XI
A CHANCE ENCOUNTER
Claudia glanced at the clock. She must be dressed by seven.Hurriedly she put aside the letters which could wait, and began towrite.
"Just three days more, precious mother, and I will leave for home.I've seen such remarkable things; heard such wonderful music; been toso many parties and luncheons and teas and dinners; met so manypeople, some fearfully, dreadfully dressed, some beautifully,gorgeously gowned, that my brain is a plum-pudding, and my mind meremoving pictures. It's been a lovely visit. Channing is a dear, andHope has done her full duty, but it's something of a strain to dwellin the tents of the wealthy. I'm so glad we're not wealthy, mother.There are hundreds of things I'd like money for, but I've gotten tobe as afraid of it as I am of potato-bugs when the plants are wellup. It has a way of making you think things that aren't so. I dohope Uncle Bushrod's cold is better.
"I've tried to fill all the orders from everybody, but some I haven'tfound yet. Hope and her friends shop only in the expensive stores,and the prices are so paralyzing that, though outwardly I don'tblink, I'm inwardly appalled; but I put the things aside as ifundecided whether to get them or something nicer. I'm afraid I don'tmean I'm glad we're not wealthy. Certainly when shopping I don'twish it. I want millions then. Millions! And when I get among thebooks I'd like to be a billionaire. To-morrow I'm going out bymyself and finish up everything. Hope would be horrified at mypurchases, for Hope has forgotten when she, too, had to be careful inher expenditures. Her brother hasn't.
"Did I tell you about the crazy mistake I made? I thought, from whatDorothea told me, he was an old gentleman, her mother's uncle, andwrote him a note before I met him. Dorothea adores him, and when hisdog died I was so sorry I told him so. I wonder what does make me dosuch impulsive things! I get so discouraged about myself. I'llnever, never be a proper person. He isn't old.
"I wish you could see the letter Beverly wrote me from MammyMalaprop. She says she is 'numberating the date of my return to thedissolute land in which I live, and is a-preparing to serve forsupper all the indelicacies of the season.' If I didn't know oldMalaprop I'd think Beverly was making up her messages, but noimagination could conceive of her twists and turns of the Englishlanguage.
"Are the hens laying at all? and please tell Andrews to watch thesheep carefully; it's so bitterly cold.
"I've had a beautiful time, but, oh, mother dear, I shall be so gladto get home, where there are real things to do and where you all loveme just for myself! Every night I kiss your picture and wish it wasyou. Best love for everybody. I have Gabriel's little trumpet.
"Devotedly," "CLAUDIA."
"P. S.--We are going again to-night to the opera. If only you weregoing, too! I never see anything beautiful, hear anything beautiful,that I don't wish you could see it and hear it also. I'm so glad Ibrought my riding-habit. They have been the best things of all, thelong, splendid rides in the country. So much nicer than motoring.Mr. Laine rides better than any city man I know. Three days more andI leave for home.
"C."
Guilty gladness at being alone, at getting off by herself and goingwhere she chose, so possessed her the next day that as Claudia passedMrs. Warrick's sitting-room she tip-toed lest she be called in and amoment of her precious freedom be lost. Several hours of daylightwere still left, but there was much to be done; and hurriedly shewent down the steps, hurriedly walked to the avenue, and caught the'bus she saw coming with a sigh of thankfulness. In the center ofthe shopping district she got out and disappeared soon after in oneof the stores. It was her only chance for the simple purchases to bemade for the slim purses of her country friends; and as she readfirst one list and then the other she smiled at the variety of humandesires and the diversities of human needs, and quickly madedecisions. A letter received just before leaving the house had notbeen read, but its writing was recognized, and going to the door shetried to make out the scrawly contents and get, at the same time, thebreath of fresh air brought in by its opening as hurrying customerscame and went. To read there was impossible, however. Darkness hadfallen; and, going outside for a moment, she looked up and down atthe surging, pushing, shivering crowd and wondered as to the time.She was not through, and she must finish before going back.
"Is Madame Santa Claus ready to go home?"
Startled, she looked up. "Oh, Mr. Laine, I'm so glad! Indeed I'mnot through, and it's dark already. Do you think Hope will mind if Idon't get back for tea?"
"I think not." He smiled in the troubled face. "What is left to bedone?"
"This among other things." Together they moved slowly down thecrowded street, and she held the letter in her hand toward him."It's from Mrs. Prosser, who has eleven children and a husband who istheir father and that's all. They live on faith and the neighbors,but she has sold a pig and sent me part of the money with which tobuy everybody in the family a Christmas present. That's all I'vemade out."
Laine took the sheets of paper torn from a blank-book and looked atthem under an electric light. "This Syro-Phoenician writing needswhat it can't get out here," he said, after a half-minute's pause."A cipher requires a code, and a code means sitting down. Aren't youcold? You are. Come over here and we'll have some tea and work itout together." And before protest could be made they were in a hotelacross the street and at a table on which a shaded light permitted acloser examination of the penciled scrawl which went for writing.Slowly he read aloud:
"DERE Miss CLAUDIA,--The chillern is near bout set me crazy sence Itole 'em I was agoin' to ask you to do me some favors which is to buyfor me some New York krismus presents. I have sole the pig and I ama-puttin' in this six dollars and sixteen cents, I would have sentseven dollars even but the baby had the colic so bad I had to gitsome more of that pain-killer which I give the hoss onct, and Johnnielost the change comin' home from the store. The baby is well, butthe hoss ain't. The followin' is what I would like to have. Ifenyou can't git the things, git what you can. I have confidence inyour jedgment.
"2 pare sox and a maresharm pipe for the old man. Don't spend morethan fifty cents on him. He drunk up the whiskey your ma give me forthe mincemeat for Thanksgivin' and I had to lock him up in thegarret. He'd like the pipe yaller.
"1 A blew skarf pin--Johnnie.
"2 A bracelet. Bras will do if you can't git gold. Minnie is themeekest and don't look for much but she wants a bracelet awful bad.
"3 A box of paper and envellopes for Maizzie--Maizzie's got a bow.He lives in the next county. I don't let the chillern say nothin'.I'm 'fraid they'll scare the ducks.
"4 A wax doll in pink tarlton for Rosy. She won't be here nextkrismus. The doctor done tole me, and my hart it have been hurtin'so ever since that I have to hide every now and then so as to git mybreath good. Sometimes I can't help chokin', I can't. She seen adoll in pink tarlton onct and the other night I heard her talkin' upthe chimney and she was askin' Santa Claus to bring her one if hecould spare it. Ifen you can't git all the things with the pigmoney, please'm git the doll, and in pink, please'm, and let theothers go."
Laine took up his cup of tea and drank it slowly. "Part of this ishard to make out," he said, after a moment. "I can't see it verywell."
"All of it is hard." Claudia put a piece of cracker in her mouth."But it's a wonder she can write at all. The boys are as trifling astheir father, and she does the work of five people. Is that all?"
Laine began again. "Becky say she don't want nothin' but a pare ofsilk stockings. She's crazy, but she seen the summer girls with 'emand I don't reckon it will do no harm if we ain't pracktical atkrismus. It do seem like krismus ain't for prackticals. 40 cents isher share.
"Sam he wants a harmonicum, and Bobbie he just set his hart on asled. I don't reckon you can get that in your trunk, and ifen youcan't a necktie will have to do. The other chillern is so small itdon't make no difference what you get for them, any little thing youcan pick up will please 'em. They is all so excited about havin'pr
esents from New York that they's plum crazy. I don't know what thecounty would do without you, Miss Claudia. You is everybody's friendand everybody is--"
Claudia put out her hand. "Oh, that part doesn't matter. I'll takeit now. We'll have to go. Are you ready?"
"Not quite." Laine, who had finished the letter, handed it to her,then took out a note-book and pencil. "Are you sure you can rememberthe things? Hadn't I better write them down?"
Claudia shook her head. "Not a bit of use. These are the last toget, and then I'm through. Are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Through."
"Through what?"
"With your Christmas things. I don't suppose men have as much to doas women and don't have to begin so early. Some people don't loveChristmas. It's such a pity."
"It's a pity the old Christmas has given way to the new one. Withmany it's a sort of hold-up. I don't believe in it."
Claudia's arms were folded on the table, and her eyes were gravelylooking into his. "What kind do you believe in?"
Into Laine's face the color crept slowly, then he laughed. "I reallydon't know. I only know the present kind is wrong."
"You know a great many things that are wrong, don't you?"
"I'm afraid I do." With his handkerchief Laine wiped his glasses,put them back, and again tapped the table. "That is, I know a greatmany things that aren't nice to know."
"Most of us do. It isn't difficult to see what isn't nice in peopleor things." She got up. "I'm sorry you don't love Christmas."
"Why should I love it? For the men at the office there are checks;for my brother's widow and children are other checks; for Hope,another. A man makes a mess of buying presents. Cigars for men andflowers for women are the two orders telephoned in advance for thefew so remembered. The employees at the clubs, the servants at thehouse, the--the associations which do things merely mean more money,and money--"
"I think I should hate Christmas, too, if it merely meant the writingof checks or the giving of gold. I wouldn't want a million if therewas no love with it." Eyes on her muff, she smoothed it softly."That is what Christmas is for. To take time to remember, and to letpeople know we do care--and to make somebody glad. Let me see." Onher fingers she enumerated the things desired by Mrs. Prosser."Harmonicum, silk stockings, socks, yellow pipe, blue scarf-pin,bracelet (brass or gold), box of paper, sled, and--"
"A doll in pink tarleton." Again in Laine's face the color creptslowly. He hesitated. "In all my life I never bought a doll or asled or anything except books for children. May I go with you? Andwould--would you mind if I got that doll?"
The Man in Lonely Land Page 11
