SHE FINDS A FOREIGNER
Eveley had very nearly lost faith in assimilation. She had thought it
over carefully, attempted it conscientiously and decided it could not be
done.
"One individuality can not be absorbed by another," she would say very
sagely. "Whether it is husbands and wives, or whether it is nations. The
theorists are right in stating that America is for Americans only, and
that it is the patriotic duty of those who come here to be Americanized
as rapidly as possible, and the duty of the regular Americans to
Americanize everybody else at top speed--but it can not be done. They are
they, and we are we. It may be our duty, but we are not big enough."
She did not call her friendship with Angelo Moreno by any such big and
formal term as assimilation. They had just grown to be enormously good
friends. She had forgotten about Americanizing him, but she found him
charming, with the fresh frank abandon of the unspoiled south-European.
She liked his open admiration, she enjoyed his mature cynicism, she
reveled in his buoyant enthusiasm. She had not believed that such
opposing elements could dwell in one small person. In Angelo, she found
them, and she found the combination good.
He was helpful to Eveley, as well as pleasing. He did endless small jobs
for her about the car and upon the lawn of her home. And when she noticed
that he quickly adopted some of her own little customs of speech and
manner, she was freshly pleased and interested.
Still she could not harden her heart to the clamorous call of the world
struggle. She lived so happily and so securely in her Cloud Cote, going
to business by day, doing her small bits of housework in between whiles,
frolicking with her friends, chumming with Angelo, playing with her
sister's babies, running about in her pretty car. It was like living in
the clouds indeed, with the world of chaos beneath. For there was the
struggle of reconstruction going on, the tremendous heave and pull of
masses seeking to dominate, the subtle writhe and twist of politics, a
whole world straining and sinewing to rise dominant out of the molten bed
of human lava left from the volcanic eruption of war.
And although Eveley still lived serene in her Cloud Cote, it was like
living on the edge of the crater of a volcano. The eruption would come,
must come. And when it came, her pretty Cloud Cote might be caught in the
upheaval. Sometimes in the evening she stood breathless in the little
pavilion on the edge of the canyon stretching down below her home, and
looked far into the shadows. Being a vivid imaginer, down in the darkness
she seemed to see the world in turmoil, and although she stood above it
on the heights, she knew that when the final reckoning came, there would
be no heights and no canyon.
"And the only thing that can stop it is Americanization, and it is
impossible," she would say helplessly. "And there you are."
But being of a light and happy heart, she tried to forget, and plunged
into her work and her play once more. The consciousness, however, of a
world in travail was always with her.
This was why, when Amos Hiltze came to her with an appeal for help in a
new phase of Americanization, he found such prompt and eager interest.
"It is not much, Miss Ainsworth," he said earnestly, "and to you it may
seem very aimless and trifling indeed. But it is something definite at
least, a real tangible piece of Americanization, and you are the only
woman I know who can help us out."
"Yes, yes, yes," she cried eagerly. "I will, of course. What is it?"
"It is a girl, a Spanish girl from Mexico. Her relatives joined the
revolutionists, and pouf,--were blown out. By rare good fortune she
escaped across the border. But what chance has she? No friends,--no
training. She has never learned to meet and mingle with people. And now
after the years of horror, she is afraid. She has lost her nerve. She
needs a place where she can be alone, and quiet, with no one to observe
or criticize. I can vouch for the girl, that she is all right. And I
wondered if your spirit of Americanization would carry you to the point
of temporarily adopting her."
"Oh, mercy!" gasped Eveley, thinking with great tenderness of her cozy
little Cloud Cote, her home, and hers alone.
"I know it is asking a great deal, but it will only be for a few weeks.
Just until some proper arrangements can be made for her. Unless she is
taken care of, and quickly, she will fall a prey to some anarchistic
Bolshevik, or something worse. She is living with a bunch of low Mexicans
away out in the country, and the Greasers come there from all
around,--and I am afraid for the girl. If she can be taken now, treated
kindly, shown the charm and wholesomeness of American customs and
principles, she will be won for America. A beautiful girl, educated,
talented, charming. Think what a power she can be in the Americanization
of her people, when she herself has been given love and tenderness and
confidence."
Eveley decided instantly. "Very well, bring her. I can move the extra
furniture out of the east bedroom, and store it in the garage, and she
may have that room. She will be alone and quiet all day. But I hardly
know a word of Spanish--"
"Oh, she speaks English perfectly. You are a wonderful girl, Miss
Ainsworth. Not one in a thousand would have risen to such a sacrifice.
If American women were all like you, there would be no need of
Americanization. A country stands or falls by its women-kind. And you
will not find her burdensome. She does not wish to meet people, her only
desire is to be quiet, and let alone. She will keep your little home tidy
for you, and she likes to cook and sew. She will not bother you much. How
soon can you have her come?"
"It will take about two hours to get ready. Can you come and help me
to-night? Angelo will help, too. We must move the furniture and boxes
out, and then the room will be ready for her."
"Then suppose we go for her to-night? She is about forty miles out in the
back country in a little shack a mile off the Viejas grade. If we could
leave about supper-time, we'd get there a little after dark. She wants to
slip away without attracting attention. She is a nervous wreck, literally
scared to death. It will take a long time to give her confidence again,
but if any one can do it, it is you. Her faith in humankind has been
bitterly shattered."
Eveley was fairly quivering with excitement and delight. Her faith in
herself had gone leaping skyward. She was not a slacker, not a quitter.
She was a regular American after all, making a real sacrifice for a
principle she believed in,--and oh, how she was going to assimilate this
pretty little Mexican! Poor child! Of course she was shattered and
stunned and shocked. Who wouldn't be? Things must have been ghastly in
Mexico. Eveley herself was rather vague on the subject, because her
philosophy was one of peace and joy, and she found that reading of
affairs in Mexico did not tend to increase either peace or joy. But she
was dimly aware that the spirit of unrest prevailing in all the world had
risen to open and bloody warfare across the Rio Grande.
Her work suffered very sadly that afternoon, and long before the
appointed hour she was ringing furiously for the elevator. From her
incoherent chatter on the way down, Angelo gathered that he was literally
to fly to her the very minute he was off duty, and then she was
clambering blindly into the car and rushing around for Mr. Hiltze.
She was quite in an ecstasy as they set about moving out the pieces of
furniture to be stored in the back of the big garage, and fitting up an
attractive home for the wounded little Mexican who was to be her
guest,--and her food for assimilation.
Amos Hiltze was a great help, and worked with enthusiasm.
"I do what I can, but men are helpless when it comes to women. And when I
knew of this child,--well, I thought of you. If you refused, I had no
notion where to turn. But you did not refuse."
"No, indeed," chirped Eveley. "I am only too happy. I want to do things,
real things, and be of use. It--it is right, I suppose, and lots of fun
besides."
At six o'clock Angelo came, and looked for a moment with speculative eyes
upon Mr. Hiltze. He was not enthusiastic,--rather he was frankly
pessimistic.
"Why don't you send her to a hotel?" he demanded aggressively. "You don't
want a dirty Greaser in here, messing things all up."
"Oh, Angelo, you mustn't," protested Eveley, deeply shocked. "She isn't a
Greaser. She is a high caste Mexican girl."
"There ain't no such thing," he said gloomily. "You'll see. She'll litter
the whole place up with a lot of smelly bandits, and they'll cut your
throat, and steal your money, and then where'll you be?"
Then Amos Hiltze turned on him, with something compelling in his eyes.
"Cut out that nonsense, and mind your own business. This is not your
affair."
So Angelo resigned himself to the inevitable, and fell to work, not with
good will, but with efficiency. And when the room was ready, while the
man and boy were carrying the extra furniture out to the garage for
storage, Eveley hastily prepared a light supper for the three of them. It
was eaten in utter silence. Eveley was excited almost to the point of
suffocation, and the others were immersed in their own thoughts. She
hastily cleared the dishes from the table, and put on her heavy coat and
a small hat.
"Where do you go to get your Spanish queen?" demanded Angelo.
"Oh, a long way out in the country," said Eveley nervously. "We must
hurry, Angelo. It is getting late."
"Are you going in your car?" he persisted.
"Yes. Now, please, Angelo, I hate to rush you off, but we must go."
"Take me along, Miss Eveley. Please--you've got plenty of room. Won't you
take me?"
"Nothing doing," cut in Amos Hiltze shortly. "We've got to keep the girl
quiet, and you would let out some rudeness that would spoil everything."
"Honest I won't, Miss Eveley. G'wan, be a sport. You promised to take me
for a night ride, and you never have. I won't say a word to the
Grea--lady, honest I won't. Be a sport, Miss Eveley, sure I can go
along."
"Let's take him," said Eveley. "He can sit in front with me coming back,
and you can ride with Marie. He won't say a word, will you, Angelo?"
Mr. Hiltze seemed not altogether satisfied, but Angelo was already
half-way down the rustic stairs and headed for the garage, so he
contented himself with one final word of warning.
"Just keep quiet," he said to Angelo. "Do not even look at her. There
must be no fuss or confusion, or she will be afraid to come."
There was a heavy fog rolling up through the canyons, and Eveley, in her
state of excitement, found the car prone to leap wildly through the misty
white darkness. There was a great ringing in her ears, and her pulses
were pounding. Hiltze at her side was silent and preoccupied, and Angelo
in the rear sat huddled in a corner, in the rug which Eveley had tucked
about him.
"We do not want any frozen passengers to bring home," she had said, with
a smile.
They spun swiftly along University, slowing for East San Diego where
there were officers with bad reputations among speeders, through La Mesa,
the cross on Mt. Helix showing faintly in the pale moonlight, through El
Capon, out beyond Flynn Springs where the pavement left off.
"Are you tired?" asked the man, stirring closer to Eveley's side.
"No," she said, with a laugh that was really a sob. "But I am so out of
breath, and thrilled, and--all stirred up, like a silly little
schoolgirl. I believe I am frightened."
"Do not be frightened, Miss Eveley," said Angelo suddenly, reassuringly.
"I'll look after you. If we do not like the little Greaser, we'll just
ditch her."
"You must not be afraid," said Hiltze, pressing his arm companionably
against her elbow. "You know I will take care of you. And you will like
the girl. She is just a timid, nerve-racked child. You will love her in
time. But this is not a question of love, only of service,--one phase of
the scheme of Americanization that is sweeping the country. It has to
come through the women, Eveley, you know that. It has to be born into the
babies of the next generation."
An audible sniff came from the back seat, but Angelo was lustily clearing
his throat.
"You sound like a stump speaker," he said critically. "Did you get that
way selling autos, or did you used to be an agitator or something?"
Mr. Hiltze made no reply. He was leaning forward now, anxiously scanning
the road. "We turn soon. Drive slowly, please. I do not know the road
very well. Oh,--there it is,--I see it now. Just beyond the little clump
of trees, this side of the big rock. Turn to the right,--the road is safe
enough, but a little rough. We only go a little farther,--yes, to the
right a little more,--down-grade, but it is not very steep. Now, pull off
a little and stop. Yes, you wait here now, will you, while I go on to the
shack? The road does not lead up to it. You need not be afraid, you are
close to the main road though you can not see it for the shrubs and
rocks. She does not want the Mexicans to know where nor how she goes."
"Will you be gone long?" asked Eveley, gazing somewhat fearfully into the
black shadows about her.
"Oh, just a few minutes. It is only a little bit of a way, and Marie is
ready to come at once."
"How does she know you are coming after her?" asked Angelo.
"I told her I would come to-night if I could make arrangements for her,
and she said she would be ready. She has only a small bag, so her
preparations are simple. Now, don't be frightened, Eveley. You know I
would not leave you if there were any danger. Angelo will be with you."
"You bet I will. Beat it, Mister, and cop the lady."
Eveley and Angelo listened in silence, as Hiltze strode quickly away.
When the last sound had echoed to silence, Angelo leaned over the seat,
his thin dark face close to Eveley's.
"Say, Miss Eveley, where did you pick up that guy?"
"He was the salesman who sold me my car, but he has many friends who are
my friends also, so I have met him often. He was only selling autos
temporarily, and is making plans now to go into business for himself."
"I'll bet your friend Inglish ain't stuck on him."
"Not unnaturally," admitted Eveley, laughing. "He is not."
"Well, he's a smart guy, Inglish is," said Angelo shrewdly. "You can
pretty well put it down he's on the level about folks."
"You do not seem partial to Mr. Hiltze, Angelo. But he is most kind and
sympathetic, and no one works harder for the Americanization of the
foreign element than he does."
"Lots of folks work hard for something to keep the real things dark. I
guess he's got a mash on this dame."
Eveley was silent.
"Don't you think so?"
"No, I hardly think so."
"Oh, you can't tell. Some guys can have mashes on two or three at a time,
you know."
"Angelo, please, let's not talk this way. I do not like it. And I do not
wish my friends to criticize my other friends. I know you like Mr.
Inglish best of all, and that is why you try to underrate the others--but
please don't."
"Oh, I think he is smart enough," said Angelo ingratiatingly. "It ain't
that. I just don't like his wishing foreign dames off on to you because
you are easy and will stand for it."
"Listen--they are coming."
Angelo got out then and clambered in beside her, and they both peered
into the darkness whence footsteps came. The two were walking slowly,
Hiltze leading the girl carefully. She walked shrinkingly, her face
showing deathly pale in the shadowy night.
Eveley got out at once and went to meet them, surprised at the great wave
of tenderness sweeping over her. She felt somehow that it was a daughter
of hers, coming back to her out of suffering and sorrow. She put her arms
protectingly about the girl, and kissed her cheek.
"Marie," she said softly, "you are going to be my sister. I--I think I
love you already. I felt it when I saw you come out of the darkness."
The girl did not speak, but her slender fingers closed convulsively about
Eveley's, and there was a catch like a little sob in her throat.
Eveley herself helped her into the car, and pulled the rugs and blankets
about her.
"It is very foggy, and the air is cold. We do not want a little sick girl
on our hands. Pull them close about you. Oh, your cape is very light--you
must take my furs. It is much warmer in front, and I do not need them.
Now, are you all ready? This is my little pal Angelo Moreno with me, but
don't pay any attention to him to-night. You will see him again. Now, all
ready and off we go."
Angelo sat silently musing in his corner during the long ride back to
town, and Eveley sang softly almost beneath her breath. In the back seat
there was silence, too. Only once Eveley turned to call to them blithely:
"I was frightened and anxious at first, but now I feel happy and full of
hope. I think you are going to bring me great good fortune, Sister
Marie."
"You are--most heavenly kind," said Marie, in slow soft English, with the
exquisite toning of her Spanish tongue.
"Oh, Marie," cried Eveley rapturously. "Those are the first words I ever
heard you say--such kind and loving words. I shall never forget them."
The rest of the ride was taken in absolute silence, and at the door of
her cottage when she ran the car into the garage, Angelo carried Marie's
bag up the steps silently, and Hiltze helped her, while Eveley ran
hospitably in front to have the window open and the lights on. She thrust
out an eager hand to help Marie through the window, and then she gaily
faced their escorts.
"Not to-night," she cried. "You can not come in even for a minute. Sister
Marie and I are going to have hot chocolate all by ourselves, and--and
find out how we like each other's looks. Many thanks--good night."
Then she closed the window and turned to the slender shrinking figure at
her side, drawing back the heavy hood that shielded the girl's face to
look into the features of the little foreign waif she had taken to her
heart.