Leaf III.
Men are very strange people. They are like those sums in algebra thatyou think about and worry about and cry about and try to get help fromother women about, and then, all of a sudden, X works itself out intoperfectly good sense.
I know now that I really never got any older than the poor, foolish,eighteen-years child that Aunt Adeline married off "safe." But all thatwas a mild sort of exasperation to what a widow has to go through within the matter of--of, well, I think worrying interference is about thebest name to give it.
"Molly Carter," said Mrs. Johnson just day before yesterday, after thewhite-dress, Judge-Wade episode that Aunt Adeline had gone to all thefriends up and down the street to be consoled about, "if you haven't gotsense enough to appreciate your present blissful condition, somebodyought to operate on your mind."
I was tempted to say, "Why not my heart?" I was glad she didn't know howgood that heart did feel under my blouse when the boy brought thatbasket of fish from Judge Wade's fishing expedition Saturday. I havefirmly determined not to blush any more at the thought of that gorgeousman--at least outwardly.
"Don't you think it is very--very lonely to be a widow, Mrs. Johnson?"I asked timidly to see what she would say about Mr. Johnson, who isreally a kind-hearted sort of man, I think. He gives me the gentlestunderstanding smile when he meets me in the street of late weeks.
"Lonely, _lonely_, Molly? You talk about the married state exactlylike an old maid. Don't do it--it's foolish, and you will get the lonenotion really fastened in your mind and let some man find out that ishow you feel. Then it will be all over with you. I have only one regret;and it is that if I ever should be a widow Mr. Johnson wouldn't be hereto see how quickly I turned into an old maid." Mrs. Johnson sews byassassinating the cloth with the needle, and as she talked she wasmending the sleeve of Mr. Johnson's lounge coat.
"I think an old maid is just a woman who has never been in love with aman who loves her. Lots of them have been married for years," I said,just as innocently as the soft face of a pan of cream, and went ondarning one of Billy's socks.
"Well, be that as it may, they are the blessed members of the womentribe," she answered, looking at me sharply. "Now I have often told Mr.Johnson--" but here we were interrupted in what might have been therehearsal of a glorious scrap by the appearance of Aunt Bettie Pollard,and with her came a long, tall, lovely vision of a woman in the mostwonderful close clingy dress and hat that you wanted to eat the minuteyou saw it. I hated her instantly with the most intense adoration thatmade me want to lie down at her feet, and also made me feel as thoughI had gained all the more than twenty pounds that I have slaved off meand doubled them on again. I would have liked to lead her that minuteinto Dr. John's office and just to have looked at him and said oneword--"Scarlet-runner!" Aunt Betty introduced her as Miss Clinton fromLondon.
"Oh, my dear Mrs. Carter, how glad I am to meet you!" she said as shetowered over me in a willowy way, and her voice was lovely and coolalmost to slimness. "I am the bearer of so many gracious messages thatI am anxious to deliver them safely to you. Not six weeks ago I leftAlfred Bennett in Paris, and really--really his greetings to you almostamounted to a pile of luggage. He came down to Cherbourg to see me off,and almost the last thing he said to me was, 'Now, don't fail to seeMrs. Carter as soon as you get to Hillsboro; and the more you see of herthe more you'll enjoy your visit to Mrs. Pollard.' Isn't he the mostdelightful of men?" She asked me the question, but she had the mostwonderful way of seeming to be talking to everybody at one time, soMrs. Johnson got in the first answer.
"Delightful indeed! But Alfred Bennett is a man of sense not to marryany of the string of women who I suppose are running after him!" shesaid. Miss Clinton looked at her in a mild kind of wonder, but she wenton hacking Mr. Johnson's coat-sleeve with the needle without noticingthe glance at all.
"Well, well, dearie, I don't know about that," said Aunt Bettie as shefanned and rocked her great, big, darling, fat self in the strongrocking-chair I always kept for her. "Alfred is not old enough to haveproved himself entirely, and from what I hear--" she paused with thebig hearty smile that she always wears when she begins to tease ormatch-make, and she does them both most of her time.
But at whom do you suppose she looked? Not me! Miss Clinton! That wascold tub number two for that day, and I didn't react as quickly as Imight, but when I did I was in the proper glow all over. When I revivedand saw the lovely pale blush on her face I felt like a cabbage-rosebeside a tea-bud. I was glad Aunt Adeline came in just then so I couldgo in and tell Julia to bring out the tea and cakes. When I came fromthe kitchen I stepped into my room and took out one of Alfred's lettersfrom the desk drawer and opened it at random, and put my finger down ona line with my eyes shut. This was what it was--
"--and all these years I have walked the world, blindfolded to itsloveliness with the blackness that came to me when I found that you--"
I didn't read any more, but pushed it back in a hurry and went back tothe company comforted in a way, but feeling a little more in sympathywith Mrs. Johnson than I had before Aunt Bettie and her guest fromLondon had interrupted our algebraic demonstration on the man subject.You can't always be sure of the right answer to X in any proposition oflife; that is, a woman can't!
And, furthermore, I didn't like that next hour much, just as a sample oflife, for instance. Aunt Bettie had got her joining-together humour wellstarted, and there, before my face, she made a present of every nice manin Hillsboro to that lovely, distinguished, strange girl who could haveslipped through a bucket hoop if she had tried hard. I had to sit there,listen to the presentations, watch her drink two delicious cups of teafull of sugar and cream, and consume without fear three of Jane's puffycakes, while I crumbled mine in secret and set half the cup of tea outof sight behind a fern pot.
It was bad enough to hear Aunt Bettie just offer her Tom, who, if he isher own son, is my favourite cousin, but I believe the worst minute Ialmost ever faced was when she began on the judge, for I could see fromAunt Adeline's shoulder beyond Miss Clinton how she was enjoying that,and she added another distinguished ancestor to his pedigree every timeAunt Bettie paused for breath. I couldn't say a word about the fish andAunt Adeline wouldn't! I almost loved Mrs. Johnson when she bit off athread viciously and said, "Humph," as she rose to start the tea-partyhome.
* * * * *
That night I did so many exercises that at last I sank exhausted in achair in front of my mirror and put my head down on my arms and criedthe real tears you cry when nobody is looking. I felt terribly old andugly and dowdy and--widowed. It couldn't have been jealousy, for I justlove that girl. I want most awfully to hug her very slimness, and itwas more what she might think of poor dumpy me than what any man inHillsboro, or Paris, could possibly feel on the subject, that hurt sohard. But then, looking back on it, I am afraid that jealousy shedsfeathers every night so you won't know him in the morning, for somethingmade me sit up suddenly with a spark in my eyes and reach out to thedesk for my pencil and cheque-book. It took me more than an hour toreckon it all up, but I went to bed a happier, though in prospectsa poorer woman.
As I sat in the train on my way to town early the next morning I thoughta good deal about poor Mr. Carter. After this I shall always appreciateand admire him for the way he made money, and his kindness in leaving itto me, since, for the first time in my life, I fully realised what itcould buy. And I bought things!
First I went to see Madam Courtier for corsets. I had heard about her,and I knew it meant a fortune. But that didn't matter! She came in andlooked at me for about five minutes without saying a word, and then sheran her hands down and down over me until I could feel the superfluousflesh just walking off of me. It was delicious!
Then she and two girls wearing fashionable frocks and fashionable haircame in and did things to a corset they laced on me that I can't evenwrite down, for I didn't understand the process, but when I looked inthat long glass I almost dropped on the floor. I wasn
't tight and Iwasn't stiff, and I looked--I'm too modest to write how lovely I reallylooked to myself. I was spellbound with delight.
Next I signed the cheque for three of those wonders with my head so inthe clouds I didn't know what I was doing, but I came to with a joltwhen the prettiest girl began to get me into that black silk bag I hadworn down to the West End. I must have shrunk the whole remaining poundsI had felt obliged to lose for Alfred and Ruth Clinton, from the horrorI felt when I looked at myself. The girl was really sympathetic and saidwith a smile that was true kindness: "Shall I call a taxi for madame andhave it take her to Klein's? They have wonderful gowns by Rene all readyto be fitted at short notice. Really, madame's figure is such that itcommands a perfect costume now."
Men do business well, but when women enter the field they are geniusesat money extracting. I felt myself already clothed perfectly when thatgirl said my figure "commanded" a proper dress. Of course, Klein paysMadame Courtier a commission for the customers she passes on to him.The one for me must have looked to her like a big transaction.
I spent three days at the great Klein establishment, only going to thehotel to sleep, and most of the time I forgot to eat. Madame Rene musthave been Madame Courtier's twin sister in youth, and Madame Telliers inthe hat department was the triplet to them both. When women have geniusit breaks out all over them like measles, and they never recover fromit; those women had the confluent kind. But I know that Madame Renereally approved of me, for when I blushed and asked her if she couldrecommend a good beauty doctor she held up her hands and shuddered.
"Never, madame, never _pour vous. Ravissant, charmant_--it is toofoolish. Nevair! _Jamais, jamais de la vie!_" I had to calm herdown, and she bowed over my hand when we parted.
I thought Klein was going to do the same thing or worse when I signedthe cheque which would be enough to provide him with a new motor-car,but he didn't. He only said politely, "And I am delighted that thetrousseau is perfectly satisfactory to you, madame."
That was an awful shock, and I hope I didn't show it as I murmured"Perfectly, thank you."
The word "trousseau" can be spoken in a woman's presence for many yearswith no effect, but it is an awful shock when she first _really_hears it. I felt queer all the afternoon as I packed those trunks forthe five o'clock train.
Yes, the word "trousseau" ought to have a definite surname after italways, and that's why my loyalty dragged poor Mr. Carter out into thelight of my conscience. The thinking of him had a strange effect on me.I had laid out the dream in dark grey-blue cloth, tailored almost beyondendurance, to wear in the train going home, and had thrown the old blacksilk bag across the chair to give to the hotel maid, but the decision ofthe session between conscience and loyalty made me pack the preciousblue wonder and put on once more the black rags of remembrance in a kindof panic of respect.
I would lots rather have bought poor Mr. Carter the monument I havebeen planning for months (to keep up conversation with Aunt Adeline)than wear that dress again. I felt conscience reprove me once more withloyalty looking on in disapproval as I buttoned the old thing up forthe last time, because I really ought to have stayed a day longer tobuy that monument, but--to tell the truth I wanted to see Billy sodesperately that his "sleep-place" above my heart hurt as if it mighthave prickly heat break out at any minute.
So I hurried and stuffed the grey-blue darling in the top tray, lappedthe old black silk around my waist and belted it in with a black beltoff a new green linen I had bought for morning walks--down to thebutcher's in the High Street, I suppose. That is about the only morningdissipation in Hillsboro that I can think of, and it all depends on whomyou meet, how much of a dissipation it is.
The next thing that happens after you have done a noble deed is, youeither regard it as a reward of virtue or as a punishment for havingbeen foolish. I felt both ways when Judge Wade came down the platform atSt. Pancras, looking so much grander than any other man in sight that Idon't see how they ever stand him. At that minute the noble black-silkdeed felt foolish, but at the next minute I was glad I had done it.
It is nice to watch for a person to catch sight of you if you feel surehow they are going to take it, and somehow in this case I felt sure. Iwas not disappointed, for his smile broke his face up into a joy-laugh.Off came his hat instantly so I could catch a glimpse of the fascinatingfrost over his temples, and with a positive sigh of pleasure he got intothe same carriage and took a seat beside me. I turned with an echo smileall over me, when suddenly his face became grave and considerate, and helooked at me as all the people in Hillsboro have been doing ever sincepoor Mr. Carter's funeral.
"Mrs. Carter," he said very kindly, in a voice that pitched me out ofthe carriage window and left me a mile behind on the rails, all bymyself, "I wish I had known of your sad errand to town, so that I couldhave offered you some assistance in your selection. You know we havejust had our family grave in the cemetery finally arranged, and I foundthe dealers in memorial stones very confusing in their ideas anddesigns. Mrs. Henderson just told my mother of your absence from homelast night, and I could only come up to town for the day on importantbusiness or I would have arranged to see you. I hope you found somethingthat satisfied you."
What is a woman going to say when she has a tombstone thrown in her facelike that? I didn't say anything, but what I thought about Aunt Adelinefilled in a dreadful pause.
Perfectly dumb and quiet I sat for a space of time and wondered justwhat I was going to do. It was beyond me at the moment, and the Mollythat is ready for life quick didn't know what to say. I shut my eyes,counted three to myself as I do when I go over into the cold tub, andthen told him all about it. We both got a satisfactory reaction, andI never enjoyed myself so much as that before.
I understand now why Judge Wade has had so many women martyr themselvesover him and live unhappily ever afterward, as everybody says HenriettaMason is doing. He's a very inspiring man, and he fairly bristles withfascinations. Some men are what you call taking, and they take you ifthey want you, while others are drawing, and after you are drawn to themthey will consider the question of taking you. The judge is like that.
In the meantime I feel that it will be good for his judgeship for me tolet him "draw" me at least a little way. I may get hurt, but I shall atleast have only myself to thank for it. When we reached home, the judgestopped under the old lilac bush that leans over my side-gate and kissedmy hand. Old Lilac shook a laugh of perfume all over us, and I believesignalled the event with the top of his bough to the white clump on theother side of the garden. I'm glad Aunt Adeline isn't in the flowerfraternity. Suppose she had seen or heard!
And it didn't take many minutes for me to slip into oldsummer-before-last--also for the last time inside of those buttons--andrun through the garden, my heart singing, "Billy, Billy," in a perfectrapture of tune. I ran past the surgery door and found him in his cotalmost asleep, and we had a bear reunion in the wicker chair by thewindow that made us both breathless.
"What did you bring me, Molly?" he finally kissed under my right ear.
"A real cricket-ball and bat, lover, and an engine with five carriages,a rake and a spade and a hoe, two guns that pop a new way, and somethingthat squirts water, and some other things. Will that be enough?" Ihugged him up anxiously, for sometimes he is hard to please, and I mightnot have got the very thing he wanted.
"Thank you, Molly, all them things is what I want, but you oughter havebringed more'n that for three days not being here with me."
Did any woman ever have a more lovely lover than that? I don't know howlong I should have rocked him in the twilight if Dr. John's voice hadn'tcome across the hall in command.
"Put him down now, Mrs. Molly, and come and say other how-do-you-does,"he called softly.
It was a funny glad-to-see-him I felt as I came into the surgery wherehe was standing over by the window looking out at my garden in itstwilight glow. I gave him my hand and a good deal more of a smile and ablush than I intended.
He very far from kis
sed the hand; he held it just long enough to turn meround into the light and give me one long looking-over from head tofeet.
"Just where does that corset press you worst?" he asked in the tone ofvoice he uses to say "put out your tongue." So much of my bad temperrose to my face that it is a wonder it didn't make a scar; but I wascold enough to all outward appearances.
"I am making a call on a friend, Dr. Moore, and not a consultation visitto my physician," I said, looking into his face as though I had neverseen him before.
"I beg your pardon, Molly," he exclaimed, and his face was redder thanmine, and then it went white with mortification. I couldn't stand that.
"Don't do that!" I exclaimed, and before I knew it I had taken hold ofhis hand, and had it in both of mine. "I know I look as if I was shrunkor laced, but I'm not! I was going to tell you all about it. I'm reallyinches bigger in the right place, and just--just 'controlled,' the womancalled it, in the wrong place."
The blood came back into his face, and he laughed as he gave me a littleshake that pushed me away from him. "Don't you ever scare me like thatagain, child, or it might be serious," he said in the Billy-and-me toneof voice that I like a little, only--
"I never will," I said in a hurry; "I want you to ask me anything in theworld you want to, and I'll always do it."
"Well, let me take you home through the garden then--and, yes, I believeI'll stay to supper with Mrs. Henderson. Don't you want to tell me whata little girl like you did in a big city, and--and read me part of thatParis letter I saw the postman give Jane this afternoon?"
Again I ask myself the question why his friendliness to Alfred Bennett'sletters always makes me so instantly cross.
The Melting of Molly Page 3
