This story is taken from Booth Tarkington's novel, _The Conquest of
Canaan_, which gives an admirable description of modern life in an
American town. Joe Louden, the hero, and Ariel Tabor, the heroine,
were both friendless and, in a way, forlorn. How both of them
triumphed over obstacles and won success and happiness is the theme
of a book which is notable for keen observation of character and
for a quiet and delightful humor.
I
Ariel had worked all the afternoon over her mother's wedding-gown, and
two hours were required by her toilet for the dance. She curled her hair
frizzily, burning it here and there, with a slate-pencil heated over a
lamp-chimney, and she placed above one ear three or four large
artificial roses, taken from an old hat of her mother's, which she had
found in a trunk in the store-room. Possessing no slippers, she
carefully blacked and polished her shoes, which had been clumsily
resoled, and fastened into the strings of each small rosettes of red
ribbon; after which she practised swinging the train of her skirt until
she was proud of her manipulation of it.
She had no powder, but found in her grandfather's room a lump of
magnesia, which he was in the habit of taking for heartburn, and passed
it over and over her brown face and hands. Then a lingering gaze into
her small mirror gave her joy at last; she yearned so hard to see
herself charming that she did see herself so. Admiration came, and she
told herself that she was more attractive to look at than she had ever
been in her life, and that, perhaps, at last she might begin to be
sought for like other girls. The little glass showed a sort of
prettiness in her thin, unmatured young face; tripping dance-tunes ran
through her head, her feet keeping the time--ah, she did so hope to
dance often that night! Perhaps--perhaps she might be asked for every
number. And so, wrapping an old water-proof cloak about her, she took
her grandfather's arm and sallied forth, with high hopes in her beating
heart.
It was in the dressing-room that the change began to come. Alone, at
home in her own ugly little room, she had thought herself almost
beautiful; but here in the brightly lighted chamber crowded with the
other girls it was different. There was a big [v]cheval-glass at one end
of the room, and she faced it, when her turn came--for the mirror was
popular--with a sinking spirit. There was the contrast, like a picture
painted and framed. The other girls all wore their hair after the
fashion introduced to Canaan by Mamie Pike the week before, on her
return from a visit to Chicago. None of them had "crimped" and none had
bedecked their tresses with artificial flowers. Her alterations of the
wedding-dress had not been successful; the skirt was too short in front
and higher on one side than on the other, showing too plainly the
heavy-soled shoes, which had lost most of their polish in the walk
through the snow. The ribbon rosettes were fully revealed, and as she
glanced at their reflection, she heard the words, "Look at that train
and those rosettes!" whispered behind her, and saw in the mirror two
pretty young women turn away with their handkerchiefs over their mouths
and retreat hurriedly to an alcove. All the feet in the room except
Ariel's were in dainty kid or satin slippers of the color of the dresses
from which they glimmered out, and only Ariel wore a train.
She went away from the mirror and pretended to be busy with a hanging
thread in her sleeve.
She was singularly an alien in the chattering room, although she had
been born and had lived all her life in the town. Perhaps her position
among the young ladies may be best defined by the remark, generally
current among them that evening, to the effect that it was "very sweet
of Mamie to invite her." Ariel was not like the others; she was not of
them, and never had been. Indeed, she did not know them very well. Some
of them nodded to her and gave her a word of greeting pleasantly; all of
them whispered about her with wonder and suppressed amusement, but none
talked to her. They were not unkindly, but they were young and eager and
excited over their own interests,--which were then in the "gentlemen's
dressing-room."
Each of the other girls had been escorted by a youth of the place, and,
one by one, joining these escorts in the hall outside the door, they
descended the stairs, until only Ariel was left. She came down alone
after the first dance had begun, and greeted her young hostess's mother
timidly. Mrs. Pike--a small, frightened-looking woman with a ruby
necklace--answered her absently, and hurried away to see that the
[v]imported waiters did not steal anything.
Ariel sat in one of the chairs against the wall and watched the dancers
with a smile of eager and benevolent interest. In Canaan no parents, no
guardians or aunts were haled forth o' nights to [v]duenna the
junketings of youth; Mrs. Pike did not reappear, and Ariel sat
conspicuously alone; there was nothing else for her to do, but it was
not an easy matter.
When the first dance reached an end, Mamie Pike came to her for a moment
with a cheery welcome, and was immediately surrounded by a circle of
young men and women, flushed with dancing, shouting as was their wont,
laughing [v]inexplicably over words and phrases and unintelligible
[v]monosyllables, as if they all belonged to a secret society and these
cries were symbols of things exquisitely humorous, which only they
understood. Ariel laughed with them more heartily than any other, so
that she might seem to be of them and as merry as they were; but almost
immediately she found herself outside of the circle, and presently they
all whirled away into another dance, and she was left alone again.
So she sat, no one coming near her, through several dances, trying to
maintain the smile of delighted interest upon her face, though she felt
the muscles of her face beginning to ache with their fixedness, her eyes
growing hot and glazed. All the other girls were provided with partners
for every dance, with several young men left over, these latter lounging
[v]hilariously together in the doorways. Ariel was careful not to glance
toward them, but she could not help hating them. Once or twice between
the dances she saw Miss Pike speak appealingly to one of the
[v]superfluous, glancing, at the same time, in her own direction, and
Ariel could see, too, that the appeal proved unsuccessful, until at last
Mamie approached her, leading Norbert Flitcroft, partly by the hand,
partly by will power. Norbert was an excessively fat boy, and at the
present moment looked as patient as the blind. But he asked Ariel if she
was "engaged for the next dance," and, Mamie, having flitted away, stood
[v]disconsolately beside her, waiting for the music to begin. Ariel was
grateful for him.
"I think you must be very good-natured, Mr. Flitcroft," she said, with
an air of [v]raillery.
"No, I'm not," he replied, [v]plaintively. "Everybody thinks I am,
because I'm fat, and they expect me to do things they never dream of
asking anybody else to do. I'd like to see 'em even _ask_ 'Gene Bantry
to go and do some of the things they get me to do! A person isn't
good-natured just because he's fat," he concluded, morbidly, "but he
might as well be!"
"Oh, I meant good-natured," she returned, with a sprightly laugh,
"because you're willing to waltz with me."
"Oh, well," he returned, sighing, "that's all right."
The orchestra flourished into "La Paloma"; he put his arm mournfully
about her, and taking her right hand with his left, carried her arm out
to a rigid right angle, beginning to pump and balance for time. They
made three false starts and then got away. Ariel danced badly; she
hopped and lost the step, but they persevered, bumping against other
couples continually. Circling breathlessly into the next room, they
passed close to a long mirror, in which Ariel saw herself, although in a
flash, more bitterly contrasted to the others than in the cheval-glass
of the dressing-room. The clump of roses was flopping about her neck,
her crimped hair looked frowzy, and there was something terribly wrong
about her dress. Suddenly she felt her train to be [v]grotesque, as a
thing following her in a nightmare.
A moment later she caught her partner making a [v]burlesque face of
suffering over her shoulder, and, turning her head quickly, saw for
whose benefit he had constructed it. Eugene Bantry, flying expertly by
with Mamie, was bestowing upon Mr. Flitcroft a commiserative wink. The
next instant she tripped in her train and fell to the floor at Eugene's
feet, carrying her partner with her.
There was a shout of laughter. The young hostess stopped Eugene, who
would have gone on, and he had no choice but to stoop to Ariel's
assistance.
"It seems to be a habit of mine," she said, laughing loudly.
She did not appear to see the hand he offered, but got on her feet
without help and walked quickly away with Norbert, who proceeded to live
up to the character he had given himself.
"Perhaps we had better not try it again," she laughed.
"Well, I should think not," he returned with the frankest gloom. With
the air of conducting her home, he took her to the chair against the
wall whence he had brought her. There his responsibility for her seemed
to cease. "Will you excuse me?" he asked, and there was no doubt he felt
that he had been given more than his share that evening, even though he
was fat.
"Yes, indeed." Her laughter was continuous. "I should think you _would_
be glad to get rid of me after that. Ha, ha, ha! Poor Mr. Flitcroft, you
know you are!"
It was the deadly truth, and the fat one, saying, "Well, if you'll
excuse me now," hurried away with a step which grew lighter as the
distance from her increased. Arrived at the haven of a far doorway, he
mopped his brow and shook his head grimly in response to frequent
rallyings.
Ariel sat through more dances, interminable dances and intermissions, in
that same chair, in which it began to seem she was to live out the rest
of her life. Now and then, if she thought people were looking at her as
they passed, she broke into a laugh and nodded slightly, as if still
amused over her mishap.
After a long time she rose, and laughing cheerfully to Mr. Flitcroft,
who was standing in the doorway and replied with a wan smile, stepped
out quickly into the hall, where she almost ran into her great-uncle,
Jonas Tabor. He was going toward the big front doors with Judge Pike,
having just come out of the latter's library, down the hall.
Jonas was breathing heavily and was shockingly pale, though his eyes
were very bright. He turned his back upon his grandniece sharply and
went out of the door. Ariel reëntered the room whence she had come. She
laughed again to her fat friend as she passed him, went to the window
and looked out. The porch seemed deserted and was faintly illuminated by
a few Japanese lanterns. She sprang out, dropped upon the divan, and
burying her face in her hands, cried heart-brokenly.
Presently she felt something alive touch her foot, and, her breath
catching with alarm, she started to rise. A thin hand, issuing from a
shabby sleeve, had stolen out between two of the green tubs and was
pressing upon one of her shoes.
"Sh!" warned a voice. "Don't make a noise!"
The warning was not needed; she had recognized the hand and sleeve
instantly. It was her playmate and lifelong friend, Joe Louden.
"What were you going on about?" he asked angrily.
"Nothing," she answered. "I wasn't. You must go away; you know the Judge
doesn't like you."
"What were you crying about?" interrupted the uninvited guest.
"Nothing, I tell you!" she repeated, the tears not ceasing to gather in
her eyes. "I wasn't."
"I want to know what it was," he insisted. "Didn't the fools ask you to
dance! Ah! You needn't tell me. That's it. I've been here, watching, for
the last three dances and you weren't in sight till you came to the
window. Well, what do you care about that for!"
"I don't," she answered. "I don't!" Then suddenly, without being able to
prevent it, she sobbed.
"No," he said, gently, "I see you don't. And you let yourself be a fool
because there are a lot of fools in there."
She gave way, all at once, to a gust of sorrow and bitterness; she bent
far over and caught his hand and laid it against her wet cheek. "Oh,
Joe," she whispered, brokenly, "I think we have such hard lives, you and
I! It doesn't seem right--while we're so young! Why can't we be like the
others? Why can't we have some of the fun?"
He withdrew his hand, with the embarrassment and shame he would have
felt had she been a boy.
"Get out!" he said, feebly.
She did not seem to notice, but, still stooping, rested her elbows on
her knees and her face in her hands. "I try so hard to have some fun, to
be like the rest--and it's always a mistake, always, always, always!"
She rocked herself slightly from side to side. "I'm a fool, it's the
truth, or I wouldn't have come to-night. I want to be attractive--I want
to be in things. I want to laugh as they do--"
"To laugh, just to laugh, and not because there's something funny?"
"Yes, I do, I do! And to know how to dress and to wear my hair--there
must be some place where you can learn those things. I've never had any
one to show me! It's only lately I've cared, but I'm seventeen, Joe--"
She faltered, came to a stop, and her whole body was shaken with sobs.
"I hate myself so for crying--for everything!"
Just then a colored waiter, smiling graciously, came out upon the porch,
bearing a tray of salad, hot oysters, and coffee. At his approach, Joe
had fallen prone on the floor in the shadow. Ariel shook her head to the
proffer of refreshments.
"I don't want any," she murmured.
The waiter turned away in pity and was reëntering the window when a
passionate whisper fell upon his ear as well as upon Ariel's.
_"Take it!"_
"Ma'am?" said the waiter.
"I've changed my mind," she replied quickly. The waiter, his elation
restored, gave of his viands with the [v]superfluous bounty loved by his
race when distributing the product of the wealthy.
When he had gone, "Give me everything that's hot," said Joe. "You can
keep the salad."
"I couldn't eat it or anything else," she answered, thrusting the plate
between the palms.
For a time there was silence. From within the house came the continuous
babble of voices and laughter, the clink of [v]cutlery on china. The
young people spent a long time over their supper. By and by the waiter
returned to the veranda, deposited a plate of colored ices upon Ariel's
knees with a noble gesture, and departed.
"No ice for me," said Joe.
"Won't you please go now?" she entreated.
"It wouldn't be good manners," he joked. "They might think I only came
for the supper."
"Give me the dish and coffee-cup," she whispered, impatiently. "Suppose
the waiter came and had to look for them? Quick!"
A bottle-shaped figure appeared in the window, and she had no time to
take the plate and cup which were being pushed through the palm-leaves.
She whispered a word of warning, and the dishes were hurriedly withdrawn
as Norbert Flitcroft, wearing a solemn expression of injury, came out
upon the veranda.
"They want you. Some one's come for you."
"Oh, is grandfather waiting?" She rose.
"It isn't your grandfather that has come for you," answered the fat one,
slowly. "It is Eskew Arp. Something's happened."
She looked at him for a moment, beginning to tremble violently, her eyes
growing wide with fright.
"Is my grandfather--is he sick?"
"You'd better go and see. Old Eskew's waiting in the hall. He'll tell
you."
She was by him and through the window instantly. Mr. Arp was waiting in
the hall, talking in a low voice to Mrs. Pike.
"Your grandfather's all right," he told the frightened girl quickly. "He
sent me for you. Just hurry and get your things."
She was with him again in a moment, and seizing the old man's arm,
hurried him down the steps and toward the street almost at a run.
"You're not telling me the truth," she said. "You're not telling me the
truth!"
"Nothing has happened to Roger Tabor," panted Mr. Arp. "We're going this
way, not that." They had come to the gate, and as she turned to the
right he pulled her sharply to the left.
"Where are we going?" she demanded.
"To your Uncle Jonas's."
"Why?" she cried, in supreme astonishment. "What do you want to take me
there for? Don't you know that he doesn't like me--that he has stopped
speaking to me?"
"Yes," said the old man, grimly; "he has stopped speaking to everybody."
These startling words told Ariel that her uncle was dead. They did not
tell her what she was soon to learn--that he had died rich, and that,
failing other heirs, she and her grandfather had inherited his fortune.