CHAPTER V
Meldrum's cynicisms had been strangely opportune to the strangelyopportune to the despondent old maid. He unwittingly helped her over adeep ditch and got her past a bad night.
But when she woke, the next morning was but the same old resumption ofthe same old day. Poverty, loneliness, and the inanity of a manlesshousehold were again her portion. The face she washed explained to herwhy she was not sought after by the men. The hair she combed and waddedon her cranium clouded with no romance even in her own eyes. Sherealized that she was not loved for the simple reason that she was notlovely. She had never been a rose, and men did not pluck dog-fennel towear. And the camomile could never become a marguerite by wishing to beone.
Debby haled her awkward self out of her humble cot, out of her coarseand frilless nightgown, into her matter-of-fact clothes, and slumpeddown to a chill, bare kitchen. There she made a fire in a cold stove,that she might warm up oatmeal and fry eggs and petrify a few slices ofbread into a scratchy toast.
Not hearing her mother's slippers flap and shuffle on the stairs asusual, she climbed again to learn the cause. She found her motherfilled with rheumatism and bad news. A letter had come the day before,and she had concealed it from Deborah so that the child might have anice time at the party; and did she have a nice time, and who was there?But that could wait, for never was there such news as she had now, andthere was never any let-up in bad luck, and them with no man to lean onor turn to.
When Deborah finally pried the letter from the poor old talons she foundan announcement that the A.G.&St.P.Ry. would pass its dividend thisyear. To the Larrabees the A.G.&St.P. had always been the mostsubstantial thing in the world next to the Presbyterian Church.
Deborah's father had said that his death-bed was cheered by the factthat he had left his widow and his child several shares of that soulfulcorporation's stock. He called it the "Angel Gabriel & St. PeterRailway." The dividend was as sure as flowers in June. It had neverfailed, and the Larrabee women always spent it before it was paid. Theyhad pledged it this year.
If they had followed the stock-market, of which they had hardly heard,they would have known that the railroad's shares had fallen from 203 to51 in two years and that the concern was curving gracefully toward areceivership. The two women breakfasted that morning on cold dismay andhot flashes of terror. The few hundred dollars that had come to themlike semi-annual manna and quails would not drop down this year, perhapsnot next year, or ever again. Their creditors would probably throw theminto the town jail. The poorhouse would be a paradise.
In her distraction Debby had an impulse to consult Newt Meldrum. Shehurried to Shillaber's Bazar, hoping he might be there. Asaph met herhimself and told her that Newt had gone back to New York on an earlytrain. Debby broke down and told of her plight. She supposed that shewould have to go to work at once somewhere. But what could she do?
Asaph was feeling amiable; he had won a reprieve from Meldrum and hadmade it up with his wife in private for the public quarrel. His heartmelted at the thought of helping poor old Dubby Debby, whom everybodywas fond of in a hatefully unflattering way. He had helped othergentlewomen in distress, and now he dumfounded Debby by saying, "Whydon't you clerk here, Debby?"
"Why, I couldn't clerk in a store!" she gasped, terrified. "I don'tknow the least thing about it."
"You'd soon learn the stock, and the prices are all marked in plainletters that you can memorize easy. You've got a lot of friends, and wegive a commission on all the sales over a certain amount. Better tryit."
Debby felt now, for the first time, all the sweet panic that most womenundergo with their first proposal. This offer of the job of saleswomanwas as near as Debby had come to being offered the job of helpmeet. Sheeven murmured, "This is so sudden," and, "I'll have to ask mama." Itwas an epoch-making decision, a terrible leap from the stagnant pool ofthe Larrabee cottage to the seething maelstrom of Shillaber's Bazar.She went home to her mother with the thrilling, the glorious news thathenceforth she could acquire all of five dollars a week by merely beingpresent at Shillaber's for twelve hours or so a day, except Sat'days,when the store was open evenings till the last possible customer hadgone home to bed. Mrs. Larrabee apologized to Heaven for doubting itswatchfulness, commended Asaph Shillaber to its attention, and bespokefor him a special invoice of blessings.
And Asaph went home to his midday dinner as cheerfully as if he hadreceived them. First he announced the good word about Meldrum'sleniency, which Josie greeted with:
"You see! I told you that the party would be the proper caper. Maybeafter this you'll believe that your wife knows a thing or two."
Asaph assured her that he would never doubt that she knew at least thatmuch. Then, like the wag he was, he said that he had added a new clerkto his staff-a lady and a beauty, whose charms would draw no end ofcustom to the store and dazzle the drummers from far and near.
Josie's facile temper flashed at once into glow. One of her chiefinterests in the Bazar had been to make sure that it never harbored anysaleswoman whose beauty could possibly lure her husband's mind from hisledgers or his home ties. Under the pretext of purchases or suggestionsshe made frequent tours of inspection, and if a girl too young or a pairof eyes too bright gleamed behind a counter Asaph heard of it at once.Some years before he had bowed to the inevitable and made it a rule toengage no woman who could imaginably disturb Josie's delicate equipoise.
Meldrum had noticed the strange array and had been inclined to imputethe decline of the store's prosperity to the appearance of its staff.
"Good Lord, Ase!" he had groaned. "What you got here-the overflow of theHome for Aged and Indignant Females? You've collected a bunch ofclock-stoppers that makes a suffragette meeting look like a WinterGarden chorus. People like those can't sell pretty things. Send 'em allto the bone-yard and get in some winners."
Asaph promised, and Meldrum promised to arrange an extension of credit.But Asaph would have feared bankruptcy less than such a step. As soonas Meldrum was gone he put the cap-sheaf to his little army of relictsand remnants by engaging Debby Larrabee! She made the rest lookhandsome by contrast.
She was the joke that he tried to spring on his wife. Josie took theallusion seriously, and Asaph was soon trying to hold her down.
"Wait! Wait till you hear who it is!" he pleaded; but she stormed on:
"I don't care who it is. I'm not going to have you exposed to the wilesof any of those designing minxes. I won't have her, I tell you."
At length he shouted above the din: "I was only joking. It's DebbyLarrabee! I've engaged Debby Larrabee! They've lost all their money."
When Josie understood, she saw the joke. She began to laugh withhysterics, to slap and push her husband about hilariously. "Aw, you oldfraud, you! So you've engaged Dubby Debby! Well, you can keep her. Idon't care how late you stay at the store as long as Debby's there."
Deborah was fortunate enough not to overhear this. In fact, the longdrought in Debby's good luck seemed to be ending. The skies over hergrew dark with the abundance of merciful rain. A gentle drizzlepreceded the cloudburst. There usually is a deluge after a drought.
A few days later found Debby installed in the washable silks. Thechange in her environment was complete. Instead of dozing through anightmare of ineptitude in the doleful society of her old mother in adismal home where almost nobody ever called, and never a man, now shestood all day on the edge of a stream of people; she chattered breezilyall day to women in search of beautiful fabrics. She handled beautifulfabrics. Her conversation was a procession of adjectives of praise.
Trying to live up to her surroundings, she took thought of herappearance. Dealing in fashions, with fashion-plates as her scriptures,she tried to get in touch with the contemporary styles. She boundedacross eight or ten periods at one leap. First she found that she couldat least put up her hair as other women did. The revolution in herappearance was amazing. Next she retrimmed her old
hat, reshaped herold skirt-drew it so tightly about her ankles that she was forced to thetremendous deed of slitting it up a few inches so that she could atleast walk slowly. The first time her mother noticed it she said:
"Why, Debby, what on earth! That skirt of yours is all tore up theside."
Debby explained it to her with the delicious confusion of a Magdalenconfessing her entry upon a career of profligacy. Her mother almostfainted. Debby had gone wrong at this late day! She had heard thatdepartment-stores were awful places for a girl. The papers had beenfull of minimum wages and things.
Worse yet, Debby began to attitudinize, to learn the comfort of poses.She must be forever holding pretty things forward. She took care of herhands, polished her nails. Now and then she must drape a piece of silkacross her shoulder and dispose her rigid frame into curves. She beganto talk of "lines" to cold-cream her complexion.
The mental change in her was no less thorough. Activity was a tonic.Her patience was compelled to school itself. Prosperity lay inunfaltering courtesy, untarnished cheer. Cynicism does not sell goods.All day long she was praising things. Enthusiasm became her instinct.
Few men swam into her ken, but in learning to satisfy the exactions ofwomen she built up tact. She had long since omitted malekind from herlife and her plan of life. She was content. Women liked her; womenlingered to talk with her; they asked her help in their vital strugglefor beauty. It was enough.
The Last Rose of Summer Page 5
