Grandmother Rutherford sat pretending to eat the last bit of her ice cream, which she had decided before her daughter went to the telephone was a little more than would be good for her. But she could not bear to have Lynnie think she was sitting there watching her.
Elim, boy-like, was devouring his third piece of cake and a second ice cream mold in the shape of a great pink peach with a green leaf. His brows were drawn in a heavy frown, but he seemed to be wholly intent on his ice cream.
Suddenly with keener hearing than the rest, or perhaps just boy instinct, he felt that someone was coming in the gate. He lifted his eyes and glanced out the window.
“Oh, gee,” he said angrily, “there comes Dana! Now I suppose he’ll order you off somewhere, or else stay here and all the good times will be over. Gee, I think we might have you a little while, Lynn. You’ve been away for ages, and we’re your own folks. I don’t see what that guy has to be around here all the time for anyway. Who’s he got with him? That blue-eyed baby doll! Now they’ll come walking right in here. Dana never did have any manners, and they’ll eat up all the rest of the cake and ice cream. Gee. I’m going to beat it while the going is good.”
He shoved his chair back sharply, but Lynette laid a detaining hand quickly on his arm, a glint like steel suddenly coming into her sweet eyes, her delicate lips set in a kind of frozen beauty.
“No, Elim, sit still,” she said imperatively. “Nobody is coming here and I’m not going away anywhere. I’ll go out and send them off. I told Dana I couldn’t go out tonight. He had no right to come over after what I said. Wait, I’ll go out and tell him! Don’t you go off! I’ll be back in just a minute.”
Lynette went out of the dining room quickly, closing the door behind her with a decisive click. They could hear her cross the hall and step out the front door.
Elim looked up with a troubled frown and met an answering look of understanding from his grandmother’s eyes. He made a bitter grimace.
“Gee, Gramma, I hate that guy!”
“I don’t know as that will do any good, Elim,” she twinkled.
“Well, she’s too fine a girl! She’s—! She—! He—!” he stumbled incoherently.
“Yes, I know,” sighed his grandmother looking suddenly very tired and feeble. “But I don’t know that hating will do any good. I think praying would be more effective, don’t you?”
“Go to it, Gramma, I’m with you,” he responded heartily. “Say, is there another piece of that cake cut? Gee, it’s good! I been hungry all the afternoon.”
The front patio was flooded with rosy light from the sunset, and Lynette looked like some delicate vision as she came out in her little blue frock. The light touched her soft hair and brought out the gold, and the blue of the dress brought out the pink in her cheeks. She was exquisite as she stood there awaiting them. Jessie Belle looked up and stared rudely. She had not counted on anything as chic and lovely as this. Justine Whipple had written about Lynette, “She’s just a sweet little country girl, you know,” and Jessie Belle had whetted her weapons accordingly. But this girl was different, unusual, sophisticated in a way that Jessie Belle neither understood nor admired, but secretly feared.
Dana looked up as Lynette came out, with an exclamation of admiration, and the frown he had been wearing since his telephone conversation smoothed away. Ah, here was his own Lynn, lovelier than he had ever seen her!
“Oh, you’re all ready, aren’t you?” he exclaimed with relief in his tone. “That’s good, we haven’t any too much time to spare. We’re going to walk. It would be practically impossible to find a place to park the car near the theater, you know, and Miss Smith wanted to see the town. Lynn, this is Miss Smith. You two girls ought to be good friends this summer.”
Jessie Belle glanced up with abrupt insolence in the sweep of her lashes. She merely tilted her chin disagreeably and lifted her plucked eyebrows a trifle, without smiling.
Lynette acknowledged the introduction gravely, almost casually, and turned back to Dana.
“I’m sorry you wasted your time coming after me, Dana,” she said almost haughtily. “I thought I made it quite plain to you that I was not going.”
“Nonsense, Lynn. Why aren’t you? We aren’t going to take no for an answer. I want you to go. Isn’t that enough?”
Dana flashed her one of his imperious, compelling smiles that she was accustomed to answer with a yielding one, but her eyes were still grave as she replied, “Not tonight. It’s of no use to discuss it, Dana. I wouldn’t leave Mother and Grandmother tonight for—anything!” she finished.
Dana gave her a vexed look, and was about to present other arguments, when Jessie Belle slid her hand into his arm and began to pull him.
“Come on, Dana. We can’t stand here all night. If she won’t go there’s no use in our losing our seats. I want to see that picture!”
“Yes, go,” said Lynette with dignity.
“Well, I certainly don’t understand you, Lynn,” said the young man haughtily, “but if you’re in that mood it would be unpleasant to have further words about it, of course. I’ll see you tomorrow sometime, and meantime I don’t in the least like the way you’ve acted!”
Then he suffered himself to be led away, arm in arm with that giddy, painted child! It was incredible! Dana Whipple! Her Dana! And never a word that he was sorry not to have been at her birthday party. He didn’t know it was her birthday! Dana had forgotten!
She had not let herself believe it before, but now she let the sorrowful truth roll over her as she stood in the golden light in her forget-me-not robes watching her loved one walk away into the sunset. One arm was lifted, her hand shading her eyes, the evening breeze fluttering the sheer ruffle at her wrist and billowing the transparent sleeve and showing the round, firm arm with its pretty curves. She was a vision to make one glad. Dana looked back furtively and saw her, secretly rejoicing in her beauty, fiercely angry in his heart that she had not shown herself his slave before this other girl. She had humiliated him by not obeying his wish, and she must be made to suffer for it. He could not let her get in the habit of taking the upper hand. Women were that way when they got started. He must make it very plain to her that his word was law. Strange what had got into Lynn! She never acted that way before. Was she jealous? Well, perhaps a little jealousy might do her good. She had had his devotion so many years that she was getting to take it for granted, and really a man, especially a minister, must be the head of his own household.
So he walked away with the painted child upon his arm, into the sunset, planning how he would humiliate Lynette, planning not to go over the first thing in the morning as he had intended. He would take Jessie Belle out for a ride, perhaps, and drive past the door where Lynn could see him. Then late in the afternoon, when she had given up expecting him, he would run over and have it out with her. By that time she would be sorry and ashamed, and after a salutary lecture and due repentance on her part, he would forgive her. It would be delicious comforting her. Perhaps there would be tears in her eyes. Though Lynn was not given to tears. But he would kiss her eyelids. If there were tears he would kiss them away—and—
These thoughts were pleasant as an undertone of accompaniment to Jessie Belle’s chatter, but they suddenly arrived at the door of the theater and Jessie Belle asserted herself.
There were tears in Lynette’s eyes as she stood in the sunset glow and watched the two walk out the gate. She was trying to understand the feeling that possessed her soul. Was it possible that she was jealous of that common little painted girl with the long earrings and the jazzy manner? She who had trusted Dana all these years when they were apart?
But such a girl! How could he stand her? He really seemed amused with her. Still, of course he had to be polite to a stranger in his home. Yet, did he? By any code did he have to forget her on this day of all days? He had come after her at last, of course, but he had not seemed to recognize what he had omitted. He had brought no apology for slighting her invitation, only annoyance wi
th her that she had seemed to expect him to come.
Well, probably she was tired and overwrought. She had counted too much on this special day. It was childish in her, of course. She must learn to control her feelings and not to be supersensitive. Didn’t Dana say something like that this afternoon? Somehow there seemed to have been a great many things that Dana said that were different from what she had expected, things that hurt. Perhaps she was becoming morbid. She would go in and try to make her family have a good time at least. They should not suspect that she was hurt to the soul. Never!
She went into the house, head up, smiling. A forced smile, but a smile. There were no tears in her eyes now. This thing was largely a matter of pride perhaps, or self-control. She would put it aside, and never should Dana suspect how she had been hurt by his easy willingness to stay away from her birthday supper. Someday probably it would all be explained and the hurt healed, but until then head up, eyes bright, a smile!
But oh, she thought as she turned the knob of the dining room door, if she only, only could get away and hide, far, far, far away till that terrible, cheap little girl was gone! It was so humiliating to have her see Dana in that mood. She had so openly gloated over her. But that was pride, too.
She opened the door and went in, a merry sentence about the gift her mother had given her upon her lips, but she noticed that her mother was still absent from the table, and the other two were sitting back obviously waiting for something.
“Why, where is Mother?” she asked surprised. “Not gossiping with the neighbors on the phone yet surely! What is it, the Mite Society, or the New Library reception? Elim, go motion to her to hurry up. We want to get playing some games or something before Grandmother has to go to bed. I’ve brought two or three new things home that I want us to try. They’re good fun, and I think you will like them. Go get her, Elim, rescue her from her friends.”
“I think it’s long distance, Lynn,” said her brother, eyeing her gravely, turned suddenly thoughtful now that she had really sent the favored Dana away with another girl.
“Long distance! Why, who could it be, now I’m home?” laughed Lynette.
Elim shrugged his shoulders.
“Search me! Might be Uncle Ream, mightn’t it?” he suggested. “I only know ‘twas long distance because of the long rings. They always do that when it’s far off, you know. Muth had some trouble getting connection. She had to wait.”
Lynette gave her brother a startled look.
“I hope nothing’s the matter, nobody sick or anything. They are sailing day after tomorrow, you know.”
Mrs. Brooke opened the door and came in then, looking flurried and excited, a bright spot of pink on either cheek.
“That was your Aunt Hilda,” she said, looking searchingly at her daughter. “Didn’t Dana come in, Lynette? Didn’t you ask him in for some cake and cream? There are several more molds in the freezer.”
“No, Dana didn’t come in. No, I didn’t ask him, Mother. We’re going to have a whole evening to ourselves for this once. What in the world did Aunt Hilda want? Why she wrote you a farewell letter and sent it by me. I hope you told her I delivered it. Mother, they aren’t any of them sick are they?”
“No, they are not sick,” said Mrs. Brooke, breaking off a bit of cake from her untouched slice and crumbling it absently as if to delay what she had to say. “No, there’s nothing the matter with them. But Cousin Marta Hamilton who was to occupy half the stateroom with your cousin Dorothy is not going. She’s had a telegram from her brother-in-law out West that her sister is very low with pneumonia and she is needed to come and look after the children. She left on the six o’clock train tonight, and now that throws everything out, for Hilda simply won’t hear to Dorothy’s being in a cabin by herself, or with any stranger, and they’ve tried everybody they can think of and nobody can go. Lynette, your Uncle Reamer is determined that you shall go. He thinks you ought to. He says it will be an experience that will last you your whole life and you may never have another opportunity to go. He seems to think your father would have wanted you to have the advantages of travel. He is very insistent, and I don’t know but he is right. Lynnie, I don’t know but we ought to reconsider. Anyhow I promised we would think it over and let them know at half-past ten when they will call up again.”
“How ridiculous!” said Lynette sharply. “They’re sailing day after tomorrow, and I haven’t a thing ready. Aunt Hilda and Dorothy have been preparing for six months.” There was finality and a certain amount of satisfaction in her tone.
“Your aunt says you won’t need to bother about anything. Just bring two or three dresses to wear on the voyage. She will see that you have all the little extras. Cousin Marta has left her steamer trunk and a lot of little traveling necessities for whoever takes her place, and the rest you can buy abroad when you need it.”
“Well, it’s not to be thought of, of course,” said Lynette almost crossly. “You know what you said about my being home this summer. I’m going to stay here. And besides, I promised to go fishing tomorrow with Elim,” she finished with a smile at her brother.
“Aw, gee, Lynn. You s’pose I’d let you stay home from a trip like that to go fishing ‘ith me? I think you oughtta go, Lynn. I sure do! Why, a trip like that! Why, gee! You could get me some samples of things and write wonderful letters! Why good-night, Lynn, there’ll be fish when you get back! And besides,” he added bitterly, “if you stayed home you’d just trail off with that Dana Whipple. You wouldn’t be much good to any of us.”
This was intended for a joke, but there was a bitter tang to it that made Lynette look at him reproachfully.
“And your aunt says,” spoke up Mrs. Brooke again, “that she wants you on Dorothy’s account. She said she wanted to put it up to your conscience. They’re really worried about Dorothy. She has been off to that school and got all sorts of strange notions, and she’s depending on you to help her get a different viewpoint on life.”
“Well,” said Lynette, “I think my duty is at home. I haven’t seen Grandmother for ages.”
“Lynnie,” said Grandmother Rutherford, “if it’s for my sake, I think you ought to go. I’d take great pleasure in reading your letters from all those wonderful places, and it wouldn’t be so long. A year goes fast.”
“But—” said Lynette with troubled brow, “Mother?”
“Yes,” said the mother, studying her girl’s clouded face, “yes. Lynnie, I realize you must look at this matter from every side before you decide. Would you want to—I mean would you feel that you had to consult with Dana before you make your decision? Because Elim could run down to Whipples’, or we could phone for him.”
“No!” said Lynette sharply again. “Dana has nothing to do with it! This is something I have to decide for myself. Besides, Dana thinks I’m a fool not to go. He told me so this afternoon.”
There was silence in the room while the three listeners took in this thought and turned it over. Then the old lady leaned forward with her dear, beautiful, cameo smile.
“Lynnie,” she said, “I think it would be beautiful. I want you to go. You’ve never been anywhere much but college and here, and a trip to New York now and then. It’s time you saw the world a little before you settle down. And Lynnie, there’s a little money I’d put aside. I meant to give it to you when you got married, but I’d rather give it to you now. I want you to take it and use it on whatever you find over there you think is worth bringing home. I want you to get some real pretty clothes for one thing. I’ve always heard they were cheaper there than here. And some pictures and curious things and pretty things. I think I’d enjoy seeing what you got with it.
“Then you’d have some money of your own, in case it wasn’t always pleasant to be dependent on others.”
“Oh, you dear Grandmother!” said Lynette, and now her eyes were really filled with tears. “I couldn’t, couldn’t go and leave you all,” she said, throwing her arms around her grandmother’s neck and kissing her.
�
�Oh gee! You gotta go of course, Lynn,” said Elim earnestly. “Why Lynn, it’ll be just like us all going to have you go. You always make things so real when you tell ‘em. Say, if you get to Jerusalem there’s a fella at school has an uncle out there, had a land syndicate or something, I forgot what, but he says it’s great. Says they gotta railroad and a lotta things. Say, I’ll let you take my new camera with you, and you can take pictures of everything and then we’ll know it’s real.”
And so they talked on, forgetting that the table had not been cleared nor the dishes washed, forgetting that there was more ice cream in the freezer at the back door and that it was long after Grandmother Rutherford’s bedtime. They talked and talked, but they did not mention Dana. But all the time Lynette was thinking of him, feeling the hurt in her heart that he had forgotten her birthday, crying out against his criticism of her that day, bleeding in her soul for the tryst he had forgotten and her dreams that had not come true. Yes, there was no denying that in her present state of mind she would like to go abroad, run away tonight if that might be and leave no trace behind her for a little while till Dana had come back to himself. She never doubted but that Dana would come back to himself.
And then, before any absolute decision had been reached, the telephone rang out sharply and insistently.
“There they are, kid, go to it!” sang out Elim. “Let me answer. I’ll tell ‘em you’re going!”
“Oh, but I can’t, Mother,” said Lynette looking toward her mother in a kind of panic.
“Certainly you can, Lynnie. It’s all perfectly all right, child. I’ll go talk to your aunt.”
Blue Ruin Page 9
