Society enjoys a shock. It craves sensation. When that brilliant and
autocratic leader returned from several months' absence abroad, with a
young daughter, of whose existence no one had ever heard, her friends
were mystified. When, with the most evident pride and fondness she
referred to the fact that her daughter had spent most of her life in
foreign lands, and was the daughter of Senator Wainwright's first wife,
speculation was rife. That the Senator had been previously married, that
he had a daughter of eighteen years, set all society agog, and expectant
to see the girl, whose debut was to be made at a large coming out party
given by her mother in her honour. The final touch of mystery and
romance was added by the daughter herself. An enterprising society
reporter, had through the magic medium of a card from her chief, Mr.
Mapson, of the New York _Comet_, obtained a special interview with Miss
Wainwright on the eve of her ball, and the latter had confided to the
incredulous and delighted newspaper woman the fact that she expected to
be married at an early date. The announcement, however, lost some of its
thrill when Miss Wainwright omitted the name of the happy man.
Application to her mother brought forth the fact that that personage
knew no more about this coming event than the "throb sister," as she
called herself. Mrs. Wainwright promptly denied the story, pronouncing
it a probable prank of Miss Sunny and her friend, Miss Clarry. Here Mrs.
Wainwright sighed. She always sighed at the mention of Katy's name,
sighed indulgently, yet hopelessly. The latter had long since been
turned over to the efficient hands of a Miss Woodhouse, a lady from Bryn
Mawr, who had accompanied the Wainwright party abroad. Her especial duty
in life was to refine Katy, a task not devoid of entertainment to said
competent young person from Bryn Mawr, since it stirred to literary
activity certain slumbering talents, and in due time Katy, through the
pen of Miss Woodhouse, was firmly pinned on paper.
However, this is not Katy's story, though it may not be inapropos to
mention here that the Mrs. J. Lyon Crawford, Jr., who for so long
queened it over, bossed, bullied and shepherded the society of New York,
was under the skin ever the same little General who had marched forth
with her army of one down the steps of that east side tenement house,
with hat pin ostentatiously and dangerously apparent to the craven rat
of the east side.
Coming back to Sunny. The newspaper woman persisting that the story had
been told her with utmost candour and seriousness, Mrs. Wainwright sent
for her daughter. Sunny, questioned by her mother, smilingly confirmed
the story.
"But, my dear," said Mrs. Wainwright, "You know no young men yet. Surely
you are just playing. It's a game between you and Katy, isn't it, dear?
Katy is putting you up to it, I'm sure."
"No, mama, Katy are--is--not do so. _I_ am! It is true! I am going to
make marriage wiz American gentleman mebbe very soon."
"Darling, I believe I'd run along. That will do for just now, dear.
_I'll_ speak to Miss Ah--what is the name?"
"Holman, of the _Comet_."
"Ah, yes, Miss Holman. Run along, dear," in a tone an indulgent mother
uses to a baby. Then with her club smile turned affably on Miss Holman:
"Our little Sunny is so mischievous. Now I'm quite sure she and Miss
Clarry are playing some naughty little game. I don't believe I'd publish
that if I were you, Miss Holman."
Miss Holman laughed in Mrs. Wainwright's face, which brought the colour
to a face that for the last few months had radiated such good humour
upon the world. Mrs. Wainwright smiled, now discomfited, for she knew
that the newspaper woman not only intended to print Sunny's statement,
but her mother's denial.
"Now, Miss Holman, your story will have no value, in view of the fact
that the name of the man is not mentioned."
"I thought that a defect at first," said Miss Holman, shamelessly, "but
I'm inclined to think it will add to the interest. Our readers dote on
mysteries, and I'll cover the story on those lines. Later I'll do a bit
of sleuthing on the man end. We'll get him," and the man-like young
woman nodded her head briskly and betook herself from the Wainwright
residence well satisfied with her day's work.
An appeal to the editor of the _Comet_ on the telephone brought back the
surprising answer that they would not print the story if Sunny--that
editor referred to the child of Senator Wainwright as "Sunny"--herself
denied it. He requested that "Sunny" be put on the wire. Mrs. Wainwright
was especially indignant over this, because she knew that that editor
had arisen to his present position entirely through a certain private
"pull" of Senator Wainwright. Of course, the editor himself did not know
this, but Senator Wainwright's wife did, and she thought him exceedingly
unappreciative and exasperating.
Mrs. Wainwright sought Sunny in her room. Here she found that
bewildering young person with her extraordinary friend enthusing over a
fashion book devoted to trousseaux and bridal gowns. They looked up with
flushed faces, and Mrs. Wainwright could not resist a feeling of
resentment at the thought that her daughter (she never thought of Sunny
as "stepdaughter") should give her confidence to Miss Clarry in
preference to her. However, she masked her feelings, as only Mrs.
Wainwright could, and with a smile to Katy advised her that Miss
Woodhouse was waiting for her. Katy's reply, "Yes, ma'am--I mean, Aunt
Emma," was submissive and meek enough, but it was hard for Mrs.
Wainwright to overlook that very pronounced wink with which Katy
favoured Sunny ere she departed.
"And now, dear," said Mrs. Wainwright, putting her arm around Sunny,
"tell me all about it."
Sunny, who loved her dearly, cuddled against her like a child, but
nevertheless shook her bright head.
"Ho! That is secret I not tell. I are a tomb."
"Tomb?"
"Yes, thas word lig' Katy use when she have secret. She say it
are--is--lock up in tomb."
"To think," said Mrs. Wainwright jealously, "that you prefer to confide
in a stranger like Katy rather than your mother."
"No, I not told Katy yet," said Sunny quickly. "She have ask me one
tousan' time, and I are not tol' her."
"But, darling, surely you want _me_ to know. Is he any young man we are
acquainted with?"
Sunny, finger thoughtfully on her lip, considered.
"No-o, I think you are not know him yet."
"Is he one of the young men who--er----"
It was painful for Mrs. Wainwright to contemplate that chapter in
Sunny's past when she had been the ward of four strange young men. In
fact, she had taken Sunny abroad immediately after that remarkable time
when her husband had brought the strange young girl to the house and for
the first time she had learned of Sunny's existence. Life had taken on a
new meaning to Mrs. Wainwright after that. Suddenly she comprehended the
meaning of having someone to live for. Her life and work had a definite
purpose and impetus. Her husband's child had closed the gulf that had
yawned so long between man and wife, and was threatening to separate
them forever. Her love for Sunny, and her pride in the girl's beauty and
charm was almost pathetic. Had she been the girl's own mother, she could
not have been more indulgent or anxious for her welfare.
Sunny, not answering the last question, Mrs. Wainwright went over in her
mind each one of the young men whose ward Sunny had been. The first
three, Jinx, Monty and Bobs, she soon rejected as possibilities. There
remained Jerry Hammond. Private inquiries concerning Jerry had long
since established the fact that he had been for a number of years
engaged to a Miss Falconer. Mrs. Wainwright had been much distressed
because Sunny insisted on writing numerous letters to Jerry while
abroad. It seemed very improper, so she told the girl, to write letters
to another woman's fiancé. Sunny agreed with this most earnestly, and
after a score of letters had gone unanswered she promised to desist.
Mrs. Wainwright appreciated all that Mr. Hammond had done for her
daughter. Sunny's father had indeed expressed that appreciation in that
letter (a similar one had been sent to all members of the Sunny
Syndicate) penned immediately after he had found Sunny. He had,
moreover, done everything in his power privately to advance the careers
and interests of the various men who had befriended his daughter. But
for his engagement to Miss Falconer, Mrs. Wainwright would not have had
the slightest objection to Sunny continuing her friendship with this Mr.
Hammond, but really it was hardly the proper thing under the
circumstances. However, she was both peeved and relieved when Sunny's
many epistles remained unanswered for months, and then a single short
letter that was hardly calculated to revive Sunny's childish passion for
this Jerry arrived. Jerry wrote:
"Dear Sunny.
Glad get your many notes. Have been away. Glad
you are happy. Hope see you when you return.
JERRY."
A telegram would have contained more words, the ruffled Mrs. Wainwright
was assured, and she acquired a prejudice against Jerry, despite all the
good she had heard of him. From that time on her rôle was to, as far as
lay in her power, distract the dear child from thought of the man who
very evidently cared nothing about her.
Of course, Mrs. Wainwright did not know of that illness of Jerry Hammond
when he had hovered between life and death. She did not know that all of
Sunny's letters had come to his hand at one time, unwillingly given up
by Professor Barrowes, who feared a relapse from the resulting
excitement. She did not know that that shaky scrawl was due to the fact
that Jerry was sitting up in bed, and had penned twenty or more letters
to Sunny, in which he had exhausted all of the sweet words of a lover's
vocabulary, and then had stopped short to contemplate the fact that he
had done absolutely nothing in the world to prove himself worthy of
Sunny, had torn up the aforementioned letters, and penned the blank
scrawl that told the daughter of Senator Wainwright nothing.
But it was shortly after that that Jerry began to "come back." He
started upon the highroad to health, and his recuperation was so swift
that he was able to laugh at the protesting and anxious Barrowes, who
moved heaven and earth to prevent the young man from returning to his
work. Jerry had been however, "away" long enough, so he said, and he
fell upon his work with such zeal that no mere friend or mother could
stop him. Never had that star of Beauty, of which he had always dreamed,
seemed so close to Jerry as now. Never had the incentive to succeed been
so vital and gloriously necessary. At the end of all his efforts, he saw
no longer the elusive face of the imaginary "Beauty," of which he loved
to tell Sunny, and which he despaired ever to reach. What was a figment
of the imagination now took a definite lovely form. At the end of his
rainbow was the living face of Sunny.
And so with a song within his heart, a light in his eyes, and a spring
to his step, with kind words for everyone he met, Jerry Hammond worked
and waited.
Mrs. Wainwright, by this time, knew the futility of trying to force
Sunny to reveal her secret. Not only was she very Japanese in her
ability to keep a secret when she chose, but she was Stephen
Wainwright's child. Her mother knew that for months she had neither seen
nor written to Jerry Hammond, for Sunny herself had told her so, when
questioned. Who then was the mysterious fiancé? Could it possibly be
someone she had known in Japan? This thought caused Mrs. Wainwright
considerable trepidation. She feared the possibility of a young Russian,
a Japanese, a missionary. To make sure that Jerry was not the one Sunny
had in mind, she asked the girl whether he had ever proposed to her, and
Sunny replied at once, very sadly:
"No-o. I ask him do so, but he do not do so. He are got 'nother girl he
marry then. Jinx and Monty and Bobs are all ask me marry wiz them, but
Jerry never ask so."
"Oh, my dear, did you really _ask_ him to ask you to marry him?"
"Ho! I hint for him do so," said Sunny, "but he do not do so. Thas very
sad for me," she admitted dejectedly.
"Very fortunate, I call it," said Mrs. Wainwright.
Thus Jerry's elimination was completed, and for the nonce the matter of
Sunny's marriage was dropped pro tem, to be revived, however, on the
night of her ball, when the story appeared under leaded type in the
_Comet_.