Wild Wings

  CHAPTER XVI

  IN WHICH PHIL GETS HIS EYES OPENED

  At home on her Hill Tony Holiday settled down more or less happily afterher eventful sally into the great world. To the careless observer she wasquite the same Tony who went down the Hill a few weeks earlier. If attimes she was unusually quiet, had spells of sitting very still withfolded hands and far away dreams in her eyes, if she crept away byherself to read the long letters that came so often, from many addressesbut always in the same bold, beautiful script and to pen long answers tothese; if she read more poetry than was her wont and sang love songs witha new, exquisite, but rather heart breaking timbre in her lovelycontralto voice, no one paid much attention to these signs exceptpossibly Doctor Philip who saw most things. He perceived regretfully thathis little girl was slipping away from him, passing through someexperience that was by no means all joy or contentment and which wasmaking her grow up all too fast. But he said nothing, quietly bided thehour of confidence which he felt sure would come sooner or later.

  Tony puzzled much over the complexities of life these days, puzzled overother things beside her own perverse romance. Carlotta too was much onher mind. She wished she could wave a magic wand and make things comeright for these two friends of hers who were evidently made for eachother as Hal had propounded. She wondered if Phil were as unhappy asCarlotta was and meant to find out in her own time and way.

  She had seen almost nothing of him since her return to the Hill. He wasworking very hard in the store and never appeared at any of the littledances and picnics and teas with which the Dunbury younger set passedaway the summer days and nights, and which Ted and the twins and usuallyTony herself frequented. Larry never did. He hated things of that sort.But Phil was different. He had always liked fun and parties and hadalways been on hand and in great demand hitherto at every social functionfrom a Ladies' Aid strawberry festival to a grand Masonic ball. It wasn'tnatural for Phil to shut himself out of things like that. It was a badsign Tony thought.

  At any rate she determined to find out for herself how the land lay ifshe could. Having occasion to do some shopping she marched down the Hilland presented herself at Stuart Lambert and Son's, demanding to be servedby no less a person than Philip himself.

  "I want a pair of black satin pumps with very frivolous heels," sheannounced. "Produce them this instant, slave." She smiled at Phil and hesmiled back. He and Tony had always been the best of chums.

  "Cannzy ones?" he laughed. "That's what one of our customers calls them."

  And while he knelt before her with an array of shoe boxes around him,fitting a dainty slipper on Tony's pretty foot, Tony herself looked notat the slipper but at Philip, studying his face shrewdly. He lookedolder, graver. There was less laughter in his blue eyes, a grimmer lineabout his young mouth. Poor Phil! Evidently Carlotta wasn't the only onewho was paying the price of too much loving. Tony made up her mind torush in, though she knew it might be a case for angel hesitation.

  "I've never given you a message Hal Underwood sent you," she observedirrelevantly.

  Philip looked up surprised.

  "Hal Underwood! What message did he send me? I hardly know him."

  "He seemed to know you rather well. He told me to tell you to come downand marry Carlotta, that you were the only man that could keep her inorder. That is too big, Phil. Try a smaller one." The speaker kicked offthe offending slipper. Philip mechanically picked it up and replaced itin the box.

  "That is rather a queer message," he commented. "I had an idea Underwoodwanted to marry Carlotta himself. Try this." He reached for another pump.His eyes were lowered so Tony could not see them. She wished she could.

  "He does," she said. "She won't have him."

  "Is--is there--anybody she is likely to have?" The words jerked out asthe young man groped for the shoe horn which was almost beside his handbut which apparently he did not see at all.

  "I am afraid she is likely to take Herbert Lathrop unless somebodystops her by main force. Why don't you play Lochinvar yourself, Phil?You could."

  Philip looked straight up at Tony then, the slipper forgotten in hishand.

  "Tony, do you mean that?" he asked.

  "I certainly do. Make her marry you, Phil. It is the only way withCarlotta."

  "I don't want to _make_ any girl marry me," he said.

  "Oh, hang your silly pride, Phil Lambert! Carlotta wants to marry you Itell you though she would murder me if she knew I did tell you."

  "Maybe she does. But she doesn't want to live in Dunbury. I've goodreason to know that. We thrashed it out rather thoroughly on the top ofMount Tom last June. She hasn't changed her mind."

  Tony sighed. She was afraid Phil was right. Carlotta hadn't changed hermind. Was it because she was afraid she might, that she was determiningto marry Herbert?

  "And you can't leave Dunbury?" she asked soberly.

  Just at that moment Stuart Lambert approached, a tall fine looking man,with the same blue eyes and fresh coloring as his son and brown hair onlyslightly graying around the temples. He had an air of vigor and agelessyouth. Indeed a stranger might easily have taken the two men for brothersinstead of father and son.

  "Hello, Tony, my dear," he greeted cordially. "It is good to see youround again. We have missed you. This boy of mine getting you whatyou want?"

  "He is trying," smiled Tony. "A woman doesn't always know what she wants,Mr. Lambert. The store is wonderful since it was enlarged and I see lotsof other improvements too." Her eyes swept her surroundings with sincereappreciation.

  "Make your bow to Phil for all that. It is good to get fresh brains intoa business. We old fogies need jerking out of our ruts."

  The older man's eyes fell upon Phil's bowed head and Tony realized howmuch it meant to him to have his son with him at last, pulling shoulderto shoulder.

  "New brains nothing!" protested Phil. "Dad's got me skinned going andcoming for progressiveness. As for old fogies he's the youngest man Iknow. Make all your bows to him, Tony. It is where they belong." And Philgot to his feet and himself made a solemn obeisance in Stuart Lambert'sdirection.

  Mr. Lambert chuckled.

  "Phil was always a blarney," he said. "Don't know where he got it.Don't you believe a word he says, my dear." But Tony saw he wasimmensely pleased with Phil's tribute for all that. "How do you likethe sign?" he asked.

  "Fine. Looks good to me and I know it does to you, Mr. Lambert."

  "Well, rather." The speaker rested his hand on Phil's shoulder a moment."I tell you it _is_ good, young lady, to have the son part added, worthwaiting for. I'm mighty proud of that sign. Between you and me, MissTony, I'm proud of my son too."

  "Who is blarneying now?" laughed Phil. "Go on with you, Dad. You arespoiling my sale."

  The father chuckled again and moved away. Phil looked down at the girl.

  "I think your question is answered. I can't leave Dunbury," he said.

  "Then Carlotta ought to come to you."

  "There are no oughts in Carlotta's bright lexicon. I don't blame her,Tony. Dunbury is a dead hole from most points of view. I am afraid shewouldn't be happy here. You wouldn't be yourself forever. Bet you areplanning to get away right now."

  Tony nodded ruefully.

  "I suppose I am, Phil. The modern young woman isn't much to pin one'sfaith to I am afraid. Do I get another slipper? Or is one enough?"

  Phil came back from his mental aberration with a start and a grin at hisown expense.

  "I am afraid I am not a very good salesman today," he apologized."Honestly I do better usually but you hit me in a vulnerable spot."

  "You do care for Carlotta then?" probed Tony.

  "Care! I'm crazy over her. I'd go on my hands and knees to Crest House ifI thought I could get her to marry me by doing it."

  "You would much better go by train--the next one. That's my advice. Areyou coming to Sue Emerson's dance? That is why I am buying slippers. Youcan dance with 'em if you'll come."

  "Sorry. I don't go to dances any more."
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  "That is nonsense, Phil. It is the worst thing in the world for you tomake a hermit of yourself. No girl's worth it. Besides there are othergirls besides Carlotta."

  Phil shook his head as he finished replacing Tony's trim brown oxfords.

  "Unfortunately that isn't true for me," he said rising. "At present myworld consists of myself bounded, north, south, east and west byCarlotta."

  And Tony passing out under the sign of STUART LAMBERT AND SON a fewminutes later sighed a little. Here was Carlotta with a real man for thetaking and too stubborn and foolish to put out her hand and here washerself, Tony Holiday, tying herself all up in a strange snarl for thesake of somebody who wasn't a man at all as Holiday Hill standards ran.What queer creatures women were!

  Other people besides Tony were inclined to score Phil's folly in making ahermit of himself. His sisters attacked him that very night on thesubject of Sue Emerson's dance and accused him of being a "GrumpyGrandpa" and a grouch and various other uncomplimentary things when heannounced that he wasn't going to attend the function.

  "I'm the authentic T.B.M.," he parried from his perch on the porchrailing. "I've cut out dancing."

  "More idiot you!" retorted Charley promptly. "Mums, do tell Phil it isall nonsense making such an oyster in a shell of himself."

  Mrs. Lambert smiled and looked up at her tall young son, looked ratherhard for a moment.

  "I think the twins are right, Phil," she said. "You are working too hard.You don't allow yourself any relaxation."

  "Oh, yes I do. Only my idea of relaxation doesn't happen to coincide withthe twins. Dancing in this sort of weather with your collar slumping andthe perspiration rolling in tidal waves down your manly brow doesn'tstrike me as being a particularly desirable diversion."

  "H-mp!" sniffed Charley. "You didn't object to dancing last summer whenit was twice as hot. You went to a dance almost every night when Carlottawas visiting Tony. You know you did."

  "I wasn't a member of the esteemed firm of Stuart Lambert and Son lastsummer. A lily of the field can afford to dance all night. I'm a workingman I'd have you know."

  "Well, I think you might come just this once to please us," joined inClare, the other twin. "You are a gorgeous dancer, Phil. I'd rather havea one step with you than any man I know." Clare always beguiled whereCharley bullied, a method much more successful in the long run as Charleysometimes grudgingly admitted after the fact.

  Phil smiled now at pretty Clare and promised to think about it and thetwins flew off across the street to visit with Tony and Ruth whom thewhole Hill adored.

  "Phil dear, aren't you happy?" asked Mrs. Lambert. "Have we asked toomuch of you expecting you to settle down at home with us?"

  "Why yes, Mums. I'm all right." Phil left his post on the rail anddropped into a chair beside his mother. Perhaps he did it purposely lestshe see too much. "Don't get notions in your head. I like living inDunbury. I wouldn't live in a city for anything and I like being with Dadnot to mention the rest of you."

  Mrs. Lambert shifted her position also. She wanted to see her son's face;just as much as he didn't want her to see it.

  "Possibly that is all so but you aren't happy for all that. You can'tfool mother eyes, my dear."

  Phil looked straight at her then with a little rueful smile.

  "I reckon I can't," he admitted. "Very well then. I am not entirely happybut it is nobody's fault and nothing anybody can help."

  "Philip, is it a girl?"

  How they dread the _girl_ in their sons' lives--these mothers! The verypossibility of her in the abstract brings a shadow across the path.

  "Yes, Mums, it is a girl."

  Mrs. Lambert rose and went over to where her son sat, running her fingersthrough his hair as she had been wont to do when the little boy Phil wasin trouble of any sort.

  "I am very sorry, dear boy," she said. "It won't help to talk about it?"

  "I am afraid not. Don't worry, Mums. It is just--well, it hurts a littlejust now that's all."

  She kissed his forehead and went back to her chair. It hurt her toknow her boy was being hurt, hurt her almost as much to know she couldnot help him, she must just let him close the door on his grief andbear it alone.

  Yet she respected his reserve and loved him the better for it. Phil waslike that always. He never cried out when he was hurt. She remembered howlong ago the little boy Phil had come to her with a small finger justreleased from a slamming door that had crushed it unmercifully, thetears streaming down his cheeks but uttering no sound. She recalledanother incident of years later, when the coach had been obliged to putsome one else in Phil's place on the team the last minute because hissprained ankle had been bothering. She and Stuart had come on for thegame. It had been a bitter disappointment to them all. To the boy it hadbeen little short of a tragedy. But he had smiled bravely at her in spiteof the trouble in his blue eyes. "Don't mind, Mums. It is all right," hehad said steadily. "We've got to win. We can't risk my darned ankle'sflopping. It's the bleachers for me. The game's the thing."

  The game had always been the thing for Phil. Even in his blundering,willful boyhood he had played hard and played fair and taken defeat likea man when things had gone against him.

  There was a moment's silence. Then Mrs. Lambert spoke again.

  "Phil, I wish you would go to the dance with the girls. It will pleasethem and be good for you. You can't shut yourself away from everythingthe way you are doing, if you are going to make Dunbury your home. Yourfather never has. He has always given himself freely to it, worked withit, played with it, made it a real part of himself. You mustn't start outby building a wall around yourself."

  "Am I doing that, Mums?" Phil's voice was sober.

  "I am afraid you are, Phil. It troubles your father. He was sodisappointed when you wouldn't serve on the library committee. They weredisappointed too. They didn't expect it of your father's son."

  "I--I wasn't interested."

  "No, you weren't interested. That was the trouble. You ought to havebeen. You have had your college training, the world of books has beenthrown wide open for you. You come back here and aren't interested inseeing that others less fortunate get the right kind of books into theirhands and heads. I don't want to preach, dear. But education isn't only aprivilege. It is a responsibility."

  "Maybe you are right, Mums. I didn't think of it that way. I justdidn't want to bother. I was--well, I was thinking too much aboutmyself I suppose."

  "Youth is apt to. There were other things too. When they asked you totake charge of the Fourth of July pageant, to dig up Dunbury's pasthistory and make it live for us again, your father and I both thought youwould enjoy it. He was tremendously excited about it, full of ideas tohelp. But the project fell through because nobody would undertake theleadership. You were too busy. Every one was too busy."

  "But, Mums, I was busy," Phil defended himself. "It is no end of a job toput things like that through properly."

  "Most things worth doing are no end of a job. Your father would havetaken it with all the rest he has on his hands and made a success of it.But he was hurt by your high handed refusal to have anything to do withit and he let it go, though you know having Fourth of July communitycelebrations is one of his dearest hobbies--always has been since he usedto fight so hard to get rid of the old, wretched noise, law breaking androwdyism kind of village celebration you and the other young Dunburyvandals delighted in."

  Phil flushed at that. The point went home. He remembered vividly hisboyish self tearing reluctantly from Doctor Holiday's fireworks impelledby an unbearably guilty conscience to confess to Stuart Lambert that hisown son had been a transgressor against the law. Boy as he was, he hadgotten out of the interview with his father that night a glimpse into theideal citizenship which Stuart Lambert preached and lived and worked for.He had understood a little then. He understood better now having stoodbeside his father man to man.

  "I am sorry, Mums. I would have done the thing if I'd known Dad wanted meto. Why didn't he say so?"
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  Mrs. Lambert smiled.

  "Dad doesn't say much about what he wants. You will have to learn to keepyour eyes open and find out for yourself. I did."

  "Any more black marks on my score? I may as well eat the whole darnedpie at once." Phil's smile was humorous but his eyes were troubled. Itwas a bit hard when you had been thinking you had played your partfairly creditably to discover you had been fumbling your cues wretchedlyall along.

  "Only one other thing. We were both immensely disappointed when youwouldn't take the scout-mastership they offered you. Father believestremendously in the movement. He thinks it is going to be the making ofthe next generation of men. He would have liked you to be a Scoutmasterand when you wouldn't he went on the Scout Troop Committee himself thoughhe really could not spare the time."

  "I see," said Phil. "I guess I've been pretty blind. Funny part of it isI really wanted to take the Scoutmaster job but I thought Dad would thinkit took too much of my time. Anything more?" he asked.

  "Not a thing. Haven't you had quite enough of a lecture for once?" hismother smiled back.

  "I reckon I needed it. Thank you, Mums. I'll turn over a new leaf if itisn't too late. I'll go to the dance and I'll ask them if there is stilla place for me on the library committee and I'll start a troop of Scoutsmyself--another bunch I've had my eyes on for some time."

  "That will please Dad very much. It pleases me too. Boys are very dear tomy heart. I wonder if you can guess why, Philip, my son?"

  "I wish I'd been a better son, Mums. Some chaps never seem to causetheir-mothers any worry or heart ache. I wasn't that kind. I am afraid Iam not even yet."

  "No son is, dear, unless there is something wrong with him or the mother.Mothering means heart ache and worries, plus joy and pride and the joyand pride more than makes up for the rest. It has for me a hundred timesover even when I had a rather bad little boy on my hands and now I have aman--a man I am glad and proud to call my son."