"HER SUPREME MOMENT"
Dr. Harpe had surprisingly good shoulders for so slender a woman--white,
well rounded, and with a gentle feminine slope. That she never had been
given the opportunity of showing them to Crowheart had been a matter of
some regret. Her chance came when Andy P. Symes celebrated the sale of
$150,000 worth of bonds by an invitation ball in the dining-room of the
Terriberry House.
Elation over the placing of these bonds with the estate represented by
J. Collins Prescott mitigated in some slight degree the humiliation and
bitterness of his feelings when, upon his return from his successful
business trip, he found that not only had Grandmother Kunkel gone as she
had foreseen she would go, but Dr. Harpe had resumed her visits as
before and vouchsafed to him no word of explanation or apology at the
deliberate violation of her promise.
In any case, as Symes saw clearly now, the fulfilment of it would have
been futile so far as ending the intimacy was concerned, for the only
result would have been that Augusta would have done the visiting. That
he let the matter of Dr. Harpe's broken word pass without protest
evidenced the completeness of his capitulation, his entire realization
of the hopelessness of resistance to the situation, as did also the
silence in which he accepted Augusta's cold explanation of Grandmother
Kunkel's departure.
It is not likely that more time and care is devoted to the making up of
the list for a court ball than Symes bestowed upon the selection of
guests for the proposed function, which he intended should leave an
indelible impression upon Crowheart. It was a difficult task, but when
completed the result was gratifying.
No person whom Symes could even dimly foresee as being of future use to
himself was omitted and with real astuteness he singled out those who
had within themselves the qualities which made for future importance.
Even Mrs. Abe Tutts, who, he had learned, was second cousin to a
railroad president, was thrown into a state of emotional intoxication by
receiving the first printed invitation of her life. Besides, Mrs. Tutts
had turned her talents churchward and now ruled the church choir with an
iron hand. While her husky rendition of the solo parts of certain
anthems was strongly suggestive of the Bijou Theatre with its adjoining
beer garden, her efforts were highly praised. This invitation
demonstrated clearly that Mrs. Tutts was rising in the social scale.
It was due to a suggestion from Dr. Harpe, made through Augusta, that
Van Lennop also received his first social recognition in Crowheart.
"I don't know who the fellow is," Symes demurred. In reality his
reluctance was largely due to a secret resentment that Van Lennop had
seemed to withstand so easily the influence of his genial personality.
Their acquaintance never had passed the nodding stage and the fact had
piqued Symes more than he cared to admit. "Besides, he has elected to
identify himself with rather singular company."
"No doubt he has been lonely," defended Mrs. Symes mildly, "and of
course Essie _is_ pretty."
When Van Lennop found the invitation in the mail a couple of days later
he frowned in mingled annoyance and amusement.
"Discovered," he said dryly, quickly guessing its import.
Dr. Harpe's increased friendliness had not escaped him and it had
occurred to him that their frequent meetings were not entirely
accidental. Past experiences had taught him the significance of certain
signs, and when Dr. Harpe appeared with her hair curled and wearing a
lingerie waist, the fact which roused the risibilities of her friends
stirred in him a feeling which resembled the instinct of
self-preservation.
Van Lennop's brow contracted as he re-read the invitation in his room.
"Confound it! I'm not ready to be discovered yet." Then he grinned, in
spite of himself, at the hint in the corner--"full dress." He flung it
contemptuously upon the washstand. "What an ass!" and it is to be feared
he referred to the sole representative of the notable House of Symes.
The initial step in Crowheart toward preparing for any function was a
hair washing, and the day following the mailing of the invitations saw
the fortunate recipients drying their hair on their respective back
steps or hanging over dividing fences with flowing locks in animated
discussion of the coming event.
That there was some uncertainty as to the exact meaning of the request
to wear "full dress" may be gathered from Mrs. Abe Tutts's observation,
while drying a few dank hairs at Mrs. Jackson's front gate, that it was
lucky she had not ripped up her accordion-pleated skirt which was as
full as anybody could wear and hope to get around in!
"'Tain't that," Mrs. Jackson snorted in her face. "The fuller a dress is
the less they is of it. You're thinkin' of a masquerade, maybe.
Personally myself," declared Mrs. Jackson modestly, "I don't aim to
expose my shoulder blades for nobody--not for _nobody_."
"I'd do it if I was you," replied Mrs. Tutts significantly.
"Why, if you was me?" inquired Mrs. Jackson, biting guilelessly.
"Because"--Mrs. Tutts backed out of reach.--"they's a law agin' carryin'
concealed weapons."
Mrs. Tutts did not tarry to complete the drying of her hair, for Mrs.
Jackson had succeeded in wrenching a paling from the fence and was
fumbling at the catch on the gate.
The dining-room of the Terriberry House was a dazzling sight to the
arriving guests, who were impressed to momentary speechlessness by such
evidences of wealth and elegance as real carnations and smilax and a
real orchestra imported from the nearest large town on the main line.
The sight which held their eyes longest, however, was a large glass bowl
on a table in an anteroom, beside which, self-conscious but splendid in
new evening clothes, stood Mr. Symes urging an unknown but palatable
beverage hospitably upon each arrival.
"This is cert'nly a swell affair," they confided to each other in
whispers behind the back of their hands after the first formal
greetings. "Trust Andy P. for doin' things right."
They frankly stared at each other in unaccustomed garb and sometimes as
frankly laughed.
"Gosh!" said Mr. Terriberry as he sniffed the pungent atmosphere due to
the odor of camphor emanating from clothing which had lain in the
bottom of trunks since the wearers had "wagoned it" in from Iowa or
Nebraska, "looks like you might call this here function a moth ball."
Mr. Terriberry himself gave distinction to the gathering by appearing in
a dinner jacket, borrowed from the tailor, and his pearl gray wedding
trousers, preserved sentimentally by Mrs. Terriberry.
Mr. Abe Tutts, in a frock coat of minstrel-like cut and plum-colored
trousers of shiny diagonal cloth, claimed his share of public attention.
For the sake of that peace which he had come to prize highly, Mr. Tutts
had consented to make a "dude" of himself.
Mr. Percy Parrott appeared once more in the dinner clothes which upon a
previous occasion had given Crowheart its first sight of the habiliment
of polite society. If their exceeding snugness had caused him
discomfiture then his present sensations were nothing less than anguish.
His collar was too high, his collar-band too tight, the arm-holes of his
jacket checked his circulation, and his waistcoat interfered with the
normal action of his diaphragm, while Mr. Parrott firmly refused to sit
out dances for reasons of his own. It was apparent too that he selected
partners only for such numbers on the programme as called for steps of a
sliding or gliding nature, for Mr. Parrott had the timid caution of an
imaginative mind. Following him with anxious eyes was Mrs. Parrott
looking like an India famine sufferer decollete.
From the bottom of that mysterious wardrobe trunk, which resembled the
widow's cruse in that it seemed to have no limitations, Mrs. Abe Tutts
had resurrected an aigrette which sprouted from a knob of hair tightly
twisted on the top of her head. As the evening advanced and the exercise
of the dance loosened Mrs. Tutts's simple coiffure, the aigrette slipped
forward until that lady resembled nothing so much as a sportive unicorn.
Mrs. Terriberry was unique and also warm in a long pink boa of curled
chicken feathers which she kept wound closely about her neck.
The red and feverish appearance of Mrs. Alva Jackson's eyelids was
easily accounted for by the numberless French knots on her new
peach-blow silk, but she felt more than repaid for so small a matter as
strained eyes by the look of astonishment and envy which she surprised
from Mrs. Abe Tutts, who had exhausted her ingenuity in trying to
discover what she meant to wear.
Mrs. "Ed" Ricketts in black jet and sequins, decollete, en train,
leaning on the arm of her husband, who was attired in a pair of
copper-riveted overalls, new and neat, was as noticeable a figure as any
lady present.
Mrs. Ricketts's French creation was a souvenir of a brief but memorable
period in the history of the Ricketts family.
A few years previous Mr. Ricketts had washed $15,000 from a placer claim
in an adjoining State and started at once for Europe to spend it,
meaning to wash $15,000 more upon his return. In his absence some one
washed it for him. When he came back with a wide knowledge of Parisian
cafes, a carved bedstead, two four-foot candelabra and six trunks filled
with Mrs. Ricketts's gowns, but no cash, it was a shock to learn that
financially he was nil. After months of endeavor in other lines there
seemed no alternative but to light his four-foot candelabra and die of
starvation in his carved bedstead, or herd sheep, so he wisely decided
upon the latter. Mrs. Ricketts adapted herself to the situation and made
petticoats of her court trains and drove the sheep-wagon decollete, so
Crowheart was more or less accustomed to Mrs. Ricketts in silk and
satin.
Dr. Harpe did not come down until the evening was well along, but the
delay produced the effect she intended. As she appeared, fresh and cool
with her hair in perfect order, at the end of a number which left the
dancers red and dishevelled, she caused a sensation that could not well
have been otherwise than flattering. Crowheart stared in candid
amazement and admiration.
Her sheer, white gown fell from sloping, well powdered shoulders and its
filminess softened wonderfully the lines which were beginning to harden
her face. She had dressed with the eagerness of a debutante, and her
eyes were luminous, her cheeks delicately flushed with the excitement of
it and with happiness at the visible impression she was making.
Dr. Harpe could, upon occasions, assume an air which gave her a certain
distinction of carriage and manner which was the direct antithesis of
the careless, swaggering, unfeminine creature that Crowheart knew, and
as she now came slowly into the ballroom it is little wonder that a buzz
went round after the first flattering silence of astonishment, for even
a stranger would have singled her out at a glance from the perspiring
female crudities upon the floor.
She looked younger by years and with that unexpected winsomeness which
was her charm. The murmur of approval was a tribute to her femininity
that was music in her ears. The night promised to be one of triumph
which she intended to enjoy to the utmost, but to her it ensured more
than that, for Ogden Van Lennop was there, as she had seen in one swift
glance, and it meant, perhaps, her "chance."
For reasons of his own Van Lennop finally decided to accept the
invitation which at first thought he fully intended to refuse. He
figured that he had time to telegraph for his clothes, and this he did
with the result that Crowheart stared as hard almost at him as at Dr.
Harpe's amazing transformation. The reserved, unapproachable stranger in
worn corduroys, who had come to be tacitly recognized as an object of
suspicion, was not readily reconciled with this suave, self-possessed
young man in clothes which they felt intuitively were correct in every
detail. He moved among them with a _savoir-faire_ which was new to
Crowheart, talking easily and with flattering deference to this
neglected lady and that, agreeable to a point which left them animated
and coquettish. He danced with Mrs. Terriberry, he escorted Mrs. Tutts
to the punch bowl, he threw Mrs. Jackson's scarf about her shoulders
with a gallantry that turned Jackson green, a neat compliment sent Mrs.
Percy Parrott off in a series of the hysterical shrieks which always
followed when Mrs. Parrott found herself at a loss for words. Long
before Dr. Harpe's appearance it had begun to dawn upon Crowheart that
in holding aloof in unfriendly suspicion the loss had been theirs, for
it was being borne in even upon their ignorance that Van Lennop's sphere
was one in which they did not "belong."
Dr. Harpe quickly demonstrated that she was easily the best dancer in
the room, and there was no dearth of partners after the first awe of
her had worn off, but her satisfaction in her night of triumph was not
complete until Van Lennop's name was upon her programme.
Essie Tisdale, busy elsewhere, had her first glimpse of the ballroom
where Van Lennop claimed his dance. She grew white even to her lips, and
her knees shook unaccountably beneath her as she watched Dr. Harpe glide
the length of the room in Van Lennop's arms. The momentary pain she felt
in her heart had the poignancy of an actual stab. It was so--so
unexpected; he had so unequivocally ranged himself upon her side, he had
seen so plainly Dr. Harpe's illy-concealed venom and resented it in his
quiet way, as she had thought, that this seemed like disloyalty, and in
the first shock of bewilderment and pain Essie Tisdale was conscious
only that the one person in all the world upon whom she had felt she
could count was being taken from her.
Van Lennop had told her of his invitation in amusement and later had
remarked carelessly that he might accept, but apparently had given it no
further thought. Even in her unhappiness the girl was fair to her
merciless enemy. She looked well--far, far more attractive than Essie
would have believed possible, softer, more feminine and--more dangerous.
Van Lennop was human; and, after all, as she was forced to recognize
more and more fully, she was only the pretty biscuit-shooter of the
Terriberry House. Essie Tisdale pushed the swinging doors from her with
a shaking hand and managed somehow to get back into the kitchen where,
as she thought, with a strange, new bitterness, she belonged.
Van Lennop did not leave Dr. Harpe when the waltz was done, but seated
himself beside her, first parting the curtain that she might get the air
and showing a solicitude for her comfort so different from the cold,
impersonal courtesy of months that her heart beat high with triumph.
Verily, this propitious beginning was all she needed and, she told
herself again, was all she asked. While she believed in herself and her
personal charm when she chose to exercise it, Van Lennop's tacit
recognition of it brightened her eyes and softened her face into smiling
curves of happiness.
Van Lennop toyed with her fan and talked idly of impersonal things, but
there was a veiled look of curiosity in his eyes, a kind of puzzled
wonder each time that they rested upon her face. As he covertly studied
her altered expression and manner, strongly conscious of the different
atmosphere which she created, there rose persistently in his mind
Stevenson's story of the strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. He
could not conceive a more striking example of dual personality or double
consciousness than Dr. Harpe now presented. There was a girlish shyness
in her fluttering glance, honesty in the depths of her limpid hazel
eyes, while her white, unmarred forehead suggested the serenity of a
good woman, and Van Lennop was dimly conscious that for some undefined
reason he never had thought of her as that. She had personal
magnetism--that he had conceded from the first, for invariably he had
found himself sensible of her presence even when disliking her the most.
To-night he was more strongly aware of it than ever.
"You are enjoying the evening?"
"Isn't that apparent?" A twinkle shone for a moment in his eyes. "And
you?" adding quickly, "An unnecessary question--your face is the
answer."
She laughed lightly.
"It doesn't belie me, for I like this--immensely. Flossying up
occasionally helps me keep my self-respect. You didn't expect to find
this sort of thing out here, did you?"
He looked at her oddly, not sure that she was serious. Was it possible
that she did not see the raw absurdity of it all? Somehow he had thought
that she "belonged" a little more than this; her unusual self-possession
gave the impression perhaps. He glanced at the attenuated Mrs. Percy
Parrott, at Mrs. Sylvanus Starr, exhilarated by numerous glasses of
punch, capering through an impromptu cakewalk with Tinhorn Frank, at
Mrs. Andy P. Symes, solemn and as stiffly erect as a ramrod, trying to
manage her first train, and Van Lennop's lips curved upward ever so
slightly, but his voice had the proper gravity when he replied:
"Scarcely."
She shot a quick look at him.
"You _don't_ like it," she asserted.
Van Lennop smiled slightly at her keenness.
"To be candid, I don't. The West has always been a bit of a hobby of
mine since I was a lad and adored Davy Crockett and strained my eyes
over the adventures of Lewis and Clark. I like the picturesqueness, the
naturalness, the big, kind spirit of the old days and I'm sorry to see
them go--prematurely--for that which takes their place makes no appeal
to the heart or the imagination. It is only a--well--a poor imitation of
something else.
"With no notion of criticising my host, I must say, that in my opinion
those who introduce these innovations"--he included the ballroom with a
slight movement of her folded fan--"are robbing the West of its greatest
charm. But then," he concluded lightly, and with a slight inclination of
his head, "if I were a woman and the results of--er--'flossying up' were
as gratifying as in your case, for instance, I might welcome such
opportunities."
Dr. Harpe raised her eyes to his for one fluttering second and achieved
a blush while he smiled down upon her with the faint, impersonal smile
which was oftenest on his face.
* * * * *
"Just this once, my dear, and I won't ask you to go in there again. I
know how hard it must be for you."
"Not at all"--Essie had looked at Mrs. Terriberry bravely--"I will do
whatever is to be done."
She picked up a tray of fresh glasses for the table in the well
patronized anteroom as she spoke and passed through the swinging door in
time to see Dr. Harpe's uplifted eyes and blush and Van Lennop's
answering smile.
The glasses jingled upon the tray in her unsteady hand, but her little
mouth shut in a red, straight line as she nerved herself for the ordeal
of passing them. She came toward them with her head erect and a set look
upon her young, almost childish face, and Van Lennop catching sight of
her intuitively guessed something of her thoughts and interpreted aright
the strained look upon her white face.
"She thinks me disloyal," flashed into his mind, and he all but smiled
at the idea.
Swift as was the passing of the softly interested expression upon Van
Lennop's face, Dr. Harpe caught it and involuntarily turned her head to
follow his gaze.
Essie Tisdale! Her face hardened and all her slumbering jealousy and
hatred of the girl leaped to life in a mad, unreasoning desire to do her
harm, bodily harm; she tingled with a longing to inflict physical pain.
The whirling dancers made it necessary for Essie to pass close, close
enough to brush the skirts of the women occupying the chairs along the
wall, and as she came toward them with her head erect, looking straight
before her, Dr. Harpe acted upon an unconquerable impulse and slid her
slippered toe from beneath her skirt. There was a crash of glass as the
girl tripped and fell headlong. Tinhorn Frank guffawed; a few of his ilk
did likewise, but the laughter died upon their lips at the blazing
glance Van Lennop flashed them.
"Essie, you are hurt! Your hand is bleeding!"
Dr. Harpe shut her teeth hard at the concern in Van Lennop's voice as he
helped the girl to her feet, but there was solicitude in her tone when
she said:
"Let me see if there's glass in it, Essie."
The girl hesitated for an instant, then with an enigmatical smile
extended her hand, but there was nothing enigmatical in the sidelong
look which Van Lennop gave Dr. Harpe, a look that, had she seen it,
would for once have made her grateful for her sex. Subconsciously he had
seen the slight movement of her foot and leg as Essie Tisdale passed,
but had not grasped its significance until the girl fell.
"I don't think there's any glass in it, but wash it out well and bring
me a bandage. You got a hard fall; you must have slipped."
"Yes, I must have slipped." Her smile this time was ironic.
The night fulfilled the promise of the evening. It was a succession of
triumphs for Dr. Harpe. The floor was air beneath her feet and the
combination of insidious punch and sensuous music turned her cold,
slow-running blood to fire. She was the undisputed belle of the evening,
and they took the trailing smilax from the side lamps on the wall and
made her a wreath in laughing acknowledgment of the fact. It was such an
hour as she had dreamed of and the reality fulfilled every expectation.
She had attracted Van Lennop to herself at last; she had aroused and
held his interest as she had known she could and she had sent Essie
Tisdale sprawling ridiculously at his feet. She had shown Crowheart how
she could look when she tried--what she could do and be with only half
an effort. In other words, she had proved to Van Lennop and to Crowheart
that she was a success as a woman as well as a doctor. What more could
any one person ask? The road to the end looked smooth before her. She
wanted to scream, to shriek aloud in exultation. Her cheeks burned, her
eyes blazed triumph. She had the feeling that it was the climax of her
career, that no more satisfying hour could come to her unless perhaps it
was the day she married Ogden Van Lennop. And she owed nothing, she
thought as she whirled dizzily in Mr. Terriberry's arms, to anyone but
herself. Every victory, every step forward since she arrived penniless
and unknown in Crowheart had been due to her brains and efforts. She
raised her chin arrogantly. She had never been thwarted and the person
was not born who could defeat her ultimately in any ambition! Her mental
elation gave her a feeling akin to omnipotence.
A clicking sound in Mr. Terriberry's throat due to an ineffectual effort
to moisten his lips brought the realization that her own throat and
mouth were parched.
"Let's stop and hit one up," she whispered feverishly. "I'm dry as a
fish."
Mr. Terriberry seemed to check himself in midair.
"I kin hardly swaller."
He led the way to the anteroom and she followed, swaying a little both
from the dizzy dance and the effects of previous visits to the punch
bowl. The hour was late and the remaining guests were rapidly casting
aside the strained dignity which their clothes and the occasion had
seemed to demand. Observing that Van Lennop had made his adieux, Dr.
Harpe also felt a sudden freedom from restraint.
Mr. Terriberry filled a glass to the brim and executed a notable bow as
he handed it to her.
"To the fairest of the fair," said Mr. Terriberry gallantly, protruding
his upper lip over the edge of his glass something in the manner of a
horse gathering in the last oat in his box.