Leonard did not telephone home to Marian. After a solitary dinner in a
restaurant, he caught the nine o’clock train. He walked up from the
station at a leisurely pace. He was defying Marian.
“Just let her start something!” he said to himself.
The trouble was that she never did start anything. In her way, she was
a pretty decent sort of girl, and patient with Leonard. That winter,
when he had had the flu--
If she knew now how he felt! Of course he could not tell her, ever; but
if she did know! She would call him “poor boy,” and would not care how
late he was.
He stopped in at the Greek confectioner’s and got a box of chocolates.
It would please the foolish woman, and he was rather fond of her.
As he came down the street, he heard voices from the porch. He concealed
the chocolates in his newspaper. When he entered the house, Marian would
follow him, and then, if she happened to mention that he looked
miserable, he might admit he was, and let her call him “poor boy.”
“And you’ll get a car,” he heard Aunt Jean say.
“It certainly would help,” said Evan.
“Deary, you’ve got to put up a good front. Just you get a bigger house,
and a car, and a maid in a cap and apron to open the door, and the
patients’ll come fast enough!”
“You’re right!” agreed Evan, heartily.
“And Marian ought to have a fur coat this winter. Deary, things like
that are an investment!”
“I shouldn’t know myself in a fur coat,” said Marian, with an unnatural
little laugh.
“And we’ll travel!” Aunt Jean went on, growing excited. “Go to
California, and all!”
“Wonderful!” cried Marian.
“And I’m going to get Leonard to build me a house,” said Aunt Jean.
“He’s a real genius.”
“He is!” said Marian.
“And Violet--”
Leonard could endure no more. All of them eager to take anything they
could get from that poor old soul! Sitting there, discussing plans for
the spending of her money! Even Vi--Vi was going to rent a love nest for
Aunt Jean’s million.
“Well, Leonard!” greeted Aunt Jean, as he came up the steps. “Sit down!
I bet you’re all tired out after this hot day.”
“I am,” said Leonard. “I’m sick and tired.”
“We were just talking about--”
“I heard you,” Leonard interrupted; “but you can count me out, thanks. I
don’t need any assistance.”
“But, deary!”
“No!” said Leonard. “I’m grateful to you, but you’ll have plenty of
others to help you get rid of your money. I’m going--” He paused for a
moment. “I’m going away,” he went on. “I’m going out to California.
After you’ve finished helping everybody in sight, you can come out to
me, any time you like.”
He went into the house, slamming the screen door behind him. He was sick
of it. He loathed human nature. Knaves and fools! Aunt Jean was one of
the fools, and he was another.
There were some letters for him on the hall table. He took them into the
sitting room, and flung himself into a chair. He had never felt so tired
and so dispirited in his life. All of them, even Vi!
He realized now that he had not been a really complete cynic. He had
thought that Evan was a darned fine fellow, making a gallant fight in
the world. He had thought Marian was a rather wonderful girl, loyal and
patient and strong. He had thought that Vi was the pluckiest, dearest
kid. He had had faith in these people.
But no more! He was a cynic now, all right; and he really was going
away. He had not dreamed of such a thing until he said it, but he meant
it now. He would leave the rest of them to divide poor Aunt Jean’s
million, and, when she was cleaned out, he would look after her.
He lit a cigarette and lay back in his chair. The room was tranquil and
pretty in the lamplight. The curtains fluttered in the night wind, and
he could smell the honeysuckle outside. This place had been a home for
him. He had believed that he hated it, but he hadn’t. He had loved
it--the neat, airy bedroom upstairs, the porch where the honeysuckle
climbed, the cheerful grin Evan had for him, Marian’s thousand
affectionate little services, and Vi coming and going.
“They were all right,” he said to himself, forlornly, “until they
smelled money. Well, that’s human nature.”
But he wanted to get away from human nature as fast as possible. There
would surely be work in California for an expert designer of love nests.
He knew nobody there; he would have no ties.
Marian entered the room.
“Excuse me, Leonard,” she said evenly, “but I’ll have to make up the
couch here for Vi. She’s coming out on the nine fifty.”
“Don’t mind me,” said Leonard.
Let her be offended! Plain speaking might have helped them; anyhow, they
knew now how he felt about things. He picked up his letters. The first
one was addressed to “Miss Jean La Reine.” He rose.
“Letter for you, Aunt Jean!” he called.
“Leonard!” said Marian, in a whisper. “Don’t!”
He paid no heed. Holding the letter in his hand, he stood waiting until
Aunt Jean came in.
“A letter?” said she. “My!” She looked at the envelope. “Boys!” she
cried. “It’s from the lawyer! I’m all fluttery!”
Evan had come in with her, and, to Leonard’s furious disgust, he put his
arm about Aunt Jean.
“Don’t be fluttery,” he said. “Take it easy! Sit down!”
She shook her head, and the ready tears came into her eyes.
“It’s the news,” she said. “Poor Darcy Rose! He was a grand friend to
me!”
Leonard sat down again, and began to open his letters. He heard Aunt
Jean tear the envelope.
“Oh, my God!” she cried.
“Take it easy!” said Evan. “Never mind, Aunt Jean!”
“Boys!” she cried.
Her face had grown chalk white beneath the rouge. She looked her years
now.
“Boys, he never left a cent--for any one.”
“Never mind, dear!” said Marian. She was kneeling beside Aunt Jean, her
smooth cheek pressed against the raddled old one.
“After I promised you--all I promised you--”
“Aunt Jean, dear, we knew.”
“Knew?”
“We asked Vi to see the lawyer, weeks ago, because we were afraid, from
the very beginning, that--that you were going to be terribly
disappointed. Poor old Mr. Rose didn’t have anything to leave.”
“And you let me stay, when you knew?”
“We only wished you’d never find out, dear. We thought that if you got
used to us, you could be happy to keep on--”
“A s-silly old woman without a c-cent!” she sobbed. “And all those
plans--that see-dan car for Evan, and the fur coat for you, and a little
holiday this summer! Oh, I wish I was dead!”
Leonard had risen again. He saw that Evan and Marian were doing more for
the silly old woman without a cent than even a millionairess could have
expected. They had known all the time, all of them--Violet, too. Here
was human nature unmasked at last!
Leonard had grown as pale as Aunt Jean.
“Look here!” he said, with a frown. “Aunt Jean, your idea was--to share
with the family. Well, we can manage the car and the fur coat and the
little holiday, all right. I’ve won the competition.”
“Leonard!” cried a voice from just beyond the doorway.
He knew it was Violet, but he did not care to look at her just then.
“Here’s a box of candy,” he said briefly, and turned toward the other
door.
“Len, old man--” Evan began.
“Leonard!” cried Marian. “Oh, you splendid boy!”
“I knew he was a genius!” cried Aunt Jean.
He could not speak just then. He went into the dining room to escape;
but Violet came after him. He turned and faced her.
“Vi!” he said. “I’m--I’m sorry.”
She held out her hand with a friendly smile, but somehow the
friendliness vanished. It turned into another sort of look, such as he
had never yet seen on any face.
“Vi,” he said, “why didn’t you tell me about Aunt Jean?”
“I hated to, Leonard. You--you do feel things so. You’d have been so
upset. You have said that life was unjust, and--you’re such an idealist,
Len!”
“What?” said Leonard. “You think I’m like that?”
“I--I know it!” replied Vi, with a break in her voice. “You can’t bear
it if everything isn’t perfect. You don’t understand human nature or--”
“You mean you think I’m a fool,” said Leonard sternly.
“I do not!” contradicted Vi. “I think--” She tried to get her hand away,
but it was impossible. “Imagine your wanting to give away your money the
moment you get it! I--I think--”
Leonard was silent for a time, looking at her.
“Violet,” he said, somberly, “I need some one to look after me.”
“I’ve always known it!” agreed Violet.
* * * * *
“Don’t disturb ’em!” whispered Aunt Jean. “We’re young only once. That’s
just human nature. Deary, what could be sweeter?”
MUNSEY’S
MAGAZINE
DECEMBER, 1926
Vol. LXXXIX NUMBER 3