MR. HARRY LONG EXPLAINS
Rosie was more than true to her promise. She prepared a good supper and,
in addition, made the kitchen neat and presentable, scrubbed Jack until
his skin and hair fairly shone with cleanliness, and, long before supper
time, had Mrs. O'Brien and Geraldine, both in holiday attire, seated in
state on the front porch to receive Ellen and her admirer.
When Jack, who was perched on the front gate as family lookout, saw them
coming, he rushed back to the kitchen to give Rosie warning and Rosie
had time to slip behind the front door and, through the crack, to
witness the arrival.
"And, Ellen dear," Mrs. O'Brien exclaimed in greeting, "do you mean to
tell me that this is your friend, Mr. Harry Long! If I do say it, Mr.
Long, I'm mighty pleased to see you! As I've said to Ellen, many's the
time, 'Why don't you bring your friend out to see me? Bring him any
time,' says I, 'for the friends of me children are always welcome in
this house.' And himself says the same thing, Mr. Long."
The florid well-built young man who gave Rosie the impression of bright
tan shoes, gray spats, a fancy vest, and massive watchfob, waited,
smiling, until Mrs. O'Brien was done and then remarked in friendly,
cordial tones: "Just call me Harry, Mrs. O'Brien. I'm plain Harry to my
friends."
"Well, I'm sure you're among friends when you're here," Mrs. O'Brien
said with a downcast look of melting coyness. "But I fear you won't
think so if I keep you standing much longer. Won't you sit down, Mr.--I
mean, won't you sit down, Harry? You see, Harry," she continued, "I'm
taking you at your word. And now I must introduce Jackie to you.
Jackie's me second b'y. Now, Jackie dear, shake hands with Mr. Long and
tell him you're glad to see him. The baby's name, Harry, is Geraldine.
Besides her, I've got Terence who's a fine lad--oh, I know you'll be
glad to meet Terry!--and Rosie who's next to Terry and who's helping me
with the supper tonight so's to give me a chance to say 'How do you do'
to you. Ah, if I do say it, I've a fine brood of children and never a
word of bickering among them.... Now, Jackie dear, like a good b'y, will
you run upstairs and tell your da to come down this minute, that we're
waiting for him, and then run into the kitchen and ask sister Rosie if
the supper's ready."
Rosie slipped hurriedly back to the kitchen and then, through Jack,
summoned the family in.
When she was presented to the newcomer, she added to her first
impressions the smooth pinkish face of a city-bred man who had never
been exposed to the real violence of sun and wind, a cravat pin and seal
ring that were fellows to the watchfob, and hands that bore themselves
as if a little conscious of a recent visit to the manicure.
As Rosie gathered in these details, she saw, in contrast, the figure of
George Riley: the roughened weatherbeaten face, the cheap ill-fitting
clothes, the big hands coarsened with work, the heavy feet. Ellen, of
course, and girls like Ellen would be taken in by the new man's flashy
appearance and easy confident manner, but not Rosie. Rosie hated him on
sight! She knew the difference between tinsel and solid worth and she
longed to cry out to him: "You needn't think you can fool me, because
you can't! Any one can dress well who spends all he makes on clothes!
But how much money have you got salted away in the bank? Tell me that,
now!"
She had to shake hands with him, but when he stooped down to kiss her,
she jerked away and glared at him like an angry little cat.
"Why, Rosie!" Mrs. O'Brien exclaimed in shocked tones, "is that the way
you treat a family friend like Mr. Harry?"
"Family friend!" stormed Rosie; "I've never laid eyes on him before and
neither have you!"
Mrs. O'Brien's embarrassment deepened. "Rosie, I'm ashamed of you! Is
that the way for you to be treatin' a gentleman who's taking supper with
us? I tell you frankly I'm ashamed of you!"
Jamie O'Brien cleared his throat. "See here, Maggie, Rosie's perfectly
right. There's no call for her to be kissing a stranger. She's too big a
girl for that."
Mrs. O'Brien looked at her husband blankly. "Jamie O'Brien, how you
talk! Do you think it's becoming to call a man a stranger who's sitting
down with you at your own table?"
Jamie turned to his guest politely. "I'm sure, Mr. Long, I don't know
what all this noise is about. I'm like Rosie here. I've never seen you
before to me knowledge. But that's neither here nor there. You're here
now and you're welcome, and I hope we'll be friends. So let us drop the
argument and sit down."
It was an awkward beginning, but Jamie refused to be embarrassed and,
after a moment of silence, the others tried hard to follow his example.
Harry was evidently bent on pleasing.
"Ever been in St. Louis, Mr. O'Brien?" He spoke with a proprietorial air
as one might of a household pet, pronouncing the name of his city Louie.
"Fine place, St. Louie!"
"For meself," Jamie answered unexpectedly, "I never much cared for it.
It's a hot hole!"
Ellen flushed. "Why, Dad!"
Jamie looked up impatiently. "What's the matter now?"
"Dad, don't you know that St. Louie is where Harry lives?"
"I do not!" Jamie answered truthfully. "And, if you ask me, Ellen, I
don't see why I should."
"Jamie O'Brien!" Mrs. O'Brien gasped, "what's come over you? I haven't
heard you talk so much at table in ten years!" She turned to her guest.
"Would you believe me, Harry, there are weeks on end when I never get a
word out of him! Sometimes I think I'll forget how to talk meself for
lack of some one to exchange a word with! And to think," she concluded,
"that Jamie's been in St. Louie! I give you me word of honour I never
heard that before! Tell me, Jamie, when was it?"
Jamie ruminated a moment. "It must have been before we were married."
Mrs. O'Brien nodded her head. "That just proves what I always say:
little a woman can know about a man before she marries him."
She talked on and Harry gave her every encouragement, laughing heartily
at her anecdotes, asking further details, and making himself so
generally pleasant that, before supper was half done, the opening
embarrassment was forgotten and Mrs. O'Brien was exclaiming: "Well,
Harry, I must say one thing: I feel like I'd known you forever!"
Harry glanced at Ellen. "Shall we tell them?"
Ellen drew a quick breath. "We've got to sometime," she murmured.
Harry beamed on Mrs. O'Brien. "I'm mighty glad to hear you say that,
Mrs. O'Brien. There's nothing would please me better than to have you
like me. In fact, I'm hoping you like me well enough to take me for a
son-in-law!"
Mrs. O'Brien gasped: "What's this you're saying, Harry?"
Rosie, pale and tense, stood up. "Ellen," she said, looking straight at
her sister, "have you told him about Jarge Riley?"
Ellen laughed a little unsteadily. "Yes, Rosie, I told him. And I see
now you were right. It wasn't fair to Harry not to tell him. And I want
to apologize for getting so mad."
"Yes, Rosie was right," Harry repeated, smiling at her kindly. "Rosie
must have known I was dead gone on Ellen and meant business."
Rosie was not to be taken in by any such palaver as that. "No, Mr. Long,
you're mistaken. I was only thinking about Jarge Riley. Ellen's going to
marry him in the spring."
Harry still smiled at her ingratiatingly. "She's not going to marry him
now, Rosie. She can't because, don't you see, she married me this
afternoon!"
"What!" Rosie, feeling suddenly sick and weak, crumpled down into her
chair, a nerveless little mass that gaped and blinked and waited for the
world to come to an end.
There was a pause broken at last by an hysterical laugh from Ellen.
"Don't look at me like that, Rosie! I should think you'd be glad I was
married to some one else!"
Ellen's words brought Rosie to her senses. "I am glad!" she cried. "You
never cared two straws about Jarge, anyhow! But why did you have to be
so crooked with him? When he finds out the way you've done this, it'll
just break his heart! I guess I know!"
Jamie O'Brien cleared his throat. "Rosie, you talk too much! Will you
just hold your tongue a minute while I find out what all this clatter's
about. Mr. Long, sir, will you be so good as to explain things?"
There was no smile on Jamie's face and Harry, looking at him, seemed to
realize that it was not a time for pleasantries.
"I hope, Mr. O'Brien," he began soberly, "that you'll forgive me for not
taking things more slowly. I expected to until this morning when Ellen
told me about this Riley fellow. Then I sort of lost my head. I was
afraid of delays and misunderstandings. I've been just crazy about
Ellen. The first time I saw her I knew she was the girl for me and I
came to town today to tell her so. I suppose she knew what I was going
to say and down at the shop, the very first thing, she began telling me
about Riley. Mighty straight of her, I call it. She had got herself
engaged to him but she didn't want to marry him, and it just seemed to
me that the easiest way out of things was for us to get married right
quick. So we hustled over the river and got to the courthouse just
before closing time. It was really my fault, Mr. O'Brien. I made Ellen
do it."
Jamie looked at Ellen thoughtfully. "I don't believe you'd have made her
do it if she hadn't wanted to do it."
"You're right, Dad," Ellen said; "I did want to. I didn't know how
little I cared about George or any one else until Harry came along.
George is good and kind and all that, but we'd never have made a team. I
knew it perfectly well and I was wrong not to tell him so."
Jamie nodded his head. "You're right, Ellen. You've treated him pretty
badly."
Her father's apparent blame of Ellen brought Mrs. O'Brien back to life
and to speech. "Jamie O'Brien, I don't see how you can talk so about
poor Ellen! You know yourself many's the time I've said to you, 'I can't
see Ellen milkin' a cow.' For me own part I think she's wise to choose
the life she has."
"Do you know the life she's chosen?" Jamie asked quietly. "I'm frank to
say I don't." He turned to Harry. "Since you're me son-in-law, Mr. Long,
perhaps you'll be willing to tell me who you are."
"Oh, Dad!" Ellen murmured, and Mrs. O'Brien whispered, "Why, Jamie!"
Harry flushed but answered promptly: "I'm twenty-six years old. I'm a
St. Louie man. I'm a travelling salesman for the Great Ostrich Feather
Company, head office at St. Louie. I'm on a twenty dollar a week salary
with commissions that usually run me up to thirty dollars."
Harry paused and Jamie remarked: "Plenty for a single man. You might
even have saved a bit on it, I'm thinking."
Harry hesitated. "No," he said slowly; "I'll tell you the truth. I've
been kind of a fool about money. I haven't saved a cent."
Rosie sat up suddenly. "I knew it!" she cried.
"Rosie!" whispered Mrs. O'Brien. "Shame on you!"
"Well, I just did!" Rosie insisted.
Her father, paying no heed to her, went on with his catechism: "But even
if you didn't save anything, I'm thinking with that salary you're not in
debt."
"Dad!" murmured Ellen in an agony of embarrassment.
"Be quiet, Ellen, and let your husband talk."
The flush on Harry's face deepened. "I'm sorry to say I have a few
debts--not many. I've been paying them off since I've known Ellen."
"There!" cried Mrs. O'Brien in triumph. "Do you hear that, Jamie!"
"Since you've known Ellen," Jamie repeated. "How long may that be?"
"I think it's nearly a month."
"H'm! Nearly a month.... Well, now, Mr. Long, since you've got a wife
and a few debts, is it your idea, if I might ask you, to start
housekeeping?"
"Dad!" Ellen cried; "I don't see why you put it that way! We've got
everything planned out."
Jamie was imperturbable. "I'd like to hear your plans, Ellen."
"We're not going housekeeping. I hate housekeeping, anyway. We're going
boarding."
"Boarding, do you say?" Jamie ruminated a moment. "If you were to ask
me, Mr. Long, I'd tell you that twenty dollars won't go far in
supporting a wife in idleness."
"Ellen don't want to be idle, Mr. O'Brien. It's her own idea to keep on
with millinery, and of course I can get her into a good shop in St.
Louie."
It was Mrs. O'Brien's turn to feel dismay. "Do you mean to tell me,
Ellen, that, as a married woman, you're keeping on working?"
Ellen's answer was decided. "I'd rather do millinery than housekeeping.
Millinery ain't half as hard for me. I told Harry so this afternoon and
he said all right."
"But, Ellen dear," wailed Mrs. O'Brien, "people'll be thinking that your
husband can't support you!"
Ellen laughed. "As long as I know different, that won't matter."
Jamie gave Ellen unexpected support. "Maggie, I think Ellen's right.
It'll be much better to be a good milliner than a poor housekeeper."
Jamie paused and looked at the young people thoughtfully. "Well, you're
married now, both of you, and perhaps you're well matched. I dunno.
Ellen's been a headstrong girl, never thinking of any one but herself
and, from your own account, Harry, you're much the same. You've both
jumped into this thing without thinking, but you'll have plenty of time
for thinking from now on. Well, it's high time you both had a bit of
discipline. It'll make a man and a woman of you. I don't altogether like
the way you've started out, but you're started now and there's no more
to say. So here's my hand on it, Harry, and may neither of you regret
this day!"
Jamie reached across the table and the younger man, in grateful
humility, grasped his hand. "Thank you, Mr. O'Brien," he said simply.
"You've made me see a few things."
Ellen got up and went around to her father's chair. "I have been
thoughtless and selfish, Dad. I see that now. I hope you'll forgive me."
There were tears in her eyes, and her lips, as she put them against her
father's cheek, trembled a little.
Harry turned himself to the task of winning his mother-in-law. "Is it
all right, Mrs. O'Brien?"
All right, indeed! Who could resist so handsome a son-in-law? Certainly
not Mrs. O'Brien. She broke out in tears and laughter.
[Illustration: They all looked at Rosie, who sat, oblivious of them,
staring off into nothing.]
"Ah, Harry, you rogue, come here and kiss me this minute!... Why," she
continued, "do you know, Harry, I had a presintimint the moment you
entered the gate! 'What a fine-looking couple!' says I to meself. And
the next minute I says, 'I wouldn't be a bit surprised if they made a
match of it!' Why, Harry, I've never seen a fella come and turn us all
topsy-turvy as you've done! Here I am talkin' me head off and Jamie
O'Brien's been doing the same! Do you mind, Ellen, the way your da's
been talkin'? You're not sick, are you, Jamie?"
Jamie chuckled quietly. "It's just I'm a little excited having a
daughter run off and get married."
"Oh, Dad!" Ellen begged.
"I suppose," Jamie went on, "Rosie'll be at it next."
They all looked at Rosie, who sat, oblivious of them, staring off into
nothing.
"What's the matter, Rosie?" her father asked.
Rosie roused herself. "I was just thinking about Jarge. Who's going to
tell him?"
"Ellen, of course," Jamie said. "Ellen'll have to write him."
"But will she do it?" Rosie persisted.
A look of annoyance crossed Ellen's face. "Of course I will. I'll have
plenty of time because I'm not going to St. Louie for a week. I'll write
him tomorrow."
Rosie looked at her sister curiously. She wanted to say: "You know
perfectly well you won't write him tomorrow or the next day or the day
after. You'll put it off from day to day and at last you'll go, and
then you'll never think of it again and poor Jarge'll come down here on
Thanksgiving expecting to find you, and then we'll have to tell him."
This is what Rosie wanted to say. But she restrained herself. When she
spoke, it was in a different tone. "All right, Ellen, I won't bother you
again. What dad says is true: you and Harry are married and that's all
there is about it. I hope you'll both be happy." Rosie hesitated a
moment, then walked over to Harry's chair. "And, Harry, I'm sorry I was
rude to you when you tried to kiss me. You see, I didn't know you were
Ellen's husband."
Rosie hadn't intended to be funny, but evidently she was, for a shout of
laughter went up and Harry gathered her in with a hug and a kiss.
"You're all right, Rosie!" he whispered. "I like you for the way you
stand up for George!"
_For the way she stood up for George!_... Tears filled Rosie's eyes. She
had tried faithfully to guard George's interests like the little
watch-dog Ellen had called her. But George would never know. How could
he? All he would know now was that he had been betrayed.