The Dude Wrangler

by Caroline Lockhart

  CHAPTER II

  "THE HAPPY FAMILY"

  The guests of the Colonial Hotel arose briskly each morning to nothing.After a night of refreshing and untroubled sleep they dressed andhurried to breakfast after the manner of travellers making closeconnections. Then each repaired to his favourite chair placed in thesame spot on the wide veranda to wait for luncheon. The more energeticsometimes took a wheel-chair for an hour and were pushed on theBoardwalk or attended an auction sale of antiques and curios, but mostlytheir lives were as placid and as eventful as those of the inmates of aninstitution.

  The greater number of the male guests of The Colonial had retired fromsomething--banking, wholesale drugs, the manufacture of woolens. Thefamilies were all perfectly familiar with one another's financial ratingand histories, and although they came from diverse sections of thecountry they were for two months or more like one large, supremelycontented family. In truth, they called themselves facetiously "TheHappy Family," and in this way Mr. Cone, who took an immense pride inthem and in the fact that they returned to his hospitable roof summerafter summer, always referred to them.

  Strictly speaking, there were two branches of the "Family": those whosefirst season antedated 1900, and the "newcomers," who had spent onlyeight, or ten, or twelve summers at The Colonial. They were all on themost friendly terms imaginable, yet each tacitly recognized thedistinction. The original "Happy Family" occupied the rocking chairs onthe right-hand side of the wide veranda, while the "newcomers" took theleft, where the view was not quite so good and there was a trifle lessbreeze than on the other.

  The less said of the "transients" the better. The few who stumbled indid not stay unless by chance they were favourably known to one of the"permanents." Of course there was no rudeness ever--merely the politesurprise of the regular occupants when they find a stranger in the pewon Sunday morning. Sometimes the transient stayed out his or hervacation, but usually he confided to the chambermaid, and sometimes Mr.Cone, that the guests were "doodledums" and "fossils" and found anotherhotel where the patrons, if less solid financially, were moreinteresting and sociable.

  Wallace Macpherson belonged in the group of older patrons, as his aunt,Miss Mary Macpherson, had been coming since 1897, and he himself fromthe time he wore curls and ruffled collars, or after his aunt had takenhim upon the death of his parents.

  "Wallie," as he was called by everybody, as the one eligible man undersixty, was, in his way, as much of an asset to the hotel as thenotoriously wealthy Mr. Penrose. Of an amiable and obliging disposition,he could always be relied upon to escort married women with mutinoushusbands, and ladies who had none, mutinous or otherwise. He wastwenty-four, and, in appearance, a credit to any woman he was seen with,to say nothing of the two hundred thousand it was known he would inheritfrom Aunt Mary, who now supported him.

  Wallie's appearance upon the veranda was invariably in the nature of atriumphal entry. He was received with lively acclaim and cordiality ashe flitted impartially from group to group, and that person wasdifficult indeed with whom he could not find something in common, forhis range of subjects extended from the "rose pattern" in Irish crochetto Arctic currents.

  The morning on the veranda promised to be a lively one, since, inaddition to the departure of old Mr. Penrose, who had sounded as if hewas wrecking the furniture while packing his boxes, the return from thewar of Will Smith, the gardener's son, was anticipated, and the guestsas an act of patriotism meant to give him a rousing welcome. There wasbunting over the doorway and around the pillars, with red, white, andblue ice cream for luncheon, and flags on the menu, not to mention apurse of $17.23 collected among the guests that was to be presented inappreciation of the valour which, it was understood from letters to hisfather, Will had shown on the field of battle.

  The guests were in their usual places when Wallie came from breakfastand stood for a moment in the spacious double doorway. A cheerful choruswelcomed him as soon as he was discovered, and Mrs. C. D. Budlong putout her plump hand and held his. He did not speak instantly, for his eyewas roving over the veranda as if in search of somebody, and when itrested upon Miss Spenceley sitting alone at the far end he seemedsatisfied and inquired solicitously of Mrs. Budlong: "Did you sleepwell? You are looking splendid!"

  There were some points of resemblance between Mrs. Budlong and theoleander in the green tub beside which she was sitting. Her round, fatface had the pink of the blossoms and she was nearly as motionless as ifshe had been potted. She often sat for hours with nothing save herblack, sloe-like eyes that saw everything, to show that she was not in astate of suspended animation. Her husband called her "Honey-dumplin',"and they were a most affectionate and congenial couple, although she wasas silent as he was voluble.

  "My rest was broken." Mrs. Budlong turned her eyes significantly towardthe far end of the veranda.

  "Did you hear that terrible racket?" demanded Mr. Budlong of Wallie.

  "Not so loud, 'C. D.,'" admonished Mrs. Budlong. Mrs. Budlong ran theletters together so that strangers often had the impression she wascalling her husband "Seedy," though the name was as unsuitable as wellcould be, since Mr. Budlong in his neat blue serge suit, blue polka-dotscarf, silk stockings, and polished tan oxfords was well groomed anddapper always.

  "She's driven away our oldest guest." Mr. Budlong lowered his indignantvoice a little.

  "He _was_ a nuisance with his snoring," Wallie defended.

  "She could have changed her room," said Mrs. Budlong, taking her handaway from him. "She need not have been so obstinate."

  "He was very rude to her," Wallie maintained stoutly. "Sleeping nextdoor, I heard it all--and this morning in the office."

  "Anyway, I think Mr. Cone made a mistake in not insisting upon herchanging her room, and so I shall tell him." Mr. Budlong, who had made"his" in white lead and paint and kept a chauffeur and a limousine, feltthat his disapproval would mean something to the proprietor.

  "Oh, Wallie!"

  Wallie felt relieved when he saw Mrs. Henry Appel beckoning him. As hewas on his way to Mrs. Appel Miss Mattie Gaskett clutched at his arm anddetained him.

  "Did you see the robins this morning, Wallie?"

  "Are they here?"

  "Yes, a dozen of them. They do remind me so of my dear Southland." MissGaskett was from Maryland.

  "The summer wouldn't be the same without either of you," he replied,gallantly.

  Miss Gaskett shook a coquettish finger at him.

  "You flirt! You have pretty speeches for everyone."

  Wallie did not seem displeased by the accusation as he passed on to Mrs.Appel.

  The Appels were among the important families of The Colonial because therichest next to Mr. Penrose. They were from Mauch Chunk, Pennsylvania.Mr. Appel owned anthracite coal land and street railways, so if Mr.Appel squeezed pennies and Mrs. Appel dressed in remnants from thebargain counter their economies were regarded merely as eccentricities.

  Mrs. Appel held up a sweater: "Won't you tell me how to turn thisshoulder? I've forgotten. Do you purl four and knit six, or purl six andknit four, Wallie?"

  Wallie laughed immoderately.

  "Eight, Mrs. Appel! Purl eight and knit four--I told you yesterday.That's a lovely piece of Battenburg, Mrs. Stott. When did you start it?"

  "Last month, but I've been so busy with teas and parties--so many, manythings going on. Don't you think it will make a lovely dresser-scarf?What would you line it with?"

  "Pink, absolutely--that delicate shade like the inside of a sea-shell."

  "You _are_ such an artist, Wallie! Your taste is perfect."

  Wallie did not contradict her.

  Strictly, Mrs. Stott did not belong in the group in which she wasseated. She had been coming to The Colonial only eleven years, soreally, she should have been on the other side of the veranda, but Mrs.Stott had such an insidious way of getting where and what she wantedthat she was "one of them" almost before they knew it.

  Mr. Stott was a rising young attorney of forty-eight, and it wasan
ticipated that he would one day be a leading trial lawyer because ofhis aggressiveness.

  Wallie's voice took on a sympathetic tone. He stopped in front of achair where a very thin young lady was reclining languidly.

  "How's the bad heart to-day, Miss Eyester?"

  "About as usual, Wallie, thank you," she replied, gratefully.

  "Your lips have more colour."

  Miss Eyester opened a handbag and, taking out a small, round mirrorwhich she carried for the purpose, inspected her lips critically.

  "It does seem so," she admitted. "If I can just keep from gettingexcited."

  "I can't imagine a better place than The Colonial." The reply containeda grain of irony.

  "That's why I come here," Miss Eyester sighed, "though I'm _pining_ togo somewhere livelier."

  Wallie wagged his head playfully.

  "Treason! Treason! Why, you've been coming here for--" Miss Eyester'salarmed expression caused him to finish lamely--"for ever so long."

  "Wallie!" It was his aunt's voice calling and he went instantly to atall, austere lady in a linen collar who was knitting wash-rags with thefeverish haste of a piece-worker in a factory.

  He stood before her obediently.

  "Don't go in to-day."

  "_Why_, Auntie?" In his voice there was a world of disappointment.

  "It's too rough--there must have been a storm at sea."

  "But, Auntie," he protested, "I missed yesterday, taking Mrs. Appel tothe auction. It isn't very rough----"

  "Look at the white-caps," she interrupted, curtly, "I don't want you togo, Wallie."

  "Oh, very well." He turned away abruptly, wondering if she realized howkeenly he was disappointed--a disappointment that was not made less bythe fact that her fears were groundless, since not only was it not"rough" but he was an excellent swimmer.

  "The girl from Wyoming," as he called Miss Spenceley to himself, hadoverheard and was looking at him with an expression in her eyes whichmade him redden. It was mocking; she was laughing at him for being toldnot to go in bathing, as if he were a child of seven.

  He sauntered past her, humming, to let her know that he did not carewhat she thought about him. When he turned around she had vanished and afew minutes after he saw her with her suit over her arm on the way tothe bath-house on the exclusive beach in front of The Colonial.