Jennie Gerhardt: A Novel

by Theodore Dreiser

  CHAPTER XXXVIII

  Gerhardt, having become an inmate of the Hyde Park home, at oncebestirred himself about the labors which he felt instinctivelyconcerned him. He took charge of the furnace and the yard, outraged atthe thought that good money should be paid to any outsider when he hadnothing to do. The trees, he declared to Jennie, were in a dreadfulcondition. If Lester would get him a pruning knife and a saw he wouldattend to them in the spring. In Germany they knew how to care forsuch things, but these Americans were so shiftless. Then he wantedtools and nails, and in time all the closets and shelves were put inorder. He found a Lutheran Church almost two miles away, and declaredthat it was better than the one in Cleveland. The pastor, of course,was a heaven-sent son of divinity. And nothing would do but that Vestamust go to church with him regularly.

  Jennie and Lester settled down into the new order of living withsome misgivings; certain difficulties were sure to arise. On the NorthSide it had been easy for Jennie to shun neighbors and say nothing.Now they were occupying a house of some pretensions; their immediateneighbors would feel it their duty to call, and Jennie would have toplay the part of an experienced hostess. She and Lester had talkedthis situation over. It might as well be understood here, he said,that they were husband and wife. Vesta was to be introduced asJennie's daughter by her first marriage, her husband, a Mr. Stover(her mother's maiden name), having died immediately after the child'sbirth. Lester, of course, was the stepfather. This particularneighborhood was so far from the fashionable heart of Chicago thatLester did not expect to run into many of his friends. He explained toJennie the ordinary formalities of social intercourse, so that whenthe first visitor called Jennie might be prepared to receive her.Within a fortnight this first visitor arrived in the person of Mrs.Jacob Stendahl, a woman of considerable importance in this particularsection. She lived five doors from Jennie--the houses of theneighborhood were all set in spacious lawns--and drove up in hercarriage, on her return from her shopping, one afternoon.

  "Is Mrs. Kane in?" she asked of Jeannette, the new maid.

  "I think so, mam," answered the girl. "Won't you let me have yourcard?"

  The card was given and taken to Jennie, who looked at itcuriously.

  When Jennie came into the parlor Mrs. Stendahl, a tall dark,inquisitive-looking woman, greeted her most cordially.

  "I thought I would take the liberty of intruding on you," she saidmost winningly. "I am one of your neighbors. I live on the other sideof the street, some few doors up. Perhaps you have seen thehouse--the one with the white stone gate-posts."

  "Oh, yes indeed," replied Jennie. "I know it well. Mr. Kane and Iwere admiring it the first day we came out here."

  "I know of your husband, of course, by reputation. My husband isconnected with the Wilkes Frog and Switch Company."

  Jennie bowed her head. She knew that the latter concern must besomething important and profitable from the way in which Mrs. Stendahlspoke of it.

  "We have lived here quite a number of years, and I know how youmust feel coming as a total stranger to a new section of the city. Ihope you will find time to come in and see me some afternoon. I shallbe most pleased. My regular reception day is Thursday."

  "Indeed I shall," answered Jennie, a little nervously, for theordeal was a trying one. "I appreciate your goodness in calling. Mr.Kane is very busy as a rule, but when he is at home I am sure he wouldbe most pleased to meet you and your husband."

  "You must both come over some evening," replied Mrs. Stendahl. "Welead a very quiet life. My husband is not much for social gatherings.But we enjoy our neighborhood friends."

  Jennie smiled her assurances of good-will. She accompanied Mrs.Stendahl to the door, and shook hands with her. "I'm so glad to findyou so charming," observed Mrs. Stendahl frankly.

  "Oh, thank you," said Jennie flushing a little. "I'm sure I don'tdeserve so much praise."

  "Well, now I will expect you some afternoon. Good-by," and shewaved a gracious farewell.

  "That wasn't so bad," thought Jennie as she watched Mrs. Stendahldrive away. "She is very nice, I think. I'll tell Lester abouther."

  Among the other callers were a Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael Burke, aMrs. Hanson Field, and a Mrs. Timothy Ballinger--all of whom leftcards, or stayed to chat a few minutes. Jennie found herself takenquite seriously as a woman of importance, and she did her best tosupport the dignity of her position. And, indeed, she didexceptionally well. She was most hospitable and gracious. She had akindly smile and a manner wholly natural; she succeeded in making amost favorable impression. She explained to her guests that she hadbeen living on the North Side until recently, that her husband,Mr. Kane, had long wanted to have a home in Hyde Park, that her fatherand daughter were living here, and that Lester was the child'sstepfather. She said she hoped to repay all these nice attentions andto be a good neighbor.

  Lester heard about these calls in the evening, for he did not careto meet these people. Jennie came to enjoy it in a mild way. She likedmaking new friends, and she was hoping that something definite couldbe worked out here which would make Lester look upon her as a goodwife and an ideal companion. Perhaps, some day, he might really wantto marry her.

  First impressions are not always permanent, as Jennie was soon todiscover. The neighborhood had accepted her perhaps a little toohastily, and now rumors began to fly about. A Mrs. Sommerville,calling on Mrs. Craig, one of Jennie's near neighbors, intimated thatshe knew who Lester was--"oh, yes, indeed. You know, my dear,"she went on, "his reputation is just a little--" she raised hereyebrows and her hand at the same time.

  "You don't say!" commented her friend curiously. "He looks likesuch a staid, conservative person."

  "Oh, no doubt, in a way, he is," went on Mrs. Sommerville. "Hisfamily is of the very best. There was some young woman he wentwith--so my husband tells me. I don't know whether this is theone or not, but she was introduced as a Miss Gorwood, or some suchname as that, when they were living together as husband and wife onthe North Side."

  "Tst! Tst! Tst!" clicked Mrs. Craig with her tongue at thisastonishing news. "You don't tell me! Come to think of it, it must bethe same woman. Her father's name is Gerhardt."

  "Gerhardt!" exclaimed Mrs. Sommerville. "Yes, that's the name. Itseems to me that there was some earlier scandal in connection withher--at least there was a child. Whether he married her afterwardor not, I don't know. Anyhow, I understand his family will not haveanything to do with her."

  "How very interesting!" exclaimed Mrs. Craig. "And to think heshould have married her afterward, if he really did. I'm sure youcan't tell with whom you're coming in contact these days, canyou?"

  "It's so true. Life does get badly mixed at times. She appears tobe a charming woman."

  "Delightful!" exclaimed Mrs. Craig. "Quite naive. I was reallytaken with her."

  "Well, it may be," went on her guest, "that this isn't the samewoman after all. I may be mistaken."

  "Oh, I hardly think so. Gerhardt! She told me they had been livingon the North Side."

  "Then I'm sure it's the same person. How curious that you shouldspeak of her!"

  "It is, indeed," went on Mrs. Craig, who was speculating as to whather attitude toward Jennie should be in the future.

  Other rumors came from other sources. There were people who hadseen Jennie and Lester out driving on the North Side, who had beenintroduced to her as Miss Gerhardt, who knew what the Kane familythought. Of course her present position, the handsome house, thewealth of Lester, the beauty of Vesta--all these things helped tosoften the situation. She was apparently too circumspect, too much thegood wife and mother, too really nice to be angry with; but she had apast, and that had to be taken into consideration.

  An opening bolt of the coming storm fell upon Jennie one day whenVesta, returning from school, suddenly asked: "Mamma, who was mypapa?"

  "His name was Stover, dear," replied her mother, struck at once bythe thought that there might have been some criticism--that someone must have been saying something. "Why do you a
sk?"

  "Where was I born?" continued Vesta, ignoring the last inquiry, andinterested in clearing up her own identity.

  "In Columbus, Ohio, pet. Why?"

  "Anita Ballinger said I didn't have any papa, and that you weren'tever married when you had me. She said I wasn't a really, truly girlat all--just a nobody. She made me so mad I slapped her."

  Jennie's face grew rigid. She sat staring straight before her. Mrs.Ballinger had called, and Jennie had thought her peculiarly graciousand helpful in her offer of assistance, and now her little daughterhad said this to Vesta. Where did the child hear it?

  "You mustn't pay any attention to her, dearie," said Jennie atlast. "She doesn't know. Your papa was Mr. Stover, and you were bornin Columbus. You mustn't fight other little girls. Of course they saynasty things when they fight--sometimes things they don't reallymean. Just let her alone and don't go near her any more. Then shewon't say anything to you."

  It was a lame explanation, but it satisfied Vesta for the timebeing. "I'll slap her if she tries to slap me," she persisted.

  "You mustn't go near her, pet, do you hear? Then she can't try toslap you," returned her mother. "Just go about your studies, and don'tmind her. She can't quarrel with you if you don't let her."

  Vesta went away leaving Jennie brooding over her words. Theneighbors were talking. Her history was becoming common gossip. Howhad they found out.

  It is one thing to nurse a single thrust, another to have the woundopened from time to time by additional stabs. One day Jennie, havinggone to call on Mrs. Hanson Field, who was her immediate neighbor, meta Mrs. Williston Baker, who was there taking tea. Mrs. Baker knew ofthe Kanes, of Jennie's history on the North Side, and of the attitudeof the Kane family. She was a thin, vigorous, intellectual woman,somewhat on the order of Mrs. Bracebridge, and very careful of hersocial connections. She had always considered Mrs. Field a woman ofthe same rigid circumspectness of attitude, and when she found Jenniecalling there she was outwardly calm but inwardly irritated. "This isMrs. Kane, Mrs. Baker," said Mrs. Field, introducing her guests with asmiling countenance. Mrs. Baker looked at Jennie ominously.

  "Mrs. Lester Kane?" she inquired.

  "Yes," replied Mrs. Fields.

  "Indeed," she went on freezingly. "I've heard a great deal aboutMrs.--" accenting the word "Mrs.--Lester Kane."

  She turned to Mrs. Field, ignoring Jennie completely, and startedan intimate conversation in which Jennie could have no possible share.Jennie stood helplessly by, unable to formulate a thought which wouldbe suitable to so trying a situation. Mrs. Baker soon announced herdeparture, although she had intended to stay longer. "I can't remainanother minute," she said; "I promised Mrs. Neil that I would stop into see her to-day. I'm sure I've bored you enough already as itis."

  She walked to the door, not troubling to look at Jennie until shewas nearly out of the room. Then she looked in her direction, and gaveher a frigid nod.

  "We meet such curious people now and again," she observed finallyto her hostess as she swept away.

  Mrs. Field did not feel able to defend Jennie, for she herself wasin no notable social position, and was endeavoring, like every othermiddle-class woman of means, to get along. She did not care to offendMrs. Williston Baker, who was socially so much more important thanJennie. She came back to where Jennie was sitting, smilingapologetically, but she was a little bit flustered. Jennie was out ofcountenance, of course. Presently she excused herself and went home.She had been cut deeply by the slight offered her, and she felt thatMrs. Field realized that she had made a mistake in ever taking her up.There would be no additional exchange of visits there--that sheknew. The old hopeless feeling came over her that her life was afailure. It couldn't be made right, or, if it could, it wouldn't be.Lester was not inclined to marry her and put her right.

  Time went on and matters remained very much as they were. To lookat this large house, with its smooth lawn and well grown trees, itsvines clambering about the pillars of the veranda and interlacingthemselves into a transparent veil of green; to see Gerhardt potteringabout the yard, Vesta coming home from school, Lester leaving in themorning in his smart trap--one would have said that here is peaceand plenty, no shadow of unhappiness hangs over this charminghome.

  And as a matter of fact existence with Lester and Jennie did runsmoothly. It is true that the neighbors did not call any more, or onlya very few of them, and there was no social life to speak of; but thedeprivation was hardly noticed; there was so much in the home life toplease and interest. Vesta was learning to play the piano, and to playquite well. She had a good ear for music. Jennie was a charming figurein blue, lavender, and olive-green house-gowns as she went about heraffairs, sewing, dusting, getting Vesta off to school, and seeing thatthings generally were put to rights. Gerhardt busied himself about hismultitudinous duties, for he was not satisfied unless he had his handsinto all the domestic economies of the household. One of hisself-imposed tasks was to go about the house after Lester, or theservants, turning out the gas-jets or electric-light bulbs which mightaccidentally have been left burning. That was a sinful extravagance.

  Again, Lester's expensive clothes, which he carelessly threw asideafter a few month's use, were a source of woe to the thrifty oldGerman. Moreover, he grieved over splendid shoes discarded because ofa few wrinkles in the leather or a slightly run down heel or sole.Gerhardt was for having them repaired, but Lester answered the oldman's querulous inquiry as to what was wrong "with them shoes" bysaying that they weren't comfortable any more.

  "Such extravagance!" Gerhardt complained to Jennie. "Such waste! Nogood can come of anything like that, It will mean want one of thesedays."

  "He can't help it, papa," Jennie excused. "That's the way he wasraised."

  "Ha! A fine way to be raised. These Americans, they know nothing ofeconomy. They ought to live in Germany awhile. Then they would knowwhat a dollar can do."

  Lester heard something of this through Jennie, but he only smiled.Gerhardt was amusing to him.

  Another grievance was Lester's extravagant use of matches. He hadthe habit of striking a match, holding it while he talked, instead oflighting his cigar, and then throwing it away. Sometimes he wouldbegin to light a cigar two or three minutes before he would actuallydo so, tossing aside match after match. There was a place out in onecorner of the veranda where he liked to sit of a spring or summerevening, smoking and throwing away half-burned matches. Jennie wouldsit with him, and a vast number of matches would be lit and flung outon the lawn. At one time, while engaged in cutting the grass, Gerhardtfound, to his horror, not a handful, but literally boxes ofhalf-burned match-sticks lying unconsumed and decaying under thefallen blades. He was discouraged, to say the least. He gathered upthis damning evidence in a newspaper and carried it back into thesitting-room where Jennie was sewing.

  "See here, what I find!" he demanded. "Just look at that! That man,he has no more sense of economy than a--than a--" the rightterm failed him. "He sits and smokes, and this is the way he usesmatches. Five cents a box they cost--five cents. How can a manhope to do well and carry on like that, I like to know. Look atthem."

  Jennie looked. She shook her head. "Lester is extravagant," shesaid.

  Gerhardt carried them to the basement. At least they should beburned in the furnace. He would have used them as lighters for his ownpipe, sticking them in the fire to catch a blaze, only old newspaperswere better, and he had stacks of these--another evidence of hislord and master's wretched, spendthrift disposition. It was a sadworld to work in. Almost everything was against him. Still he foughtas valiantly as he could against waste and shameless extravagance. Hisown economies were rigid. He would wear the same suit ofblack--cut down from one of Lester's expensive investments ofyears before--every Sunday for a couple of years. Lester's shoes,by a little stretch of the imagination, could be made to seem to fit,and these he wore. His old ties also--the black ones--theywere fine. If he could have cut down Lester's shirts he would havedone so; he did make over the underwear, wi
th the friendly aid of thecook's needle. Lester's socks, of course, were just right. There wasnever any expense for Gerhardt's clothing.

  The remaining stock of Lester's discarded clothing--shoes,shirts, collars, suits, ties, and what not--he would store awayfor weeks and months, and then, in a sad and gloomy frame of mind, hewould call in a tailor, or an old-shoe man, or a ragman, and disposeof the lot at the best price he could. He learned that all second-handclothes men were sharks; that there was no use in putting the leastfaith in the protests of any rag dealer or old-shoe man. They alllied. They all claimed to be very poor, when as a matter of fact theywere actually rolling in wealth. Gerhardt had investigated thesestories; he had followed them up; he had seen what they were doingwith the things he sold them.

  "Scoundrels!" he declared. "They offer me ten cents for a pair ofshoes, and then I see them hanging out in front of their places markedtwo dollars. Such robbery! My God! They could afford to give me adollar."

  Jennie smiled. It was only to her that he complained, for he couldexpect no sympathy from' Lester. So far as his own meager store ofmoney was concerned, he gave the most of it to his beloved church,where he was considered to be a model of propriety, honesty,faith--in fact, the embodiment of all the virtues.

  And so, for all the ill winds that were beginning to blow socially,Jennie was now leading the dream years of her existence. Lester, inspite of the doubts which assailed him at times as to the wisdom ofhis career, was invariably kind and considerate, and he seemed toenjoy his home life.

  "Everything all right?" she would ask when he came in of anevening.

  "Sure!" he would answer, and pinch her chin or cheek.

  She would follow him in while Jeannette, always alert, would takehis coat and hat. In the winter-time they would sit in the librarybefore the big grate-fire. In the spring, summer, or fall Lesterpreferred to walk out on the porch, one corner of which commanded asweeping view of the lawn and the distant street, and light hisbefore-dinner cigar. Jennie would sit on the side of his chair andstroke his head. "Your hair is not getting the least bit thin, Lester;aren't you glad?" she would say; or, "Oh, see how your brow iswrinkled now. You mustn't do that. You didn't change your tie, mister,this morning. Why didn't you? I laid one out for you."

  "Oh, I forgot," he would answer, or he would cause the wrinkles todisappear, or laughingly predict that he would soon be getting bald ifhe wasn't so now.

  In the drawing-room or library, before Vesta and Gerhardt, she wasnot less loving, though a little more circumspect. She loved oddpuzzles like pigs in clover, the spider's hole, baby billiards, andthe like. Lester shared in these simple amusements. He would work bythe hour, if necessary, to make a difficult puzzle come right. Jenniewas clever at solving these mechanical problems. Sometimes she wouldhave to show him the right method, and then she would be immenselypleased with herself. At other times she would stand behind himwatching, her chin on his shoulder, her arms about his neck. He seemednot to mind--indeed, he was happy in the wealth of affection shebestowed. Her cleverness, her gentleness, her tact created anatmosphere which was immensely pleasing; above all her youth andbeauty appealed to him. It made him feel young, and if there was onething Lester objected to, it was the thought of drying up into anaimless old age. "I want to keep young, or die young," was one of hispet remarks; and Jennie came to understand. She was glad that she wasso much younger now for his sake.

  Another pleasant feature of the home life was Lester's steadilyincreasing affection for Vesta. The child would sit at the big tablein the library in the evening conning her books, while Jennie wouldsew, and Gerhardt would read his interminable list of German Lutheranpapers. It grieved the old man that Vesta should not be allowed to goto a German Lutheran parochial school, but Lester would listen tonothing of the sort. "We'll not have any thick-headed German trainingin this," he said to Jennie, when she suggested that Gerhardt hadcomplained. "The public schools are good enough for any child. Youtell him to let her alone."

  There were really some delightful hours among the four. Lesterliked to take the little seven-year-old school-girl between his kneesand tease her. He liked to invert the so-called facts of life, topropound its paradoxes, and watch how the child's budding mind tookthem. "What's water?" he would ask; and being informed that it was"what we drink," he would stare and say, "That's so, but what is it?Don't they teach you any better than that?"

  "Well, it is what we drink, isn't it?" persisted Vesta.

  "The fact that we drink it doesn't explain what it is," he wouldretort. "You ask your teacher what water is"; and then he would leaveher with this irritating problem troubling her young soul.

  Food, china, her dress, anything was apt to be brought back to itschemical constituents, and he would leave her to struggle with thesedark suggestions of something else back of the superficial appearanceof things until she was actually in awe of him. She had a way ofshowing him how nice she looked before she started to school in themorning, a habit that arose because of his constant criticism of herappearance. He wanted her to look smart, he insisted on a big bow ofblue ribbon for her hair, he demanded that her shoes be changed fromlow quarter to high boots with the changing character of the seasons'and that her clothing be carried out on a color scheme suited to hercomplexion and disposition.

  "That child's light and gay by disposition. Don't put anythingsomber on her," he once remarked.

  Jennie had come to realize that he must be consulted in this, andwould say, "Run to your papa and show him how you look."

  Vesta would come and turn briskly around before him, saying,"See."

  "Yes. You're all right. Go on"; and on she would go.

  He grew so proud of her that on Sundays and some week-days whenthey drove he would always have her in between them. He insisted thatJennie send her to dancing-school, and Gerhardt was beside himselfwith rage and grief. "Such irreligion!" he complained to Jennie. "Suchdevil's fol-de-rol. Now she goes to dance. What for? To make a no-goodout of her--a creature to be ashamed of?"

  "Oh no, papa," replied Jennie. "It isn't as bad as that. This is anawful nice school. Lester says she has to go."

  "Lester, Lester; that man! A fine lot he knows about what is goodfor a child. A card-player, a whisky-drinker!"

  "Now, hush, papa; I won't have you talk like that," Jennie wouldreply warmly. "He's a good man, and you know it."

  "Yes, yes, a good man. In some things, maybe. Not in this. No."

  He went away groaning. When Lester was near he said nothing, andVesta could wind him around her finger.

  "Oh you," she would say, pulling at his arm or rubbing his grizzledcheek. There was no more fight in Gerhardt when Vesta did this. Helost control of himself--something welled up and choked histhroat. "Yes, I know how you do," he would exclaim.

  Vesta would tweak his ear.

  "Stop now!" he would say. "That is enough."

  It was noticeable, however, that she did not have to stop unlessshe herself willed it. Gerhardt adored the child, and she could doanything with him; he was always her devoted servitor.