We will leave Mabel embarked on her desperate career of utter
selfishness and return to Claire Maslin.
When Rosanna and Helen and pretty Elise went to call on her they found
her rooms had been marvelously changed from the stiff appearance of
hotel suites by the gorgeous draperies and scarfs and table covers
placed wherever they could possibly be put. A faint, sweet, oriental
odor seemed to come from them, and the soft-stepping Chinaman who
ushered them in seemed to be part of a dream. Claire looked modern
enough, however, in her kilted skirt of big green plaid, soft silk
shirtwaist and dull green sweater. Her face was as impassive as ever,
but she seemed to think that as hostess something more than silence was
required of her, and she talked in a very friendly and entertaining
manner.
Elise, always thoughtful of little courtesies, asked almost at once if
they might meet Madame, her mother, and the girls were filled with pity
when Claire replied that her mother was an invalid and was away at a
sanitarium. It was clear that Claire in her silent, repressed way felt
her mother's illness very deeply. She changed the subject at once.
Little by little, however, the girls gleaned the bare facts of her life.
She had been born in the Philippines, and had traveled from post to post
and from country to country with her parents until the time of her
mother's illness. There was a gap in her story there, but later she went
with her father, the Colonel. Her own maid, who took charge of the house
when they had one, was a serious looking New England woman about sixty
years old. The Chinaman too went with them everywhere.
"We expect to move tomorrow," said Claire. "Papa has found a nice house
way up on Third Street. It is furnished, so we will not have to unpack
our things."
"You look unpacked now," said Helen, glancing at the gorgeous silks and
cushions that were scattered around.
"Oh, no, we just take a trunk full of these with us so wherever we stop
the rooms will seem like home to us. Papa and I both hate hotel rooms.
They all look alike with their stuffy furniture and dreadful curtains.
It does not take Chang long to fix everything and we are much more
comfortable. I think we will like the new house." Then she added rather
shyly, "I hope you will all come to see me very, very often. Papa wants
me to know all of you. I don't like girls very well."
The three girls stared in amazement. She didn't like _girls_! And she
was willing to tell them so! Elise lifted her eyebrows. It was so rude.
Helen Culver laughed. "Why do you bother with us if you do not like us?"
she demanded.
Claire was blushing. "I should not have said that," she confessed
bluntly. "I don't mean to say what I think. You must excuse me for
saying it."
"And we will forgive you for having such a heart for us," said Elise,
smiling. "I know how you will feel soon. At least for these two dear
ones. You will love them so much."
"It is such a beautiful day," said Rosanna, to change the conversation,
"why can't we all take a ride? Perhaps you would like to see our parks."
"I have seen everything," said Claire wearily. "I have done nothing but
ride ever since we came to Louisville. But every afternoon I drive up to
Camp Taylor to get papa and it is now almost time to go. Won't you all
come with me? I do truly want you to, and papa wants so much to meet
you. Papa likes girls," she added with a smile.
"I think we should love to go," said Rosanna heartily. She wanted to
accept the first invitation that Claire gave, so she spoke quickly and
nodded gaily to the girls. But it was a nod that they understood to mean
"We will go." They were accustomed to the guiding nods of the wise
little Rosanna.
Gliding smoothly along the beautiful roads in the luxurious limousine,
the four girls chatted gaily. And returning, the talk and laughter was
even more spirited for they found Colonel Maslin to be all that one
could dream of or hope for in the way of a jolly, handsome father.
Nothing would do but they must return to the hotel for afternoon tea,
and Colonel Maslin's idea of tea was ordering all the goodies to be
found on the menu card, and then a few more that the head waiter managed
to think up. So it was a regular feast.
Then the Colonel and Claire insisted on driving them home, and Colonel
Maslin went in and was introduced to each of their families. The girls
only waited for the big Maslin car to be well on its way when with one
accord they hurried over to Rosanna's.
"Well, what do you think?" demanded Helen.
"Claire's father, is he not most splendid?" asked Elise with a deep sigh
of appreciation.
"Yes, he is!" agreed Rosanna. "But Claire is the oddest girl that I ever
saw. Did you notice how she sits and looks in one direction as though
she did not hear a word you were saying? And her eyes look perfectly
desperate!"
"She doesn't hear much that you say, at that," said Helen. "I watched
her. She has taken a great fancy to you, Rosanna."
"Dear me!" said Rosanna. "I almost wish she wouldn't! Whenever I look at
her or think about her, it seems as though a cloud pressed down on me
and choked me."
"Don't you like her?" asked Helen.
"Yes, in a way I do, but there is something so strange about her, and I
can't help the feeling that some way she is going to have an influence
on my life."
"Don't let her," said Helen calmly. "Do some influencing yourself. I
never let anyone influence me that way. Why, you will be awfully
uncomfortable if you feel as though that girl with her red hair and
green eyes could turn you from your purpose in any way. Don't you let
her! I am surprised at you, Rosanna!"
"I don't mean it in that way," said Rosanna. "She will not change me,
Helen dear, but in some way or other--Oh, I can't tell what _I do_
mean!"
"Too many tarts!" laughed Helen. "I confess she is a queer girl, but we
don't have to see much of her, and I doubt if we will. We have enough
work coming along this spring without taking on any more than we have
to. I want to earn all the merits and emblems that I possibly can by
summer time, and I shall be a busy girl if I do it. And you want to do a
lot of Scout work, Elise, now that you have learned to speak English so
nicely."
"_Merci_--I mean, thank you," said Elise. "Indeed I do much want to do
something to benefit myself, and more to please our dear Captain. And
somehow I think you are both seeing that strange Claire wrongly. I think
the cloud hangs over her, and she is most, most sad, most gloomy in its
shadow."
"Dear me, how mysterious!" said Helen. "To me, she seems just like any
other girl, except that she has gorgeous clothes and those queer green
eyes, and such wads and wads of hair, and that Chinaman, and all those
splendid embroideries. And of course it is odd the way she sits and
never moves her hands but looks over your head as though there was some
writing on the wall."
"Perhaps there is," said Rosanna. "Like that man in the Bible, you know,
who had a warning."
Rosanna, as she spoke, little dreamed that there _was_ writing on every
wall, in every cloud, that poor Claire saw and read with a feeling of
hopeless horror.
Leaning close to his handsome daughter in the big luxurious limousine,
Colonel Maslin was saying to her, "Well, Bird o' Paradise, how do you
like your new friends? Are they as friendly and fascinating as Kentucky
girls are supposed to be?"
"You met them," said Claire evenly. "What do you think?"
"A mere man isn't supposed to think," laughed Colonel Maslin. "They seem
delightful to me, so pretty and dainty and girlish. Stray sunbeams."
Claire laughed. "I should say you thought quite fully on the subject,
daddy!"
"Well, they are all that I say, are they not?" asked the Colonel.
"Oh, yes!" and Claire leaned indifferently away from her father's
shoulder. He glanced at her and sighed. They entered the hotel in
silence, each one busy with somber thoughts, and as the Chinaman closed
the door behind them Claire suddenly flung her gloves on the table with
a gesture of impatience and turning to the Colonel said passionately:
"Father, look at me! Am I like those other girls? Do I look like them or
act like them or talk like them? Is my heart like theirs? Oh, father, do
you suppose they ever have the fits of awful temper that I have, or do
the wild things I like to do? Just look at me, father! I am thirteen
years old, and I feel thirty. Why do you make me have anything to do
with them--those girls, I mean? We won't be friends, ever. It will be
just like it has always been on other Posts where you have been
stationed. You always want me to make friends with girls. And I hate
them! And sooner or later they find it out and they are shocked. I wish
I could shock them worse than I do! I'd like to scream and dance and
pull my hair at them!"
"Steady, Claire, steady!" said Colonel Maslin in a quiet level voice.
He tried to take his daughter's hands but she jerked away.
"Don't!" she exclaimed harshly. "Oh, father, can't you _see_ how it is?
Can't you _see_ that they never, never like me? They look at my red
hair, and they stare at Chang, and snub Nancy because they think that is
the way to treat my maid, and they like the candy you always bring me,
but we are never _friends_. Oh, I hate them all: every one of them!
Sunbeams you call them. Well, I feel like a streak of lightning, and I
would like to _strike_ them!"
She beat her slender hands together violently, and crossing the room
flung herself down on a divan and covered her eyes. Her father, white
faced and stern, followed her and seated himself on the edge of the
divan, although Claire lay rigid and tried to crowd him off.
Colonel Maslin was silent for a time, and when he spoke his voice was
very sad.
"This is my fault, my child," he said. "When your mother was taken ill
and could not be with us, I could not face the loneliness of having you
away from me. Both your aunts insisted that I was wrong, but I wanted
you for comfort, my darling, so I took you with me. Later, when I should
have sent you to a good boarding-school, I did not have the courage. You
are old for your age, I confess it, yet in many ways you are a spoiled
and undisciplined child, my dear. You make it very hard for me, for I
need you and you fail me. Now I am going to ask one more favor of you.
After that, after you have honestly tried to do what I ask you, we will
consider the subject closed for all time and you will go away to
school."
"You know I hate that worst of all!" cried Claire, lifting a stained and
tearful face. "_Nothing_ but girls at school! Oh, father, why can't you
let me do what I want to do, just amuse myself my own way, when I am not
studying? You know I work hard at my books and music, and I don't _want_
any friends. Girls are so curious, they always want to know things, and
I am so afraid they will find out--"
"Our misfortune is not a disgrace, Claire," said her father in a voice
that shook in spite of his efforts to keep it steady. "And I want you to
have friends."
"Claller for Mlissie Claire," said Chang, coming silently from the
telephone.
"Another of them!" groaned Claire, sitting up. "Tell her I must be
excused."
"No," said Colonel Maslin sternly. "You promised to do what I asked, and
I want to see you begin now--today. If after three months of honest
effort you still take no pleasure in the society of these girls, I will
give up the struggle and arrange your life in some different way. Come,
Claire, do, _do_ try! You have given me your promise. A Maslin never
breaks his word and I hold you to yours."
Claire looked up wearily. "Very well, father, I will really try. Who is
it, Chang?"
"Mlieeis Blooster," said Chang in his pleasant sing-song voice.
"Oh, yes, I know that girl," said Claire. "She is a queer one. Ask her
to come up, Chang."
Mabel, rather flustered over her adventure into the unknown mysteries of
the big hotel, entered sedately and seated herself in the deepest and
most comfortable chair that she could choose. For once Claire had to
lead the conversation, as Mabel spoke but little and seemed to expect
her hostess to do the talking. Colonel Maslin, thinking that his
presence might keep the girls from getting on an easier footing, excused
himself, and in a few minutes sent up from the office a huge box of
candy.
Mabel did brighten at this and stayed long after the proper length of a
first call, while she ate candy and told her troubles, both real and
imaginary, to her bored hostess. She finally told her of the task the
Captain had set for her. And at last Claire was interested. She listened
intently as Mabel droned on about her experiences.
"I don't think parents really understand their children," said Mabel,
carefully choosing a large chocolate cream. "Of course it may be
different with you, but my mother certainly does not understand me at
all. I am naturally very sensitive and love to read and dream, and I
never get well into a book without her reminding me of something horrid
and domestic that has to be done. I know I could write beautifully if I
had time to collect my thoughts. And now that Captain Horton expects me
to lead my own life regardless of others for a whole week, though of
course part of the time has gone, I thought I could write some truly
beautiful things. But nothing goes right. Of course mother does not
know that Captain Horton told me to try this and she never notices any
change in me, but she acts too queer for anything. She goes out all the
time, and doesn't do any sewing for us (I have a brother) and last night
she was talking about a _career_! My brother ought to stop her, but he
just backs her right up."
"It is too bad," sympathized Claire, passing the candy. "My father
doesn't understand--"
"I think a parent's place is in the home," Mabel interrupted. She was
not at all interested in Claire or her father. Like all selfish people,
she talked for the pleasure of hearing herself. "But mother has changed.
I suspect it is old age. She will be thirty-five her next birthday. I
have three more days for my experiment, and then if I cannot live my own
life at home I shall ask mother to arrange something different. I have
always wanted to be a bachelor girl. I read a story about one. She wrote
for the papers and made enormous sums and had a _sweet_ apartment, and
was so happy because she felt her soul was free. My, I must go! It is
nearly supper time, and I think mother is going to have Parker House
rolls. I adore them. I had no idea I had stayed so long, but you are so
entertaining and it is so nice to think we feel alike about leading our
own lives our own way, and all that."
Claire murmured a faint good-bye after her departing guest and flopped
heavily down on the divan where she had so recently thrown herself in
tears.
She lay staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. A hazy question flitted
through her mind. "Am I like that?" she asked herself. Then she laughed
and dismissed the silly idea.
"What a dreadful girl!" she concluded. "Too dreadful! And father wants
me to bother with people like that!"