IX: _Gretna Greenhorns_
Sec.1
The brown eyes of Chester Arthur Jessup, Jr., were fixed on the maroonbanner of the Clintonia High School which adorned his bedroom wall, butthey did not see that vivid emblem of the institution in whose academichalls he was a senior. Rather, they appeared to look through it, beyondit, into some far-away land. Bright but unseeing, they proclaimed thattheir owner was in that state of mild hypnosis known as"turkey-dreaming." His lips were parted in a slight smile, and the shoewhich he had been in the act of removing as he sat on his bed was poisedin mid-air above the floor, for reverie had overcome him in the verymidst of preparations for an evening call.
The object of his pensive musings was at that moment eating her eveningmeal some blocks away in the home of her parents. Fondly, with thatinward eye which is alleged to be the bliss of solitude, Chesterfollowed the process. It had only been lately that he could bringhimself to admit that she ate at all. She was so dainty, so ethereal.And yet reason, and the course he was taking in physiology, told himthat she, even she, must sometimes give way to the unworthy promptingsof necessity, and eat. But that she should eat as ordinary mortals do,was unthinkable. It was not the first time that Chester, in reverie,had permitted her a slight refection. The menu of her meals nevervaried. To-night, as on other occasions, it consisted of watercresssalad, a mere nibble of it; a delicate dab of ice-cream, no bigger thana thimble; a small cup of tea, and, perhaps, a lady-finger. Thelady-finger was a concession. On the occasion of his last call, Mildredhad confessed that she could die eating lady-fingers. Of course, laterin the evening she might have a candy or two, but then candy can hardlybe considered food.
A mundane clatter of dishes in the kitchen below caused Chester to startfrom his dream, and drop the shoe. He leaped up and began to makeelaborate and excited preparations for dressing.
From an ancient, battered chest of drawers he carefully took atissue-paper package containing a Union Forever Suit, whose labelproclaimed that "From Factory to You, No Human Hand Touches It." Withbrow puckered in abstract thought, Chester broke the seal and laid thecrisp, immaculate garment on the bed. With intense seriousness, heregarded it for a moment; apparently it passed his searchingexamination, for he turned again to the chest of drawers and drew fortha smaller package, from which he extracted new socks of lustrous blue.These he placed on the bed. From beneath the bed he drew a pair of lowshoes, which gleamed in the gaslight from arduous polishing. On theirtoes, fanciful artisans had pricked curves and loops and butterflydesigns. Chester gave them a few final rubs with the shirt he had justdiscarded and placed them on the bed. At this point there was a hiatusin the wardrobe. He went out into the hall and shouted down the backstairs.
"Oh, Ma. Oh, Ma!"
"Well?" came his mother's voice from the regions below.
"Are my trousers pressed yet?"
"My goodness, Chester," she called, "I haven't had time yet. It's only alittle after six. Do come down and eat some supper."
"But I don't want any supper," protested Chester.
"There's apple pudding with cream," she announced.
"Oh, well," said Chester, reluctantly, "I suppose I'd better. Can I havea dish of it on the back stairs? I'm not dressed."
"Yes. But you have plenty of time. You know you shouldn't make anevening call before eight-fifteen at the very earliest," said Mrs.Jessup.
* * * * *
After he had disposed of two helpings of apple pudding, Chester returnedto his room and spent some moments analyzing the comparative merits of adozen neckties hanging in an imitation brass stirrup. He had eliminatedall but two, a black one and a red one, when his mother's voice floatedup the back stairs.
"For goodness' sake, Chester, do be careful of that bathtub. It'srunning over again. How many times do I have to tell you to watch it?"
Chester bounded to the bathroom and shut off the water. It had, indeed,started to overflow the tub, and Chester, accepting the Archimedianprinciple without ever having heard of it, perceived that he must letsome of the water out before he could put himself in. Accordingly hepulled out the plug and returned to his own room to wait for a little ofthe water to run off.
He made the most of this idle moment. Throwing off his multi-hued Navajobathrobe, he surveyed the reflection of his torso in the mirror. Hecontracted his biceps and eyed the resulting egg-like bulges with somesatisfaction. Suddenly, his ordinarily amiable face took on a fierce,dark scowl. He crouched until he was bent almost double. He lowered atthe mirror. His left fist was extended and his right drawn back in themost approved scientific style of the prize-ring.
"You will, will you?" came from between his clenched teeth, and his leftfist darted out rapidly, three, four, five times, and then he shot outhis right fist with such violence that he all but shattered the mirror.
This last blow seemed to have a cataclysmic effect on Chester'sopponent, for the victorious Chester backed off and waited, stillcrouching and lowering, for his victim to rise.
The opponent apparently was a tough one, and not the man to succumbeasily. Chester waited for him to regain his feet and then they were atit again. Chester let loose a shower of savage uppercuts. From the wayhe leaped six inches into the air to deliver his blows it was evidentthat his opponent was considerably bigger than he. At length, when allbut breathless from his exertions, Chester with one prodigious punch, a_coup de grace_ that there was no withstanding, knocked all the fightout of his foe. But, seemingly, he was not satisfied with flooring hisgiant opponent; with stern, set face, Chester walked to the corner wherethe fellow was sprawling, seized him by his collar, and dragged himacross the room. Then, shaking him fiercely, Chester hissed:
"Now, you cad, apologize to this lady for daring to offer her an affrontby passing remarks about her."
The apology would, no doubt, have been forthcoming had not Chester atthat moment heard an unmistakable sound from the bathroom. He abandonedhis prostrate foe and rushed in just in time to see the last of hisbath-water go gargling and gurgling out of the tub.
Chester sat moodily on the edge of the tub until enough hot water hadbubbled into it for him to perform ablutions of appalling thoroughness.He was red almost to rawness from his efforts with the bath brush, andwas redolent of scented soap and talcum powder when he again returned tohis bedroom.
He dressed with a sort of feverish calmness, now and again pausing tosigh gently and gaze for a moment into nothingness. By now she hadfinished her lady-finger--
His mother had laid his freshly pressed trousers on the bed, and he ranan appreciative eye along their razor-blade crease. From the chest ofdrawers he brought forth a snowy shirt, which, from the piece ofcardboard shoved down its throat and the numerous pins which Chesterextracted impatiently, one could surmise was fresh from the laundry.When he came to the collar-and-tie stage, he was halted for a time.Three collars of various shapes were tried and deemed unworthy, andthen, at the last minute, yielding to a sudden wild impulse, hediscarded the black tie in favor of the red one. He slipped on a blueserge coat, the cut of which endeavored to promote his waist-line to hisshoulder blades, and was all dressed but for the crowning task--to combhis hair.
By dint of many dismal experiences, Chester knew that this would betrying, for his hair was abundant but untamed. He tried first to induceit to part while it was still dry, but the results of this operation, ashe had feared, were negligible. He then attempted to achieve a partwith his hair slightly moistened with witch hazel. For fully fiveseconds it looked like a success, but, as Chester started to leave, oneparting look told him that little spikes and wisps were rearingrebellious heads and quite ruining the perfection of his handiwork. Witha sigh he fell back upon his last resort, the liberal application of asticky, jelly-like substance derived from petroleum, which imparted tohis brown hair an unwonted shine. But the part held as if it had beencarved in marble. Arranging his white silk handkerchief so that itprotruded a modish eighth of an inch from his breast pocket, Che
sterArthur Jessup, Jr., sallied forth to make his call.
On the front porch was his family, and Chester would have avoided theircritical eyes if he could. However, the gantlet had to be run, so heemerged into the family group with a saunter that he hoped might bedescribed as "nonchalant." In the privacy of his room he often practicedthat saunter; he had seen in the papers that a certain celebratedcriminal had "sauntered nonchalantly into the court-room," and thephrase had fascinated him.
"What in the name of thunder have you been doing to your hair?" demandedhis father, looking up from his pipe and paper.
"Combing it," replied Chester, coldly.
"With axle grease?" inquired Jessup senior, genially.
"And it does look so nice when it's dry and wavy," put in his mother.
Chester emitted a faint groan.
"Oh, Ma, you never seem to realize that I'm grown up," he protested."Wavy hair!" He groaned again.
"Well," remarked the father, "I suppose it's better that way than notcombed at all. Seems to me that last summer you didn't care muchwhether it was combed, or cut either, for that matter."
"A woman has come into his life," explained his twenty-two year-oldsister, from behind her novel.
"You just be careful who you go callin' a woman," exclaimed Chester,turning on her, with some warmth.
"Don't you consider Mildred Wrigley a woman?" asked Hilda, mildly.
"Not in the sense you mean it."
"By the way," said Hilda, "I saw her last night."
Chester's manner instantly became eager and conciliatory. "Did you?Where?"
"At the Mill Street Baptist Church supper," said Hilda.
"At the supper?" Chester's tone suggested incredulity.
"Yes. And goodness me, I never saw a girl eat so much in my life.She----"
"Hilda Jessup, how dare you!"
Chester's voice cracked with the emotion he felt at so damnable animputation.
"There, there, Hilda, stop your teasing," said Mrs. Jessup. "What if shedid? A big, healthy girl like that----"
"Mother----" Chester's tone was anguished.
"Come, Nell," said Mr. Jessup, "leave him to his illusions. It's a badday for romance when a man discovers that his goddess likes a secondhelping of corned beef."
"Father, how can you say such things! I will not stay here and listen toyou say such things about one who I----"
"One whom," interrupted Hilda.
Chester flounced down the front steps and slammed the gate after him,in a manner that could not possibly be described as "nonchalant."
Sec.2
The Wrigley home was four blocks away, and Chester, once out of sight ofhis own home, became meditative. He stopped, and after looking about tosee that he was not observed, drew from his inside pocket an envelope,and for the twelfth time that day counted its contents. Ninety-fourdollars! The savings of a lifetime! It had originally been saved for thepurchase of a motor-cycle, but that was before Mildred Wrigley hadsmiled at him one day across the senior study-hall. That seemed butyesterday, and yet it must have been fully seven weeks before! Hereplaced the money and continued on his way.
Chester paused at the Greek Candy Kitchen on Main Street to buy a box ofcandy, richly bedight with purple silk, and by carefully gauging hissaunter, contrived to arrive at the Wrigley residence at fourteenminutes after eight. He gave his tie a final adjustment, his hair a lastfrantic smoothing, licked his dry lips--and rang the bell.
"Oh, good evening, Chester."
Mildred Wrigley had a small, birdlike voice. She was looking not so muchat Chester as at the beribboned purple box he held. They went into theparlor.
"Oh, Chester," cried Mildred, as she opened the purple box, "how sweetof you to bring me such heavenly candy. I just adore chocolate-coveredcherries. I could just DIE eating them."
She popped two of them into her mouth, and sighed ecstatically. Theydiscussed, with great thoroughness, the weather of the day, the weatherof the day before and the probable weather of the near future. ThenMildred moved her chair a quarter of an inch nearer Chester's.
"There, now," she said, with her dimpling smile, "let's be real comfy."A glow enveloped Chester.
"I had the most heavenly supper to-night," confided Mildred.
"I hardly ate at all," said Chester.
"Oh, you poor, poor boy," said Mildred. "Do pass me another candy."
They discussed school affairs, and the approaching examinations.
"I'm so worried," confessed Mildred. "Horrid old geometry. Stupidphysics. What do I care why apples fall off trees? I'm going to go onthe stage. That miserable old wretch, Miss Shufelt, has been writingnasty notes to Dad, saying I don't study enough."
Her lip trembled; she looked so small, so weak. "Look here," saidChester, hoarsely, "we've known each other for a long time now, haven'twe?"
"Yes, ever so long," said Mildred, taking another chocolate-coveredcherry. "Months and months."
"Do you think one person ought to be frank with another person?"
"Of course I do, Chester, if they know each other well enough."
"I mean very frank."
"Well," said Mildred, "if they know each other very, very well, I thinkthey ought to be very frank."
"How long do you think one person ought to know another person beforehe, or for that matter she, ought to be very frank with that person."
"Oh, months and months," answered Mildred.
Chester passed his white silk handkerchief over his damp brow.
"When I say very frank, I mean very frank," he said.
"That's what I mean, too." She took another chocolate-covered cherry.
Chester went on, speaking rapidly.
"For example, if one person should tell another person that he likedthat person and he didn't really mean like at all but another word likelike, only meaning something much more than like--don't you think heought to tell that person what he really meant? I mean, of course,providing that he had known that person months and months and knew hervery well and----"
"I guess he should," she said, taking a sudden keen interest in the toeof her slipper. Chester plunged on.
"But suppose you were the person that another person had said theyliked, only they really didn't mean like but another word that beginswith 'l,' do you think that person ought to be very frank and tell youthat the way he regarded you did not begin 'li' but began 'lo'?"
"I guess so," she said, without abandoning the minute scrutiny of hertoe.
"Well," said Chester, "that's how I regard you, not with an 'li' butwith an 'lo.'"
Mildred did not look up.
"Oh, Chester," she murmured. He hitched his chair an inch nearer hers,and with a quick, uncertain movement, took hold of her hand. A loud slamof the front door caused them both to start.
"It's Dad," whispered Mildred. "And he's mad about something."
Her father, large and red-faced, entered the room.
"Good evening," he said, nodding briefly at Chester.
"Mildred, come into my study a minute, will you. There's something Iwant to talk to you about."
* * * * *
The folding doors closed on father and daughter, and Chester was leftbalancing himself on the edge of a chair.
Mildred's father had a rumbling voice that now and then penetrated thefolding doors and Chester caught the words "whippersnapper" and"callow." He heard, too, Mildred's small, high voice, protesting. Shewas in tears.
Presently Mildred reappeared, lacrimose. "Oh, that nasty, horrid MissShufelt," she burst out.
"What has she done?" asked Chester.
"The nasty old cat asked Dad to stop in to see her to-night on his wayhome from the office, and she told him the awfulest things about me."
"She did?" Chester's voice was rich with loathing. "I just wish I hadher here, that's all I wish," he added fiercely.
"She said," went on Mildred, with fresh sobs, "shesaid--I--was--boy--c-c-crazy. And--I--never--studied--and----"
>
"Darn that woman!" cried Chester.
"And Dad's--going--to--send--me--to--S-Simpson Hall!"
The idea stunned Chester.
"Simpson Hall? Why, that's a boarding school in Massachusetts, miles andmiles from here," he gasped.
"I know it," said Mildred. "I know a girl who went there. It's a nasty,horrid place." A fresh attack of sobs seized her.
"They'll--make--me--do--c-calisthenics,and--they--won't--give--me--anything--to--eat--but--b-beans."
Nothing but beans! Mildred eat beans! It was an outrage, a sacrilege.
"He's already written to Simpson Hall," wailed Mildred. "And I have togo, Monday."
"Monday? Not Monday? Why, to-day's Friday!" Chester's face becameresolute; he felt in his inside pocket where his envelope was.
"You _sha'n't_ go," he declared. "You and I will elope to-morrowmorning."
Sec.3
Chester met Mildred aboard the 8:48 train for New York City the nextmorning.
Mildred, clasping a small straw suit-case, had misgivings. But Chesterreassured her.
"Don't worry, Mildred, please don't worry," he pleaded. "My cousin, PhilSnyder, who is at Princeton and knows all about such things, says it's acinch to get married in New York. All you do is walk up to a window, paya dollar, and you're married. And if we can't get married there, we cango to Hoboken. Anybody, anybody at all, can get married in Hoboken, Philtold me so."
She smiled at him.
"Our wedding day," she said, softly.
"Why are you so pensive?" he asked, after a while.
"I haven't had my breakfast," she said. "I always feel sort of weak andfunny till I've had my breakfast."
Chester bought several large slabs of nut-studded chocolate from thetrain boy. When they passed Harmon, at Mildred's suggestion he bought apackage of butter-scotch. Her flagging spirits were revived by theserepasts. "I could just DIE eating butter-scotch," she said, dimpling.
"We'll always keep some in the house, little woman," Chester promisedher, mentally adding butter-scotch to the menu of watercress salad, tea,ice-cream and an occasional lady-finger.
The human torrent in the Grand Central station whirled the elopers withit along the ramp and out under the zodiac dome of the great, busy hall.They stood there, wide-eyed. "New York," said Mildred.
"Our New York," said Chester.
He steered a roundabout course for the subway, for he wanted to reachthe Municipal Building as soon as possible. He had fears, the worldlyPhil Snyder to the contrary notwithstanding, that he might encounterdifficulties in getting a marriage license there. And he and Mildredwould then have to go to Hoboken. He had only a sketchy idea of whereHoboken was. And it was then nearly eleven.
But Mildred was not to be hurried.
"Couldn't we have just one little fudge sundae first?" she asked. "Ihaven't had my regular breakfast, you know. And I do feel so sort ofweak and funny when I haven't had my regular breakfast."
To Schuyler's they went, and consumed precious minutes and two fudgesundaes. On the way out, Mildred stopped short.
"Oh, look," she exclaimed, "real New Orleans pralines. I just adorethem. And you can't get them in Clintonia."
Chester looked at her a little nervously.
"It's getting sort of late," he suggested.
"All right, Mr. Hurry," Mildred pouted, "just you go on to the horridold City Hall by your lonesome. I'm going to stop and have a praline."
Chester capitulated, contritely, so Mildred had two.
They started for the subway which was to take them far down-town to theMunicipal Building. On Forty-second Street they passed a shiny, whiteedifice in the window of which an artist in immaculate white duck wasdeftly tossing griddle cakes into the air so that they described agraceful parabola and flopped on a soapstone griddle where they sizzledbrownly and crisply. A faint but provoking aroma floated through theopen door. Mildred's footsteps slackened, then she paused, then she cameto a dead stop.
"Ummm-mmm! What a heavenly smell!" she said. "Don't you just adoregriddle cakes?"
"Yes, yes," said Chester, a little desperately. "Let's have some forlunch. It's twenty-five minutes to twelve. Let's hurry."
"Why, Chester Jessup, you know I haven't had my regular breakfast yet. Ijust couldn't go away down to that old City Hall and get married andeverything without having had some nourishment. It won't take a minuteto have a little breakfast."
"Oh, all right," said Chester.
The griddle cakes tasted like rubber to Chester. Mildred ate hers withgreat relish and insisted on having them decorated with country sausage.
"It's so nourishing," she explained. "I could just die eating sausage."
Chester paid the check and forgot to take the change from a two-dollarbill.
"I could just die eating sausage. I could just die eating sausage." Thewheels of the subway train seemed to click to this refrain as it speddown-town.
It was nearly one o'clock when the elopers at last reached the MunicipalBuilding. They found a sign which read, "MARRIAGE LICENSES. KEEP TO THERIGHT."
With his heart just under his collar button and his dollar graspedtightly in his hand, Chester knocked timidly. The door was opened by astout minor politician with a cap on the back of his head.
"I want a marriage license, please," said Chester. He dropped his voicea full octave below his normal speaking-tone.
The minor politician blinked at Chester and Mildred. Then he guffawed,hoarsely.
"Say," he said, "in the foist place, you'll have to get a little moreage on yuh, and in the second place, this is Satiddy and this jointcloses at noon. Come back Thoisday between ten and four about eightyears from now." He closed the door.
Chester turned miserably to Mildred.
"That means Hoboken," he said.
"I don't care," she said, "as long as I'm with you."
They went out into the canyons of lower Manhattan, in search of the wayto Hoboken. Their wanderings took them past a restaurant whose windowswere adorned with vicious-looking, green, live lobsters, scramblingabout pugnaciously on cakes of ice.
"Oh, LOBSTERS," cried Mildred, her eye brightening. "I've only hadlobster once in my life. Couldn't you just DIE eating lobster?"
"I suppose so," said Chester, gloomily.
"Couldn't we stop in and have a teeny, weeny bit of lunch?" she asked,eyeing the lobsters wistfully. "It makes me feel sort of queer to go onlong trips without food."
"I'm not hungry," said Chester.
"But I am," said Mildred. They went in.
A superior waiter handed Mildred a large menu card. "May I order justanything I want?" she asked eagerly.
"Wouldn't you like some nice watercress salad and some tea andlady-fingers?" Chester asked, hopefully.
"Pooh! Why, there's no nourishment in that at all!" Mildred was studyingthe menu card. "I want a great big lobster, and some asparagus. And thenI want some nice chicken salad with mayonnaise. And then some pistacheice-cream. And, oh, yes, a piece of huckleberry pie."
To Chester that lunch seemed the longest experience of his life. Itseemed to him that no lobster ever looked redder, no mayonnaiseyellower, no pistache ice-cream greener and no huckleberry pie purpler.Mildred ate steadily. Now and then she made little joyful noises ofapprobation.
When lunch was over at last, they started for Hoboken.
"It's a nice pleasant trip by ferry-boat," a policeman told them.
"I don't think I'd care for a boat trip," said Mildred.
"But we have to go to Hoboken," Chester expostulated.
"Couldn't we walk?" she asked.
"No, no, of course we couldn't. It's across the river."
"I feel sort of queer, somehow," said Mildred, faintly.
The North River was choppy from darting tugs and gliding barges as theferry-boat bore the elopers toward the Jersey side. Leaning on the rail,Chester gazed morosely at the retreating metropolitan sky-line. Mildredplucked at his coat sleeve. He turned and looked at her. Her face waspale.
"Oh, Chester, I want to go back. I want to go home," she said,tearfully.
"Why, Mildred," exclaimed Chester, and for the first time there wasimpatience in his voice, "what's the matter?"
"I'm going to be sick," she said.
She was.
Sec.4
"I hate you, Chester Jessup. I hate, hate, HATE you. And I'm going to goback," she said, tearfully.
The elopers had never reached Hoboken. Mildred refused to leave theferry-boat and Chester did not urge her. It bore them back to the NewYork side. Their flight to Gretna Green was a failure.
"You take me right home, do you hear?" cried Mildred.
"We can get the 3:59 from the Grand Central," said Chester in an icyvoice. "That will get you home in time for supper."
"Chester Jessup, you're a nasty, heartless boy to mention supper to mewhen I'm in this condition," said Mildred.
They made the trip from New York back to Clintonia in silence. Chester,watching the scenery flow by, was thinking deeply. He was wondering atwhat age young men are admitted to monasteries. He left Mildred at herhouse.
"Good night, Mr. Jessup," she said, coolly.
"Good night, Miss Wrigley," said Chester, and stalked home.
"Where have you been all day?" demanded his mother.
"Oh, just around," said Chester.
"Why weren't you home for lunch?"
"I wasn't hungry," said Chester.
"And we had the best things, too. Just what you like--chicken salad withmayonnaise, and deep-dish huckleberry pie."
Chester shivered. "I don't think I'll take any supper to-night," hesaid.
"Why, what ails you, anyhow?" asked his mother, solicitously. "We'regoing to have such a nice supper. Your father brought home a couple oflobsters. And afterward we're going to have pistache ice-cream, andlady-fingers."
"Good Heavens, Mother, I guess I know when I'm not hungry. There areother things in life besides food, aren't there?"
"Like being in love, for example?" suggested his sister Hilda.
"I'm not in love," declared Chester, vehemently.
"How would you like to have me tell Mildred Wrigley you said that?"asked Hilda.
"I just wish you would," said Chester, "I just wish you would."
"By the way," remarked Mr. Jessup, "I met Tom Wrigley to-day and he saidhe was sending that girl of his off to boarding school at Simpson Hall."
"Oh, is he?" said Mrs. Jessup. "Chester, did you hear what your fathersaid?"
"Yes, I did," said Chester, "and all I can say is that I hope she getsenough to eat."
The Sin of Monsieur Pettipon, and other humorous tales Page 9
