XV
Jim appeared punctually at the appointed hour on Sunday evening. It had been a brilliant spring day. The late sunshine was now mellowed by shadows that fell thick on the front of the Winter house and made it look cool and inviting. As he came up the walk he saw Mrs. Merwent on the front porch.
She wore an elaborate white lingerie dress with a wide lavender sash. She had just cut some lilacs from the bush under the dining room window and as she mounted the steps she held them out for him to admire.
“I won’t offer you any more flowers, Mr. Sprague,” she began, referring to the incident of the boutonniere on the occasion of his first visit.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Merwent. They are certainly pretty,” Jim answered without returning her smile.
“They would go well with your grey suit too,” she persisted teasingly.
Jim was very careful of his attire but shy of personalities of any nature. He ignored Mrs. Merwent’s remark and turned to John who had just emerged from the house.
“Hello, John,” he called. “Where’s Lucy?”
“In the kitchen as usual.” John laughed. “She seems to have adopted cooking as her life work lately. It’s a good thing I have Nannie to console me.”
Jim scrutinized John but did not speak. The three made their way to the living room.
“Hello, Uncle Jim! The cookies are made in stars!” Dimmie cried, rushing up to Jim and embracing his knees.
“Everything seems to be in gala array,” Jim observed, looking around the room and noticing a bowl of violets and narcissi, and two or three bunches of lilacs on the piano and mantel shelf.
“Nannie is a real artist at arranging flowers, Jim,” John declared admiringly.
Mrs. Merwent smiled.
“With John’s pictures the house hardly needs any other decoration,” she began. “I think they’re—”
“Come and see Mamma, Uncle Jim,” Dimmie begged, tugging at Jim’s trouser leg.
“Did she tell you to call him, Jimmie?” Nannie inquired quickly.
“Come on, Uncle Jim,” Dimmie begged, not heeding his grandmother.
“Answer Nannie, Dimmie,” commanded John sternly.
“She won’t say my name,” protested Dimmie.
“Do what I tell you. Answer Nannie.”
“Now, John, I’m sure Jimmie doesn’t mean to be rude.”
“Well, he’s got to learn not to be.”
“I want to go back to Mamma,” wailed Dimmie.
“Come along, kid,” Jim said, as though he were oblivious to the discussion between John and Nannie. He lifted the child to his shoulder and the two left the room.
“Of course he has to go to Lucy as soon as he gets here. There are few men as big souled as you, John, who wouldn’t resent such devotion to their wives.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Nannie.” John looked at Mrs. Merwent in a worried, perplexed way.
“Of course you don’t, you greathearted fellow! Suppose we go out on the veranda until tea is ready.”
Not long after Lucy sent Dimmie to call them in.
Nannie and John praised the hot biscuit and fricasseed chicken. When tea was over they returned to the living room leaving Jim and Lucy still at the table.
“I’m going to sing the new song John brought me,” Nannie explained as she went out.
“Let’s go too so we can hear better,” said Lucy to Jim.
Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were unusually bright. She and Jim seated themselves near the piano, Dimmie perched on Jim’s knee, while John stood by Nannie and turned the music for her.
“I think it’s pretty. Don’t you, Jim?” Lucy commented when the last notes died away.
“Very,” agreed Jim.
“ ‘Pretty’ isn’t the word,” put in John. “It’s a beautiful little gem. And how well Nannie sings it! Don’t you think her expression is perfect?”
“You’ll make me blush if you don’t stop, John,” protested Nannie with her silveriest laugh.
“Well, I want you to be appreciated,” insisted John warmly.
“Don’t you think we appreciate Mamma’s singing?” asked Lucy.
“You don’t either of you seem much moved by it,” answered John.
“Now, John,” interrupted Nannie soothingly, smiling up at him.
“Sing that other one, the one I got last week,” urged John. “Here it is,” and he laid a piece of music open on the rack.
“Now wait a minute! Let me rest,” Nannie objected.
There was a pause.
“Let’s not sing any more now. You forget that perhaps everybody isn’t as fond of music as you are, John,” she began after an awkward moment.
“Do sing it, please,” pleaded Lucy. “Jim and I both love music, and Jim hasn’t heard it.”
“No, I’m not in very good voice tonight. It’s a mistake to sing when you’re not feeling like it. You lose your reputation.”
“Please,” Lucy begged again.
“I should like very much to hear it,” Jim joined in.
“Thank you, but you’ll have to excuse me this time,” said Nannie.
Again silence descended on the little group.
“Singing makes me thirsty,” announced Nannie at length, rising and moving toward the dining room.
“Let me get you a drink,” offered John, following her. “Don’t you want some lemonade? I’ll get the ice for you.”
“Let’s you and I make lemonade for everybody,” proposed Nannie as they entered the dining room.
“All right,” acceded John gleefully. Then, raising his voice, “You two stay in there. Nannie and I are fixing a surprise for you.”
“Good,” said Jim grimly.
For a moment Lucy sat looking at Jim without a word. The voices of John and Nannie and the tinkling of glasses and ice came faintly from the other room.
“You can’t make a square into a circle, Lucy,” Jim began very soberly, breaking the silence.
Lucy’s lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears.
“Thank you for understanding, Jim,” she replied unsteadily.
Jim glanced at her.
“I’m going to smoke,” he decided sourly.
Lucy smiled.
“I wish you would, Jim. I must take Dimmie up to bed. I’ll be right down.”
She led the child away, but in a short time rejoined Jim in the living room. He was walking up and down. His pipe was still in his mouth but it had gone out.
“I feel better,” she informed him. “Dimmie is the sweetest thing after he gets into bed at night.”
“He’s a great kid,” Jim growled approvingly.
John appeared with one of Nannie’s dainty tea aprons around him, carrying a tray on which were two glasses. Nannie followed him with the pitcher of lemonade.
“Mrs. Winter.” She stopped in front of Lucy and made a curtsey. “Hold the tray straight, John,” and she poured one of the glasses full.
Lucy took it.
“Do you think the mistress is pleased with us, John?” Mrs. Merwent murmured, with mock humility.
“Give Jim some too, Mamma,” Lucy interrupted gently.
“Wait a minute! I’m going as fast as I can, Lucy!” Nannie exclaimed with some irritation.
She led John over to Jim.
“Mr. Sprague,” she said with another curtsey.
“Aren’t you going to have any, Mrs. Merwent?” asked Jim.
“Oh, Mr. Sprague, the mistress wouldn’t like us to drink with the gentlefolk,” she answered coquettishly. “We’ll have ours later in the dining room.”
“That’s right, Mary. I’m glad to see you know your place. I’m strong for the proprieties myself,” Jim responded, drinking the lemonade. “You needn’t wait, either of you,” he added, returning the glass to the tray. “When we want you we’ll ring for you.” Jim was gazing straight into Nannie’s eyes and she tittered uneasily.
John laughed extravagantly.
“Thank you, sir,” he said. “Come on, Nannie,” and he departed, followed by Mrs. Merwent, who glanced back covertly at Jim as she passed him.
“Don’t you see, John!” Nannie exclaimed as soon as they reached the dining room. “They had rather be alone. Lucy don’t want us.”
“It was only Jim’s way of joking. He didn’t mean anything,” John explained soothingly, looking worried in spite of himself, as he remembered Nannie’s enigmatic remark earlier in the evening.
“Yes, he did. You didn’t see the hostile look he gave me. Lucy and he always manage to make us seem foolish!”
“Now, Nannie, you’re imagining,” said John soothingly. Lucy didn’t say anything.
“That’s just it!” retorted Mrs. Merwent. “She never does but she always sees to it that she and Mr. Sprague—” Nannie’s eyes and mouth opened for, chancing to turn, she saw Lucy in the doorway.
“Lucy, you’re spying on us! I didn’t think you’d stoop to do a thing like that!” she cried excitedly, recovering from her surprise.
“No, I wasn’t, Mamma, I came to ask you and John to come into the sitting room,” replied Lucy, eyeing her mother squarely.
“I won’t stand it!” cried Nannie hysterically, and as she spoke she almost ran into the hall, and seizing a scarf as she passed the hat and umbrella stand, went out, slamming the front door behind her.
John stood undecided and uneasy by the dining table.
“Lucy, you oughtn’t to have come in like this without saying a word—” he faltered.
“Why not?” demanded Lucy.
“Because—because—Nannie wasn’t saying anything,” he stammered.
Lucy turned to leave the room.
“Where do you think she’s gone?” he asked nervously.
“I don’t know,” replied Lucy.
“Shall I go and look for her?” he continued.
“I don’t know,” she repeated, and disappeared into the sitting room.
As Lucy entered the room where Jim was the front door clicked after John. She seated herself in a chair near Jim.
“Don’t you think I’d better go home, Lucy?” queried Jim in a low voice.
“Please don’t go,” she begged, laying a hand on his sleeve. “Let’s talk.”
“What about?” he asked with a grimace.
“Tell me about when you were a little boy, Jim. Don’t you wish we never had to grow up!”
“No,” replied Jim. “But I’ll tell you about my first day in school,” he added with a slight smile.
“All right.” Lucy smiled back at him and settled herself comfortably in her chair.
She wore a dress of blue and white striped voile that was deeply open at the throat, and Lucy’s throat was youthfully lovely. To Jim she appeared more girlish than he had ever seen her.
“The teacher whipped a little girl and I bit him in the leg to make him stop,” began Jim.
“Tell me all about it,” begged Lucy, drawing her chair closer.
It was nearly an hour before John and Nannie returned.
“What do you suppose is keeping John and Mrs. Merwent?” Jim had repeated uncomfortably more than once before the time had elapsed.
“I don’t know, Jim. Go on with what you were telling,” Lucy always answered.
Jim had frowned but resumed his narrative.
All the while Lucy showed no perturbation whatever at the continued absence of her mother and husband. Jim told story after story of his boyhood experiences, she asking questions and adding comments at which they both laughed.
When John and Mrs. Merwent entered the house they came through the hall straight into the living room.
“We’ve been for a walk,” John announced breezily. “It’s a great night. Did you people see the moonlight?”
“I hadn’t noticed,” said Jim.
Nannie’s eyes showed traces of tears and her voice was subdued.
“You two look cosy in here,” she remarked as if in search of something to say.
“We have been,” Lucy told her.
“Well, I must go.” Jim rose.
“Hadn’t you better stay till morning?” John suggested.
“No.”
Lucy was silent.
After good nights were exchanged Jim left the house.
“I’m going to bed.” Nannie did not speak to anyone in particular.
“Good night,” responded John and Lucy, and Mrs. Merwent ascended the stairs.
“I could hardly get her to come back,” John told Lucy after they had gone to their room. “She’s so sensitive, Lucy. She talked about the way you felt toward her. She doesn’t think you have ever gotten over your old hard feelings.”
“It wasn’t my hard feelings, John.” Lucy spoke in an emotionless tone.
“Now, Lucy,” John remonstrated, “anyone would think that you and I were perfect and nobody but Nannie was ever to blame for anything.” Lucy was silent and he went on. “She was so upset she talked about going home and marrying that Professor Walsh. I must say I think things are pretty bad when your own mother feels as though she was so little at home in her daughter’s house that she has to turn to a man like that—” He stopped.
“It’s your house, too, John,” put in Lucy, her lip quivering.
“Well, heaven knows, I don’t want to run her out of it!” he answered pettishly.
Lucy lay down on the bed, her face turned away from him. No more words passed between them and soon John, at least, was sleeping.