I
“Muriel thinks,” said Isabel, “that Belle should go into mourning.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Jane. “The Lesters always had a lot of family feeling.”
“Just the same,” said Isabel, “I’ve just bought all her maternity clothes. So soon after the trousseau. And they’re so pretty. Modern clothes are really very concealing. When I think of the tight waists we had to wear—and all those pleats put in to let out! Don’t you think it seems ridiculous to order another set?”
“Yes,” said Jane. “But Muriel adored her mother. So did Edith and Rosalie.”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt,” said Isabel, “that they’ll all flap about like black crows for two years. But Belle’s so young—she hardly knew Mrs. Lester—and the baby’s coming in two months. She’s worried about Albert. I hate to plunge her into black.”
Isabel was sitting on the window-seat in Jane’s blue bedroom. They were discussing Mrs. Lester’s death, which had occurred the night before, and Mrs. Lester’s funeral, which would take place next day. Mrs. Lester had died in her sleep. She had been found dead by her maid coming in with her breakfast tray. Her death had been a great shock to Muriel.
“Belle hasn’t heard from Albert?” asked Jane. “Any plans, I mean?”
“He has no plans,” said Isabel resentfully. “No more than Jack has. How can they plan, poor darlings? I think it’s outrageous for the Government to keep them hanging around France four months after the armistice! As far as I can see, it didn’t do anybody a bit of good for them to go over. They might just as well have stayed in Rockford.”
That was quite true, reflected Jane. Jack had not even seen action, Albert had spent the last two days of the war sitting in a muddy trench. Neither boy had struck a blow at the Germans. Albert had not seen nearly as much fighting in France as Stephen had at San Juan Hill.
“Muriel’s going to be a dreadful mother-in-law,” said Isabel irrelevantly.
Jane could not help smiling. She knew what Cicily thought of Isabel in that capacity. Belle and Cicily, in the absence of their young husbands, had seen a great deal of their mothers-in-law.
“You’d think,” Cicily had said, only last evening to Jane and Stephen, “you’d think she was going to have the baby—not me!”
“You’d think,” said Isabel, while Jane was smiling, “you’d think Muriel was going to have Belle’s baby. She’s bought her some lovely things, of course, but she’s always interfering. And now she wants her to wear crepe!”
“I’d like to wear crepe myself,” said Jane. “I loved Mrs. Lester.”
“She was a grand old matriarch,” said Isabel, rising with a sigh. “Still, she was over eighty. Muriel knew she couldn’t live forever. Queer, isn’t it, that Bert should outlive her—in the state he’s been in for the last five years?”
“How is Papa?” asked Jane, rising in her turn.
“Oh, much better. His cold is almost gone. Dr. Bancroft says he can go to the funeral.”
“Not up to Graceland?” said Jane, with a glance at the February sleet storm that was silvering the garden. “In this weather?”
“I don’t know about Graceland,” said Isabel, “but, anyway, the church. They’ve asked him to be an honorary pallbearer.”
“Of course,” said Jane. “I suppose he was Mrs. Lester’s oldest friend. He was awfully fond of her.”
“Well, everyone was,” said Isabel. “But I’m not going to let Belle go into mourning.”
“Black for the funeral,” urged Jane pacifically.
“Of course,” said Isabel. “That’s only decent.” She turned toward the door. “How is Cicily feeling today?”
“Very well,” said Jane. “She’s in town at the concert.”
“They go everywhere, don’t they?” said Isabel. “They don’t care how they look.”
“I think that’s fine,” said Jane.
“But it’s funny,” said Isabel. “Last Friday night at the Casino I heard Cicily telling Billy Winter that she had engaged a room at the Lying-in Hospital. I spoke to her about that. I didn’t quite like it.”
“They take it all as a matter of course,” said Jane.
“I know,” said Isabel. “But to a young bachelor—”
“I’m sure he didn’t mind,” said Jane.
“He didn’t,” said Isabel. “But I thought he should have.”
“It’s a different generation, old girl,” said Jane.