CHAPTER XVII
AN AMBASSADOR OF CUPID'S
Christmas again brought all the young people home for the holidays. Itbrought, also, a Christmas party at James Blaisdell's home. It was avery different party, however, from the housewarming of a year before.
To begin with, the attendance was much smaller; Mrs. Hattie had beenvery exclusive in her invitations this time. She had not invited"everybody who ever went anywhere." There were champagne, andcigarettes for the ladies, too.
As before, Mr. Smith and Miss Maggie went together. Miss Maggie, whohad not attended any social gathering since Father Duff died, yieldedto Mr. Smith's urgings and said that she would go to this. But MissMaggie wished afterward that she had not gone--there were so many, manyfeatures about that party that Miss Maggie did not like.
She did not like the champagne nor the cigarettes. She did not likeBessie's showy, low-cut dress, nor her supercilious airs. She did notlike the look in Fred's eyes, nor the way he drank the champagne. Shedid not like Jane's maneuvers to bring Mellicent and Hibbard Gaylordinto each other's company--nor the way Mr. Smith maneuvered to getMellicent for himself.
Of all these, except the very last, Miss Maggie talked with Mr. Smithon the way home--yet it was the very last that was uppermost in hermind, except perhaps, Fred. She did speak of Fred; but because that,too, was so much to her, she waited until the last before she spoke ofit.
"You saw Fred, of course," she began then.
"Yes." Short as the word was, it carried a volume of meaning to MissMaggie's fearful ears. She turned to him quickly.
"Mr. Smith, it--it isn't true, is it?"
"I'm afraid it is."
"You saw him--drinking, then?"
"Yes. I saw some, and I heard--more. It's just as I feared. He's got inwith Gaylord and the rest of his set at college, and they're a badlot--drinking, gambling--no good."
"But Fred wouldn't--gamble, Mr. Smith! Oh, Fred wouldn't do that. Andhe's so ambitious to get ahead! Surely he'd know he couldn't getanywhere in his studies, if--if he drank and gambled!"
"It would seem so."
"Did you see his father? I saw him only a minute at the first, and hedidn't look well a bit, to me."
"Yes, I saw him. I found him in his den just as I did last year. Hedidn't look well to me, either."
"Did he say anything about--Fred?"
"Not a word--and that's what worries me the most. Last year he talked alot about him, and was so proud and happy in his coming success. Thistime he never mentioned him; but he looked--bad."
"What did he talk about?"
"Oh, books, business:--nothing in particular. And he wasn't interestedin what he did say. He was very different from last year."
"Yes, I know. He is different," sighed Maggie. "He's talked with mequite a lot about--about the way they're living. He doesn't like--somuch fuss and show and society."
Mr. Smith frowned.
"But I thought--Mrs. Hattie would get over all that by this time, afterthe newness of the money was worn off."
"I hoped she would. But--she doesn't. It's worse, if anything," sighedMiss Maggie, as they ascended the steps at her own door.
Mr. Smith frowned again.
"And Miss Bessie--" he began disapprovingly, then stopped. "Now, MissMellicent--" he resumed, in a very different voice.
But Miss Maggie was not apparently listening. With a rather loudrattling of the doorknob she was pushing open the door.
"Why, how hot it is! Did I leave that damper open?" she cried, hurryinginto the living-room.
And Mr. Smith, hurrying after, evidently forgot to finish his sentence.
Miss Maggie did not attend any more of the merrymakings of that holidayweek. But Mr. Smith did. It seemed to Miss Maggie, indeed, that Mr.Smith was away nearly every minute of that long week--and it WAS a longweek to Miss Maggie. Even the Martin girls were away many of theevenings. Miss Maggie told herself that that was why the house seemedso lonesome.
But though Miss Maggie did not participate in the gay doings, she heardof them. She heard of them on all sides, except from Mr. Smith--and onall sides she heard of the devotion of Mr. Smith to Miss Mellicent. Sheconcluded that this was the reason why Mr. Smith himself was so silent.
Miss Maggie was shocked and distressed. She was also very much puzzled.She had supposed that Mr. Smith understood that Mellicent and youngGray cared for each other, and she had thought that Mr. Smith evenapproved of the affair between them. Now to push himself on the scenein this absurd fashion and try "to cut everybody out," as it wasvulgarly termed--she never would have believed it of Mr. Smith in theworld. And she was disappointed, too. She liked Mr. Smith very much.She had considered him to be a man of good sense and good judgment. Andhad he not himself said, not so long ago, that he believed loversshould be of the same age, tastes, and habits? And yet, here now hewas--
And there could be no mistake about it. Everybody was saying the samething. The Martin girls brought it home as current gossip. Jane washighly exercised over it, and even Harriet had exclaimed over the"shameful flirtation Mellicent was carrying on with that man old enoughto be her father!" No, there was no mistake. Besides, did she not seewith her own eyes that Mr. Smith was gone every day and evening, andthat, when he was at home at meal-time, he was silent and preoccupied,and not like himself at all?
And it was such a pity--she had thought so much of Mr. Smith! It reallymade her feel quite ill.
And Miss Maggie looked ill on the last evening of that holiday weekwhen, at nine o'clock, Mr. Smith found her sitting idle-handed beforethe stove in the living-room.
"Why, Miss Maggie, what's the matter with you?" cried the man, in veryevident concern. "You don't look like yourself to-night!"
Miss Maggie pulled herself up hastily.
"Nonsense! I--I'm perfectly well. I'm just--tired, I guess. You're homeearly, Mr. Smith." In spite of herself Miss Maggie's voice carried atinge of something not quite pleasant.
Mr. Smith, however, did not appear to notice it.
"Yes, I'm home early for once, thank Heaven!" he half groaned, as hedropped himself into a chair.
"It has been a strenuous week for you, hasn't it?" Again the tinge ofsomething not quite pleasant in Miss Maggie's voice.
"Yes, but it's been worth it."
"Of course!"
Mr. Smith turned deliberately and looked at Miss Maggie. There was avague questioning in his eyes. Obtaining, apparently, however, nosatisfactory answer from Miss Maggie's placid countenance, he turnedaway and began speaking again.
"Well, anyway, I've accomplished what I set out to do."
"You-you've ALREADY accomplished it?" faltered Miss Maggie. She wasgazing at him now with startled, half-frightened eyes.
"Yes. Why, Miss Maggie, what's the matter? What makes you look so--soqueer?"
"Queer? Nonsense! Why, nothing--nothing at all," laughed Miss Maggienervously, but very gayly. "I may have been a little--surprised, for amoment; but I'm very glad--very."
"Glad?"
"Why, yes, for--for you. Isn't one always glad when--when a love affairis--is all settled?"
"Oh, then you suspected it." Mr. Smith smiled pleasantly, but withoutembarrassment. "It doesn't matter, of course, only--well, I had hopedit wasn't too conspicuous."
"Oh, but you couldn't expect to hide a thing like that, Mr. Smith,"retorted Miss Maggie, with what was very evidently intended for an archsmile. "I heard it everywhere--everywhere."
"The mischief you did!" frowned Mr. Smith, looking slightly annoyed."Well, I suppose I couldn't expect to keep a thing like that entirelyin the dark. Still, I don't believe the parties themselves--quiteunderstood. Of course, Pennock and Gaylord knew that they were kepteffectually away, but I don't believe they realized just howsystematically it was done. Of course, Gray understood from the first."
"Poor Mr. Gray! I--I can't help being sorry for him."
"SORRY for him!"
"Certainly; and I should think YOU might give him a little sympathy,"rejoin
ed Miss Maggie spiritedly. "You KNOW how much he cared forMellicent."
Mr. Smith sat suddenly erect in his chair.
"Cared for her! Sympathy! Why, what in the world are you talking about?Wasn't I doing the best I could for them all the time? Of COURSE, itkept HIM away from her, too, just as it did Pennock and Gaylord; but HEunderstood. Besides, he HAD her part of the time. I let him in wheneverit was possible."
"Let him in!" Miss Maggie was sitting erect now. "Whatever in the worldare YOU talking about? Do you mean to say you were doing this FOR Mr.Gray, all the time?"
"Why, of course! Whom else should I do it for? You didn't suppose itwas for Pennock or Gaylord, did you? Nor for--" He stopped short andstared at Miss Maggie in growing amazement and dismay. "You didn't--youDIDN'T think--I was doing that--for MYSELF?"
"Well, of course, I--I--" Miss Maggie was laughing and blushingpainfully, but there was a new light in her eyes. "Well, anyway,everybody said you were!" she defended herself stoutly.
"Oh, good Heavens!" Mr. Smith leaped to his feet and thrust his handsinto his pockets, as he took a nervous turn about the room. "Formyself, indeed! as if, in my position, I'd--How perfectly absurd!" Hewheeled and faced her irritably. "And you believed that? Why, I'm not amarrying man. I don't like--I never saw the woman yet that I--" Withhis eyes on Miss Maggie's flushed, half-averted face, he stopped againabruptly. "Well, I'll be--" Even under his breath he did not finish hissentence; but, with a new, quite different expression on his face, heresumed his nervous pacing of the room, throwing now and then a quickglance at Miss Maggie's still averted face.
"It WAS absurd, of course, wasn't it?" Miss Maggie stirred and spokelightly, with the obvious intention of putting matters back into usualconditions again. "But, come, tell me, just what did you do, and how?I'm so interested--indeed, I am!"
"Eh? What?" Mr. Smith spoke as if he was thinking of something elseentirely. "Oh--THAT." Mr. Smith sat down, but he did not go on speakingat once. His eyes frowningly regarded the stove.
"You said--you kept Pennock and Gaylord away," Miss Maggie hopefullyreminded him.
"Er--yes. Oh, I--it was really very simple--I just monopolizedMellicent myself, when I couldn't let Donald have her. That's all. Isaw very soon that she couldn't cope with her mother alone. AndGaylord--well, I've no use for that young gentleman."
"But you like--Donald?"
"Very much. I've been looking him up for some time. He's all right."
"I'm glad."
"Yes." Mr. Smith spoke abstractedly, without enthusiasm. Plainly Mr.Smith was still thinking of something else.
Miss Maggie asked other questions--Miss Maggie was manifestlyinterested--and Mr. Smith answered them, but still without enthusiasm.Very soon he said good-night and went to his own room.
For some days after this, Mr. Smith did not appear at all like himself.He seemed abstracted and puzzled. Miss Maggie, who still feltself-conscious and embarrassed over her misconception of his attentionsto Mellicent, was more talkative than usual in her nervous attempt toappear perfectly natural. The fact that she often found his eyes fixedthoughtfully upon her, and felt them following her as she moved aboutthe room, did not tend to make her more at ease. At such times shetalked faster than ever--usually, if possible, about some member of theBlaisdell family: Miss Maggie had learned that Mr. Smith was alwaysinterested in any bit of news about the Blaisdells.
It was on such an occasion that she told him about Miss Flora and thenew house.
"I don't know, really, what I am going to do with her," she said. "Iwonder if perhaps you could help me."
"Help you?--about Miss Flora?"
"Yes. Can you think of any way to make her contented?"
"CONTENTED! Why, I thought--Don't tell me SHE isn't happy!" There was acurious note of almost despair in Mr. Smith's voice. "Hasn't she a newhouse, and everything nice to go with it?"
Miss Maggie laughed. Then she sighed.
"Oh, yes--and that's what's the trouble. They're TOO nice. She feelssmothered and oppressed--as if she were visiting somewhere, and not athome. She's actually afraid of her maid. You see, Miss Flora has alwayslived very simply. She isn't used to maids--and the maid knows it,which, if you ever employed maids, you would know is a terrible stateof affairs."
"Oh, but she--she'll get used to that, in time." "Perhaps," concededMiss Maggie, "but I doubt it. Some women would, but not Miss Flora. Sheis too inherently simple in her tastes. 'Why, it's as bad as alwaysliving in a hotel!' she wailed to me last night. 'You know on my trip Iwas so afraid always I'd do something that wasn't quite right, beforethose awful waiters in the dining-rooms, and I was anticipating so muchgetting home where I could act natural--and here I've got one in my ownhouse!'"
Mr. Smith frowned, but he laughed, too.
"Poor Miss Flora! But why doesn't she dismiss the lady?"
"She doesn't dare to. Besides, there's Hattie. She says Hattie isalways telling her what is due her position, and that she must do thisand do that. She's being invited out, too, to the Pennocks' and theBensons'; and they're worse than the maid, she declares. She says sheloves to 'run in' and see people, and she loves to go to places andspend the day with her sewing; but that these things where you go andstand up and eat off a jiggly plate, and see everybody, and not reallysee ANYBODY, are a nuisance and an abomination."
"Well, she's about right there," chuckled Mr. Smith.
"Yes, I think she is," smiled Miss Maggie; "but that isn't telling mehow to make her contented."
"Contented! Great Scott!" snapped Mr. Smith, with an irritability thatwas as sudden as it was apparently causeless. "I didn't suppose you hadto tell any woman on this earth how to be contented--with a hundredthousand dollars!"
"It would seem so, wouldn't it?"
Something in Miss Maggie's voice sent Mr. Smith's eyes to her face in akeen glance of interrogation.
"You mean--you'd like the chance to prove it? That you wish YOU hadthat hundred thousand?"
"Oh, I didn't say--that," twinkled Miss Maggie mischievously, turningaway.
It was that same afternoon that Mr. Smith met Mrs. Jane Blaisdell onthe street.
"You're just the man I want to see," she accosted him eagerly.
"Then I'll turn and walk along with you, if I may," smiled Mr. Smith."What can I do for you?"
"Well, I don't know as you can do anything," she sighed; "butsomebody's got to do something. Could you--DO you suppose you couldinterest my husband in this Blaisdell business of yours?"
Mr. Smith gave a start, looking curiously disconcerted.
"B-Blaisdell business?" he stammered. "Why, I--I thought hewas--er--interested in motoring and golf."
"Oh, he was, for a time; but it's too cold for those now, and he gotsick of them, anyway, before it did come cold, just as he does ofeverything. Well, yesterday he asked a question--something about FatherBlaisdell's mother; and that gave me the idea. DO you suppose you couldget him interested in this ancestor business? Oh, I wish you could!It's so nice and quiet, and it CAN'T cost much--not like golf clubs andcaddies and gasoline, anyway. Do you think you could?"
"Why, I--I don't know, Mrs. Blaisdell," murmured Mr. Smith, still alittle worriedly. "I--I could show him what I have found, of course."
"Well, I wish you would, then. Anyway, SOMETHING'S got to be done," shesighed. "He's nervous as a witch. He can't keep still a minute. And heisn't a bit well, either. He ate such a lot of rich food and all sortsof stuff on our trip that he got his stomach all out of order; and nowhe can't eat anything, hardly."
"Humph! Well, if his stomach's knocked out I pity him," nodded Mr.Smith. "I've been there."
"Oh, have you? Oh, yes, I remember. You did say so when you first came,didn't you? But, Mr. Smith PLEASE, if you know any of those healthfads, don't tell them to my husband. Don't, I beg of you! He's trieddozens of them until I'm nearly wild, and I've lost two hired girlsalready. One day it'll be no water, and the next it'll be all he candrink; and one week he won't eat anything but vegetables, and the n
exthe won't touch a thing but meat and--is it fruit that goes with meat orcereals? Well, never mind. Whatever it is, he's done it. And latelyhe's taken to inspecting every bit of meat and groceries that comesinto the house. Why, he spends half his time in the kitchen, nosing'round the cupboards and refrigerator; and, of course, NO girl willstand that! That's why I'm hoping, oh, I AM hoping that you can doSOMETHING with him on that ancestor business. There, here is theBensons', where I've got to stop--and thank you ever so much, Mr.Smith, if you will."
"All right, I'll try," promised Mr. Smith dubiously, as he lifted hishat. But he frowned, and he was still frowning when he met Miss Maggieat the Duff supper-table half an hour later.
"Well, I've found another one who wants me to tell how to be contented,though afflicted with a hundred thousand dollars," he greeted hergloweringly.
"Is that so?" smiled Miss Maggie.
"Yes.--CAN'T a hundred thousand dollars bring any one satisfaction?"
Miss Maggie laughed, then into her eyes came the mischievous twinklethat Mr. Smith had learned to watch for.
"Don't blame the poor money," she said then demurely. "Blame--the wayit is spent!"
Oh, Money! Money! A Novel Page 17
