The Flower Brides

  The next two hours were full and interesting. Putting in the last little things, seeing that the apartment was all in order to leave—the note in the milk bottle for the milkman, the note for Mrs. Waterman to give the bread man. And then the taxi was at the door, and they were off. And it was so long since the two had gone on even a short journey that they were like two children when they first started.

  Lying back luxuriously in the Pullman chairs, admiring furtively each other’s new garments, watching the home sights disappear and new landscapes sweep into view, was most exciting.

  “I’m glad you got that lovely brown suit,” said Mrs. Brooke, leaning forward to speak softly to Marigold. “It is just perfect. So refined and lovely. Your father would have liked that. It seems to me the most perfect outfit a young girl could possibly have.”

  “I’m so glad you like it, Mother!” Marigold said, with a twinkle in her eyes. “I love it myself, and I’m glad I have it.”

  They were still a long time looking at the pearly colors in the evening sky, and then Mrs. Brooke, from out of a silence in which she had been watching the little sad shadows around her dear girl’s eyes and mouth, suddenly spoke. “You know, my dear, you don’t have to go out gunning for a husband!”

  “Mother!” Marigold turned startled eyes toward her parent and sat up in shocked silence.

  “That sounds rather crude, doesn’t it, dear?” Her mother laughed. “But I’ve been thinking that a good many girls have an idea that the main object of living is to get married and that the whole thing is entirely up to them, therefore they must go out hunting and capture a man, some man, even if they can’t get the one they want!”

  “Mother! What have I ever done that has made you think I thought that?”

  “Nothing, dear. I wasn’t speaking of you just then. I was thinking of the scores of young things that come into the library. I hear them talking together. They seem to feel that it would be a calamity not to be married. I wish I had a chance to tell them that life is not a game of stagecoach in which the girl who cannot get a husband is hopelessly left out; that only a strong, true, tender, overwhelming, enduring love can make a married life bearable for more than a few days, and love like that does not come for the running after, for the brooding over, nor for clever wiles and smiles. It is God-given!”

  Marigold sat startled, looking at her mother.

  “What do you think I am, Mother?” she demanded indignantly. “I know you’re talking to me. I can tell by the tone of your voice. I’m not trying to fall in love! Just because I wanted to go to one party, I wasn’t running after anybody.”

  “No,” said her mother gently. “I didn’t think you were. But this party was a kind of crisis in your life. You’ve chosen to stay away from it. You say it wasn’t all on my account. Therefore there must be something else behind it all. I am saying these things because if in the next few days or weeks you come to face any of these problems, I would like to have you think about what I have said. Don’t make the mistake of lowering standards, of making cheap compromises and desperate maneuvers to win love, for it is not to be had at that price. Now, that’s all. Come to me if ever you want me to say more on the subject.”

  Marigold studied her mother’s face for a long time thoughtfully and then turned her gaze out the window to the deepening twilight on the snowy landscape. Finally she leaned over and patted her mother’s hand. “Thank you, Mother dear, I’ll store that up for future use. But for the present, I’ve almost made up my mind that I never shall be married at all. I think I’ll just stay with you, Mother, and we’ll make a nice lot of money and have a ducky little house together. But now, dear, don’t you think we ought to go into the diner car and get our dinner? I’m starved myself. How about you?”

  Yet though they both smiled and chatted as they sat in the diner car and enjoyed their evening meal, watching the quickly darkening landscape from the window, the brilliant cities, the quieter unlit country flashing by like a panorama, still the mother watched her girl, trying to hide her anxiety. Why had she done this thing in the first place? Was it just an impulse to please her mother, or was it something deeper? Something about Laurie? And was she going to suffer from her rash impulse during the next few days, or would the Lord mercifully deliver her from it and give something to divert?

  They had a pleasant journey, and as they neared their destination and thickening clusters of lights announced a city nearby, they both felt a little ripple of excitement.

  Then the dome of the capitol flashed into view, like some far heavenly city painted on the sky, and the dim specter of the Washington Monument dawned in the myriad lights. Such a lovely vision! Marigold, who scarcely remembered her earlier impressions of Washington, was breathless and bright-eyed as she looked, and then rose to leave the train.

  Just as they were passing through the train gate in the wake of a porter who carried their luggage, a young man stepped up to Mrs. Brooke and spoke. “You are Mrs. Brooke, aren’t you? I thought I couldn’t be mistaken. I’m Ethan Bevan. Aunt Marian sent me to meet you. Perhaps you don’t remember me, but I remember you.”

  Chapter 6

  Marigold looked up annoyed. Who on earth was this stranger? Heavens! Did he belong to the household where they were to visit, and would he always be tagging along spoiling the good times they were planning to have with Aunt Marian? She stared at him in surprise.

  “Why, of course I remember you, Ethan!” exclaimed Mrs. Brooke eagerly. “How wonderful to see you here! Though I must confess I wouldn’t have recognized you. How nice of you to meet us! And this is my daughter, Marigold.”

  The young man gave a brief, casual glance at the girl and bowed. Marigold acknowledged the greeting coolly and distantly. How annoying that there had to be a young man barging into the picture to spoil their outing! Who was he, anyway? Ethan? She seemed to have heard the name before but couldn’t quite place him, and she scarcely heard her mother’s quick explanation: “He isn’t exactly a cousin, Marigold, but he’ll make a nice substitute.”

  Marigold walked stiffly along on the other side of her mother and said nothing, annoyed to be interrupted this way in her first sight of the city. She had no need for a cousin, real or otherwise.

  But the young man did not seem to be any more anxious to be friendly than she was. He was talking with her mother, animatedly, almost as if he considered her daughter too young to be interesting. Though he didn’t look so old himself, she thought, when she got a good glimpse of his face as they passed under the bright lights of the station entrance.

  He put them in the backseat of a lovely, shiny car and stowed their luggage in the front seat with himself, and then they drove out into the brightness of the charmed city. Marigold was entranced with her first view and paid little attention to the young man, who was still talking with her mother.

  “But I thought you lived in California,” her mother was saying when she came out from her absorption enough to listen.

  “I did,” answered the young man. “I lived with another uncle, Uncle Norman, after Uncle Robert Bevan died and Aunt Marian came east. Then I went away to school when Uncle Norman married again; and college later, of course, and then I had a couple of years abroad. But now I’ve got a job that brings me east for a time, and just now it’s Washington.”

  “And are you living with your aunt Marian?” asked Mrs. Brooke.

  “Oh, no; no such luck as that! I’m boarding out in a forlorn dump near my job, worse luck! I’m only in town for a brief time. Aunt Marian thought she was going to be by herself over Sunday, and she called me up and asked if I wouldn’t come out and relieve her loneliness. Then your telegram came, and she commandeered my car to come after you. I don’t know but she’ll send me back where I came from now that you have arrived. But I’m glad to have seen you again, anyway. You loomed large in my small life the day you made that maple taffy for me and actually let me help pull it myself. I’ve never forgotten it.”

  “You dear child!” said Mrs.
Brooke feelingly. “To think you would remember that!”

  Now why did Mother want to get sentimental? This was a man she was talking to, not a child. Mother always was that way, easily touched by wistfulness, sentiment! Why couldn’t she see how unpleasant it would be to have this young man always around underfoot? How it would just spoil the whole lovely vacation!

  Suddenly Marigold wished very much that she had kept the lovely white-and-crimson dress and stayed at home and gone to her party! If this fellow was going to be around the whole time, perhaps she would just go home in the morning, anyway, and leave Mother in Washington. Mother wouldn’t mind so much after she got there, especially if this young man was so fond of her. Perhaps he would take Mother around a little and she wouldn’t be missed. Then she would take her pretty green silk and go to her party after all. She had been a fool to throw all that loveliness away. Of course, she had declined the invitation, but she could call up Mrs. Trescott and explain that she had been called away but had unexpectedly been able to return, and might she come anyway? That was being a little informal, but knowing Laurie as well as she did, perhaps it would be excusable.

  Just in the distance of one short brilliant city block, the thought came to her and left her breathless, smashing all her well-built resolves, blotting out utterly her vision of Laurie looking down into those languishing eyes of that other girl, and making her heart beat wildly with the daring of it.

  Well, she wouldn’t say anything about it tonight, of course. Let Mother enjoy her first evening to the fullest, and then along in the afternoon tomorrow spring it on her that she felt she must go back. Mother wouldn’t stop her, of course. Mother was really troubled that she had given up the party, and while she would be disappointed, still Aunt Marian would be there to make her forget about it, and she would promise to telephone her the first thing the next morning.

  Then the car swept into the glitter and glow of another wonderful avenue, and she caught her breath with the beauty of the lovely city.

  Ethan was pointing out the places of interest. Over there was the White House, here the Treasury Building, and now they were coming into the region of the embassies. He had a pleasant voice and spoke distinctly, but it was dark and Marigold could not see his face. Anyway, Marigold was not interested in his face or in him as a person at all. She was interested in knowing about the great buildings they were passing, and she sat entranced as the vistas of the city stretched out before her delighted eyes.

  When they reached the house, the young man sprang out and opened the door for them. Then he capably gathered the suitcases and escorted them into the house. Marigold didn’t notice him any more than if he had been a taxi driver doing his duty.

  It was a pleasant house, and they had glimpses of a wide living room with a generous fireplace, a beautiful dining room beyond, and on the other side of the hall a large library whose walls were almost literally lined with books. Cousin Elinor had married a literary man. Marigold looked around with pleased eyes on everything. She loved luxury and pretty things and had very little of either in these days. She felt that the time spent in this house was not going to be wasted by her. She hoped she would have the opportunity to curl up on that big leather couch and do some reading while she was here. Another fireplace, too! How charming!

  “I think Aunt Marian is expecting you to come right upstairs,” said the young man, and Marigold found herself a little jealous of the possessive way in which he said “Aunt Marian,” as if she were his aunt and not related to them. What was he? Just an in-law by marriage!

  He followed them up the stairs with the baggage, setting it down in a large room across the hall from Mrs. Bevan’s room.

  They found the invalid in bed, eagerly awaiting their coming.

  “Take off your things and let me look at you,” she said when the greetings were over. “I wanted to come downstairs to meet you, but my nurse had to go away this evening, and she thought if I was going to be carried downstairs tomorrow for a while and stay up to my birthday dinner, I’d better stay in bed tonight. So here I am, flat on my back! My, but I’m happy to see you! My heart jumped up and turned over when I got your telegram. And oh, my dear! Is that your baby-girl Marigold? Grown to be a young woman! Isn’t she lovely?”

  Marigold’s cheeks flamed as she bent and kissed her aunt, somehow terribly conscious of the young man in the background and wishing the aunt wouldn’t be quite so enthusiastic before strangers.

  But when she straightened up, Ethan was gone. She heard the front door closing and wondered if that was all they were to see of him after all. Perhaps he was only on duty until he escorted them to the house. She sincerely hoped so.

  But he appeared again after they had taken off their coats and hats and came back into Aunt Marian’s room. He came carrying a large silver tray containing cups and a pot of hot chocolate, a bowl of whipped cream with a little silver ladle, plates of tiny chicken and lettuce sandwiches, cinnamon toast, and little frosted cakes. Such a lovely spread-out! And though they protested that they had had dinner on the train, they ate with a real relish as Ethan proved himself efficient in the art of serving them.

  Marigold watched him without seeming to do so. How easy he was, how much at home, as if Aunt Marian were his own mother. He was rather good-looking, too, in a serious sort of way, had nice eyes and a pleasant smile, talked a lot of nonsense to her mother and aunt, and made himself very useful. But he looked straight through Marigold when she happened to be in his line of vision and mostly avoided her when she wasn’t. That didn’t bother Marigold in the least. She wasn’t interested in him, she told herself. He wasn’t in the least like Laurie, who was lithe and slender of build, tall and willowy, and handsome as a picture. This man was strongly built and seemed to have a kind of power about him.

  Then suddenly she thought of Laurie. Had Laurie called her up after she left? Her heart gave a lurch and she almost contemplated calling up home tonight before she went to bed, if she could get a good chance when nobody was listening. Though it was late to hope to get Mrs. Waterman. She usually went to bed at nine o’clock and likely wouldn’t hear the telephone. It would be better to wait until morning.

  They sat up talking until midnight, Aunt Marian’s eyes so happy and Mother looking as if she had just arrived in heaven. Marigold couldn’t help being glad that she had come. Just to look at Mother’s face was enough to make her sure she had done the right thing. But surely by tomorrow Mother would be having such a good time she wouldn’t mind having her go back in time for the party!

  Ethan Bevan told some very amusing stories and had them all laughing, although he didn’t once look at Marigold, and she had the impression he was doing that by intention. He didn’t seem to be shy, either. She couldn’t quite understand it. It was more as if he weren’t in the least interested in her, any more than if she had been a kitten that had come along. He just didn’t take her into the picture at all. Well, that was all right. That suited her perfectly. She was free to think her own thoughts and not have to bother with him. Since he had to be there it was better that he didn’t want her attention at all. He told them a little bit about the “camp” where he worked and gave an amusing anecdote or two of the boardinghouse where he stayed, eating at the same table with his men. That was interesting, and she thought more of him that he could be friendly with the workers under him. He must be a good sort after all. But likely he would go off to the camp in the morning and she would be able to go out and see the great new city on her own. Of course, her mother would want to stay with her sister, but she would slip away and look around at one or two places she had always wanted to see. The Capitol, of course, and the Library of Congress, and perhaps the Smithsonian. She hadn’t an idea what a proposition she had mapped out for herself in one brief morning, but she only intended to take a causal glance and then telephone and perhaps spring it on her mother at noon that she was going to take a train at about three o’clock. That would give her plenty of time to dress and get to the party!
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  Then suddenly her thoughts were broken by her aunt’s happy voice.

  “I thought you and I would take it a little easy in the morning, Mary, and have a good talk. Marigold, of course, will want to see the city since she hasn’t been here for so long, and Ethan being here makes it nice. He will take her over to the Capitol and library and any other buildings she would like to see, and show her the really interesting points in them. He knows how to do that to perfection. Elinor’s husband says he is a master at giving a quick, comprehensive view of the right things without wearying one too much.” She gave a swift, loving smile toward Ethan. “And then,” she went on, “in the afternoon Ethan is going to take us on a drive. The doctor said I might go along if it was a pleasant day. I thought we would go out through the park, show you the new cathedral and a few other notable places, and then we would drive on to Mount Vernon and let the young folks hop out and look that over for a few minutes. Don’t you think that would be pleasant? Of course, I couldn’t hope to enjoy all this with you if I hadn’t been able to get hold of Ethan for the day, because there is no one else here to carry me downstairs and help me into the car. But since he is so good to give us his time, I feel like a bird let loose.”

  Thud! Down went Marigold’s plans in one blow. She looked from her aunt to her mother and back again. Their faces were radiant with anticipation. She simply couldn’t dash their hopes by telling them she wouldn’t be there in the afternoon. Not tonight, anyway. Perhaps in the morning she could telephone and get some word calling her home and then it wouldn’t be so much of a letdown for them. Not if it came in the nature of a call from Laurie. But the morning! How was she to escape a personally conducted sight-seeing tour of Washington in the company of an unwilling guide?

  She gave a quick glance at Ethan, and it did not seem to her that he looked particularly elated at the prospect, either. He must be a grouch about girls. She certainly didn’t want to go with him. Well, it would be up to her to get out of it. She could likely talk with him early in the morning and tell him she had always wanted to go around Washington alone and just see what she wanted to see herself, and she wouldn’t bother him to escort her. He wasn’t even looking at her now, and he hadn’t said that he would be charmed to take her, nor any of the conventional phrases that the ordinary gentleman would use on such an occasion. Oh, he would be glad enough to get out of it, and perhaps it could be managed without either Mother or Aunt Marian knowing that he hadn’t gone along. Well, she would see.