CHAPTER XVI
Quite suddenly Peter's house, built on the sand, collapsed. The shockcame on Christmas-Day, after young McLean, now frankly infatuated, hadbeen driven home by Peter.
Peter did it after his own fashion. Harmony, with unflagging enthusiasm,was looking tired. Suggestions to this effect rolled off McLean's backlike rain off a roof. Finally Peter gathered up the fur-lined coat, thevelours hat, gloves, and stick, and placed them on the piano in front ofthe younger man.
"I'm sorry you must go," said Peter calmly, "but, as you say, Miss Wellsis tired and there is supper to be eaten. Don't let me hurry you."
The Portier was at the door as McLean, laughing and protesting, wentout. He brought a cablegram for Anna. Peter took it to her door andwaited uneasily while she read it.
It was an urgent summons home; the old father was very low. He wascalling for her, and a few days or week' would see the end. There werethings that must be looked after. The need of her was imperative.With the death the old man's pension would cease and Anna was thebread-winner.
Anna held the paper out to Peter and sat down. Her nervous strengthseemed to have deserted her. All at once she was a stricken, elderlywoman, with hope wiped out of her face and something nearer resentmentthan grief in its place.
"It has come, Peter," she said dully. "I always knew it couldn't last.They've always hung about my neck, and now--"
"Do you think you must go? Isn't there some way? If things are so badyou could hardly get there in time, and--you must think of yourself alittle, Anna."
"I am not thinking of anything else. Peter, I'm an uncommonly selfishwoman, but I--"
Quite without warning she burst out crying, unlovely, audible weepingthat shook her narrow shoulders. Harmony heard the sound and joinedthem. After a look at Anna she sat down beside her and put a whitearm over her shoulders. She did not try to speak. Anna's noisy griefsubsided as suddenly as it came. She patted Harmony's hand in muteacknowledgment and dried her eyes.
"I'm not grieving, child," she said; "I'm only realizing what a selfishold maid I am. I'm crying because I'm a disappointment to myself. Harry,I'm going back to America."
And that, after hours of discussion, was where they ended. Anna must goat once. Peter must keep the apartment, having Jimmy to look after andto hide. What was a frightful dilemma to him and to Harmony Anna tookrather lightly.
"You'll find some one else to take my place," she said. "If I had a dayI could find a dozen."
"And in the interval?" Harmony asked, without looking at Peter.
"The interval! Tut! Peter is your brother, to all intents and purposes.And if you are thinking of scandal-mongers, who will know?"
Having determined to go, no arguments moved Anna, nor could either ofthe two think of anything to urge beyond a situation she refused tosee, or rather a situation she refused to acknowledge. She was not ascomfortable as she pretended. During all that long night, while snowsifted down into the ugly yard and made it beautiful, while Jimmy sleptand the white mice played, while Harmony tossed and tried to sleep andPeter sat in his cold room and smoked his pipe, Anna packed her untidybelongings and added a name now and then to a list that was meantfor Peter, a list of possible substitutes for herself in the littlehousehold.
She left early the next morning, a grim little person who bent over thesleeping boy hungrily, and insisted on carrying her own bag down thestairs. Harmony did not go to the station, but stayed at home, pale andsilent, hovering around against Jimmy's awakening and struggling againsta feeling of panic. Not that she feared Peter or herself. But shewas conventional; shielded girls are accustomed to lean for a certainsupport on the proprieties, as bridgeplayers depend on rules.
Peter came back to breakfast, but ate little. Harmony did not even sitdown, but drank her cup of coffee standing, looking down at the snowbelow. Jimmy still slept.
"Won't you sit down?" said Peter.
"I'm not hungry, thank you."
"You can sit down without eating."
Peter was nervous. To cover his uneasiness he was distinctly gruff. Hepulled a chair out for her and she sat down. Now that they were faceto face the tension was lessened. Peter laid Anna's list on the tablebetween them and bent over it toward her.
"You are hurting me very much, Harry," he said. "Do you know why?"
"I? I am only sorry about Anna. I miss her. I--I was fond of her."
"So was I. But that isn't it, Harry. It's something else."
"I'm uncomfortable, Peter."
"So am I. I'm sorry you don't trust me. For that's it."
"Not at all. But, Peter, what will people say?"
"A great deal, if they know. Who is to know? How many people know aboutus? A handful, at the most, McLean and Mrs. Boyer and one or two others.Of course I can go away until we get some one to take Anna's place, butyou'd be here alone at night, and if the youngster had an attack--"
"Oh, no, don't leave him!"
"It's holiday time. There are no clinics until next week. If you'll putup with me--"
"Put up with you, when it is your apartment I use, your food I eat!" Shealmost choked. "Peter, I must talk about money."
"I'm coming to that. Don't you suppose you more than earn everything?Doesn't it humiliate me hourly to see you working here?"
"Peter! Would you rob me of my last vestige of self-respect?"
This being unanswerable, Peter fell back on his major premise.
"If you'll put up with me for a day or so I'll take this list of Anna'sand hunt up some body. Just describe the person you desire and I'll findher." He assumed a certainty he was far from feeling, but it reassuredthe girl. "A woman, of course?"
"Of course. And not young."
"'Not young,'" wrote Peter. "Fat?"
Harmony recalled Mrs. Boyer's ample figure and shook her head.
"Not too stout. And agreeable. That's most important."
"'Agreeable,'" wrote Peter. "Although Anna was hardly agreeable, in thestrict sense of the word, was she?"
"She was interesting, and--and human."
"'Human!'" wrote Peter. "Wanted, a woman, not young, not too stout,agreeable and human. Shall I advertise?"
The strain was quite gone by that time. Harmony was smiling. Jimmy,waking, called for food, and the morning of the first day was under way.
Peter was well content that morning, in spite of an undercurrent ofuneasiness. Before this Anna had shared his proprietorship with him. Nowthe little household was his. His vicarious domesticity pleased him. Hestrutted about, taking a new view of his domain; he tightened a doorknoband fastened a noisy window. He inspected the coal-supply and grumbledover its quality. He filled the copper kettle on the stove, carriedin the water for Jimmy's morning bath, cleaned the mouse cage. He eveninsisted on peeling the little German potatoes, until Harmony criedaloud at his wastefulness and took the knife from him.
And afterward, while Harmony in the sickroom read aloud and Jimmy putthe wooden sentry into the cage to keep order, he got out his books andtried to study. But he did little work. His book lay on his knee, hispipe died beside him. The strangeness of the situation came over him,sitting there, and left him rather frightened. He tried to see itfrom the viewpoint of an outsider, and found himself incredulous anddoubting. McLean would resent the situation. Even the Portier was aperson to reckon with. The skepticism of the American colony was a thingto fear and avoid.
And over all hung the incessant worry about money; he could just managealone. He could not, by any method he knew of, stretch his resourcesto cover a separate arrangement for himself. But he had undertaken toshield a girl-woman and a child, and shield them he would and could.
Brave thoughts were Peter's that snowy morning in the great salon ofMaria Theresa, with the cat of the Portier purring before the fire;brave thoughts, cool reason, with Harmony practicing scales very softlywhile Jimmy slept, and with Anna speeding through a white world, to theaccompaniment of bitter meditation.
Peter had meant to go to Semmering that da
y, but even the urgency ofMarie's need faded before his own situation. He wired Stewart that hewould come as soon as he could, and immediately after lunch departed forthe club, Anna's list in his pocket, Harmony's requirements in mind. Hepaused at Jimmy's door on his way out.
"What shall it be to-day?" he inquired. "A postcard or a crayon?"
"I wish I could have a dog."
"We'll have a dog when you are better and can take him walking. Waituntil spring, son."
"Some more mice?"
"You will have them--but not to-day."
"What holiday comes next?"
"New Year's Day. Suppose I bring you a New Year's card."
"That's right," agreed Jimmy. "One I can send to Dad. Do you think hewill come back this year?" wistfully.
Peter dropped on his baggy knees beside the bed and drew the littlewasted figure to him.
"I think you'll surely see him this year, old man," he said huskily.
Peter walked to the Doctors' Club. On the way he happened on littleGeorgiev, the Bulgarian, and they went on together. Peter managed tomake out that Georgiev was studying English, and that he desired to knowthe state of health and the abode of the Fraulein Wells. Peter evadedthe latter by the simple expedient of pretending not to understand. Thelittle Bulgarian watched him earnestly, his smouldering eyes not withoutsuspicion. There had been much talk in the Pension Schwarz about thedeparture together of the three Americans. The Jew from Galicia stillraved over Harmony's beauty.
Georgiev rather hoped, by staying by Peter, to be led toward his star.But Peter left him at the Doctors' Club, still amiable, but absolutelyobtuse to the question nearest the little spy's heart.
The club was almost deserted. The holidays had taken many of the membersout of town. Other men were taking advantage of the vacation to see thecity, or to make acquaintance again with families they had hardly seenduring the busy weeks before Christmas. The room at the top of thestairs where the wives of the members were apt to meet for chocolate andto exchange the addresses of dressmakers was empty; in the reading roomhe found McLean. Although not a member, McLean was a sort of honoraryhabitue, being allowed the privilege of the club in exchange for adependable willingness to play at entertainments of all sorts.
It was in Peter's mind to enlist McLean's assistance in hisdifficulties. McLean knew a good many people. He was popular,goodlooking, and in a colony where, unlike London and Paris, the greatmajority were people of moderate means, he was conspicuously welloff. But he was also much younger than Peter and intolerant with theinsolence of youth. Peter was thinking hard as he took off his overcoatand ordered beer.
The boy was in love with Harmony already; Peter had seen that, as hesaw many things. How far his love might carry him, Peter had no idea. Itseemed to him, as he sat across the reading-table and studied him overhis magazine, that McLean would resent bitterly the girl's position, andthat when he learned it a crisis might be precipitated.
One of three things might happen: He might bend all his energies tosecond Peter's effort to fill Anna's place, to find the right person; hemight suggest taking Anna's place himself, and insist that his presencein the apartment would be as justifiable as Peter's; or he might do atonce the thing Peter felt he would do eventually, cut the knot ofthe difficulty by asking Harmony to marry him. Peter, greeting himpleasantly, decided not to tell him anything, to keep him away ifpossible until the thing was straightened out, and to wait for an hourat the club in the hope that a solution might stroll in for chocolateand gossip.
In any event explanation to McLean would have required justification.Peter disliked the idea. He could humble himself, if necessary, to awoman; he could admit his asininity in assuming the responsibility ofJimmy, for instance, and any woman worthy of the name, or worthy ofliving in the house with Harmony, would understand. But McLean wasyoung, intolerant. He was more than that, though Peter, concealing fromhimself just what Harmony meant to him, would not have admitted a rivalfor what he had never claimed. But a rival the boy was. Peter, calmlyreading a magazine and drinking his Munich beer, was in the grip of thefiercest jealousy. He turned pages automatically, to recall nothing ofwhat he had read.
McLean, sitting across from him, watched him surreptitiously. Big Peter,aggressively masculine, heavy of shoulder, direct of speech and eye, wasto him the embodiment of all that a woman should desire in a man. He,too, was jealous, but humbly so. Unlike Peter he knew his situation, wasyoung enough to glory in it. Shameless love is always young; with yearscomes discretion, perhaps loss of confidence. The Crusaders were youths,pursuing an idea to the ends of the earth and flaunting a lady'sguerdon from spear or saddle-bow. The older men among them tucked thehandkerchief or bit of a gauntleted glove under jerkin and armor nearthe heart, and flung to the air the guerdon of some light o' love.McLean would have shouted Harmony's name from the housetops. Peter didnot acknowledge even to himself that he was in love with her.
It occurred to McLean after a time that Peter being in the club, andHarmony being in all probability at home, it might be possible to seeher alone for a few minutes. He had not intended to go back to the housein the Siebensternstrasse so soon after being peremptorily put out; hehad come to the club with the intention of clinching his resolution witha game of cribbage. But fate was playing into his hands. There was nocribbage player round, and Peter himself sat across deeply immersed in amagazine. McLean rose, not stealthily, but without unnecessary noise.
So far so good. Peter turned a page and went on reading. McLeansauntered to a window, hands in pockets. He even whistled a trifle,under his breath, to prove how very casual were his intentions. Stillwhistling, he moved toward the door. Peter turned another page, whichwas curiously soon to have read two columns of small type withoutillustrations.
Once out in the hall McLean's movements gained aim and precision. He gothis coat, hat and stick, flung the first over his arm and the second onhis head, and--
"Going out?" asked Peter calmly.
"Yes, nothing to do here. I've read all the infernal old magazines untilI'm sick of them." Indignant, too, from his tone.
"Walking?"
"Yes."
"Mind if I go with you?"
"Not at all."
Peter, taking down his old overcoat from its hook, turned and caught theboy's eye. It was a swift exchange of glances, but illuminating--Peter'swhimsical, but with a sort of grim determination; McLean's sheepish, butequally determined.
"Rotten afternoon," said McLean as they started for the stairs. "Halfrain, half snow. Streets are ankle-deep."
"I'm not particularly keen about walking, but--I don't care for thistomb alone."
Nothing was further from McLean's mind than a walk with Peter thatafternoon. He hesitated halfway down the upper flight.
"You don't care for cribbage, do you?"
"Don't know anything about it. How about pinochle?"
They had both stopped, equally determined, equally hesitating.
"Pinochle it is," acquiesced McLean. "I was only going because there wasnothing to do."
Things went very well for Peter that afternoon--up to a certain point.He beat McLean unmercifully, playing with cold deliberation. McLeanwearied, fidgeted, railed at his luck. Peter played on grimly.
The club filled up toward the coffee-hour. Two or three women, wives ofmembers, a young girl to whom McLean had been rather attentive beforehe met Harmony and who bridled at the abstracted bow he gave her. And,finally, when hope in Peter was dead, one of the women on Anna's list.
Peter, laying down pairs and marking up score, went over Harmony'srequirements. Dr. Jennings seemed to fit them all, a woman, not young,not too stout, agreeable and human. She was a large, almost bovinelyplacid person, not at all reminiscent of Anna. She was neat where Annahad been disorderly, well dressed and breezy against Anna's dowdinessand sharpness. Peter, having totaled the score, rose and looked down atMcLean.
"You're a nice lad," he said, smiling. "Sometime I shall teach you thegame."
"How abou
t a lesson to-night in Seven-Star Street?"
"To-night? Why, I'm sorry. We have an engagement for to-night."
The "we" was deliberate and cruel. McLean writhed. Also the statementwas false, but the boy was spared that knowledge for the moment.
Things went well. Dr. Jennings was badly off for quarters. She wouldmake a change if she could better herself. Peter drew her off to acorner and stated his case. She listened attentively, albeit not withoutdisapproval.
She frankly discredited the altruism of Peter's motives when he toldher about Harmony. But as the recital went on she found herself rathertouched. The story of Jimmy appealed to her. She scolded and laudedPeter in one breath, and what was more to the point, she promised tovisit the house in the Siebensternstrasse the next day.
"So Anna Gates has gone home!" she reflected. "When?"
"This morning."
"Then the girl is there alone?"
"Yes. She is very young and inexperienced, and the boy--it'smyocarditis. She's afraid to be left with him."
"Is she quite alone?"
"Absolutely, and without funds, except enough for her lessons. Ourarrangement was that she should keep the house going; that was hershare."
Dr. Jennings was impressed. It was impossible to talk to Peter and notbelieve him. Women trusted Peter always.
"You've been very foolish, Dr. Byrne," she said as she rose; "but you'vebeen disinterested enough to offset that and to put some of us to shame.To-morrow at three, if it suits you. You said the Siebensternstrasse?"
Peter went home exultant.
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