"You'll stand up with me, won't you?" Moxey asked, a bit anxiously.
"Sure, of course," said Al.
"It's at night, and"--here was to be at least one wedding where the
groom was no lay figure--"dress suits de rigger, understand."
"Sure, of course," Al assented impatiently. Did Moxey think he didn't
know anything?
"We ain't going to tell the old folks for a couple of weeks to save
hard feelings on both sides, that's our motto. And the kids is to be
Catholics, she stood pat on that."
"Sure, of course, what did you expect 'em to be, kikes?" Perhaps Al
spoke a trifle too explicitly, for Moxey flushed as he frequently did.
It was his last remaining signal to the world that his hide wasn't as
tough as he pretended.
"I ain't marr'in' her just because she's a peach," Moxey rhapsodized,
"but she is. Wait till you see her and I'll leave it to you. But
she's got principle, too. Her uncle killed a fellow for wronging his
daughter and Aggie says he done right, if he is still doing time in the
old country. Oh, there's plenty of principle in dagoes, you can say
what you like. When you go foolin' around their women you gotta take a
chance."
It was as if Moxey had pressed a bell in his friend's mind and opened a
chamber there, where vague shapes appeared and suspicion had been
gathering. For Al had observed Georgia's mysteries and evasions, her
care before her mirror, her new hats and pretty ribbons, her day-long
Sunday absences. Twice he had met her on the street, walking and
chatting most gayly with some strange man. Besides his mother had
plainly hinted that all might not be right.
"What do you think a fellow ought to do if a man's after his sister?"
Al asked slowly. "This unwritten law thing don't seem to work any more
except down South."
"You can't lay down no rule," said Moxey. "Depends on if you like your
sister."
"If you do?"
"Then go the limit and take a chance with your jury." He paused and
great shame came to his cheeks again. "I had a sister, oncet ... and
she, well y' understand.... I sometimes thought I oughta of killed him
... but I never did ... I kept askin' myself 'what's the good of
killing him now? Becky's done for anyhow, and it'd just do for me,
too.' ... The time to look out for a girl is beforehand, not
afterwards."
There was no doubt about that, especially in theory. But Al
contemplated somewhat dubiously the task of safeguarding Georgia. She
was so blamed independent. She might say he was impertinent, or she
might just laugh at him. She was fairly certain, at all events, not to
acquiesce readily in any watch and ward policy which he might seek to
institute for her benefit. Still--in a well conducted family the men
were supposed to look out for the women and keep the breath of dishonor
from them. He was the man of the family now, if he was only eighteen,
and so it was up to him to find out if Georgia was in danger, and if
she was, to get her out of it _beforehand_.
"I seen your sister once," remarked Moxey, guessing his thoughts.
Al was silent.
"Looked like she could take care of herself."
"Oh, she's got good sense," said Al, "but you know the riddle, 'Why's a
woman like a ship? Because it takes a man to manage her.'"
"Yes," assented Moxey, "and they have more respect, understand, for the
fellow who can say no to 'em when it's right."
So after supper that evening, instead of going over to the pool parlor,
Al stayed at home waiting for his mother to go to bed, when he could
have a talk with Georgia and pump her and find out about this strange
man she knew, and if necessary say _no_.
His mother drew up to the lamp and darned his socks and talked and
talked on endlessly it seemed to him. He felt a little abused when
nine o'clock came, which was her bed time, and still she made no move
to go.
She did get a little tiresome at times. He would acknowledge that
frankly to himself, though he would not let her see it for
worlds--except by staying away from her most of the time, and not
paying attention to her when he was with her.
If his most affectionate greeting of the day came as a rule when he
said "Good night, mother dear," he didn't realize it; and it would have
amazed him to know that sometimes she sniffled for as much as half an
hour after she went to bed, because he had shown so plainly that he was
glad to be rid of her. She supposed in her sadness that he was an
unnatural, almost unparalleled example of unfilial ingratitude; not
suspecting he was only a rear rank file in the Ever Victorious Army of
Youth.
Al wound his watch. "Gee, quarter of ten," he remarked, through a
yawn. He stretched himself elaborately. Mother was certainly delaying
the game. Until she went he couldn't have his round-up with Georgia,
who was in one of her after-supper reading spells and had hardly said a
word all evening.
She now had a fad for those little books bound in imitation green
leather that constituted the World's Epitome of Culture series and cost
thirty-five cents apiece, or two magazines and an extra Sunday paper,
as she put it.
She had been through twenty of them already and was now on her
twenty-first. He didn't deny that it was creditable to go in for
culture. If that was the sort of thing she liked, why, as the fellow
says, he supposed she liked that sort of thing. It's a free country.
But as for him, when he was tired with the day's work, he thought he
was entitled to a little recreation--a game of pool, a couple of
glasses of beer, maybe a swim in a "nat"--he wasn't bad at the middle
distances--and he couldn't see drawing up a chair under a lamp and
going to work again, for that was what it amounted to, on a little
green Epitome that you had to study over to get the meaning, or maybe
look in the dictionary, as she was doing now. She had told him that
they were more interesting than the other kind of books and had even
got him to start on a couple she said he was sure to like, because they
were so exciting--Marco Polo's Travels and Froissart's Chronicles--but
they didn't excite him any, and he made only about thirty pages in each
of them.
Indeed, it was his private opinion that Georgia was more or less
bunking herself with this upward and onward stuff. She fell for it
because it helped her feel superior. And then she worked herself up to
believing she really liked it because people were surprised she knew so
much and said she had a naturally fine mind. A vicious circle.
In all of which cogitations he was perhaps not entirely astray; though
her chief incitement was more concrete than he supposed. She wanted to
impress Stevens in particular, rather than people in general--she was
determined to keep even with him so that he could never talk down to
her as to a mere "womanly woman" who held him by sex and nothing more.
When at last Mrs. Talbot arose, Al hastened to her, kissed her
affectionately, slipped his arm around her, impelled her towards the
door, opened it rapidly, kissed her again, closed it firmly behind her,
lit a cigarette, and began: "Georgia, I want to have a heart to heart
with you."
"In a second." She read the last half page of her chapter so rapidly
that she was compelled to read it over again for conscience' sake, then
inserted her book-mark and turned to him: "Fire away."
"Who's the mysterious stranger!"
She had known it was coming for the last half hour. From the corner of
her eye, she had spied the importance of the occasion actually oozing
out of young Al. At first she thought of side-stepping the interview,
but eventually decided not to, partly to please the lad and more still
to hear how her case would stand when discussed aloud. She had been in
a most chaotic state of mind ever since the agreement with Stevens to
pretend; that which wasn't clear then was hazier now; she was of ten
minds a day whether to give in to her lover or to give in to the
Church. Now she would listen to Georgia and Al talk about the case as
if they were two other people, in the hope of finding guidance in her
eavesdropping.
"He is a man in the office whom I like," she answered.
"How much?"
"A lot."
"And he does, too?"
"Yes, a lot."
"Hmm--you know I hate to preach, but--" Hesitation.
"You think you will, all the same. Go on, I'm listening."
"You know I'm liberal. If you were just fooling with this fellow, I'd
never peep, honest, I wouldn't."