“Oh!” said Marigold, catching her breath and feeling more bewildered than ever. “Well, perhaps I will come in on my way home.”
She got away at once and hurried back to school, buying an apple and a cake of chocolate at a corner grocery and eating them on her way. Perhaps by afternoon her thoughts would have straightened out and she would know what she ought to do.
Back in school, she suddenly remembered about the telegram she had not sent. She must attend to that the first thing when school was out. And what should she say? Obviously not the message that Mother had told her to send, for by this time she was thoroughly determined that, come what might, party or no party, Mother should go to Washington in time for her sister’s birthday.
At last she succeeded in writing a message that pleased her.
MOTHER THINKS SHE CAN’T POSSIBLY GET AWAY NOW, BUT I AM TRYING TO PLAN FOR HER TO COME. WILL WIRE ANSWER LATER. LOVE, MARIGOLD.
She sent it off with satisfaction on her way home, and as she walked on toward the shop again she felt calmer now. She had done something, anyway. She had sent that telegram, and it was up to her to plan the rest and make it a success. Mother needed some dresses. It was ages since she had had a new dress. All of her things were tastefully made, of course, but it would be so nice to take her something that was all ready to put on, something she hadn’t slaved over herself. She ought to have at least two new dresses if she went on a journey, perhaps three. A nice suit to travel in, a pretty crepe for dress-up, a simple morning dress—perhaps her dark blue crepe would do for morning if she had fresh collars and cuffs.
By the time Marigold had reached the shop, it was her mother’s wardrobe she was interested in, not her own. She entered in a very businesslike way and told Madame what she wanted for her mother, and Madame smiled and brought out dresses, just the things that pleased Marigold’s beauty-loving soul. She could see her sweet, quiet mother arrayed in these. And suddenly it seemed to her far more desirable that her mother should be suitably dressed than that she should have an evening gown. Why, if she gave up spending a hundred and fifty dollars she could get all three of these dresses she liked so much for her mother and still have some left for other needs. Why should she have a grand party dress? She had always gotten along with very cheap little dresses and looked all right; everybody seemed to think so, anyway.
And while she hesitated, Madame spoke. “You like to take these up and let your maman to try them on? Or she, will she come down here?”
“I’m afraid she couldn’t. She—is a businesswoman.”
“I see. Then I send them up. Marco is driving out to deliver some dresses now. I could send them up within the hour, and you perhaps will return any in the morning that you do not keep?” She smiled. “And now, you will try on your own?”
Marigold gasped a little then. “Oh, I don’t know that I could afford—that is, if I take these for Mother. You see, she does not know yet. I want her to take a little trip. She is tired.”
“That is quite lovely of you, my dear. But I send these up, and you and your mother try them and see which you like. You can return what you do not wish to take. And now we see about this green dress. It was just made for you, my child. So simple! So ingenue. And only—” She lowered her voice to a whisper and named a price that almost took Marigold’s breath away, it was so reasonable. Why, even if she bought all five of these dresses she would be spending less than she would have paid for that one evening gown, which somehow in the light of this simple green silk now seemed too stately and sophisticated for her. And suddenly her young soul, which had been so tried all day, seemed to have reached a quiet place where there was a solid foundation under her feet.
She went home with a springing step and prepared supper so that it would be ready when her mother got home. She called up the bus station and got schedules and rates to Washington, and she had everything ready to convince her mother that she should go.
They had a great evening trying on dresses and making plans.
At first Mrs. Brooke was adamant. No, she could not think of going. No, she did not want to go, not the day of the party. She must be there to see her girl dressed in fine array.
But the mother was really relieved when she saw the green dress instead of the white one.
“It is much more fitting to you, dear, and I do like you to wear things that Christian people would consider decent. I cannot bear for you to go in for all the freaks of fashion, especially when they verge on indecency. You look so lovely in that green dress, and yet you look like my dear girl as well. I didn’t feel as if I quite knew you in that other one last night. I felt as if you were being drawn into a world where neither you nor I belong, and that if you went there, you and I were going to be terribly separated.”
“Well, but Mother, when one goes into the world occasionally, doesn’t one have to do, at least to a certain extent, as the world does?”
“You must answer that question to your own conscience, my child,” said her mother, with a troubled look. “I question whether a Christian has a right to go where he has to lower his standards.”
“Oh, Mother!” exclaimed Marigold wearily. And then the telephone abruptly interrupted.
It was Laurie. He couldn’t come over that evening as he had planned to take her skating again. His mother had made plans for him, some fool girl from Boston was coming and Mother expected him to take her out. It was a beastly bore, but he couldn’t get out of it. He might not be able to get over the next night, either. Mother had so many plans on that seemed to require his presence, but he would see her in a day or two.
As Marigold hung up the receiver, she was graver than her usual self. What omen of peril was there in her thoughts? Had Laurie been less eager about getting to her than before? Who was this girl from Boston? Was she staying for the party? Would there be all those days without Laurie perhaps? Would he have to divide his attentions between them? She had thought of that party in terms of being Laurie’s companion, and suddenly she knew she would not be, not all the time, anyway. He was the son of the house and would have to divide his attentions. And all at once she felt terribly alone and frightened at the thought of the party.
Her mother watched her anxiously as she took off the pretty green dress and hung it where last night the white one had hung.
“I’m glad you found it,” Mrs. Brooke said with relief in her voice. “It is so much better for you than the other one!”
“I don’t know, Mother,” said Marigold in a disheartened little voice. “I’m not sure it is the right thing for such a formal party. Madame said it was, of course, but then she wanted to sell it to me. I don’t feel as if it would be a moral support like the other.”
“My dear, if you were thinking to go out and conquer Laurie’s family on the strength of that expensive dress, you were making a very great mistake. You would have been like David in Saul’s armor.”
“Oh, Mother dear!” Marigold suddenly laughed out. “You surely don’t liken my going to a worldly party to anything so righteous as David going out to kill a giant, do you? Aren’t you getting your metaphors mixed? I though you didn’t quite approve of my going to this party.”
“Well I don’t, child, if you must know the truth. I think you are going into a world where you do not belong and never should. I think you are getting further and further away every day from the things you have been taught, and more and more you are forgetting God and your relation to Him.”
Marigold was silent. It seemed there was nothing for her to say in answer.
At last she looked up. “Well anyway, Mother, I may as well tell you what I’ve done. I telegraphed Aunt Marian you would be with her on her birthday. And now you’ve got to begin to get things in order, for I called up your supervisor at the library and told him I was worried about you, and wouldn’t it be possible for you to get away for a few days’ rest right away, and he said it would. He said he could spare you as well as not for a week, or even ten days if you wanted to stay so long, and
it wouldn’t affect your salary. He said you had sick leave that you had never taken, and he would be glad to let you go whatever day you wanted to start.”
“Oh, my dear!”
But there was dismay rather than joy in the mother’s eyes.
“Don’t you want to go, Mother?”
“Yes, oh, yes, I want to go, but not now. Not with that party so near. I couldn’t relax until that is over.”
“Why, how silly, Mother. Can’t you trust me? You don’t think I’m going to run away with anybody, do you, or get into trouble?”
“I trust you, dear child, perfectly, but I don’t trust—well—the world you are going into. I must be at home and get you ready and be there when you come back to look into your eyes. I could not be content without that. I have written your aunt. She will not expect me.”
A worn gray look settled down upon Mrs. Brooke’s face, and the daughter suddenly realized that she was tired out.
“There! Mother, we won’t talk another word about it tonight. You are very tired. In the morning you will see things differently. Now, I’m going to put you right to bed, and you’re not to think another thought about it at all tonight!”
Chapter 4
When Aunt Marian Bevan got Marigold’s telegram, she wondered and looked a bit disappointed. She wanted her sister to come very much indeed, but she also wanted to see her niece whom she hadn’t seen since she was an adorable little child of three. But when her sister’s letter came, she looked troubled and spent an hour in prayer. She was a great one to take everything to the Lord in prayer.
About six o’clock that night, she called up a number on the telephone and talked with a very dear nephew, the son of her dead husband’s brother, who from the time of his own parents’ deaths had been almost like a son to her.
“Ethan,” she said, “what are you doing this weekend? Don’t tell me you have plans. I want you.”
“If I had, dearest aunt, I’d cancel them for you,” said Ethan Bevan heartily. “But I haven’t a thing. What can I do for you? I was thinking of coming to call on you, for one thing, anyway. You have a birthday on the fifth, you know.”
“Oh, dear lad! Did you remember that? Well, I want more than a call. I want you to come and stay the weekend with me. I’m having a party.”
“Good!” came the cheery answer. “I’m with you. Your parties are always worthwhile. Who’s coming? Or is that a secret?”
“No, it’s not a secret, but the truth is I’m not sure who will be here. You see, Elinor and her husband have gone to Bermuda, and I’m alone except for my nurse and the servants. There’s just a little hope that my sister may be able to come. I’m not sure. Do you remember her?”
“Aunt Mary? I should say I did! She used to make maple taffy for me. That was very long ago, but I always put her in my list of beloveds, just next to you. I never saw her again after she was married, did I?”
“No, she lived here in the East, and of course you and I lived mostly out West. I’ve never told you, have I, how glad I am that you’ve come east now, too?”
“Well no, but I’ve hoped you were as glad as I am. I’ll tell you all about it when I get there. Is that all your party? That’s swell! I like parties where there aren’t any inharmonious elements. I shall just bask in the light of both your countenances.”
“You ridiculous boy! Remember you are talking to an old woman and that my sister is just another old woman. It’s not a very alluring party for a young man of your age. I had hoped that my niece, Aunt Mary’s daughter, could come with my sister, but she has another party to keep her at home, so I’m disappointed. Her name is Marigold Brooke. I wanted her to come so we could get acquainted with her, but she says she can’t.”
“Don’t worry! I’m just as satisfied. I’m fed up with girls. I just hate lipstick and red fingernails. There isn’t one of them as nice as you, Aunt Marian.”
“Well, but I’d hoped Marigold would turn out to be different,” said the aunt. “You know, she’s Aunt Mary’s daughter and would be brought up differently.”
“Perhaps,” said the young man suspiciously, “but I doubt it. That doesn’t always follow by any means these days. What a frilly name she has.”
“Yes, isn’t it pretty? I believe her father named her, partly for her mother whom he used to say was worth her weight in gold, or something like that—Mary-gold, you know—and partly from the color of her hair when she was little.”
“Well, Mary is good enough for me,” said the manly voice in a superior tone. “I’m just as pleased she’s not coming. When may I arrive?”
“Just as soon as you want to come. I’ll be glad to see you anytime; and, of course, if you’d like to bring someone with you—”
“No! I don’t want to bring anyone with me. I’m glad to get away from everything and have a little time alone with you, Aunt Marian. And besides, I have some work to do. Engineering problems. Mind if I bring it along? I really have been looking for a quiet place in which to work. Do you mind?”
“Not in the least. You may do just as you please while you are here. And if nobody else comes, well, I shan’t mind at all.”
Aunt Marian hung up the receiver and picked up her sister’s letter again, a little pang of disappointment still in her heart. How nice it would be to have Marigold meet Ethan. But then, if she was touched with worldliness probably he wouldn’t like her. And she might not like him, he was so quiet and big and almost shy with women he didn’t know. And what was Marigold like? The little sprite with the red-gold hair and the dancing eyes. Poor little girl! Was she going to have to go through trouble? Better that than go to dwell far away from God. Poor Mary! Yes, she would pray! Of course she would!
Was the answer to those prayers already on its way the night before they were made, while Marigold lay wide awake for the second night and tried to think her problems through?
One thing she was resolved upon, and that was that her mother should go to see her sister on the birthday. Party or no party, that should be accomplished. She hoped to get Mother off Friday afternoon. The birthday was Saturday. The party was Saturday night. That was another thing that Mother didn’t like about that party.
“It will run over into Sunday, dear. It can’t help it, and that doesn’t fit with your upbringing and traditions. Saturday night was always a quiet time in my old home, a time for resting and preparing for the day, which with us was especially set apart for worship.”
“Mother, times have changed!” Marigold had responded almost petulantly.
“Yes, but God hasn’t changed! And people have not changed, either. They are the same weak, sinful creatures they have always been, and they need God and quietness to think about Him, just as much as they ever did. And I believe God likes to have His own take time to look to Him.”
She had stopped because Marigold was not listening. But Marigold had heard, and her mother’s words came back to her now as she lay in the darkness and thought.
Why was it that this question of the party seemed to bother her so much these last few days? When the invitation had been received, she had had no such qualms. She was only filled with joy that she had been included in this grand event, that Laurie’s mother wanted her to come and was going to include her in her list of friends at last.
She had waited a couple of days before replying to the invitation. She wanted to get used to the thought that she was going to be a part of the social life of the elite. She wanted time to think out what she should wear, time to get herself in hand and be sure of herself. She wanted above all to talk it over with Laurie. But Laurie had not said a word. He was likely taking it for granted as he did everything else, not realizing how strange she was going to feel going among his friends who were all unknown to her. Or didn’t Laurie know that his mother had invited her? Perhaps that was it. Perhaps it was to be in the nature of a surprise for Laurie, and if that were so, it must mean that Laurie’s mother had a kind, friendly feeling toward her.
All these things had
influenced her in selecting that white dress. She wanted to do Laurie credit. But now that the white dress was gone, irrevocably, and it was even supposable that she would meet it on someone else at that very party, she felt a kind of unpreparedness which even the charming green silk could not make up for. Was that green silk all right, or should she try and get some material and make another dress even yet?
Or should she stay away entirely? Stay away and go with Mother down to Washington?
She faced the disastrous thought for the first time openly, lying there in the dark, defenseless, alone. It was quite possible that she might not be going to the party at all. If Mother wouldn’t go without her, then she was determined to sacrifice everything for her mother. It was silly, perhaps, when there were other days coming, and birthdays, not the actual date, didn’t count anyway. Mother and Aunt Marian could have just as good a time together if they came together next week, as this particular Saturday. But she had completely finished with that argument. She had settled it in her mind that Mother had to be there on the birthday, silly or sensible.
And now she had to face another issue.
Was it true as Mother said that she did not belong in a worldly place like that? She was a Christian, a member of the church, and all that. She had taught a Sunday school class for several years; she believed the Bible, of course, in spite of mocking denials she had met in college. But she hadn’t really been living her faith very clearly. It might even be true as Mother said that she had lowered some of her lifelong standards since she had been going with Laurie. After this party she must check up on her life and straighten out a few points with Laurie, make him understand that they didn’t fit in with what she believed. But now, of course, it was too late until after this party was over. It stood in the nature of an introduction to his people and it was not her place to question manner and customs of the family where she was to be a guest. Afterward she would explain a lot of things to Laurie and turn over a new leaf as to some of his worldly amusements and ways. But now—well now, what was this new uneasiness that was prodding her very soul as she lay there trying to be complacent about her green dress and plan how to make Mother want to go without her?