At last, one evening, there came a sort of crisis. It was a sultry,
rainy night, and they were in the little parlor, bored and constrained
by the presence of old Van Brink in the next room, with the door open.
Esther had been playing hymn tunes on the harmonium, and Tommy had been
watching her, feverishly impatient to kiss her. She had stopped playing,
and they sat in silence, listening to the squeak of the old man’s
rocking-chair and the rustle of his newspaper.
The room irritated Tommy by its amazing tastelessness. Even Esther
looked different in it, he thought. Outside, under the summer sky, alone
with him, she was a goddess. In here, what was she more than the plump,
phlegmatic Esther Van Brink?
A door opened, and Mrs. Van Brink came in to her husband, her work in
the kitchen finished until the next sunrise. She looked exhausted. It
occurred to Tommy, not for the first time, that Esther was not a
remarkably kind daughter. He had never yet seen her do any sort of work
for her mother.
Immediately, with artless tact, Mrs. Van Brink closed the door. Tommy
sprang up and caught Esther in his arms.
“My!” she cried, laughing. “Aren’t you in a hurry, though?”
Tommy reddened, painfully aware of his disadvantage.
“I don’t know what you’ll do to-morrow evening,” Esther went on. “Will
Egbert’s coming to see me.”
Tommy could scarcely grasp the idea. An evening without Esther! Another
man! He was silent for some time. He realized then that he would rather
marry Esther than lose her, than be supplanted by any Will Egbert.
“Look here, Esther!” he said at last. “I know I haven’t any right to
complain. I’m not--anything to you; but I’d like you to know something.
Before I came here, my uncle--”
He paused so long that Esther frowned.
“Yes?” she said. “What about your uncle, Tommy?”
“He warned me--told me I couldn’t get engaged, or anything of that sort.
You understand, don’t you, Esther? You see, I haven’t any income. I
depend on him, and I _know_, very well, that he’d never consent to--to
anything.”
She didn’t answer.
“I’ve thought it over a great deal,” he went on; “but I don’t know what
to do exactly.”
To his chagrin and surprise, Esther got up and, going back to the
harmonium, began to play loud, triumphant hymns. He could not guess her
mood. He was afraid he had offended her; and with that a shade of the
old magnificence returned.
“Esther darling, you’re not angry, are you?” he asked.
“Oh, no,” she replied cheerfully; “but I want to think. Let’s sing.”
She had a book of “College Songs,” ugly and tasteless, like everything
else in her life, and they sang them, one after the other, until
bedtime. In the next room the mother and father listened, proud and
pleased.
“Hark to sis!” said old Van Brink. “Sings and plays pretty good, hey,
mother?”
“My, yes! It’s real sweet!”
“I’ll bet you that young man don’t see many girls like sis, city or
country, hey, mother? He’s no call to turn up his nose at our gal, hey?”
“He don’t,” she answered thoughtfully.
The next morning, at breakfast, as soon as they were alone for a minute,
Esther whispered:
“Tommy, I’ve got a plan! Let’s go out on the porch,” she suggested
aloud, as her mother came in to clear the table.
“Well!” said Tommy, when they were alone again.
“Well!” she repeated. “Come on--sit down and listen. I want you to take
me to the city to see your uncle.”
“No!” cried Tommy, startled. “No, my dear girl! That wouldn’t do at
all!”
“It would! I’ll be so nice he’ll _have_ to like me. I thought and
thought about it last night. _Please_ do, Tommy!”
“But, my dear child, don’t you see that you couldn’t go off with me that
way? You’d--you’d compromise yourself!”
“Not if we got married right away.”
“But suppose Uncle James said no?”
“But he wouldn’t--especially when he sees how I trust you.”
Tommy put forward all the objections he could think of, but she was able
to answer them all.
“_I’ll_ manage him,” she insisted. “Only let me see him! And then,
Tommy,” she went on, “it’s getting horrid for me here. Egbert is
jealous. He says he won’t give me up, and won’t take back his old ring.
And”--amazing invention!--“mommer and popper say that you’re just
trifling with me, and they want me to take back Will. Every one says I’m
a silly little fool to think so much of you!” Tears came into her gray
eyes.
“Oh, _do_, Tommy, _please_, take me away! I’m so miserable here!”
And at last, because she wept, and because he could see no other way, he
agreed to take her.