XVI
The morning following Jim’s visit it was raining. Dismal little rivers trickled along the eaves of the houses and Dimmie, kneeling in an arm chair by the dining room window, flattened his nose against the glass and regarded disconsolately the damp length of the rope swing that trailed from the elm tree. It swayed gently in the wind and its motion suggested many tantalizing possibilities to the small prisoner.
“Don’t mash your nose like that! You’ll get it all out of shape,” Nannie called to him. She had been eating her breakfast in mournful solitude. It was late and John had long ago gone to catch his train and Lucy was busy in the kitchen.
“Are you still angry with me, Lucy?” Mrs. Merwent questioned when Lucy came into the room for a moment.
“No,” said Lucy in a matter-of-fact voice. “I’m going shopping this afternoon if it clears off. Don’t you want to go? Mrs. Hamilton is going to look after Dimmie.”
“I suppose you despise me too much to be angry,” persisted Nannie.
“Let’s think of something else, Mamma.”
“How can I think of anything else when the only person I have in the world feels hard towards me?”
“But I don’t feel hard toward you, Mamma.”
“No! You can take a lofty attitude, Lucy. I was the one who was put in a humiliating position.”
“I didn’t suppose you were saying nasty and untrue things behind my back, Mamma, or I wouldn’t have come into the dining room.”
“You are so unjust, Lucy!” Nannie was in tears now. “You overhear a playful and joking word or two and immediately jump to the conclusion that I was backbiting you. Anybody can take a single phrase without the context and twist it into something mean.”
“I heard plenty, Mamma, to know just the sort of situation you were trying to create. But nothing is gained by talking about what’s past, so let’s try and forget it.”
“Oh, Lucy, I don’t see how you can be so cruel! There is absolutely no generous spirit in you. I have overlooked everything and never refer to it.”
“I didn’t refer to this, Mamma.”
Nannie sobbed violently.
“I see that you will never, never forgive me, Lucy.”
“I have forgiven you, Mamma.”
“Well, you wouldn’t say so. You would rather let me suffer.”
“No, Mamma. I don’t want you to suffer. It is I who have suffered about this matter.”
“That sounds a lot like you had forgiven me.”
“Well, I have,” repeated Lucy in a gentler tone.
Mrs. Merwent went to her daughter and put her arms around Lucy’s neck.
“Kiss me, Lucy,” she implored. “I can’t bear to have you not love me and respect me. I hate to be forgiven by my own child!”
Lucy softened suddenly and returned Nannie’s kiss, but without speaking.
The sky cleared later in the day, and when Dimmie was dispatched to Mrs. Hamilton’s house with a note Lucy and Nannie took the train to the city.
Mrs. Merwent wore a black tailored suit and a black and white hat. Her heavily figured veil was very becoming.
As they were leaving the station Miss Storms in her car called out: “Lucy! Are you going to give me the dead cut, dear child? How are you?” and she descended from the automobile.
“You’re looking fagged, dear,” she observed as she kissed Lucy. Then her eye caught Nannie’s.
“This is my mother, Mrs. Merwent, Miss Storms,” Lucy explained.
Nannie bowed stiffly, ignoring Miss Storms’ smile and half extended hand. Lucy showed that she was disturbed. Miss Storms stood very straight, drew herself up to her tallest, and kept one hand on the open door of her limousine.
“How are John and dear little Dimmie?” she inquired. “And Jim Sprague too? I haven’t seen him for a month.”
“Oh, we’re all well, thank you,” replied Lucy. “I would have been in to see you but I’ve been very busy since Mamma came.”
“I can imagine so.” Miss Storms smiled impersonally. “I’m sure you are enjoying your mother’s visit.” Then, including Nannie, “How do you like Chicago, Mrs. Merwent?”
“Very much indeed,” stated Nannie with great dignity.
“By the way, Lucy, I’ve been wanting to see you, but I’ll call you up on the phone in a day or two.” Miss Storms then spoke in a general tone. “Can I take you two anywhere?”
“No, thank you,” answered Lucy.
“Well, goodbye, dear. Don’t work too hard,” and she pinched Lucy’s cheek. Again in the impersonal tone she had used a moment before, “Goodbye, Mrs. Merwent,” and Miss Storms returned to her seat in the car and snapped the door to, scarcely waiting to hear Nannie’s response.
As the machine whirred away Miss Storms waved her hand to Lucy, who waved back with a smile.
“Shall we walk, Mamma, or had you rather take a street car?” asked Lucy.
“Lucy,” said Nannie, her voice trembling, “I shouldn’t think you’d have the face to introduce that woman to me!”
“What could I do, Mamma?” retorted Lucy.
“You could have ignored her. I should think that your mother would come before a mere acquaintance.”
“But, Mamma, she’s not a mere acquaintance.”
“Well, I should think a woman who was your mother’s enemy would hardly be the one to make an intimate of.”
“She’s been very good to me, Mamma.”
“Of course that excuses all she has done to me, Lucy. All you know is that she hates me and that is sufficient to make you idolize her.”
“But, Mamma, I know lots about her. She is one of Papa’s friends and—”
“Yes! That’s it! Anybody he picks up on the street is good enough for you. Don’t think of me or my feelings, I beg of you, Lucy. Anybody, no matter what her reputation—”
“Mamma, Miss Storms is one of the most distinguished women in the United States. Here in Chicago her influence is greater than almost any man’s in public life. The whole city is proud of her.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Why you only have to read the newspapers. Everybody knows it.”
“Is she rich, Lucy?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure. I think she must be, she gives so much away.”
“Was that her machine?”
“Why, yes. She has an electric too, and her flat is the most beautiful thing you ever saw.”
“She certainly dresses elegantly,” admitted Nannie, “doesn’t she!”
“Yes,” agreed Lucy.
“Does she entertain much?”
“No, Mamma. She’s too busy.”
“I suppose she doesn’t go into society, then?” pursued Nannie interrogatively.
“Why, yes indeed, Mamma. Her name is always among those who were at the biggest functions. The McCullochs, the Porters, the Flemwells, and all the other social leaders try to get her. I’ve seen the invitations. Mrs. Porter used to come to the flat to persuade her to give up a board meeting of some committee, to help receive at her things.”
“She has a very aristocratic manner,” acknowledged Nannie. “Shall we take a car?”
“All right,” agreed Lucy. In a few minutes the two were in the big department store.
“Let’s go to a matinée,” suggested Nannie when they had made their purchases. “We’ll be just in time if we hurry through our lunch.”
“Let’s see if we’ve money enough for the tickets,” considered Lucy, searching through her purse. “All right,” she decided. “What play do you want to see?”
“Why it makes no difference to me, Lucy. You choose.”
“Nazimova is playing Hedda Gabler at the Standard. This is the end of the season and just about our last chance,” said Lucy. “I’ve been wanting to see the play ever since I read it at Miss Storms’. Shall we go there?”
“Aren’t there any musical comedies playing now?” inquired Nannie. “They have such beautiful costumes in them.”
“We can see as we are eating,” planned Lucy, leading the way into a small restaurant and tea room. “We’ll look at a paper.”
“What a cheap looking place!” commented Mrs. Merwent, staring around as they sat down.
“If we go to a dear one we’ll have to give up the matinée,” retorted Lucy rather wearily.
“Oh, I didn’t mean that I mind,” returned Nannie quickly. “You always try to twist everything I say into something mean, Lucy,” she added petulantly.
“Mamma, please let’s not quarrel again,” pleaded Lucy. “I’m so tired.”
“I’m sure I’ve not been trying to quarrel. I’ve been as nice as I knew how to be all day. You’re the one who always seems to want to quarrel.”
The waitress came up with a menu.
Lucy scrutinized her mother in silence. Then, turning to the waitress who had come back to the table, she gave an order and asked for a morning paper.
Nannie preserved an injured silence until the food was placed before her, but she could not resist its expansive effect.
Lucy picked up the paper and scanned it.
“There are no musical comedies playing near here, Mamma,” she announced. “The only other theatre near enough is giving a revival of As You Like It. The rest are too far away for us to get there before the curtain goes up.”
“Well, let’s see Nazimova then,” conceded Mrs. Merwent. “These sandwiches are so good I could eat a dozen!”
Lucy had ended her meal.
“We’ll be late if you do!” she said warningly. “It’s half past one.”
“Wait a minute, Lucy. You hurry me so I hardly know what I’m eating,” Nannie protested.
Only the highest priced seats were left when they reached the theatre, and, by the time they were in their places, the curtain had risen and the first act was in progress.
“If I’d known we were going to be late I wouldn’t have come,” grumbled Nannie. “I hate to come in after a piece is started. It’s so hard to get the threads of the plot.”
During the progress of the play Mrs. Merwent insisted on whispering personal remarks regarding the actors and actresses, until Lucy could no longer endure it with equanimity.
“Please, Mamma, do wait till after the act is over!” she requested irritably.
“I never saw anyone in my life who was so hard to get along with as you,” murmured Nannie in a savage undertone. After this she preserved an injured silence, not speaking again until they had reached home.
Here Lucy changed into her house dress and apron and began dinner, and Nannie went to her room.
At the end of an hour Mrs. Merwent appeared in a pretty light green demi-toilette. On Dimmie’s return from the Hamiltons’ Lucy had changed his clothes and he too was spotless.
As John’s step was heard, Nannie ran to the door. Dimmie followed rather timidly. When John entered the dining room it was with one hand on Nannie’s arm, while Dimmie clung to his other hand.
“How’s everybody?” John asked. “You look like a débutante, Nannie.”
“Everybody’s well,” she replied. “We’ve been to a matinée.”
“I didn’t go,” volunteered Dimmie. “I stayed with Mrs. Hamilton.”
At this juncture Lucy came in with a dish from the kitchen.
“You look like you’d been to a funeral,” said John, regarding her. “What’s the matter?”
“I have a slight headache, but it’s nothing. Let’s have dinner.”
When they were seated at the table she began to talk with determined agreeableness.
“We went to see Nazimova as Hedda Gabler. She’s wonderful.”
“And that dress she wore in the last act!” interrupted Nannie. “Did you get a good look at it, Lucy? It was black silk with tiny pink rosebuds.”
“But didn’t you think her portrayal of Hedda was splendid?” persisted Lucy.
“I didn’t like the piece,” returned Mrs. Merwent. “I don’t enjoy sad things.”
“She certainly has a marvellous temperament. Don’t you think so, John?” pursued Lucy.
“Yes. I admired her as Nora very much.”
“She’s a brunette,” observed Nannie. “Now what are you laughing at, Lucy? You ridicule everything I say! I’m sure I don’t see anything funny in what I said. And John is laughing too!”
“We weren’t ridiculing you, Mamma,” said Lucy.
“No! I think it was cute!” supplemented John warmly. “I like naivete. People are generally so sophisticated.”
“Well, you like me a little, anyway. Don’t you, John?”
“I should say I did, Nannie!”
“So do I,” added Lucy.
“Thank you, John,” said Nannie, smiling again.
The next evening Nannie and John walked about the front yard waiting for Lucy to announce dinner. It was just after sunset and the tints in the sky were gorgeous.
“Oh look at the lovely delicate mauve tint under that cloud!” exclaimed John, pointing. Lucy joined them as he was speaking.
“Yes,” agreed Nannie. “It’s just the color of a dress I once had. Do you remember that little dress, Lucy?”
“Yes, Mamma.” Lucy’s voice was weary. “Come on, or dinner will get cold,” she added.
“Speaking of colors, what did you ever paint your house that horrid shade for?” Nannie asked a moment later, when the family was seated and she was serving the plates.
“Why I don’t think it’s horrid,” objected Lucy. “We all agreed it was pretty. Jim selected it and—”
“Yes!” sneered Mrs. Merwent, “Mr. Sprague has to be pleased even in the color of your house!”
Lucy was pale and silent.
“I’ve thought myself since that a slate grey would have been more effective,” said John.
“Why, John, you were the most enthusiastic of all over this fawn and brown color scheme!” defended Lucy.
“Well? Is that any reason why I shouldn’t change my mind?” demanded John sharply.
“It certainly is!” retorted Lucy with equal emphasis. “People ought to know their own minds.”
“Like you!” snapped John.
“Dear me,” cooed Nannie, “you two have your little tiffs like other people! I had always thought you so happy.”
Lucy burst into tears and left the table.
After finishing his meal, John went to the door of Lucy’s room and found it locked. He knocked.
“Please go away, John,” called Lucy.
“But, Lucy, you shouldn’t get angry at every suggestion Nannie makes.”
“I can’t talk, John. I’m so tired.”
John returned to Nannie.
“Let’s us two wash the dishes,” he proposed. Dimmie had gone to sleep in the Morris chair.
“Well, wait a minute, John. There was so much of this dessert left I thought I’d take another helping,” Nannie explained, beginning to eat again.
By the time they had cleaned the dishes and undressed Dimmie Nannie had reiterated a favorite opinion.
“John, you must get a servant for Lucy. I help her all I can but the work is too heavy for her.”
Lucy objected strenuously to the scheme when it was brought up by John the following morning. She was proud of her plan of putting the amount of a servant’s wages in the bank every month.
“Well, Lucy, it’s only for your own good that I suggested it,” argued Nannie.
“I can do the work all right,” Lucy protested. “I’ve not been very well lately, but I’ll be all right.”
“I agree with Nannie,” decided John. “It will be a good thing for her, too, for then you can go out with her more. She’s had to stay in most of the time because there was no one to go with.”
“I’m not thinking of myself at all, John,” put in Nannie.
“I know you’re not,” returned John, “but we are.”
“But, John,” demurred Lucy, “we can’t afford it. Our bills are getting bigger every week.”
“Well, a few dollars a month for servant hire isn’t going to make any appreciable difference.”
“It isn’t only the wages, John, but a servant eats, and wastes, and steals, and there are a lot of things to be thought of!” Lucy began to weep.
“There! That’s an example. You’re all nervous and worn out and ready to blow up at any time,” said John.
“Yes! And her friends blame it on me!” Nannie interrupted. “Mr. Sprague and that Miss Storms both told me that Lucy was working too hard.”
“I’d be obliged if both of them would attend to their own business,” remarked John testily. “Well, it’s settled, and I’ll send a girl out at once.”
“Please don’t, John,” begged Lucy as she followed him into the hall a moment later. He took his hat from the rack.
“Yes, I will,” he repeated, laughing. “Goodbye,” and he was gone.
John, to Lucy’s relief, neglected to put into immediate execution his threat of hiring a servant. She tried to conceal from him the extent of her fear and perplexity as he seemed to regard her concern for their affairs as a justification of his intention, and to evade Nannie’s persistence was even more difficult.