IV

Miss Carter was a wonderful hostess that evening. Maude was amazed.

Never in her life had she seen her aunt so lively and amusing, with such

a fine color on her cheeks and such a light in her eyes. She herself was

a serious and quiet young creature, as a rule, but this evening Miss

Carter made her talk and made her laugh--and Mr. Rhodes, too.

There they sat at the table, a most cheerful little party, with a most

delectable tea set before them--a cold baked ham, a salad of tomatoes

stuffed with celery, corn muffins, little custards baked in brown cups,

strawberries and cream, and a superb three-layer chocolate cake; but

Miss Carter didn’t seem to be very hungry. It was all dust and ashes to

her. Every minute was a penance to her, and every smile she gave was a

little stab of pain.

“Maude!” she cried, in her heart. “Oh, Maude, my dear, beautiful girl,

talk to him! Laugh, my darling! Talk to him, and make him see! I do

truly believe he is a good man--almost good enough for you! Oh, Maude,

my darling, laugh, and talk, and be young! Make him see your beautiful,

blessed youngness!”

Poor serious Maude was always trying to turn the conversation toward

business, always bringing up charters, and marine insurance policies,

and so on; and Miss Carter was forever turning her skillfully aside from

these dangers, making her talk about dances and picnics and frivolous

and entertaining episodes from her college days. Miss Carter understood

the man, and Maude didn’t. Miss Carter knew only too well what things

pleased and touched him, and she was fiercely determined that he should

discover all those things in Maude.

It was very hard, though. Every time she got a chance, Maude began again

about business. Her interest in shipping matters was prodigious.

“Do you think those two schooners you’re going to sell will bring--” she

began, but again Miss Carter intervened.

“I saw the advertisement,” she said. “For sale ‘as is where is’--that’s

a pretty high and mighty way to do business, I must say! Here they

are--take ’em or leave ’em!”

“Well, you see--” Maude began again.

Miss Carter felt sure that the girl wanted to explain to her aunt

exactly how schooners were sold.

“Oh, can’t she see?” she thought, almost in despair. “He doesn’t want to

talk business! Oh, why can’t she just be young and--silly?”

In the end, for all her gallant efforts, she was defeated. Maude got the

conversation where she wanted it, and she and Mr. Rhodes talked gravely

about charters.

Miss Carter left them on the veranda, and went into the kitchen to wash

the dishes. She wished that there were twice as many. She wished that

there were enough dishes to keep her busy all night long, so that she

needn’t go to bed and lie there in the dark.

She had failed--she knew it. Mr. Rhodes was very courteous and kindly to

Maude, but nothing more. All her youth and loveliness were wasted on

him. She was trying so desperately hard to please him, and she couldn’t!

“Oh, it’s so cruel!” cried Miss Carter to herself, alone in the kitchen.

“Never mind, my dear little Maude! I’ll sell this house, dear, and we’ll

go and live somewhere else, where there are more young people--more life

for you. You mustn’t mind--you mustn’t care. Just forget all about him!

He’s going away, and we’ll never think about him again--never!”

She heard Maude’s light footstep coming along the hall.

“Auntie,” her niece told her, “Mr. Rhodes is going.”

“Oh, is he?” said Miss Carter.

She dried her hands, took off her apron, and came out to the front door.

“Good night, Mr. Rhodes,” she said.

“Good night,” he answered.

She could not see him. It was dark out there. She hoped she would never

see him again, never remember his face, never think of the words that he

had not spoken.

The front door closed, and he was gone. Miss Carter and Maude stood

alone in the dimly lit hall, and for a time neither of them spoke or

stirred.

“Well!” said Miss Carter briskly. “Time we were in bed, child.”

“Yes,” replied Maude, just as briskly. “It’s late.”

Then they looked at each other and smiled. With their arms about each

other they went up the stairs and through the dark house, with all its

orderly, empty rooms; and at Maude’s door they said good night, both of

them still smiling. That was their way.

V

It was the stillest afternoon. The sun blazed on high in a blue sky

without a single cloud, and all the growing things stood patient and

motionless in the fierce heat. Miss Carter was down on her knees,

weeding a flower bed. She wore an immense blue sunbonnet and a gay blue

and white calico dress. Grubbing down there among her beloved flowers,

she somehow had the air of belonging to them--a sort of flower nurse.

“I don’t know,” she said to herself, “whoever decided which were flowers

and which were weeds. Why are the dear little dandelions weeds, when the

big, staring sunflowers aren’t? I guess it’s the same with a good many

other things. People look at children, and then set to work to weed

them--to uproot all sorts of brave little dandelion qualities in them,

and water and tend the big, showy sunflower traits.”

Her reflections were interrupted by the sound of the telephone ringing

inside the house. She rose, clapped her hands vigorously together to get

rid of the clean, warm dirt, and went into the hall to answer the

summons.

“Auntie!” said Maude’s voice.

“Well, child?” asked Miss Carter.

“Would it bother you if I brought Jack Rhodes home to dinner?”

Miss Carter did not answer for a moment; but when she did speak, it was

with all her usual affectionate heartiness.

“Of course it won’t bother me, my dear!” she said. “Any one you want,

any time!”

But when she had hung up the receiver, she stood there in the hall with

a great weariness and dismay upon her face. All the peace of the hot,

still day was shattered--all the peace that she had won through the

long, long week. He was coming back!

It seemed to her that she could not bear it. She could not watch Maude,

with her shining eyes and her flushed cheeks, looking at the man who

returned only a kindly, grown-up smile--the man who did not find Maude’s

sweet youth “interesting,” but turned to herself instead. She remembered

how he had looked at her, how his voice had sounded, speaking to her;

and that look and that tone should have been for Maude.

“I won’t have it!” cried Miss Carter aloud, in an angry, trembling

voice.

She felt a tear warm on her cheek, and she dashed it away, leaving a

smudge under her eye.

“There I was,” she said, “all dressed up, sitting on the porch as

if--well, it won’t be like that this time! It was that dress--I always

hated that dress! Oh, Maude, my dear!”

She felt other tears in her eyes, but she ignored them.

“It won’t be like that this time!” she repeated with a grim smile.

“You’ll see!”

She went out into the back entry and opened the ice box.

“Plenty good enough!” she said. “It won’t take me half an hour to get it

ready. Now I’m going to finish that weeding!”

Certainly Mr. Rhodes wouldn’t bother her. He could come if he liked.

There was plenty of good, wholesome food in the house for him to eat;

but not one extra touch would she give to the dinner, and not one extra

touch to her own appearance. She would have to wash her hands and face

and put on a clean dress, but not until after he arrived. First he

should see her just as she was.

“As is where is!” said Miss Carter.

So, when she thought it was about time for him to be coming, out she

went again, and down on her knees by the flower bed. The garden gate

clicked, but she did not raise her head until Maude spoke. Then she

rose, dusted off her hands, and turned.

“Good after--” she began.

But who was there? Who was that nice boy standing beside Maude, hat in

hand, with such an anxious, appealing smile on his young face?

“This is Mr. Jack Rhodes, auntie,” Maude explained.

“Oh!” said Miss Carter.

Then, recovering her senses, she held out a somewhat grimy hand, and the

young man seized it in a hearty grasp. His face was scarlet, but his

eyes met hers very honestly.

“I--I--it’s--” he said. “I--I hope--”

Miss Carter beamed upon him, to reassure him, but he turned an imploring

glance toward Maude. No help did he get from her, however. Never had

Miss Carter seen that serious young woman so confused. She actually

frowned at the poor fellow.

“I _told_ you auntie wouldn’t mind!” she said reproachfully.

“Yes, I know you did,” said he; “but such short notice--”

Miss Carter could scarcely believe her eyes; for Maude shrugged her

shoulders and turned her head away, and upon her face there was an

expression very like a pout. Now at last Maude was being young and

silly, and it was all most thoroughly appreciated.

“There’s not much use my telling you anything!” she observed.

“You know it isn’t that,” said Jack.

They had both entirely forgotten Miss Carter. Maude looked coldly at the

young man. Then her eyes fell, and a faint smile appeared on her lips.

“Yes, I do know,” she said.

Again she looked at him and he looked at her, and it was the most

touching and absurd and beautiful look that Miss Carter had ever seen.

“I’ll have to go in and look after the dinner,” she murmured; but they

didn’t even hear her.

She was in too much of a hurry, just then, to trouble her head about the

mystery of this second Mr. Rhodes. It was enough for her to know that

for Maude he was the right and only Mr. Rhodes; and therefore he must

have a dinner such as had never been equaled. She flew about the kitchen

like a little whirlwind, and presently enchanting odors began to float

out from the oven and from the bubbling saucepans. She rushed down into

the cellar, and brought up her best preserves. She rushed out to the ice

box, and brought in a box of eggs, a crock of butter, a basket of

peaches, and a bottle of cream. As she hurried about, she was inventing

a dessert that should have freshly baked sponge cake and peaches and

strawberry preserves and cream in it.

She had just begun to whip the cream when she was interrupted.

“Isn’t it a pretty hot afternoon for you to be doing all this?” asked a

voice from the doorway.

It was the first and original Mr. Rhodes.

“Good gracious!” cried Miss Carter. “What ever are _you_ doing here?”

Suddenly she was aware that she was very hot and tired and flustered,

that her hair was untidy, that she was wearing a rumpled and unbecoming

calico dress. She also remembered that she was sternly displeased with

Mr. Rhodes, and had intended him to see her like this; but she was still

more displeased with him because he did so see her.

“If you’ll go out on the veranda,” she said, “I’ll have the dinner ready

in a--”

“I want to help you,” he told her.

“Certainly not!” replied Miss Carter. “Please go out on the veranda!”

But he did not go.

“They’re out there,” he said. “They don’t want me.”

Miss Carter faced him squarely.

“Who is that young man?” she demanded. “I can’t understand--”

“He’s my nephew,” said Mr. Rhodes. “Perhaps I can explain. You see, he’s

in Lawrence’s office--doing very well, too; and your niece--well, the

first time I saw them together, I knew how the land lay.”

“Nonsense!” said Miss Carter.

“No,” he insisted. “It’s not. It’s the real thing.”

They were both silent for a moment.

“I’m fond of the boy,” he went on; “and--of course I saw what sort of

girl she was, but I wanted to see _you_.” He smiled. “It was a pretty

mean trick,” he said. “She telephoned to Lawrence’s office and asked for

Mr. Rhodes, and I happened to be there. I knew she meant Jack, but I

answered; and when she asked if Mr. Rhodes would like to come to dinner,

I said yes. We arranged to meet at the station, and”--he smiled

again--“there I was! Poor little thing, she made the best of it, but--”

“I see!” said Miss Carter.

She took up the egg beater and began to turn it vigorously, so that the

noise of it drowned whatever the man was saying. She didn’t want to

hear, anyhow. A strange and unreasonable alarm filled her. If this man

wasn’t Maude’s Mr. Rhodes--no, she wouldn’t think about that. She

wouldn’t think at all, but would simply turn that egg beater with a

prodigious clatter in the earthenware bowl.

A large, strong hand was laid upon the handle of the thing, and the

noise ceased abruptly, leaving the kitchen amazingly quiet.

“Miss Carter!” said Mr. Rhodes.

“No!” said she, though she couldn’t have explained just what she meant.

“You know you wrote and asked me to come last Sunday.”

“That,” said Miss Carter, “was due to a misunderstanding.”

“I know it was, but I thought--well, you see, I came again. I--I wanted

to see you.”

Miss Carter left the egg beater and faced him squarely. She stood where

the golden light of the setting sun fell upon her soft, untidy hair. She

stood there, in her unbecoming dress, with her flushed, tired face, and

defied Mr. Rhodes. She thought that when he really looked at her, when

he realized what the true Miss Carter was like, a great change would

come over him.

“I couldn’t go away until I’d seen you,” he said. “And now--”

And now that he had seen her “as is,” of course he would never want to

see her again!

“Now it’s harder than ever to go away,” he said. “Now I never want to go

away. You don’t know how you look--how--how lovely!”

“Lovely?” she cried.

“Yes!” said he. “You do! I mean it.”

His steady eyes were fixed upon her face, but Miss Carter would not look

at him--not she! It was very well for Maude and that young man to stand

and stare at each other, but she wasn’t young, and she wasn’t going to

be silly.

“If you really do want to help me--” she began briskly.

“That’s what I want more than anything else in the world!” he told her.

Then she did look at him, and she gave a smile which she believed to be

a very sensible, noncommittal, grown-up smile; but it didn’t seem like

that to him.

MUNSEY’S

MAGAZINE

JANUARY, 1926

Vol. LXXXVI NUMBER 4