SECOND FIDDLE
The next thing that Marise knew, she was on the platform, being hugged
and kissed by the little woman in black, admired by a pair of big,
wide-apart blue eyes under black hair turning grey, smiled at by a kind,
sweet mouth whose short upper lip showed teeth white as a girl's.
Not even Mums had ever hugged or kissed Marise like that! There had
always been just a perceptible holding at a distance lest hair or laces
should be rumpled. But there was no dread of rumpling here! Marise knew
that Mrs. Mooney wouldn't have cared if her hair had come down or her
funny old bonnet had been squashed flat. There was something oddly
delicious, almost pathetic--oh, but _very_ pathetic as things really
were between her and Garth!--in being taken to that full, motherly bosom
where the heart within beat like the wings of a glad bird.
Suddenly--perhaps because she was tired and a little nervous after her
immense journey--Marise wanted to cry in the nice woman's neck, which
smelt good, like some sort of warm, fresh fruit. But she didn't cry. She
smiled, and behaved herself well, as Mrs. Mooney turned her affectionate
attentions to "Johnny."
"Sure, boy," she said, when Garth had come in for a full share of
caresses, "your bride's beautiful. You didn't tell me _half_, and
neither did----"
But Mothereen broke off short, and squeezed the gloved hands of Marise,
shaking them up and down to cover an instant's confusion. She had been
solemnly warned by Zelie that the name of Marks was taboo, and now she
had nearly let it out!
"There's an automobile waiting," she hurried on. "Not that I've got one,
or the likes of one, meself, but ye're from N'York, me dear, and I felt
it would be the right thing to have."
"So it is, Mothereen," said Garth. "Now I'll just get the 'shuvver' to
help me with our bags and things----"
"Not yet, boy, please," she begged excitedly. "There's a lot of folks
waitin' for the good word with ye, the minute we've had our meetin'
over. I couldn't keep 'em from comin', Johnny, honest I couldn't, try as
I might. I believe if we had a carriage instead of an auto to drive home
in, they'd take out the horses and draw ye along themselves, singin'
'Hail the Conquerin' Hero'!"
As if her words were a signal, a crowd of men and women, mostly young,
burst out from the hotel, or from the Indian museum with its window
display of brilliant rugs, totems, turquoises, black opals, and chased
silver. "Hurrah for our Jack! Hurrah for our V.C.!" they yelled.
Marise was taken aback and hardly knew what to do. It was so odd to hear
roars of applause which were not for _her_!
It wasn't that she wanted the roars, or envied the embarrassed recipient
of the unexpected honours; but it _was_ strange to stand there--she, the
famous and beautiful Marise Sorel--with no one looking at or thinking
anything about her at all.
Garth _was_ a V.C., of course, and worthy of praise for brave deeds he
must have done (she'd never heard what they were, or thought very much
about them!), yet it did seem funny, just for the first surprised
moment, that these creatures should be so wild over him without caring
an atom for her!
"Oh, darlint, and ain't we two women proud of him!" gasped Mothereen,
squeezing the girl's arm convulsively.
Marise glanced down at the plump, black-clad form quivering with emotion
at the sight of Garth being shaken hands with and pounded on the back.
"Yes, we are," she echoed kindly, for she would not have pained the dear
woman for anything on earth.
"I shall have my work cut out for me, while I'm in her house, if she
expects me to be chorus for her adopted son," the transported favourite
told herself. "But she is a darling, and I'll do my best for the few
days I'm here, at--well, at _almost_ any price."
When Garth's old friends had thrown themselves upon him like a tidal
wave, the reflex action came, and they were willing to meet and be nice
to his wife. Male and female, they saw that she was tremendously pretty
and smart. Many knew who she was, and had heard of her success, even
though they had never seen her on the stage. But what was a star of the
theatre, compared with a hero of the war? Garth was It. Marise was only
It's second fiddle.
"Isn't he great?--fine?--wonderful?" were the adjectives flung at her
head by gushing girls. "I suppose he lets you wear his V.C.?" a man
pleasantly condescended. Everyone was sure, as Mothereen had been sure,
that she must be "very proud" of the splendid husband she'd been lucky
enough to catch.
Marise smiled as she pictured what Mums' expression would have been
among these adorers of the Fiend, the Brute, beings from another world,
for whom the celebrated Miss Sorel was nobody. Really, the scene on this
platform was like a village green in a comic opera, with all the minor
characters dancing round the tenor!
At last Garth--happy yet ill at ease and half ashamed--contrived to
rescue his mother and wife. They got to the motor-car waiting outside
the station; but there they collided with a new procession, belated yet
enthusiastic. It was, "Garth forever!" again: more shouts of joy, more
slaps, more introductions to the harmless, necessary bride.
Even when the three had ambushed themselves in the car, boys hung on
behind, singing, "For he's a jolly good fellow!" and girls threw flowers
in at the windows.
"This is the happiest hour of my life since I first met up with ye,
Johnny dear," choked Mothereen, wiping her smiling eyes. "And I'm sure
it's the same for you, isn't it, my child?"
"Oh yes--ye-es!" responded Marise.
Garth laughed.
The town of Albuquerque was very Spanish-looking. Indeed, it would have
been strange if it were not so, since the Spanish had built much of it
in the Great Days of their prime, hundreds of years ago. It was on the
outskirts of the place that Mrs. Mooney lived, in a house--as she
explained to Marise--"architected for her by Johnny himself."
"He and I lived here together after he brought me back to me
dearly-loved west, from N'York," she went on; "as happy as turtle-doves
till the war broke on us. That house at the Canyon where he's takin'
you--the later the better, because I want to keep ye here as long as I
can!--was never for _me_. He thought he'd like to go and brood over his
work in it, all alone, once or twice a year. He felt as if that Grand
Canyon would be a kind of inspiration. I doubt if it ever popped into
his head in those times that he'd be takin' a pretty young wife like a
princess from a fairy tale there some day. Not that aught except a
fairy-tale princess would be good enough for him."
Marise did not answer. What was there to say? But they had arrived at
Mothereen's house.
It, too, was Spanish, in a modern, miniature way, and Mothereen
explained it to Marise. "Johnny wanted to build me something bigger and
more statuesque like," she said. "But I wouldn't let him. I love a
little house. I'm at _home_ in it. I have no grand ways. I hope it's the
same with you, me dear! Though for sure it will be, on yer honeymoon,
with the best boy in the wurruld, just back safe from the terrible war!
Ze--I mean _he_--did speak of a 'suite' to put the two of ye up in, but
I warrant ye won't be the one to say yer quarters are too small!... Come
in, will ye? And welcome ye both are as the sunshine after rain!"
Marise obeyed the arm round her waist, but a presentiment of trouble was
upon the girl. She foresaw a dilemma. And it had two long horns. She was
between them!