In those next few weeks Fred Payton was a little vague and preoccupied.
The revelation which had come to her in that moment before the mirror
when she had kissed her own hand, remained as a sort of undercurrent in
her thoughts, although she did not put it into words again. Instead, she
added Howard Maitland to her daily possibilities: Would she meet him on
the street?--and her eyes, careless and eager, raked the crowds on the
pavements! Would he drop into her office to say he had fished up a
client for her?--and she held her breath for an expectant moment when
the elevator clanged on her floor. Would he be at the dance at the
Country Club?--and when he cut in, and they went down the floor
together, something warm and satisfied brooded in her heart, like a bird
in its nest. Sometimes she rebuked herself for letting him know how
pleased she was to see him; and then rebuked herself again: Why not? Why
shouldn't she be as straightforward as he? Hadn't he told her he would
rather talk to her than to any man he knew? She flung up her head when
she thought of that; she was not vain, but she knew that he would not
say that to any other girl in their set. She was very contented now; not
even the ell room at 15 Payton Street seriously disturbed her. The fact
was, Life was so interesting she hadn't time to think of the ell
room--Howard, herself, her business, her league! Yet, busy as she was,
she remembered Flora's desire for music lessons, and every two or three
days, before it was time to set the table for dinner, she stood by the
togaed bust of Andy Payton, trying to teach the pathetically eager
creature her notes. But the lessons, begun with enthusiasm, dragged as
the weeks passed; poor Flora's numb mind--a little more numb just now
because Mr. Baker's Sam had suddenly vanished from her horizon--could
not grasp the matter of time. Fred's hand, resting on her shoulder,
could feel the tremor of effort through her whole body, as the thin,
brown fingers stumbled through the scales:
"Now! Count: One--two--three--"
"One--two--oh, land! Miss Freddy, I cain't."
"Yes, you can. Try again."
"Why don't you jest show me a tune?"
"You have got to know your notes first; and you've got to count, or you
never can learn."
"I don't want to learn, Miss Freddy; I want to play! Oh," she said once,
clutching her hands against her breast, "I _want_ to play!" Her mournful
eyes, black and opaque, gleamed suddenly; then a tear trembled, brimmed
over, and dropped down on the work-worn fingers. "I cain't learn, Miss
Freddy; I 'ain't got the 'rithmetic. I want to make music!"
Alas, she never could make music! The clumsy hands, the dull brain, held
her back from the singing heights! "I cain't learn 'rithmetic," she said
(sixteenth and thirty-second notes drew this assertion from her); "and
if I cain't play music without 'rithmetic, I might as well give up now."
"Well, you can't," Frederica said, helplessly. She had cut out the last
quarter of her league meeting to come home and give Flora a music
lesson. (Up-stairs, Mrs. Payton, listening to the thump of the scales,
confided to Mrs. Childs that she didn't approve of Flora's playing on
the piano. "The parlor is not the place for Flora," she said.) But,
watched by Mr. Andrew Payton's marble eyes, the slow fingers went on
stumbling over the keys, until Frederica and her pupil were alike
disconsolate.
"You poor dear!" Fred said, at last, putting an impulsive arm over the
thin shoulders; "try _once_ more! And, Flora, Sam isn't the only man in
the world. Come now, cheer up! You're well rid of Sam."
"Sam?" said Flora, her face suddenly vindictive; "I ain't pinin' for no
Sam! He was a low-down, no-account nigger--" The door-bell rang, and she
jumped to her feet. "I must git my clean apron!" she said; and vanished
into the pantry.
Frederica waited, frowning uneasily; callers were not welcome at 15
Payton Street when Fred was at home--the consciousness of the veiled
intellect up-stairs made her inhospitable. But it was only Laura and
Howard Maitland, both of them tingling with the cold and overflowing
with absurd and puppy-like fun.
"Feed us! Feed us!" Laura demanded; "we've walked six miles, and we're
perfectly dead!"
"Pig!" said Fred; "wait till I yell to Flora. Flora! Tea!" Her heart
was pounding joyously, but with it was the agonizing calculation as to
how long it would be before Miss Carter and her charge came clopping
down the front stairs on their way to the room where Mortimore had his
supper. "I don't mind Laura," Fred told herself, "but if Howard sees
Morty, I'll simply die!"
"Don't you want me to light up?" Maitland was asking; and without
waiting for her answer he scratched a match on the sole of his boot, and
fumbled about the big, gilt chandelier to turn on the gas.
"I didn't know you played, nowadays," Laura said, looking at the open
piano. "Gracious, Freddy, you do everything!"
"Oh, I'm only teaching poor Flora. She has musical aspirations. Howard,
cheer up that fire!"
Tea came, and Laura said kind things to Flora about the music lessons;
and then they all three began to chatter, and to scream at each other's
jokes, Frederica all the while tense with apprehension.... ("Miss Carter
won't have the sense to hold on to him; he'll walk right in!")
But, up-stairs, her mother, leaning over the balusters to discover who
had called, had the same thought, and was quick to protect her.
"It's your Lolly," Mrs. Payton said, coming back to her sister-in-law;
"and I think I hear Mr. Maitland's voice. I must tell Miss Carter to go
down the back stairs with Morty." Having given the order, through the
closed door between the two rooms, she sat down and listened with real
happiness to the babel of young voices in the parlor. "I do like to have
Freddy enjoy herself, as a girl in her position should," she told Mrs.
Childs; "just hear them laugh."
The laughter was caused by Howard's displeasure at Fred's story of some
rudeness to which she had been subjected in canvassing for Smith--"The
Woman's Candidate."
"If I'd been there, I'd have punched the cop's head!" he said, angrily.
Fred shrieked at his absurdity. "If he'd said it to _you_, you'd only
think it was funny; and what's fun for the gander, is fun for--"
"No, it isn't," he said, bluntly.
"Howard," Laura broke in, "do tell Freddy the news!"
"It isn't much," he said, modestly; "I'm ordered off; that's all."
"Ordered off?" Fred repeated; "where?"
"Philippines," Laura said. "Government expedition. Shells and things.
Starts Wednesday."
"I've wanted to go ever since I was a kid," Howard explained. "It's the
Coast Survey, and I've been pulling legs all winter for a berth, and now
I've got it. I came in to see you pipe your eye with grief at my
departure."
"Grief? Good riddance! You lost me a client, taking me out to see those
fool flats in Dawsonville. Have another cigarette. Lolly, how about
you?"
"No," Laura sighed. "Billy-boy would have a fit if I smoked." She looked
at Fred a little enviously. "I'm crazy to," she confessed.
"Oh, don't," Maitland said; "it isn't your style, Laura."
"Howard, do you really start Wednesday?" Fred said, soberly.
He nodded. "It's great luck."
"You'll have the time of your life," Laura assured him; "why do men have
all the fun, Freddy?"
"Because we've been such fools to let 'em."
"Ladies wouldn't find it much fun--wading round in the mud," Howard
protested.
"They ought to have the chance to wade round, if they want to!" Fred
said--and paused: (was that Miss Carter, bringing Mortimore? Her breath
caught with horror. She was sure she heard the lurching footsteps. No;
all was silent in the upper hall).
Howard did not notice her preoccupation; he was pouring out his plans,
Laura punctuating all he said with cries of admiration and envy. ("I'll
_die_ if Morty comes in!" Frederica was saying to herself.)
[Illustration: HOWARD DID NOT NOTICE HER PREOCCUPATION. HE WAS POURING
OUT HIS PLANS, LAURA PUNCTUATING ALL HE SAID WITH CRIES OF ADMIRATION
AND ENVY]
"You've got to write to me, Fred," Maitland charged her; "I haven't any
relations--'no one to love me.' Do write me the news once in a while."
"You're off day after to-morrow?" she repeated, vaguely; it came over
her, in the midst of that tense listening for the shuffling step on the
stairs, that she would not see him again--he would go away, and she
would not have had a word alone with him! She felt, suddenly, that she
could not bear it. For a moment she forgot Mortimore. "If you don't go
up-stairs and say how-do-you-do to Mother, Laura," she said, abruptly,
"you'll get yourself disliked. And your mother is in the sitting-room,
too." Even if Miss Carter and Morty appeared, she couldn't have Howard
leave her like this!
Just for an instant, Laura's face changed; then she flung her head up,
and said, "Oh, yes; I want to see Aunt Nelly. I'll be right back. (I'll
give 'em a chance," she told herself, grimly.)
Up-stairs, she roamed about the sitting-room, sniffing at the hyacinths,
and looking into the little, devout books, and even adding a piece or
two to the picture puzzle on the table. Then she sympathized with Mrs.
Payton's Christmas fatigue--"you oughtn't to give so many presents, Aunt
Nelly!"
"Oh, my dear, it gets worse each year! People send me things, and of
course I have to pay my debts. So tiresome."
"It's awful," said Laura; and straightened her mother's toque, and
kissed her. "Darling, your hat is always crooked," she scolded, cuddling
her cheek against her mother's. "Mama, we're going to have a suffrage
parade, in April; will you carry a banner?"
"Oh, my dear!" Mrs. Payton protested. "One of those horrid parades here?
I thought we would escape that!"
"Your father won't think of letting you walk in it, Laura," Mrs. Childs
warned her, with amiably impersonal discouragement.
Laura's face sobered: "You make him let me, darling," she entreated.
Mrs. Payton looked at them enviously. Nobody hated those vulgar, muddy,
unladylike parades more than she did, but she knew, in the bottom of
her heart, that if Freddy had snuggled against her, as Laura snuggled up
to Bessie, she would almost have walked in one herself!
"Papa says those parades are perfect nonsense," Mrs. Childs said; "what
good do they do, anyhow?"
"We stand up to be counted," Laura explained.
"Papa won't allow it," her mother repeated, placidly.
"I'm sure Mr. Weston will use his influence to prevent Freddy's doing
it," said Mrs. Payton.
Then the two ladies exchanged their usual melancholy comments on the
times, and Laura listened, making her own silent comments on one fallacy
after another, but preserving always her sweet and cheerful indifference
to their grievances. She looked at the clock once or twice--surely she
had given Howard and Fred time enough! But she waited for still another
ten minutes, then, coughing carefully on the staircase, went down to the
parlor.
Her consideration was unnecessary. Howard, standing with his hands in
his pockets, his back to the fire, had been telling Frederica that he
was going in for conchology seriously. "I know you don't think shells
are worth much," he ended, after giving her what he called a "spiel" as
to why he was going and what he was going to do. "But to me conchology
is like searching for buried treasure! I've been pawing round for a real
job, and now I've got it. I don't have to earn money, so I can earn
work! And I think research work means as much to the world as--as
anything else. I wanted you to know it was a real thing to me," he
ended, gravely.
"Shells aren't awfully vital to civilization," she said.
He made no effort to justify his choice; he had confessed the faith
that was in him, but it was too intimate to discuss, even with so good a
fellow as old Freddy. ("You can't expect a woman to understand that sort
of thing," he told himself; "women don't catch on to science--except
Laura. She sees the importance of it.") Then he broke out about Laura's
hat. "Isn't it dinky?"
"Yes," Fred said, impatiently; they were talking like two strangers!
"Howard, I hate to have you away in April. We're going to have our
parade then, and I counted on you."
"What for?" he said, puzzled.
"To walk," she said, impatiently. His little start of astonishment
annoyed her. "Perhaps you are glad to miss it?"
"I guess I am," he admitted, honestly. "I'm afraid I'd show the yellow
streak."
She was plainly disappointed in him.
"'Course I believe in suffrage," he said, "but I hate to see a lot of
ladies walking in the middle of the street."
"We're not 'ladies'; we're women."
"You're a lady, and you can't escape it. And I'd hate to see Laura do
it," he added.
Fred had not a mean fiber in her, and jealousy is all meanness; but,
somehow, she felt a stab of something like pain. She did not connect it
with Laura; it was only because he was indifferent to what was so
important to her--and to Laura, too. And because he was going away, and
here they were, he and she, just being polite to each other!
"Laura and I don't enjoy the middle of the street," she said; "but I
hope we won't funk it."
"_You_ won't," he said; "you are the best sport going!"
Her face reddened with pleasure. "Oh, I don't know," she disclaimed,
modestly.
It was at this moment that Laura's considerate delay ended. "I'm off!"
she called, gaily, from the hall; "Howard needn't come until he is good
and ready!"
He was ready in a flash. He gave Frederica's hand a hearty squeeze, then
turned to help Laura down the front steps.
Fred closed the door upon them, and went back into the parlor. "_He is
going away_," she said to herself, blankly. Her knees felt queer, and
she sat down. "Well, at any rate, Morty didn't butt in; I couldn't have
borne that...."
Out in the wintry dusk, the other two were silent for a while. Then
Maitland said, "How _can_ she stand that house?"
"She's perfectly fine," Laura said, loyally.
"She's a stunner," the young man declared; "I never knew anybody just
like her. Big, you know. Straightforward. I take off my hat to Fred in
everything!"
Laura gave him a swift look. ("Have they fixed it up?" she thought; "I
gave 'em time enough!")
"But I wish she wouldn't mix up with Smith," he said.
"Smith believes in votes for women."
"What's that got to do with it? He's the worst kind of a boss. As
Arthur Weston says, to put Smith in to purify politics, is like casting
out devils by Beelzebub, the Prince of Devils."
"Oh, well, we stand by the people who stand by us!"
"She's dead wrong," Howard said, carelessly, "but I hope she'll write to
me when I'm away. I shall want to hear that Smith has been snowed
under."
"Of course she'll write to you," Laura encouraged him. ("No, they can't
have fixed it up. He wouldn't say that, if they were engaged.")
"Say, Laura, I suppose you--it would bore you to send me a postal once
in a while? You might tell me how Fred's business is getting along."
"She can tell you herself. (Good gracious! She's turned him down! Poor
old Howard!) I'm not very keen on writing letters, but I'll blow in a
postal on you once in a while, to tell you that Fred is still in the
market."
"I'd be awfully pleased if you would," he said, eagerly.
They were crossing Penn Park, and Laura, looking ahead, said, nervously:
"See this dreadful person coming along the path! Is he drunk?"
"He certainly is," Howard said, laughing. She drew a little nearer to
him--and instantly he had a friendly feeling for the lurching
pedestrian!
"It frightens me to death to see a man like that," she said.
"He ought to be arrested," Howard said, joyfully--her shoulder was soft
against his! "Not that he would hurt anybody--he's just happy."
"I'm not sandy, like Fred," she confessed.
"Oh, Fred would undertake to reform him," he agreed, laughing.
"Fred is--oh!" she broke off with a little shriek; the man, stumbling,
had caught at her arm.
"_Ex_cuse me, lady, I--" Howard's instant grip on his collar spun him
around so suddenly that the rest of the hiccoughing apologies were lost
in astonishment; he stood still, swaying in his tracks, and gaping at
the receding pair. "The dude thought I was mashin' his girl," he said,
with a giggle.
"Did he touch you?" Howard said, angrily. He had caught her to him as he
swung the man aside, and just for an instant he felt the tremor all
through her. "I ought to have choked him!"
But she was laughing--nervously, to be sure, but with gaiety: "Nonsense!
poor fellow--he stumbled! Of course he caught at my arm. Only just for a
minute it frightened me--I'm such a goose!"
"You're not!" he said. But for the rest of the way to the Childses'
house, he was very much upset. Laura had been scared, and it was his
fault; he had taken the west path through the park, because that was the
longest way home, and then he had bowled her right into that old soak!
"I could kick myself for taking the west path," he reproached himself,
again and again.
He hardly slept that night with worry over having made Laura Childs
nervous. "She's the scariest little thing going!" he thought; "but she
has sense." She had agreed with him in everything he said about the
value of research work, and when he declared that science was the
religion of the man of intellect she had said, "Yes, indeed it is!"
"That shows what kind of a mind she has," he thought; "but wasn't she
cute about not smoking! Her 'father wouldn't let her.' Of course he
wouldn't! A girl like that could no more smoke a cigarette than a--a
rose could," he ended. This flight of fancy moved him so much that he
made a memorandum to send Laura some roses the next day--"and old Fred,
too; she's a stunning woman," he said, with real enthusiasm.