Where There's a Will

by Mary Roberts Rinehart

  CHAPTER XIV

  PIERCE DISAPPROVES

  Mrs. Hutchins came out to the spring-house the next morning. She wasdressed in a black silk with real lace collar and cuffs, and she was sopuffed up with pride that she forgot to be nasty to me.

  "I thought I'd better come to you, Minnie," she said. "There seems to benobody in authority here any more. Mr. Carter has put the--has put Mr.von Inwald in the north wing. I can not imagine why he should have givenhim the coldest and most disagreeable part of the house."

  I said I'd speak to Mr. Carter and try to have him moved, and sherustled over to where I was brushing the hearth and stooped down.

  "Mr. von Inwald is incognito, of course," she said, "but he belongs to avery old family in his own country--a noble family. He ought to have thebest there is in the house."

  I promised that, too, and she went away, but I made up my mind to talkto Mr. Pierce. The sanatorium business isn't one where you can put yourown likes and dislikes against the comfort of the guests.

  Miss Cobb came out a few minutes after; she had on her new green silkwith the white lace trimming. She saw me staring as she threw off hercape and put her curler on the log.

  "It's a little dressy for so early, of course, Minnie," she said, "butI wish you'd see some of the other women! Breakfast looked like anafternoon reception. What would you think of pinning this black velvetribbon around my head?"

  "It might have done twenty years ago, Miss Cobb," I answered, "but Iwouldn't advise it now." I was working at the slot-machine, and I heardher sniff behind me as she hung up her mirror on the window-frame.

  She tried the curler on the curtain, which she knows I object to, butshe was too full of her subject to be sulky for long.

  "I wish you could see Blanche Moody!" she began again, standing holdingthe curler, with a thin wreath of smoke making a halo over her head."Drawn in--my dear, I don't see how she can breathe! I guess there's nodoubt about Mr. von Inwald."

  "I'd like to know who put this beer check in the slot-machineyesterday," I said as indifferently as I could. "What about Mr. vonInwald?"

  She tiptoed over to me, the halo trailing after her.

  "About his being a messenger from the prince to Miss Jennings!" sheanswered in a whisper. "He spent last night closeted with papa, andthe chambermaid on that floor told Lily Biggs that there was almost aquarrel."

  "That doesn't mean anything," I objected. "If the Angel Gabriel was shutin with Mr. Jennings for ten minutes he'd be blowing his trumpet forhelp."

  Miss Cobb shrugged her shoulders and took hold of a fresh wisp of hairwith the curler.

  "I dare say," she assented, "but the Angel Gabriel wouldn't havewaited to breakfast with Miss Jennings, and have kissed her hand beforeeverybody at the foot of the stairs!"

  "Is he handsome?" I asked, curious to know how he would impress otherwomen. But Miss Cobb had never seen a man she would call ugly.

  "Handsome!" she said. "My dear, he's beautiful! He has a duel scar onhis left cheek--all the nobility have them over there. I've a cousinliving in Berlin--she's the wittiest person--and she says the Germanchild of the future will be born with a scarred left cheek!"

  Well, I was sick enough of hearing of Mr. von Inwald before the day wasover. All morning in the spring-house they talked Mr. von Inwald. Theypretended to play cards, but they were really playing European royalty.Every time somebody laid down a queen, he'd say, "Is the queen stillliving, or didn't she die a few years ago?" And when they played theknave, they'd start off about the prince again. They'd all decided thatMr. von Inwald was noble--somebody said that the "von" was a sort oftitle. The women were planning to make the evenings more cheerful, too.They couldn't have a dance with the men using canes or forbidden toexercise, but Miss Cobb had a lot of what she called "parlor games" thatshe wanted to try out. "Introducing the Jones family" was one of them.

  In the afternoon Mr. von Inwald came out to the spring-house and sataround, very affable and friendly, drinking the water. He and the bishopgrew quite chummy. Miss Patty was not there, but about four o'clock Mr.Pierce came out. He did not sit down, but wandered around the room, nottalking to anybody, but staring, whenever he could, at the prince. OnceI caught Mr. von Inwald's eyes fixed on him, as if he might have seenhim before. After a while Mr. Pierce sat down in a corner like a sulkychild and filled his pipe, and as nobody noticed him except to complainabout the pipe, which he didn't even hear, he sat there for a half-hour,bent forward, with his pipe clenched in his teeth, and never took hiseyes off Mr. von Inwald's face.

  Senator Biggs was the one who really caused the trouble. He spent a gooddeal of time in the spring-house trying to fool his stomach by keepingit filled up all the time with water. He had got past the cranky stage,being too weak for it; his face was folded up in wrinkles like anaccordion and his double chin was so flabby you could have tucked itaway inside his collar.

  "What do you think of American women, Mr. von Inwald?" he asked, andeverybody stopped playing cards and listened for the answer. As Mr.von Inwald represented the prince, wouldn't he be likely to voice theprince's opinion of American women?

  It's my belief Mr. von Inwald was going to say something nice. Hesmiled as if he meant to, but just then he saw Mr. Pierce in his cornersneering behind his pipe. They looked at each other steadily, and nobodycould mistake the hate in Mr. Pierce's face or his sneer. After a minutethe prince looked away and shrugged his shoulders, but he didn't makehis pretty speech.

  "American women!" he said, turning his glass of spring water aroundon the table before him, "they are very lovely, of course." He lookedaround and there were Mrs. Moody and Mrs. Biggs and Miss Cobb, and heeven glanced at me in the spring. Then he looked again at Mr. Pierce andkept his eyes there. "But they are spoiled, fearfully spoiled. They ruletheir parents and they expect to rule their husbands. In Europe we dothings better; we are not--what is the English?--hag-ridden?"

  There was a sort of murmur among the men, but the women all nodded as ifthey thought Europe was entirely right. They'd have agreed with him ifhe'd advocated sixteen wives sitting cross-legged on a mat, like theTurks. Mr. Pierce was still staring at the prince.

  "What I don't quite understand, Mr. von Inwald," the bishop put in inhis nice way, "is your custom of expecting a girl to bring her husbanda certain definite sum of money and to place it under the husband'scontrol. Our wealthy American girls control their own money," He wasthinking of Miss Patty, and everybody knew it.

  The prince turned red and glared at the bishop. Then I think heremembered that they didn't know who he was, and he smiled and startedto turning the glass again.

  "Pardon!" he said. "Is it not better? What do women know of money? Theythrow it away on trifles, dress, jewels--American women are extravagant.It is one result of their--of their spoiling."

  Mr. Pierce got up and emptied his pipe into the fire. Then he turned.

  "I'm afraid you have not known the best type of American women," hesaid, looking hard at the prince. "Our representative women are ourmiddle-class women. They do not contract European alliances, not havingsufficient money to attract the attention of the nobility, or enough tobuy titles, as they do pearls, for the purpose of adornment."

  Mr. von Inwald got up, and his face was red. Mr. Pierce was white andsneering.

  "Also," he went on, "when they marry they wish to control their ownmoney, and not see it spent in--ways with which you are doubtlessfamiliar."

  We were all paralyzed. Nobody moved. Mr. Pierce put his pipe in hispocket and stalked out, slamming the door. Then Mr. von Inwald shruggedhis shoulders and laughed.

  "I see I shall have to talk to our young friend," he said and pickedup his glass. "I'm afraid I've given a wrong impression. I like theAmerican women very much; too well," he went on with a flash of histeeth, looking around the room, and brought the glass to the spring forme to fill. But as I've said before, I can tell a good bit about a manfrom the way he gives me his glass, and he was in a perfect frenzy ofrage. When I reached it back to
him he gripped it until his nails werewhite.

  My joint ached all the rest of the afternoon. About five o'clock Mr.Thoburn stopped in long enough to say: "What's this I hear about Cartermaking an ass of himself to-day?"

  "I haven't heard it," I answered. "What is it?"

  But he only laughed and turned up his collar to go.

  "Jove, Minnie," he said, "why do women of your spirit always championthe losing side? Be a good girl; give me a hand now and then with thisthing, and I'll see you don't lose by it."

  "We're not going to lose," I retorted angrily. "Nobody has left yet. Weare still ahead on the books."

  He came over and shook a finger in my face.

  "Nobody has left--and why? Because they're all taking a series of baths.Wait until they've had their fifteen, or twenty-one, or whatever thecure is, and then see them run!"

  It was true enough; I knew it.