Mr. Copley swung his long limbs into the seat beside the young man. “No, the next block, middle of the block, just at the top of the hill right-hand side,” he said. “I remember Cornie speaking of your mother. She was very kind, and Cornie enjoyed her. It certainly is good of her to remember my little girl. Ferns!” He looked back at the box. “She certainly will like those. She’s a great one for fixing up the house and putting flowers about and growing things. She’ll be pleased to see you. Here’s the house, the one with the stone chimney. Yes, that’s new, my son built it since Cornie came home. She wanted a fireplace. Now, you’ll come right in. Cornie’ll want to thank you.”
“Thank you,” said the young man, lifting out the heavy box. “That won’t be necessary. She can thank Mother sometime when she sees her. I’ll just put the box here on the porch, shall I?—and not detain your daughter. I really ought to be getting along. I haven’t had my dinner yet.”
“Oh, then you’ll come right in and take dinner with us. The young people will be delighted to have you, I know. Cornie said they were going to have a company supper tonight because it’s my son’s birthday, twenty-one. I’d like you to meet my son, that is, I’d like him to know you, you know.” And the father smiled a confiding smile.
“Oh, but really,” Arthur Maxwell began.
But Mr. Copley had a detaining hand upon the young man’s arm.
“We couldn’t really let you go this way, you know,” said the father. “We couldn’t think of it. We haven’t any very grand hospitality to offer you, but we can’t let you go away without being thanked. Cornie!”
Mr. Copley threw wide the door of the living room. “Cornie, here’s Mr. Maxwell. He’s brought you some ferns, and he’s going to stay to dinner with us. Put on another plate.”
It was just at this instant that Carey Copley, humming his jazzy tune and fumbling with a refractory cuff link, started down the front stairs and paused in wild dismay.
Chapter 18
Cornelia, alert to make everything pass off smoothly and aware that Carey was coming down the stairs, had slipped off her apron and entered the living room exactly as her father flung open the front door. Now she came forward easily, brightly, as if strange guests flung at her feast at the last moment were a common occurrence in her life, and greeted this tall, handsome stranger.
“The plate’s all on,” she answered cheerfully, putting out a welcoming hand and meeting a pair of very nice, very curious, wholly interested eyes that for the moment she wasn’t aware of ever having seen before. She was aware only of the eight plates back in the oven keeping piping hot, and the eight places at the pretty table, and the awful thing that her father had done to her already-incongruous party, and wondering what she should do. Then suddenly she recognized the young man, and a pretty color flew into her cheeks and brightness into her eyes. The room with its strange guests—Grace Kendall trying to interest Brand and Clytie in her lapful of photographs, Carey standing on the stair landing, even her young brother and sister peeping curiously in at the dining room door—fell away, and she put out her hand in real welcome to this stranger. An instant more, and her pulses swept wildly back into frightened array again, and her thoughts bustled around with troubles and fears. What should she do now? How would he ever mix? That awful girl with her face all flour? That noisy Brand with his slang and bold indifference! How could she ever make the party a success, the party over which she had so worked and prayed and hoped? And Carey! Would he vanish out the back door? The birthday candles around the cake were all lit. Harry had lit them as she came in. If Carey should bolt, how could they ever go out into the dining room, into the flicker of those foolish pink candles, and have a birthday dinner without the chief guest?
“Oh, but indeed, I couldn’t think of intruding,” the young man’s words interrupted her anxious thoughts. “I merely dropped in on my way to dinner to leave this box of ferns that my mother sent with very explicit directions to be delivered to you at once before they died. As I’m not much of a florist myself, and as they have already had to wait all day without water, I’m ashamed to say, I wouldn’t answer for the consequences if I hadn’t got them here tonight. Mother is very particular about having her directions carried out. I hope the ferns will live and be worthy of this most beautiful setting.” His glance went appreciatively around the pretty room. “You certainly look cozy here, and I know you’re going to have a beautiful time. I won’t keep you a minute longer.”
There was something wistful in his tone even as he lifted his hat to put it on and began backing out the door. Cornelia’s resolve to let him go was fast weakening even before her father spoke up.
“Daughter, Mr. Maxwell has come four miles out of his way to bring those ferns, and it will be late before he gets any dinner. He ought to stay. I told him he was welcome.”
Cornelia’s cheeks flamed, but a smile came into her eyes.
“We shall be very glad to have you stay,” she urged gently, “unless—someone else is waiting for you.”
A quick flush mounted into the young man’s face, and he suddenly felt strangely unwilling to have this perceptive girl think that anyone was waiting for him. He would not like her to know what kind of girl was expecting his coming.
“Oh, it’s not that,” he managed to say lamely, “but I simply couldn’t think of butting into a family party like this.” His eyes glanced about questioningly, hesitating at Brand and pausing with a reflective wonder at Clytie in the background.
“But it’s not a family party,” said Cornelia laughingly. “It’s a birthday, and—they don’t even know one another very well yet, so won’t you come in and be another? We really would be glad to have you, and we’ll try to make you feel at home. We’re not a bit formal or formidable. Let me introduce my brother Carey. Carey, come here and meet Mr. Maxwell. You remember my telling how nice his mother was to me on the way home from college.”
She was talking fast, and the pretty color was in her cheeks. She was aware that the stranger was watching her admiringly. Her heart was thumping and the blood was surging through her ears so that it seemed as though she could not hear anything but her own high-pitched voice, and she wanted nothing so much as to break out crying and run and hide. Would Carey come, or would he—
Carey came, dazed, but polite. He was well dressed and groomed, and he knew it. He had no objection to meeting a pleasant stranger who owned a car like the one he had seen drive up at the door before he had left his room. Carey had a habit of judging a man by his car. The two young men appraised each other pleasantly, and there seemed to be a mutual liking. Then suddenly Brand Barlock, never allowing himself long to be left out of consideration, came noisily over to the group and slapped Carey on the back.
“Hello, old man! Got a birthday, have you?”
“Oh, hello, Brand! Forgot you were here. Saw your car out the window. Meet Mr. Maxwell, Mr. Barlock.” And the two acknowledged the introduction.
“My father, Brand.”
Mr. Copley spoke graciously to the young man, yet with a degree of dignity, looking him over speculatively. This was not the kind of young man he would choose for his son’s friend, yet he regarded him with leniency.
Suddenly Carey turned and saw Grace Kendall.
“Oh, I say, Miss Kendall! This is awfully good of you.” He took a step and shook hands with her. “Say, this is a real party, after all, isn’t it? A surprise party. Upon my word, I thought Cornelia was kidding me when she said we were going to have a birthday party.”
Grace Kendall laughed and clapped her hands, and all the rest followed her example. In the din of laughter and clapping Carey suddenly spotted Clytie glowering back by the fireplace, and a wave of panic swept over his face. He turned startled eyes on his sister and father and stood back while Cornelia introduced their guests to Maxwell and her father. He wondered how she could say “Miss Dodd” so easily, and how she had gotten acquainted with Clytie. His cheeks began to burn. Then she must have seen him that day on Chestn
ut Street, after all. And Louise had talked, too! And yet his sister’s face was sweet and innocent!
Then he became aware that an appeal was being made to him to keep the young stranger to dinner and that the stranger was protesting that he could not thrust himself on a birthday party in this way. Carey roused to the occasion and gave an eager invitation.
“Of course you’re going to stay to my party!” But even as he said it he wondered what a man of Maxwell’s evident type would think of a girl like Clytie. Oh, if only she weren’t here! And Grace Kendall! What must she think? He stole a look at her, standing there so gracefully in that blue dress like a cloud, talking to Brand. What business did Brand have looking at her like that as if he had known her always? Now Brand would pursue her. Carey could see that Brand liked her. He always pursued a girl he took a notion to. He would take her out riding in that car of his, and—
But everybody was talking now, and Cornelia had called upon him to bring in the box of ferns. She herself had suddenly disappeared into the kitchen and was standing against the closed door, pressing her hand against her forehead and trying to think.
“What shall we do, Louie, dear? What shall we do? Father has invited that man.” Cornelia found she was trembling; even her lips were trembling so she could hardly speak.
“Do?” said Louise maturely. “We’ll go right ahead. We heard it all. Harry has fixed it up that he’ll stay out and help. There’s plenty of things left over for him to eat, and I’ll fix him a plate betweentimes.”
“I can fix my own plate,” growled Harry happily. “You know I didn’t want to sit in there with all those folks any of the time.”
“But Harry! It’s Carey’s party, and you not at it?”
“Sure! I’m at it! I’m it! Don’t you see? I’m the chauffeur running this car. I’m the chef cooking this dinner! Get out there quick, Cornie, and file those folks into their seats. This soup is getting cold, and they ought to get to work. That’s a good guy, and he’s got some car, I’ll tell the world!”
So Cornelia went back to marshal the party out to the table. Maxwell was turning to leave, saying once more that it was awfully kind of them to ask him, but he could not possibly stay. And just then the dining room door was flung open by Harry, and the whole company stopped and breathed a soft “Ah!” as they saw the pretty candlelit room. Then as one man they went forward and began to search for their places, all except Maxwell who went forward indeed to get a closer glimpse of the pretty table but lingered in the doorway. There was something so wholesome and homelike about the place, something so interesting and free from self-consciousness about the girl, that he was held in spite of himself. He had not realized that there were such girls as this in his day. He was curious to watch her and see if she really was different.
So far Carey had not even spoken to his own special guest, Clytie. Since he had spotted her afar, he had religiously kept his eyes turned away from her vicinity.
It was Grace Kendall who took her by the arm and led her to her seat at the right of the host, for Cornelia had known she could depend upon her father’s kindliness to make all go smoothly during the supper, and much as he might dislike the looks of the girl, she felt sure he would be polite and see that she was well taken care of. Brand Barlock was on Clytie’s right with Louise next, and she had placed Carey opposite Clytie, not liking to seem to separate them too much and yet not wishing to throw them together too conspicuously. Grace Kendall was on Carey’s left, with Harry’s place next to her. This would have to be for the stranger and would place him on Cornelia’s right, the fitting place for the guest of honor, yet—her cheeks burned. What would he think? Still, he had come unannounced. He had stayed. Let him take the consequences! What did she care what he thought? She would likely never see him again.
Perhaps he was not going to stay, after all. He was lingering still in the doorway but seemed just about to go.
Suddenly from behind her came a low whistle.
“Psst! Psst!”
Harry from behind the kitchen door was signaling violently, forgetting that his white shirtsleeve in his excited gestures was as visible to the rest of the company as to the astonished young man in the opposite doorway about to take a hasty leave.
“Oh, I say! Come ‘ere!” Harry whispered, as he beckoned wildly with a hand that unconsciously still grasped a muggy dish towel.
“Are you—calling me?” young Maxwell signaled with his lifted eyebrows.
Harry’s response was unmistakable, and the young man slipped past the group who were studying place cards and sliding into chairs and bent his head to the retreating head of the boy.
“I say, don’t you see I don’t want to come in there with all those folks? Be a good sport and stay, ‘r I’ll have to. I’d rather stay out here and dish ice cream. You go take my chair. That’s a good guy.”
Maxwell smiled with sudden illumination and lifted his eyes to find that Cornelia had heard the whole affair.
“All right, old man, I’ll stay,” said the young man. “You win. Perhaps you’ll let me come into the kitchen afterward and help clean up.”
“Sure!” said Harry joyfully, with the tone of having found a pal. “We’ll be glad to have you, won’t we Cornie?”
To himself Maxwell said, “It will be just as well to go later to see Evadne. Better, in fact. I don’t want her to think I’m too eager. I can have more time to decide what to say to her. This is a good atmosphere in which to decide. Besides, I’m hungry and the dinner smells good. It would be ages before we got settled to eating at the Roof Garden or some cabaret. I’d have to go home and dress.”
Then he became aware that Cornelia was speaking to him.
Cornelia’s cheeks were red as roses, and there was a look in her laughing eyes as if tears were not far off, but she carried the thing off bravely and declared that those things could be settled later; they really must sit down now or the dinner would be spoiled. So they all sat down, and there was a moment’s awkward silence till Mr. Copley bowed his head and asked a blessing, Clytie and Brand openly staring the while. When it was over, Maxwell discovered the place card with “Harry” on it and gravely deposited it in his vest pocket, saying in a low tone to Cornelia, “I shall make this up to him later.”
“You mustn’t think you’re depriving him,” said Cornelia, smiling and lifting her spoon to the luscious cup of iced fruit. “He really has tried in every way he knew short of running away to get out of coming to the table. He knows he has me in a corner now, and he’s tremendously pleased, so don’t think another thing about it. Suppose you play you’re one of our old friends, and then it won’t worry you anymore. It’s really awfully nice of you to come in this way.”
But all the time in her heart she was wondering why, oh, why, did this have to happen just this night when she wanted to devote all her energies to making the other people feel at home, and now she was so distracted she didn’t know what she was saying?
However, the other people seemed to be getting along famously. When she glanced up, she saw that her father was talking pleasantly to Clytie, keeping her at least employed with questions to answer about where she lived and how her father was employed and whether she had brothers and sisters. He had just asked, “And what school do you attend? High school, I suppose?” And Cornelia caught a fleeting glance of annoyance on Carey’s face as she replied with a giggle, “Oh, my goodness, no! I quit school when I was thirteen. I couldn’t stand the place. Too dull for me!”
Chapter 19
Carey turned to Grace eagerly and began to ask about Christian Endeavor. Cornelia wondered at his sudden interest in religious matters and perceived that Brand had been carrying on a lively conversation with Grace across the table, and Carey had cut in. She felt like a person who has jumped into an airplane, somehow started it, and knows nothing of running or stopping it. She had started this thing, and this was what had developed, and now she would have to watch the consequences.
Yet it appeared there was no
opportunity to watch the consequences, and much as she so desired. The young man on her right was determined to talk to her. He had drawn Louise into the little circle also, and Louise was smiling shyly and evidently pleased. Cornelia could not help noticing how sweet the little girl looked with the wild-rose color in her cheeks and the little soft tendrils of curls about her face. The organdie dress certainly was attractive, and she must get at it right away and make some more pretty clothes for the dear child.
Then her eyes traveled down the table once more. Brand was laughing uproariously, Clytie was endeavoring to get in on his conversation and divert it to herself, and Carey was looking like a thundercloud and talking very rapidly and eagerly to Grace Kendall. How handsome he looked in his new necktie! How the blue brought out the blue of his eyes! And how dear and good and kindly polite her father looked! Then she noticed with a panic that the fruit cups were nearly empty, and it was time for the soup. Would Harry and Louise be able to make the transfer of dishes without any mishaps? She had not felt nervous about it before till this elegant stranger had appeared on the scene. She knew by his looks that he was used to having everything just so. She remembered his mother’s immaculate attire, the wonderful glimpse she had caught of the fittings of her traveling bag, everything silver-mounted and monogrammed. This man would know if the soup was not seasoned just right and the dishes were served at the wrong side.
Perhaps she was a little distraught as Louise slipped silently from her seat and took the empty dishes on her little tray that had stood unseen by the side of her chair.
“What a charming little sister!” said Maxwell.
Cornelia’s heart glowed, and she looked up with an appreciative smile.
“She is a darling!” she said earnestly. “I’m just getting to know her again since I came home from college. She was only a baby when I went away.”