offended. Indeed, I had rather surmised that that was yourattitude; I didn't come in to prescribe, but to find Mrs. Pettigrew."
"Want me?" inquired the old lady from her doorway. "Who's got a sorethroat?"
"Morton has," Vivian explained, "and he won't let Aunt Rella--whywhere is she?"
Miss Elder had gone out as suddenly as she had entered.
"Camphor's good for sore throat," Mrs. Pettigrew volunteered. "Threeor four drops on a piece of sugar. Is it the swelled kind, or the kindthat smarts?"
"Oh--Halifax!" exclaimed Morton, disgustedly. "It isn't _any_ kind. Ihaven't a sore throat."
"Camphor's good for cold sores; you have one of them anyhow," the oldlady persisted, producing a little bottle and urging it upon Morton."Just keep it wet with camphor as often as you think of it, and it'llgo away."
Vivian looked on, interested and sympathetic, but Morton put his handto his lip and backed away.
"If you ladies don't stop trying to doctor me, I'll clear outto-morrow, so there!"
This appalling threat was fortunately unheard by his aunt, who poppedin again at this moment, dragging Dr. Hale with her. Dr. Bellairsmiled quietly to herself.
"I wouldn't tell him what I wanted him for, or he wouldn't have come,I'm sure--doctors are so funny," said Miss Elder, breathlessly, "buthere he is. Now, Dr. Hale, here's a foolish boy who won't listen toreason, and I'm real worried about him. I want you to look at histhroat."
Dr. Hale glanced briefly at Morton's angry face.
"The patient seems to be of age, Miss Elder; and, if you'll excuse me,does not seem to have authorized this call."
"My affectionate family are bound to have me an invalid," Mortonexplained. "I'm in imminent danger of hot baths, cold presses, mustardplasters, aconite, belladonna and quinine--and if I can once reach myhat--"
He sidled to the door and fled in mock terror.
"Thank you for your good intentions, Miss Elder," Dr. Hale remarkeddrily. "You can bring water to the horse, but you can't make him drinkit, you see."
"Now that that young man has gone we might have a game of whist," Mrs.Pettigrew suggested, looking not ill-pleased.
"For which you do not need me in the least," and Dr. Hale was about toleave, but Dr. Bellair stopped him.
"Don't be an everlasting Winter woodchuck, Dick! Sit down and play; dobe good. I've got to see old Mrs. Graham yet; she refuses to go tosleep without it--knowing I'm so near. By by."
Mrs. Pettigrew insisted on playing with Miss Elder, so Vivian had thequestionable pleasure of Dr. Hale as a partner. He was an expert, usedto frequent and scientific play, and by no means patient with thegirl's mistakes.
He made no protest at a lost trick, but explained briefly betweenhands what she should have remembered and how the cards lay, till shegrew quite discouraged.
Her game was but mediocre, played only to oblige; and she never couldsee why people cared so much about a mere pastime. Pride came to herrescue at last; the more he criticised, the more determined she grewto profit by all this advice; but her mind would wander now and thento Morton, to his young life so largely wasted, it appeared, and towhat hope might lie before him. Could she be the help and stimulus heseemed to think? How much did he mean by asking her to help him?
"Why waste a thirteenth trump on your partner's thirteenth card?" Dr.Hale was asking.
She flushed a deep rose color and lifted appealing eyes to him.
"Do forgive me; my mind was elsewhere."
"Will you not invite it to return?" he suggested drily.
He excused himself after a few games, and the girl at last was glad tohave him go. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts.
Mrs. Pettigrew, sitting unaccountably late at her front window,watched the light burn steadily in the small office at the oppositecorner. Presently she saw a familiar figure slip in there, and, aftera considerable stay, come out quietly, cross the street, and lethimself in at their door.
"Huh!" said Mrs. Pettigrew.