VII
AN AFTERNOON CALL
"How do you do? Oh, how do you do, too, Miss Keith?" Miss RobinFrench held out a hand first to Mrs. Channing Warrick and then to herguest and shook their hands with vigor.
"Did you ever know such weather at this season of the year? Evenheat and cold are no longer like they used to be. Everything isintensified. Indeed I will have some tea! No lemon, and one lump.One. That's a sick-looking fire, Hope. Good gracious! I just didcatch that vase of flowers! Such a stupid fancy, putting flowerseverywhere for people to knock over. Well, Miss Keith, have yougotten your breath since you reached New York? Something of a town,isn't it?"
A gulp of hot tea, taken standing by Miss French, gave pause for amoment, and Claudia Keith instinctively drew her feet up under herchair behind the tea-table. To duck her head, as one would dodge anon-coming deluge, was an impulse, but only with her feet could effortbe made for self-preservation, and as she refilled the cup held outto her by the breezy visitor she blessed the table which served as abreastwork of defense. With a hasty movement she put in the one lumpand handed the cup back. "I breathe here very well," she said, andsmiled into the scrutinizing eyes. "New York is very wonderful."
"And very disagreeable eight months out of the twelve." Miss Frenchput her cup on the table, threw her fur coat on the chair behind her,sat down, and, taking the cup again, drank its entire contents."Pretty good tea, Hope; at most places it's undrinkable." Again shehanded the cup to Claudia. "One more and that's all. I'm cuttingout tea a bit--only twelve cups a day now."
"Twelve!" The exclamation was beyond recall. Claudia's hand stoppedin its pouring. "Twelve!"
"That's what I said. Have taken thirty many times, but the doctorthought I was getting nerves and called me down. Nerves!" MissFrench's nose went up. "Nerves and nonsense are twin sisters, andI've no opinion of either. How did you like the opera last night?"
The question being addressed apparently to the cigarette Miss Frenchtook out of a little silver case, lighted, and began to smoke,neither Mrs. Warrick nor Miss Keith answered, each waiting for theother; but it did not matter, Miss French was looking at a photographin front of her. With lorgnette to her eyes, she examined itcritically.
"Rather a good picture of your brother, Hope. Didn't know he'd doanything so human as have a picture taken." She took it up."Winthrop would hardly take prizes at a beauty show, but he'scertainly all there for something better. When did you get this?"
"A month ago, I guess." Mrs. Warrick took a log from the basket onthe hearth and put it on the andirons. "The editors of the Reviewmade him send his picture when that article of his came out on 'TaxTerrors and Tax Traditions.' Channing says it's the best thingthat's been written on taxation for years, and in banking circles--"
"He's earned his pedestal." Miss French put down her cigarette andhanded the case to Claudia.
"Smoke?"
Claudia shook her head. "Thanks. I don't--"
"Pity. You've lots to learn yet. Most of you Southerners have, butwhen you catch up you speed all right. I'll give you this fornothing--don't toboggan all at once. Have you seen this picture ofHope's crank of a brother? You needn't expect to meet him. He comesof good Vermont stock, and its granite is no firmer than hisprinciples; but he has no manners. I've known him fifteen years andam qualified to speak."
"He has got manners!" Mrs. Warrick turned indignantly toward MissFrench. "Claudia only got here Thursday night, and Winthrop has beentoo busy--"
"Busy! You're dippy about Winthrop, Hope. He's the most indifferenthuman being to other human beings that walks this earth, and has morefriends--men friends--than any man I know. He's rotten spoiled;that's what's the matter with him. He's been chased, I admit. Whatuncaught man of means isn't? I've no patience with Winthrop. It'snatural young girls should bore him, but that's no reason why heshould live so entirely to himself."
"Perhaps"--Claudia took up a letter from the table in front of herand with it tapped her lips absently--"perhaps he prefers to livethat way. I wonder, Miss French, if you can tell me whereKroonstater's is? No one here seems to know, and every day I getfurther commissions from my county which can only be filled there.Years ago some one from Brooke Bank bought wonderful and marvelousChristmas things from Kroonstater's, and ever since it's been the onestore in New York for many of our people. I must find it."
"Kroonstater's?" Miss French again put up her lorgnette. "Neverheard of it."
Claudia laughed. "I see you, too, have something to learn. Youdon't know the joy of shopping if you don't know a store of thatkind. I suppose I'll have to find it by myself."
"For goodness' sake don't, Claudia." Mrs. Warrick got up; some oneat the telephone wanted her. "I passed one of those downtown storesonce, and the crowd in it was something awful. You never know whatkind of disease you might catch, and the people are so pushy. Allthe nice stores have Christmas things."
"I don't doubt it." Claudia smiled. "But Brooke Bank people haveideas of their own. Their demands are many, and their dollars few.And, then, I love to see the crowd. Their pennies are as importantas our pounds, and to watch their spending is the best kind of aplay."
"Where did you say you came from?" Miss French surveyed the girl infront of her with sudden interest. Something new under the sun wasever the quest of her inquiries and pursuits, and as if she hadpossibly found it she looked closer at her friend's guest. Not theyouth, not the fair skin now flushed with color that came and went,nor the long dark lashes, nor perfect teeth, nor anything that couldbe named made the girl distinctive, but something well-defined andpenetrating. Again she asked the question. "Where did you say youwere from?"
"From Virginia. Have you ever been there?"
Miss French shook her head.
Claudia sat up. In her eyes no longer laughter, and incredulity thatwas genuine. "You mean you _never_ have been to Virginia?"
"Never."
Elbows on the table and chin in the palms of her hands, Claudialooked at Miss French as intently as Miss French looked at Claudia."Then you've never heard, I suppose, of the Northern Neck, orWestmoreland County, or Essex, or Lancaster, or King George, or--"
"Never. Quite English, aren't they? Is that where you live?"
"I live in Essex. We're on the Rappahannock. There isn't a railroadin the county. We have to take the boat for Fredericksburg orNorfolk to get anywhere, unless we cross the river into WestmorelandCounty and drive over to the Potomac side and make the boat toWashington. Have you ever been to Washington?"
"Of course. I've been pretty well over the world."
"And left out its best part!" Claudia laughed and got up to turn thelogs which were smoking. "You mustn't die before seeing it. Thereisn't so much to see, perhaps, but a good deal to feel. Do you likefox-hunting?"
"Never tried it." Again Miss French looked at the girl now standingin front of her. She was certainly not a plate of fashion--that is,not a French plate--but she was graceful, and her clothes were reallyvery good. Her unconsciousness of self was rather astounding in acountry girl.
"I think you'd like a fox-hunt. I will miss the big one thisyear--Thanksgiving comes so late, and Christmas there's no time."
"Christmas in the country must be very stupid."
"Stupid!" Claudia's hands, which had been clasped behind her back,opened and came together on her breast. "Of course"--her eyes wereraised to Miss French's--"it's a point of view, I suppose. We don'tthink it's stupid. We love it."
Miss French got up, put her cigarette-case in her velvet hand-bag,slipped on her coat, fastened her veil, picked up her muff, shook it,and looked toward the door, between whose curtains Mrs. Warrick wasstanding.
"I thought you'd gone for good, Hope. You must have been telling allyou knew, and more. Miss Keith was just saying she loved Christmasin the country. I can't imagine anything worse, unless it'sChristmas in town. I hate Christmas! If I could go to sleep a weekbefore, and n
ot wake up until a week after, I'd surely do it. Why,Winthrop Laine!"
On her way to the door Miss Robin French stood still and looked atthe man coming in; and over her ruddy face swept color, almost purplein its deepness. She was a handsome woman, stubbornly resisting thework of time. In her eyes was restless seeking, in her movements anenergy that could not be exercised in the limits of her little world;and Claudia, watching her, felt sudden whimsical sympathy. She wasso big, so lordly, so hungrily unhappy.
She held out her hand. "How do you do?" she said. "I am just goinghome, as your sister hasn't asked me to dinner. I suppose you willstay--"
"If there's to be any dinner. Hope has a way of cutting it out everynow and then." He turned to his sister. "Are you going out to-night?"
"I certainly am not, and I'm so glad you've come! I've lots to tellyou and ask you. Won't you stay, Robin?" The question was putfeebly. "Do stay. Oh, I beg your pardon, Claudia, you were so faroff! You haven't met my brother. Winthrop, this is Channing'scousin, Miss Keith. Please give him some tea, Claudia. I know he'sfrozen. Can't you stay, Robin--really?"
"Really nothing! Good-bye." Miss French waved her muff to the manwho, over the teacups, was shaking hands with the girl on theopposite side of the table, and shook her head as he started towardher. "Don't come, Jenkins is out there with the car. I'd stay todinner, but Hope doesn't enjoy hers if there's a high-neck dress atthe table. Good-bye, Miss Keith; see you to-morrow night, Isuppose." And, like a good strong draught that passes, she was gone.
"I'm glad she had sense enough not to stay." Mrs. Warrick came towardthe tea-table. "I'm fond of Robin, but of late she's been even moreenergetic and emphatic than usual, and I feel like I'm beingbattledored and shuttlecocked whenever I see her. Why don't youdrink your tea, Winthrop?"
"I don't believe I put any sugar in it. I beg your pardon!" Claudiatook up the sugarbowl. "It was Miss French, I guess. She's sucha--such a gusty person. I love to hear her talk. How many, Mr.Laine?"
"Three, please, and no comments, Hope. If a man must drink tea heought to have all the sugar he wants. That last lump was so verylittle I think you might put in another, Miss Keith. Thank you.Perhaps this is sweet enough." "Winthrop just takes tea to have thesugar, He's as bad as Dorothea about sweet things." Mrs. Warrickturned to her brother. "Are you really going to stay to dinner?Please do. This is the only evening we're to be home for a week, andCharming is anxious to see you on some business."
"Is he?" Laine put down his cup. "Well, he won't see me on businessto-night. I've an office down-town. In your part of the world, MissKeith, don't you ever let men have a chance to forget there's such athing as business?"
Claudia got up. "I'm afraid they have too much chance." She put herhand lightly on Mrs. Warrick's arm. "Will you excuse me, Hope? Ihave a letter to write." She bowed slightly in Laine's direction andwas gone before he could reach the door to draw aside the curtainsfor her.
Mrs. Warrick leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Do sitdown, Winthrop, and let's talk. I'm so glad to have a little timealone with you. I so seldom have it that--"
"Your guest was certainly not slow in giving it to you. She couldhardly do anything but leave after your insistence upon having thingsto tell me. What in the name of Heaven did you do that for? Doesshe think we don't know how to behave up here?"
"Oh, she understands! She knows you didn't come to see her, and,besides, she's gone up-stairs to write to her mother. If King Georgehad been here she'd have gone. You know, I really dreaded hercoming, but I needn't. She has been to a good many places--wasabroad for a year with one of her sisters whose husband was secretaryor something to one of our ministers or somebody--but she doesn'tknow New York at all. She's met a number of her friend's friendsalready, and I won't have to scoop up men for her. Last night at theVan Doren's she had more around her than she could talk to. Alwayshas had, Channing says. She'll be no bother; and don't stay awaybecause she's here. Tell me"--she put her hand on his knee--"is ittrue you are going to Panama next month? Robin French told me sheheard you would leave on the twelfth."
"If Miss French could sell fairy tales as rapidly as she can repeatthem she'd make a fortune. I have no idea what I am going to do nextmonth."
"I wish I didn't know I was going to Savannah for Christmas. It'sChanning's year, and of course we ought to go to his mother, as sheis too old to come to us, but there's so much going on, and thenyou'll be alone."
"Oh, I'll manage all right. The one good thing about Christmas is itdoesn't last long." He leaned forward and with the tongs turned asmoldering log. "But it's incomprehensible how a woman with a homecan keep up this everlasting going to other people's houses.To-morrow night you go--"
"To the Taillors. Mrs. Taillor's debutante daughter makes her firstbow to--"
"Capitalized society, does she? Poor child! The pains of pleasureare many."
"They surely are! She looks like a scared rabbit, and I heard hersay only a week ago she'd rather die than be a debutante. But she'llget on. Her mother will corral the men and compel them to come inand pay her attention. Are you going?"
"Hardly." Laine looked at his watch. "What time do you have dinner?"
"Seven. It's time for me to dress." Mrs. Warrick got up. "Do praybe decent and go to-morrow night, Winthrop. Mr. Taillor has beensuch a good friend, and Mrs. Taillor will be so pleased. Don'tforget to send the child flowers. I wonder if Claudia is ready.Dorothea grabs her every chance she gets, and I don't doubt she'swith the children this minute. She'll stay until dinner is served,so don't worry; and for goodness' sake don't let her being here keepyou away."
The Man in Lonely Land Page 7
