The Tinder-Box

by Maria Thompson Daviess

  CHAPTER II

  THE MAIDEN LANCE

  A woman may shut her eyes, and put a man determinedly out of her heart,and in two minutes she will wake up in an agony of fear that he isn'tthere. Now, as I have decided that Glendale is to be the scene of thisbloodless revolution of mine--it would be awful to carry out such anundertaking anywhere but under the protection of ancestral traditions--Ihave operated Richard Hall out of my inmost being with the utmostcruelty, on an average of every two hours, for this week Jane and I havebeen in New York; and I have still got him with me.

  I, at last, became determined, and chose the roof-garden at the Astor totell him good-by, and perform the final operation. First I tried toestablish a plane of common citizenship with him, by telling him howmuch his two years' friendship across the waters had meant to me, whilewe studied the same profession under the same masters, drew at the samedrawing-boards and watched dear old Paris flame into her jewelednight-fire from Montmarte, together. I was frankly affectionate, and itmade him suspicious of me.

  Then I tried to tell him just a little, only a hint, of my new attitudetowards his sex, and before he had had time even to grasp the idea heexploded.

  "Don't talk to me as if you were an alienist trying to examine anabstruse case, Evelina," he growled, with extreme temper. "Go on downand rusticate with your relatives for the summer, and fly the bats inyour belfry at the old moss-backs, while I am getting this Cincinnatiand Gulf Stations commission under way. Then, when I can, I will comefor you. Let's don't discuss the matter, and it's time I took you backto your hotel."

  Not a very encouraging tilt for my maiden lance.

  I've had a thought. If I should turn and woo Dickie, like he does me, Isuppose we would be going-so fast in opposite directions that we wouldbe in danger of passing each other without recognizing signals. I wonderif that might get to be the case of humanity at large if women doundertake the tactics I am to experiment with, and a dearth of any kindof loving and claiming at all be the result. I will elucidate that ideaand shoot it into Jane. But I have no hope; she'll have the answerticketed away in the right pigeon-hole, statistics and all, ready tofire back at me.

  I have a feeling that Jane won't expect such a diary as this locked cellof a book is becoming, but I can select what looks like data for theyoung from these soul squirmings, and only let her have those for TheFive. I don't know which are which now, and I'll have to put down thewhole drama.

  And my home-coming last night was a drama that had in it so much comedy,dashed with tragedy, that I'm a little breathless over it yet. Jane, andmy mind is breathing unevenly still.

  Considering the situation, and my intentions, I was a bit frightened asthe huge engine rattled and roared its way along the steel rails thatwere leading me back, down into the Harpeth Valley. But, when we crossedthe Kentucky line, I forgot the horrors of my mission, and I thrilledgloriously at getting hack to my hills. Old Harpeth had just come intosight, as we rounded into the valley and Providence Knob rested backagainst it, in a pink glow that I knew came from the honeysuckle inbloom all over it like a mantle. I traveled fast into the twilight, andI saw all the stars smile out over the ridge, in answer to the hearthstars in the valley, before I got across Silver Creek. I hadn't let anyone know that I was coming, so I couldn't expect any one to meet me atthe station at Glendale. There was nobody there I belonged to--just anempty house. I suppose a man coming home like that would have whistledand held up his head, but I couldn't. I'm a woman.

  Suddenly, that long glowworm of a train stopped just long enough atGlendale to eject me and my five trunks, with such hurried emphasis thatI felt I was being planted in the valley forever, and I would have toroot myself here or die. I still feel that way.

  And as I stood just where my feet were planted, in the dust of the road,instead of on the little ten-foot platform, that didn't quite reach tomy sleeper steps, I felt as small as I really am in comparison to theuniverse. I looked after the train and groveled.

  Then, just as I was about to start running down the track, away fromnowhere and to nowhere, I was brought to my senses by a loud boohoo, andthen a snubby choke, which seemed to come out of my bag andsteamer-blanket that stood in a pile before me.

  "Train's gone, train's gone and left us! I knew it would, when Salliestopped to put the starch on her face all over again. And Cousin James,he's as slow as molasses, and I couldn't dress two twins in not time tobutton one baby. Oh, damn, oh, damn!" And the sobs rose to a perfectstorm of a wail.

  Just at that moment, down the short platform an electric light, that wasso feeble that it seemed to show a pine-knot influence in its heredity,was turned on by the station-agent, who was so slow that I perceived theinfluence of a descent from old Mr. Territt, who drove the stage thatcame down from the city before the war, and my fellow-sufferer stoodrevealed.

  She was a slim, red-haired bunch of galatea, stylish of cut as toupturned nose and straight little skirt but wholly and defiantly unshodsave for a dusty white rag around one pink toe. A cunning little strawbonnet, with an ecru lace jabot dangled in her hand, and her big browneyes reminded me of Jane's at her most inquisitive moments.

  "If you was on a train, what did you git offen it _here_ for?" shedemanded of me, with both scorn and curiosity in her positive youngvoice.

  "I don't know why," I answered weakly, not at all in the tone of ayoung-gallant-home-from-the-war mood I had intended to assume towardsthe first inhabitant of my native town to whom I addressed a remark.

  "We was all a-goin' down to Hillsboro, to visit Aunt Bettie Pollard fora whole week, to Cousin Tom's wedding, but my family is too slow fornothing but a funeral. And Cousin James, he's worse. He corned for usten minutes behind the town clock, and Mammy Dilsie had phthisic, so Ihad to fix the two twins, and we're done left. I wisht I didn't have nofamily!" And with her bare feet the young rebel raised a cloud of dustthat rose and settled on my skirt.

  "There they come now," she continued, with the pained contempt stillrising in her voice.

  And around the corner of the station hurried the family party, with allthe haste they would have been expected to use if they had not, just twominutes earlier, beheld their train go relentlessly on down the valleyto Hillsboro and the wedding celebration. I hadn't placed the kiddie,but I might have known, from her own description of her family, to whomshe belonged.

  First came Sallie Carruthers, sailing along in the serene way that Iremembered to have always thought like a swan in no hurry, and in herhands was a wet box from which rose sterns protruded.

  Next in the procession came Aunt Dilsie, huge and black and wheezing,fanning herself with a genteel turkey-tail fan, and carrying a largecovered basket.

  But the tail-piece of the procession paralyzed all the home-comingemotions that I had expected to be feeling, save that of pure hilarity.James Hardin was carrying two bubbly, squirmy, tousle-headed babies, onone arm, and a huge suitcase in the other hand, and his gray felt hatset on the back of his shock of black hair at an angle of deepdesperation, though patience shone from every line of his strong, gauntbody, and I could see in the half light that there were no lines ofirritation about his mouth, which Richard had said looked to him likethat of the prophet Hosea, when I had shown him the picture that Fatherhad had snapped of himself and the Crag, with their great string ofquail, on one of their hunting-trips, just before Father died.

  "Eve!" he exclaimed, when he suddenly caught sight of me, standing inthe middle of the dusty road, with my impedimenta around me, and as hespoke he dropped both babies on the platform in a bunch, and the smalltrunk on the other side. Then he just stood and looked, and I had tostraighten the roar that was arising in me at the sight of him into aconventional smile of greeting, suitable to bestow on an enemy.

  But before the smile was well launched, Sallie bustled in and got thefull effect of it.

  "Why, Evelina Shelby, you darling thing, when did you come?" she fairlybubbled, as she clasped me in the most hospitable of arms, and bestoweda slightly powdery k
iss on both my cheeks. I weakly and femininelyenjoyed the hug, not that a man might not have--Sallie is a dear, and Ialways did like her gush, shamefacedly.

  "She got often that train that left us, and she ain't got a bit ofsense, or she wouldn't," answered the Blue Bunch for me, in amatter-of-fact tone of voice.

  "What for did you all unpack outen the surrey, if you sawed the train goby?" she further demanded, with accusing practicality. "Don't you knowwhen youse left?"

  "Oh, Henrietta," exclaimed Sallie, looking at the young-philosopher withterrified helplessness. "Please don't mind her, Evelina. I don'tunderstand her being my child, and nobody does, unless it was Henry'sgrandmother on his mother's side. You had heard of my loss?"

  If I hadn't heard of the death of Henry Carruthers, Sallie's elaborateblack draperies, relieved by the filmy exquisiteness of white creperuches at the neck and wrists, would have proclaimed the fact.

  Suddenly, something made me look at Cousin James, as he stood calmly inthe midst of Sallie's family and baggage, both animate and inanimate,and the laugh that had threatened for minutes fairly flared out into hisplacid, young prophet face.

  "Oh, I am so sorry, Sallie, and so glad to see all of you that I'mlaughing at the same time," I exclaimed to save myself from theawfulness of greeting a young widow's announcement of her sorrow in suchan unfeeling manner. To cover my embarrassment and still furtherstruggles with the laugh that never seemed to be able to have itselfout, I bent and hugged up one of the toddlers, who were balancingagainst the Crag's legs, with truly feminine fervor.

  "I'm glad to see you, Evelina," said Cousin James gently, and I couldsee that the billows of my mirth had got entirely past him.

  I was glad he had escaped, and I found myself able to look withcomposure at his queer, long-tailed gray coat, which made me know thatlittle old Mr. Pinkus, who had been Father's orderly all through thewar, was still alive and tailoring in his tiny shop down by thepost-office, though now that Father is dead he probably only does it forCousin James. The two of them had been his only customers for years. Andas I looked, I saw that the locks that curled in an ante-bellum fashionaround the Crag's ears, were slightly sprinkled with gray, andremembered how he had loved and stood by Father, even in the manner ofwearing Pinkus clothes; my heart grew very large all of a sudden, and Iheld out my hand to him.

  He stood calmly in the midst of Sallie's family andbaggage, both animate and inanimate.]

  "I'm glad to be at home," I said, gazing straight into his eyes, with alook of affection that you would have been proud of, Jane,--usingunconsciously, until after I had done it, the warmth I had triedunsuccessfully on Richard Hall at the Astor, not forty-eight hoursago, but two thousand miles away. And it got a response that puzzles meto think of yet. It was just a look, but there was a thought of Fatherin it, also a suggestion of the glance he bestowed on Sallie's twins. Iremembered that the Crag seldom speaks, and that's what makes you spendyour time breathlessly listening to him.

  "Well, come on, everybody, let's go home and undress, and forget aboutthe wedding," came in Henrietta's positive and executive tones. "Let'sgo and take the strange lady with us. We can have company if we can't beit. She can sleep other side of me, next the wall."

  I have never met anybody else at all like Henrietta Carruthers, and Inever shall unless Jane Mathers marries and--I sincerely hope that someday she and Jane will meet.

  And the next ten minutes was one of the most strenuous periods of time Iever put in, in all my life. I longed, really longed, to go home withSallie and Henrietta, and sleep next the wall at Widegables with therest of the Crag's collection. But I knew Glendale well enough to seeplainly that if I thus once give myself up to the conventions that bySaturday night they would have me nicely settled with his relicts, or inmy home with probably two elderly widows and a maiden cousin or so tolook after me. And then, by the end of the next week, they would havethe most suitable person in town fairly hunted by both spoken and mentalinfluence, to the moonlight end of my front porch, with matrimonialintentions in his pocket. I knew I had to take a positive stand, andtake it immediately. I must be masculinely firm. No feminine wiles wouldserve in such a crisis as this.

  So, I let Cousin James pack me into his low, prehistoric old surrey, inthe front seat, at his side, while Sallie took Aunt Dilsie and one twinwith her on the back seat. Henrietta scrouged down at my feet, and Ifearingly, but accommodatingly, accepted the other twin. It was aperfect kitten of a baby, and purred itself to sleep against my shoulderas soon as anchored.

  The half-mile from the station, along the dusty, quiet village streets,was accomplished in about the time it would take a modern vehicle totraverse Manhattan lengthwise, and at last we stopped at the gate ofWidegables. The rambling, winged, wide-gabled, tall-columned old pile oftime-grayed brick and stone, sat back in the moonlight, in its tangle ofa garden, under its tall roof maples, with a dignity that went straightto my heart. There is nothing better in France or England, and I feelsure that there are not two hundred houses in America as good. I'llpaint it, just like I saw it to-night, for next Spring's Salon. A brightlight shone from the windows of the dining-room in the left wing, wherethe collection of clinging vines were taking supper, unconscious of thereturn of the left-behinds that threatened.

  And as I glanced at my own tall-pillared, dark old house, that standsjust opposite Widegables, and is of the same period and style, I knewthat if I did not escape into its emptiness before I got into CousinMartha's comfortable arms, surrounded by the rest of the Crag's family,I would never have the courage to enter into the estate of freedom I hadplanned.

  "Sallie," I said firmly, as I handed the limp Kitten down to AuntDilsie, as Henrietta took the other one--"Puppy" I suppose I will haveto call the young animal,--from her mother and started on up the walk inthe lead of the return expedition, "I am going over to stay in my ownhome to-night. I know it seems strange, but--I _must_. Please don'tworry about me."

  "Why, dear, you can't stay by yourself, with no man on the place,"exclaimed Sallie, in a tone of absolute panic. "I'll go tell CousinMartha you are here, while Cousin James unpacks your satchel andthings." And she hurried in her descent from the ark, and also hurriedin her quest for the reinforcement of Cousin Martha's authority.

  "I'm going to escape before any of them come back," I said determinedlyto the Crag, who stood there still, just looking at me. "I'm not up toarguing the question to-night, for the trip has been a long one, andthis is the first time I have been home since--Just let me have to-nightto myself, please." I found myself pleading to him, as he held up hisarms to lift me clear of the wheels.

  His eyes were hurt and suffering for a second, then a strange light ofcomprehension came from them into mine, like a benediction, as he gentlyset me on my feet.

  "Must you, Eve?"

  "Yes," I answered, with a gulp that went all the way down to myfeminine toes, as I glanced across the road at the grim, dark old pilethat towered against the starlit sky. "I want to stay in my own houseto-night--and--and I'm not afraid."

  "You won't need to be frightened. I understand, I think--and here's yourkey, I always carry it in my pocket. Your Father's candle is on themantel. You shall have to-night to yourself. Good-night, and bless yourhome-coming, dear!"

  "Good-night," I answered as I turned away from his kind eyes quickly, tokeep from clinging-to him with might and main, and crossed the road tomy own gate. With my head up, and trying for the whistle, at least in myheart, I went quickly along the front walk with its rows of blushpeonies, nodding along either edge. The two old purple lilacs beside thefront steps have grown so large they seemed to be barring my way into myhome with longing, sweet embraces, and a fragrant little climbingrose, that has rioted across the front door, ever since I couldremember, bent down and left a kiss on my cheeks.

  The warm, mellow old moon flooded a glow in front of me, through the bigfront door, as I opened it, and then hastened to pour into the widewindows as I threw back the shutters.

  Logs lay ready
for lighting in the wide fireplace at the end of the longroom, and Father's tobacco jar gleamed a reflected moonlight from itspewter sides from the tall mantel-shelf. The old hooks melted into thedusk of their cases along the wall, and the portrait of GrandfatherShelby lost its fierce gaze and became benign from its place between thewindows.

  I was being welcomed to the home of my fathers, with a soft dusk thatwas as still and sweet as the grave. Sweet for those that want it; but Ididn't. Suddenly, I thrilled as alive as any terror-stricken woman thatever found herself alone anywhere on any other edge of the world, andthen as suddenly found myself in a complete condition of frightprostration, crouched on my own threshold. I was frightened at the dark,and could not even cry. Then almost immediately, while I crouchedquivering in every nerve I seemed to hear a man's voice saycomfortingly:

  "You don't need to be frightened."

  Courageously I lifted my eyes and looked down between the old lilacbushes, and saw just what I expected I would, a tall, gray figure,pacing slowly up and down the road. Then it was that fear came into me,stiffened my muscles and strengthened my soul--fear of myself and my ownconclusions about destiny and all things pertaining thereto.

  I never want to go through such another hour as I spent putting thingsin order in Father's room, which opens off the living-room, so I couldgo to bed by candle-light in the bed in which he and I were both born.I wanted to sleep there, and didn't even open any other part of thegrim old house.

  And when I put out the candle and lay in the high, old four-post bed, Iagain felt as small as I really am, and I was in danger of a badcollapse from self-depreciation when my humor came to the rescue. Imight just as well have gone on and slept between Henrietta and thewall, as was becoming my feminine situation, for here my determinationto assert my masculine privileges was keeping a real man doing sentryduty up and down a moonlight road all night--and I wanted it.

  "After this, James Hardin, you can consider yourself safe from any of myattentions or intentions," I laughed to myself, as I turned my face intothe pillow, that was faintly scented from the lavender in which Motherhad always kept her linen. "I've been in Glendale two hours, and one manis on the home base with his fingers crossed. James, you are free! Oh,Jane!"