XXXVII
Upon reaching his home, Mr. Daney telephoned to Mrs. McKaye.
"It is important," he informed her, "that you, Miss Jane and MissElizabeth come down to my office to-morrow for a conference. I wouldcome up to The Dreamerie to see you, but Donald is home now, and hisfather will be with him; so I would prefer to see you down-town. Ihave some news of interest for you."
The hint of news of interest was sufficient to secure from Mrs. McKayea promise to call at his office with the girls at ten o'clock thefollowing morning.
"What is this interesting news, Andrew?" Mrs. Daney asked, withwell-simulated disinterestedness. She was knitting for the FrenchWar-Relief Committee a pair of those prodigious socks with whichwell-meaning souls all over these United States have inspired many apoor little devil of a _poilu_ with the thought that the French mustbe regarded by us as a Brobdingnagian race.
"We're arranging a big blowout, unknown to The Laird and Donald, tocelebrate the boy's return to health. I'm planning to shut down themill and the logging-camps for three days," he replied glibly. Of latehe was finding it much easier to lie to her than to tell the truth,and he had observed with satisfaction that Mrs. Daney's bovine brainassimilated either with equal avidity.
"How perfectly lovely!" she cooed, and dropped a stitch which laterwould be heard from on the march, in the shape of a blister on aGallic heel. "You're so thoughtful and kind, Andrew! Sometimes Iwonder if the McKayes really appreciate your worth."
"Well, we'll see," he answered enigmatically and went off to bed.
It was with a feeling of alert interest that he awaited in his office,the following morning, the arrival of the ladies from The Dreamerie.They arrived half an hour late, very well content with themselves andthe world in general, and filling Mr. Daney's office with the perfumeof their presence. They appeared to be in such good fettle, indeed,that Mr. Daney took a secret savage delight in dissipating theirnonchalance.
"Well, ladies," he began, "I decided yesterday that it was gettingalong toward the season of the year when my thoughts stray as usualtoward the Sawdust Pile as a drying-yard. So I went down to see if NanBrent had abandoned it again--and sure enough, she hadn't." He pausedexasperatingly, after the fashion of an orator who realizes that hehas awakened in his audience an alert and respectful interest. "Finekettle of fish brewing down there," he resumed darkly, and pausedagain, glanced at the ceiling critically as if searching for leaks,smacked his lips and murmured confidentially a single word: "Snag!"
"'Snag!'" In chorus.
"Snag! In some unaccountable manner, it appears that you three ladieshave aroused in Nan Brent a spirit of antagonism--"
"Nonsense!"
"The idea!"
"Fiddlesticks!"
"I state the condition as I found it. I happen to know that the girlpossesses sufficient means to permit her to live at the Sawdust Pilefor a year at least."
"But isn't she going away?" Mrs. McKaye's voice rose sharply. "Is shegoing to break her bargain?"
"Oh, I think not, Mrs. McKaye. She merely complained to me thatsomebody begged her to come back to Port Agnew; so she's waiting forsomebody to come down to the Sawdust Pile and beg her to go awayagain. She's inclined to be capricious about it, too. One person isn'tenough. She wants three people to call, and she insists that theybe--ah--ladies!"
"Good gracious, Andrew, you don't mean it?"
"I am delivering a message, Mrs. McKaye."
"She must be spoofing you," Jane declared.
"Well, she laughed a good deal about it, Miss Jane, and confided to methat a bit of lurking devil in your sister's eyes the day you both mether in the telegraph office gave her the inspiration for this joke.She believes that she who laughs last laughs best."
Mrs. McKaye was consumed with virtuous indignation.
"The shameless hussy! Does she imagine for a moment that I will submitto blackmail, that my daughters or myself could afford to be seencalling upon her at the Sawdust Pile?"
"She wants to force us to recognize her, mother." Jane, recalling thatday in the telegraph-office, sat staring at Daney with flashing eyes.She was biting the finger of her glove.
"Nothing doing," Elizabeth drawled smilingly.
Mr. Daney nodded his comprehension.
"In that event, ladies," he countered, with malignant joy in hissuppressed soul, "I am requested to remind you that The Laird will beinformed by Miss Brent that she considers him a very short sport,indeed, if he insists upon regarding her as unworthy of his son, inview of the fact that his son's mother considered her a person of suchimportance that she used the transcontinental telephone in order toinduce--"
"Yes, yes; I know what you're going to say. Do you really think shewould go as far as that, Andrew?" Mrs. McKaye was very pale.
"Beware the anger of a woman scorned," he quoted.
"In the event that she should, Mr. Daney, we should have no otheralternative but to deny it." Elizabeth was speaking. She still woreher impish glacial smile. "As a usual thing, we are opposed to fibbingon the high moral ground that it is not a lady's pastime, but in viewof the perfectly appalling results that would follow our failure tofib in this particular case, I'm afraid we'll have to join hands, Mr.Daney, and prove Nan Brent a liar. Naturally, we count on your help.As a result of his conversation with you, father believes you did thetelephoning."
"I told him half the truth, but no lie. I have never lied to him, MissElizabeth, and I never shall. When Hector McKaye asks me for thetruth, he'll get it." In Mr. Daney's voice there was a growl thatspoke of slow, quiet fury at the realization that this cool youngwoman should presume to dictate to him.
"I think you'll change your mind, Mr. Daney. You'll not refuse thehurdle when you come to it. As for this wanton Brent girl, tell herthat we will think her proposition over and that she may look for acall from us. We do not care how long she looks, do we mother?" Andshe laughed her gay, impish laugh. "In the meantime, Mr. Daney, wewill do our best to spare ourselves and you the ignominy of that fib.The doctors will order Donald away for a complete rest for six months,and dad will go with him. When they're gone that Brent house on theSawdust Pile is going to catch fire--accidently, mysteriously. The manwho scuttled the Brent's motor-boat surely will not scruple at such asimple matter as burning the Brent shanty. Come, mother. Jane, forgoodness' sake, do buck up! Good-by, dear Mr. Daney."
He stared at her admiringly. In Elizabeth, he discerned, for the firsttime, more than a modicum of her father's resolute personality; he sawclearly that she dominated her mother and Jane and, like The Laird,would carry her objective, once she decided upon it, regardless ofconsequences.
"Good-morning, ladies. I shall repeat your message--verbatim, MissElizabeth," he assured the departing trio.
And that night he did so.
"They neglected to inform you how much time they would require tothink it over, did they not?" Nan interrogated mildly. "And theydidn't tell you approximately when I should look for their visit?"
"No," he admitted.
"Oh, I knew they wouldn't submit," Nan flung back at him. "Theydespise me--impersonally, at first and before it seemed that I mightdim the family pride; personally, when it was apparent that I coulddim it if I desired. Well, I'm tired of being looked at and sneeredat, and I haven't money enough left to face New York again. I haddreamed of the kind of living I might earn, and when the opportunityto earn it was already in my grasp, I abandoned it to come back toPort Agnew. I had intended to play fair with them, although I had tolie to Donald to do that, but--they hurt something inside ofme--something deep that hadn't been hurt before--and--and now--"
"I'M A MAN WITHOUT A HOME AND YOU'VE _GOT_ TO TAKE MEIN, NAN."]
"Now _what_!" Mr. Daney cried in anguished tones.
"If Donald McKaye comes down to the Sawdust Pile and asks me to marryhim, I'm going to do it. I have a right to happiness; I'm--I'mtired--sacrificing--Nobody cares--no appreciation--Nan of the SawdustPile will be--mistress of The Dreamerie--and when they--enter hou
se ofmine--they shall be--humbler than I. They shall--"
As Mr. Daney fled from the house, he looked back through the littlehall and saw Nan Brent seated at her tiny living-room table, hergolden head pillowed in her arms outspread upon the table, her bodyshaken with great, passionate sobs. Mr. Daney's heart was constricted.He hadn't felt like that since the Aurora Stock Company had played"East Lynne" in the Port Agnew Opera House.
Kindred of the Dust Page 36
