ARCHIE DECIDES.
"ANOTHER disturbing time," said Val, curling her feet under her as she
tucked her small self away in a big chair. "I hate these making up your
mind spots to come. Don't you, Theo?"
"Yes," replied Theo; "although I must say, my own decisions were
reached some time ago."
"Oh, you old Mother Bunch. Of course you want to go home. So do I, for
that matter. But I do love New York, and I wish we could just keep on
this way for years and years. It's all very well for people to say,
'Be sure you're right, then go ahead.' It isn't the going ahead that's
hard, it's the being sure you're right. Now, if you and auntie could
go to Europe with me, I should like it of all things. But when auntie
leaves it all to me, I don't want quite so much to go."
"Auntie thinks we are old enough to exercise some judgment in such
matters."
"Well, so we are."
"You will like the excitement of travelling and meeting people. You
know you will, Val. I don't believe you would care to settle down
quietly anywhere."
"Now, Theo."
"Oh, I don't mean that you would be unhappy with us, but that you are
just the one to go about and be in a stir."
"I must confess I do like excitement," admitted Val, "but I wish you
would go. You could, Theo. Don't you believe you could?"
"I wouldn't leave auntie alone; and if Archie decided to stay here,
auntie would be alone. And if he decides to go back to Roseville, it
would be deserting him, in a measure. So you see, that is the way of
it. I should enjoy immensely a trip to Europe. Of course I should; but
just now it seems better for me to stay here."
"And Nannie is going, too," observed Val.
"I shall miss you both," said Theo, a little sadly.
"And if Archie should not stay here, Mr. Smith will be disappointed,
though he will not advise him to stay. How hard it is to suit everybody
in this world, and how queer that we should all be in this uncertain
state of mind just at the same time. What do you suppose Archie will
conclude to do?"
"That will depend upon several things," replied Theo, thoughtfully.
"If it depends upon one thing, I should be willing to prophesy that he
will not stay here," remarked Val.
"Don't prophesy," Theo warned. "Archie will do what he believes to be
right, I am sure, no matter what may influence him."
"I know that. I wonder if I shall like travelling with Mrs. Westerly.
She is a dear woman. But when one has to be day in and day out with a
person, it is a pretty severe strain. I'd better say, no doubt, how
will she like travelling with me. I think it is very good of her to be
willing to do it."
"Why don't you try to persuade the Colonel to go, too?" asked Theo.
"That would make it so pleasant for Mrs. Westerly: She is about as fond
of her brother as I am of mine."
"That would be a scheme," agreed Val. "I'll begin to coax the Colonel
to-night. I don't believe he will consent to stay two years, though he
might as well as not. Think of it, Theo. Two whole years to stay away!
Don't it seem an age?"
"It does, certainly; and yet we have been in New York nearly that long."
"I wonder what will happen before I get back," said Val, thoughtfully.
"So much might, you know; it makes me dread going so far away."
"I wouldn't take a gloomy view of it. We shall all probably live along
in a jog-trot sort of a way while you are flying about acquiring
information. I believe I do envy you a little bit, Val."
"But not enough to make up your mind to go with us; and it would be
such an advantage to you, Theo."
"No more tempting, if you please," returned Theo, shaking her head
determinedly. "'I'se 'bleedged to stay,' as Mammy would say."
"I know one thing that I think will happen before I get back," said
Val, suddenly. "Jack will come back. I was talking to the Colonel
yesterday, and he said he did not think Jack would stay away much
longer. Why, Theo, do you know anything? You look so—so funny."
"Do I look funny?" And Theo turned her head so Val could see only the
tips of two very pink little ears.
But that did not satisfy Val, who got up and went around directly in
front of Theo, looking at her searchingly. But Theo would not give her
so much as a glance.
"Look at me," ordered Val, peremptorily.
And Theo raised her eyes with a look in them half proud, half
deprecating.
"Theo, you're a fraud," was Val's only comment. Then she walked away,
and for some time stood looking out of the window in silence.
Theo did not follow her, nor did she in any way contradict Val's
assertion.
And presently Nannie came in, full of her own plans for the next year.
"Just think, girls," she said. "I have been to see Miss Van Arsdale,
and she has given me a lot of points about Paris. She was there for
three years, you know, and knows all about it,—all the cheap places
and everything,—and if I can get another girl to go with me, we can
live so economically. Oh, if you all could go, it would be so nice;
but I suppose there is no use hoping for it. I have exhausted all my
eloquence on you, Theo, so I shall have to give up that idea. Miss Van
Arsdale told me of a cunning apartment that she thinks I can get. Some
friends of hers are occupying it now, but they are going to leave very
soon; and I'm going to write about it right away. I'll have to furnish
it with trunk-trays and things; but I can manage, I know."
"Trunk-trays!" exclaimed Val.
"Yes; don't you know? I can make tops of tables and all sorts of things
that way. I know how. To-morrow I am going to see Katherine Armistead.
She half thought she would go over; and if she finds how much we can
save by going together, I believe she will join me. She is such a nice
girl; I am sure we could get along together. Oh, girls! Just think—my
dream is to be fulfilled, my dream of going to Paris! It is so good
of mamma not to object. She said if I could live there as cheaply as
here, and if I could find some nice somebody to go with me, she would
give her consent. I have saved enough for my passage; so, of course,
if I can induce Katherine to go, there will be nothing at all in the
way. And, oh, Val! I shall see you over there. You have decided to go,
haven't you?"
"I am deciding," replied Val. "If the Colonel will go, I will; it would
be so nice to have him to squabble with. I should never feel like
squabbling with Mrs. Westerly. I couldn't 'get a rise out of her,'
as Archie says. She would smile me down in that gently tolerant way
she has, and there would be no fun in trying to tease her. But the
Colonel,—I love to 'sass' the Colonel. He never gets used to it, and it
would be so exciting, especially when he didn't know the language and I
did. We could have such spats, and I could put him down so nicely with
my superior knowledge. Oh, I do hope he will go. When shall you sail,
Nan?"
"Oh, I don't know; as soon as I can. I am poring over sailing lists and
getting cheap rates and comparing different routes now; so I shall come
to a conclusion before long. I wish we could go over together, but you
will probably be taking some steamer whose rates would ruin me. And
then I shall probably be sailing before you are ready to go."
"What a breaking up it will be," said Theo. "Auntie and I will have to
console each other and Archie."
"Oh, Archie would be happy anywhere," remarked Nannie, lightly. "I
don't believe he would care much where he went; he would always manage
to have a good time."
But Archie did care, for when that evening Nannie told him of her
plans, he listened a little impatiently. "How long shall you be away?"
he asked.
"How can I tell?" answered Nannie, smiling. "As long as I can get
needful study, but not too long to stamp me as a foreigner. I believe
too much in the future of American art to content myself with a whole
life spent in exile."
"Then you don't want to go?" he said, brightening up.
"Oh, yes, I do, above all things; it has been my dream for years. I
shall not even be content if I am fortunate enough to exhibit once
in the Salon. I shall work and work till I can stand entirely alone
wherever I may be."
"But maybe you will not always want to stand alone," suggested Archie.
"Why? What do you mean?"
"You might marry; women do sometimes."
"I shall not."
"I wouldn't be too sure."
"But I don't want to. I think there are some women who are happier
single. I love my work better than I could any man; or, at least, I
should never be willing to give it up for any other life."
"Perhaps you would not be called upon to do that."
"Oh, well, maybe, if I could meet some great artist who could be
generous enough to allow me to work side by side with him, I might
think of it. But there is hardly the remotest possibility of that."
"And no one else could ever persuade you?"
"No, indeed," laughed Nannie, looking at him with clear eyes. "I am
quite sure. How you men do love to argue a woman into giving up a
career. You cannot convince me that I do not know myself. I do, and
am delighted at my prospect of a free, unhampered life. I want to
paint, and I don't want to keep house, and go to market, and bother
about servants and shirt-buttons and gas-bills. I don't want to be
held responsible for my misdemeanors or mistakes to any one but Nannie
Talcott, spinster."
"A woman need not be hampered because she is married."
"She needn't be always, but she generally is, anyhow. Oh, Archie, what
is the use of keeping up the argument? This is not a case at law. Go
to, good barrister, tell me your plans. This has been a great week for
decisions. We each seem to have come to some Rubicon."
"I am going back to Virginia," said Archie, slowly.
"Oh, are you? I felt sure you would stay here."
"Why?"
"I don't know. A big city seems to offer more opportunities. Mr. Smith
is so fond of you, and would, no doubt, be able to send you many a
client."
"No doubt."
"How laconic you are. And then, oh, I don't know, but I should think
you would like it here. You will find it stupid to go back to a little
place after being here, I'm afraid."
Archie did not reply.
"Don't you think you will find it stupid?" asked Nannie, finding her
remarks met no response.
"I don't know whether I shall or not."
"What is the matter, Archie?" inquired Nannie, looking at him
curiously. "You don't seem like yourself."
"Oh, nothing," and Archie roused himself. "I was just lost in thought.
To tell you the truth, Nannie, I was meditating most seriously upon
your remarks. Yes, I shall be stupid. I am stupid. I was stupid."
"Goose! I didn't say you were stupid. I said you would find a small
place stupid after New York. You were not listening at all."
"Yes, I was; but nevertheless I am. I was stupid. I reckon I'd best go
back and stay with auntie and Theo. I'd spend too much money here, and
I'd be on my uppers before long."
"Oh, nonsense!"
"It's a fact. I seem to be given over to wastefulness."
"I thought you were improving. Theo said you were. That's all talk,
Archie. You have more strength of mind than to be utterly spendthrifty."
"No, I haven't. You don't know me. Why, I can't pass a shop-window
without being seized with an inordinate desire to go in and buy
everything displayed. The other day I was on the point of purchasing
eight different kinds of pie, they presented such a tempting array in
quarter-sections all along in a row in a window. But, fortunately, as I
was trying to decide which I would eat first, I realized that I could
not possibly consume them all, and the fact confronted me that some
would have to be left, and that alone saved me from buying the whole
lot. No, I shall go back to Roseville, where they do not exhibit pie in
the windows, and then I shall be able to save up all my pennies, hiding
them away in a stocking, between rafters or mattresses or some such
place. So when your Salon picture is offered for sale, I shall be able
to buy it."
Archie had recovered himself, and was running on in his usual style.
"How nice!" declared Nannie. "It will be such an incentive to me. I
suppose you will not mind what subject I choose?"
"No; as long as it isn't the heathen mothers throwing their infants to
the crocodiles, or the car of Juggernaut, or any of those unpleasant
things."
Nannie laughed. "I can safely promise it will be none of those. I don't
see why you chose law as a profession, if you are so tender-hearted. I
suppose you'll always let the villains go scot free."
"Not a bit of it. In my judicial capacity, I am inflexible; it is only
gory subjects in pictures to which I object."
"Seriously, though," continued Nannie, "shall you really go back to
Virginia?"
"Seriously—very seriously."
"Oh, you know what I mean, silly."
"I know what you mean; yes."
"Well, then, talk about it like a rational being. Speaking of your
being admitted to the bar, how do you do?"
"I am quite well, I thank you. How are you?"
Nannie laughed. "Archie, you are the most utterly incorrigible person I
ever saw. Now, I forget what I was going to ask you. Oh, yes; now do be
sensible and tell me. After you have been admitted somewhere, you can
practise anywhere, can't you?"
"Is that a riddle? It sounds like it. After I have—no—after you have
been admitted anywhere, you can practise somewhere. Was that it? Ask it
over again, Nannie?"
"Archie Nelson, you can be the most absurd person I ever saw. I shall
not ask you anything."
"All right," said Archie, briskly. "I didn't know the answer to that,
anyhow."
Then, as Nannie kept silence, he went on, "I'll be good, Nan. Yes, I
have decided to go back to Virginia. I think my chances there are as
good as anywhere. An old friend of my father's, Squire Meredith, made
me an offer before I came here, and the offer still holds good."
"That is Jessie Meredith's father?"
"Yes; the Squire has no sons, and will, in time, give up his practice
to me. I shall go in with him, win my laurels, take my native State
by storm, conduct some famous suit, be called Squire, run for Judge,
be elected, grow wise and old on the bench, and die full of years and
honors. There you have it. You could not ask a fuller account."
"I am so glad to know," laughed Nannie. "What a comfort it must be to
have one's future so positively arranged."
"It is," acquiesced Archie. "You see if it doesn't turn out just as I
say."
"And you'll buy my first Salon picture?"
"Provisionally."
"That is, if the subject is not gory?"
"Exactly."
"Very well; I depend upon you."
And then, an interruption came in their talk,—Val and Theo entered
excitedly.
"Where have you two been?" asked Nannie. "Archie has been here ever so
long waiting for you."
"I wasn't waiting, especially," remarked he.
"Well, you've been here a long time; ever since Miss Nelson and I came
in from dinner. Where were you, girls?"
"Why, we went to dinner with the Colonel," explained Theo, "and Val has
actually persuaded him to go to Europe with her and Mrs. Westerly."
"Really?"
"Yes; so that is one thing settled."
"From what Archie says, there is another thing settled; he says he has
decided to return to his native heath," Nan informed them.
"Oh, Archie!" from both the girls.
Archie nodded, confirming Nannie's statement.
"Have you really made up your mind?" said Theo, going over and sitting
down by him, resting a hand on his shoulder.
Archie turned, and gave her a little faint, reassuring smile. "That is
about it," he answered.
Theo made no comment, but slipped her hand in his arm, giving it a
little squeeze.
"I thought you would be delighted, and you look half disappointed,"
averred Nannie.
Theo looked at her steadily, but there was not a shadow of
consciousness in the honest eyes which met hers. "I am very, very glad
Archie is not going to desert us," replied Theo, "if it is best for
him."
"It is best for me," said Archie, quietly.
"And auntie will be overjoyed," declared Val. "I can imagine just how
delighted she will be. I think it has given her a great pang every time
she considered the possibility of losing you, Archie. Have you told
her?"
"Not yet. I will go now and tell her."
Later Archie took his leave, but it was not to go directly to his rooms.
Long past midnight he was walking the streets, but whatever conflict
went on, he never told of it, and was as sweet and sunny as ever the
next time the girls saw him; so that even Theo did not suspect what
hope her brother had buried that spring midnight.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]