felt convinced had little babies at home. It is because of the peculiar
look they wear, the rapturous mother-look, which has its home in the eyes
during the most helpless period of babyhood--an indescribable look, in
which dreams and prophecy and heaven are mingled. It is the sweetest look
which can come to a woman's face, saying plainly, "Oh, I have such a
secret in my heart! Would that every one knew its rapture with me!" It
wears off sooner or later, but with Nellie Mayo, whether because there
always was a baby, or because each was welcomed with such a world of love,
the look remained until it seemed a part of her face.
Long ago we knew her as an unworldly girl, whose peachblow coloring gave
to her face its chief beauty, although her plaintive blue eyes and smooth
brown hair called forth a certain protective faith in her simplicity and
goodness. Sometimes girlhood is a mysterious chaos of traits, out of which
no one can foretell what sort of cosmos will follow, or whether there will
be a cosmos at all or only intelligent chaos to the end. But this girl
seemed to carry her future in her face. She was a little mother to us all.
It was a tribute to her gentleness and dignity that, although she was a
poor girl among a bevy of rich ones, she was a favorite; unacknowledged
perhaps, but still a favorite. She always stood ready with her
unostentatious help. She was everybody's understudy. Flossy Carleton, as
she was then, fastened herself like a leech upon Nellie's capacity for
aid, and was a likely subject for the exercise of Nellie's swifter brain
and willing feet; for to see any one's unspoken need was to her like a
thrilling cry for help, and was the only thing which could completely draw
her from her shy reserve. The chief reason she was popular was that she
had a faculty of keeping herself in the shadow. You never knew where she
was until you wanted her, when she would seem to rise out of the earth to
your side. But, in spite of your intense gratitude at the moment, you
really found yourself taking her as a matter of course. She was one of
those who are fully appreciated only when they are dead, and who then call
forth the bitterest remorse that we have not made them know in life how
dear they were and how painfully necessary to our happiness.
It is rather a sad commentary upon those same girls, who accepted Nellie's
assistance most readily, to record that, when they were launched into
society and were deep in the mysteries of full-fledged young-ladyhood,
little Nellie Maddox was seldom invited to their most fashionable
gatherings, but came in, at first, before their memory grew too rusty,
for the simpler luncheons and teas.
This is not a history of intentional or systematic neglect, but a mere
statement of the way things drifted along. Not one of the girls would
wilfully have omitted her, if she had been in the habit of being asked;
but it was easy to let her name slip when all the rest did it, and so
gradually it came to pass that we seldom saw her. Then she married Frank
Mayo, who would not be offended if he heard a newsboy refer to him as "a
gent," or a maid-servant describe him as "a pretty man." Of such a one it
is scarcely necessary to add that he was selfish, inordinately conceited,
and, to complete the description, a trifle vulgar. He never suspected his
wife's cleverness nor appreciated her worship. It almost made me doubt her
cleverness to see how she idolized him, but this instance went far towards
proving that love, with some women, is entirely an affair of the heart. It
irritates Rachel to hear any one say so. She says it argues ignorance of a
nice distinction in terms, and that when the brain is not concerned it
should be called by a baser name.
I doubt if she could have brought herself to say so if she had been
looking into Nellie Mayo's blue eyes, which looked tired and a little less
blue than as I remembered them. They had pathetic purple shadows under
them, which told of sleepless nights with the babies, and there were fine
lines around her mouth; but her light-brown hair was as smooth and her
dress as plain and neat as ever.
It was like watching a nest of birds. I felt my own love expand to see the
wealth of affection Nellie had for her precious family. Her unselfish zeal
never flagged. She flitted from one want to another as naturally as she
breathed and with as little consciousness of the process. Her household
machinery ran no more smoothly than many another's, but Nellie met and
surmounted all obstacles with an unruffled brow. Her outward calm was the
result of some great inward peace. She simply had developed naturally from
the girl we had known before we grew up and went away to be "finished by
travel."
Nothing could go so wrongly, no nerves throb so pitilessly, that they
prevented her meeting her husband with the smile reserved for him alone.
None of the babies could call it forth. When he came home tired, Nellie
fluttered around him making him comfortable, as if life held for her no
sweeter task.
Being a woman myself, and having no husband to wait upon until it became
natural, I used to feel somewhat vexed that he never served her, instead
of receiving the best of everything so complacently. He never seemed to
realize that she might be tired or needed a change of routine. That
household revolved around him. Of course it was partly Nellie's fault that
he had fallen into the habit of receiving everything and making no return.
Fallen into it? No. With that kind of a man, an only son, and considered
by the undiscriminating to be good-looking, his wife had only to take up
his mother's unfinished work of spoiling him. It is true that these
unselfish women inculcate a system of selfishness in their families which
often works their ruin. They rob the children of their rightful virtue of
self-sacrifice.
So Nellie idolized her husband. He was her king, and the king could do no
wrong. She taught the babies a sweet system of idolatry, which so far had
been harmless. He cared very little for children; so, when yearning to
express their love for the hero of all their mother's stories, with their
little hearts almost bursting with affection, their love was most
frequently tested by being obliged to keep away from their idol in order
"not to bother him" with their kisses. Fortunately these same withheld
kisses were dear to Nellie, and she never was too busy to accept and
return them. Thus they never knew how busy she was. She was sure to be
about some sweet task for others. If she ever rested, it was with the
cosiest corner occupied by somebody else.
I wonder what will happen when, in heaven, one of these selfless mothers
is led in triumph to a solid gold throne, all lined with eider-down
cushions, where she can take the rest she never had on earth. Won't she
stagger back against the glittering walls of the New Jerusalem and say,
"Not for me. Not for me. Surely it must be for my husband?" But there,
where places are appointed, she will not be allowed to give it up--which
may make her miserable even in heaven. Ah me, these mothers! It brings
tears to my eyes to think of their unending love, which wraps around and
shelters and broods over every one, whose helplessness clings to their
help, whose need depends upon their exhaustless supply. Theirs it is to
bear the invisible but princely crest, "Ich dien."
Nellie had no time for literary classes. Her music, of which we used to
predict great things, had resolved itself into lullabies and kindergarten
ditties for the children. She seldom found an opportunity to visit even
me. So it was I who went there and saw how her life was literally bound by
the four walls of that little brown house; yet I never felt any
inclination to pity her, because she was so contented. I knew of others
who seemed happier--that is, the word seemed to describe them better--but
none of them possessed Nellie Mayo's placid content.
Still, I did not like her husband. He was not of Nellie's fine fibre. He
was dull, while she was delightfully clever. His eyes were rather good,
but he had a way of throwing expressive glances at me, as he talked upon
trifling subjects, which disgusted me. I reluctantly made up my mind that
he considered himself a "lady-killer," but I felt outraged that he should
waste his ammunition upon me. I tried to be amused by it, when I found
indignation was useless with him. I used to call him "Simon Tappertit" to
myself, until I once forgot and referred to him as "Simon" before Nellie,
when I gave up being amused and let it bore me naturally. I always had
treated him with unusual consideration for Nellie's sake, and even had
tried genuinely to admire him because it gave her such pleasure; but when
I discovered that the jackanapes took it as an evidence that he was
progressing in my esteem, I did not know whether to laugh or cry with
vexation.
All at once, without any explanation or preface, Sallie began calling upon
Mrs. Mayo and sending her flowers from her conservatories. Often when
Sallie came to see me her coachman had orders to be at Mrs. Mayo's
disposal, to take the children for a drive, while Sallie and I sat and
talked about everything except why she had embarked upon this venture. I
was sure there was something in it which must be kept out of sight,
because Sallie never would talk about them.
I noticed that whenever Frank was away from home--which grew more and more
frequent--an invitation was sure to come for the Mayos from Sallie. But
Nellie never accepted without him, whether from pride or timidity I could
not then determine, and all Sallie's efforts to persuade her were
unavailing.
It was such an unusual proceeding in Mrs. Payson Osborne to seek out any
one that it excited my wonder. But she was not to be balked by anything;
moreover, I had great faith in her motives, which were sound and good,
even if her plans of carrying them out inclined to the frivolous.
But all at once her frivolity seemed to reach a climax. She issued
invitations for a lawn fête, to be followed by a very private, very select
dinner, after which came the cotillon. She had decorators from New York,
and otherwise ordered the most extravagant setting for her entertainment.
This might not seem unusual to every one, but with us, who are accustomed
to extracting our enjoyment from one party at a time, this seemed rather a
superb affair. Pet Winterbotham was almost wild with delight.
"Only think," she cried, "she has asked Jack and me to lead the cotillon!
Isn't that sweet of her? Oh, I do think she is the dearest thing! Though I
must say I'd rather have been asked to the dinner. That's going to be
perfectly elegant. I heard it was to be given for somebody, but I don't
know who it could be. It might be for Frankie Taliaferro. Mrs. Osborne has
asked her to come up for it."
Pet's remarks rushed on until I soon found myself carried along the tide
of her enthusiasm, which she assured me was shared by every girl in town.
I shall not attempt to describe Sallie's success. The weather, the people,
fortune itself, was in her favor, and the whole afternoon was admirable. I
confess, however, that it was with some slight curiosity that I awaited
the dinner.
Sallie's cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone with an unusual brilliancy
as she greeted us, but the proverbial feather would have felled any one of
her guests when Payson offered his arm to Mrs. Frank Mayo, who rose out of
a shadowy corner in a high-throated gown and led us to the dining-room. I
caught Sallie's eye as she laid her hand on Frank Mayo's arm, and she gave
me a comical look, half imploring, half defiant.
I was guilty of wondering if Sallie had been demented when she planned
that dinner-table, for this is the way we found ourselves:
Next to Frank Mayo came Alice Asbury, encased in freezing dignity. Brian
Beck, at his worst, supported her on the other hand. After Brian were
Louise King and Charlie Hardy, both looking to my practised eyes
exceedingly stiff and uncomfortable. I had no time to wonder if the blow
had fallen, in casting a glance at the other guests. Nellie Mayo was
admirably situated between Charlie Hardy and Payson Osborne, both of whom
were deference itself to her. The difference in her simple attire from the
full dress all around her in no wise disturbed her unworldly spirit. She
looked with quiet admiration at the handsome shoulders of Louise and
Rachel, evidently never dreaming that the babies' mother might be
expected to follow their example in dress.
[Illustration: Seating plan.]
Grace Beck, sitting by Norris Whitehouse, would have an excellent
opportunity of cementing or breaking off the prospective match, which as
yet was unannounced, between her sister and his nephew. Rachel would be
polite, but not wildly entertaining, to Asbury; but he could count on me
to be decent to him, while I snatched crumbs of intellectual comfort from
Percival on my other hand. But Sallie had placed the funereal Clinton
Frost between that rattle-pated Frankie Taliaferro and her lively self,
probably with the laudable intention of seeing whether his face would be
permanently disfigured by a smile. Nor was the poor wretch out of Brian
Beck's reach, but was made the objective point of Brian's liveliest
sallies, the hero of his most piquant and impossible stories, which
convulsed us until I felt sure that the irritated Mr. Frost must cherish
a secret but lively desire to punch his head. Possibly Brian was the only
one who thoroughly enjoyed himself at that ill-starred dinner, for he is
keen on the scent of a precarious situation which is liable to involve
everybody in total collapse. In this instance he seemed to snuff the
battle from afar and stirred up all the slumbering elements of discord
with unctuous satisfaction; and if it had not been for the wicked twinkle
in his Irish blue eyes, which none of his victims could withstand, it
might have resulted seriously. He gayly rallied Charlie Hardy on his
flirtations; predicted seeing him yet brought up with a round turn in a
breach-of-promise case; seemed highly edified by Frankie Taliaferro's
efforts to appear unconcerned at these pleasantries; railed openly at
Clinton Frost's being so unresponsive to the general mirth around him;
shivered visibly at that gentleman's icy retorts; playfully called
attention to his wife's endeavors to frown him into silence; and, in spite
of Sallie's angry glances, really saved her dinner from proving a dismal
failure. Indeed, the cases were too real, and too much genuine misery was
concealed behind impassive faces, not to prove a dangerous situation, the
tension of which was relieved by Brian's extravagant nonsense. Percival
and Norris Whitehouse were sincerely amused by the wit in which Brian
clothed his droll remarks. But the greatest misfortune of the dinner-giver
was realized in Frank Mayo, the man who thinks he can tell a good story.
The Mayos were so new to all of us that this peculiarity was not suspected
until Brian discovered it and dragged it forth. He persuaded Frank to
talk, listened with absorbing interest to the flattest tales, encouraged
him if he flagged, and laughed until the tears came if he by chance forgot
or slurred a point.
However, no one seemed to think that there was anything seriously amiss
except Sallie, who is a human barometer when she has guests. She knows by
instinct when they are or are not being entertained. Nor was her tact at
fault in seating the people, for I was the only one laden with almost
unbearable knowledge, and I fell asleep that night thinking that possibly
the situation was not so unusual as it appeared to me. I dare say plenty
of dinners are given with just as many unsuspected trap-doors to
sensationalism.
X
THE PATHOS OF FAITH
"To him who is shod the whole world is covered with leather."
The next afternoon I was resting and thinking over the brilliancy of the
Payson Osborne entertainment, when Sallie came in, dressed from head to
foot in black. There was not a suspicion of white at wrist or throat. I
was too startled to ask a question until her burst of laughter relieved
me.
"You poor thing!" she cried, "did I frighten you? But I _am_ in mourning;
yes, truly, for my dinner-party. Ruth, Ruth, what was the matter with it?"
"Why, nothing. It was exquisitely served, and oh, Sallie, your lawn fête
and the cotillon were beautiful. They were perfect. Truly, you do give the
most successful entertainments in town."
"Certainly--why shouldn't I," said Sallie sharply, "when I have never done
anything, _anything_ all my life but go to parties and study how to give
them? Oh, Ruth, dear, I do get so tired of it all. But," taking on a
brisker tone, "all the more reason why I should never give such a sad
affair as that dinner. That dinner, Ruth, was what Brian Beck calls a
howling failure. Payson never criticises anything that I do, but even he
came to me quite gingerly this morning, after I had read what the papers
had to say about it, and said, 'My dear child, what was the matter with
your tea-party?' Now, let us admit the success of the other two, and weep
a little in a friendly way over the 'tea-party.'"
"I had a lovely time--" I began, but Sallie interrupted me.
"Hypocrite!" she cried vehemently. "You know you didn't. Your eyes were as
big as turkey platters with apprehension."
"My dear Sallie," I expostulated.
"Don't you dare put on airs with me, then," she said mutinously. "Now,
what ailed them all? It couldn't have been the advent of the Mayos. I've
launched more ticklish craft than they. Nor could it have been that
abominable Brian Beck, who would spoil Paradise and be the utter ruin of
a respectable funeral. Every one seemed to conspire to make my dinner a
failure."
"Oh, Sallie, I think Percival especially exerted himself. He was in his
most exquisite mood."
"Oh, Percival, of course. He must have suspected that something was going
wrong. Did you ever notice, when he talks, how Rachel turns her head away?
But you can see the color creep up into her face. She is too proud and shy
to let people see how much she cares for him. But when _she_ speaks
Percival looks at her with all his eyes, and positively leans forward so
that he shall not miss a word. I love to watch those two. Sometimes when I
have been with them I feel as if I had been to church."
"Then, too, Payson's manner to Nellie Mayo was the most chivalric thing I
ever saw. He treated her as if the best in the land were not too good for
her."
"Nor is it," said Sallie warmly.
"I'm glad you think so. What a sweet, unworldly spirit she has! Almost any
woman would have been distressed because of her gown; but she was so
superior to her dress, with that uplifted face of hers, that I felt
ashamed to think of it myself. You gave her a rare pleasure last night,
for she never meets clever men and women. The Percivals and Mr. Whitehouse
delighted her, and you saw how well she sustained her part of the
conversation. You see she thinks, if she doesn't have time to study. She
was particularly fortunate in having Payson to take her out, for he has a
faculty of putting people at their ease. Do you know, Sallie, Payson
Osborne has come out wonderfully since you married him. He is more
thoughtful, more considerate, and his manners always have been _so_ good.
I declare, last night I caught him looking at you in a way which made me
quite fond of him."
"I'm fond of him myself," said Sallie candidly. "He undoubtedly is a dear
old thing, and he is tremendously good to me. By the way, did you notice
how red Frankie Taliaferro's eyes were last night? She had the toothache,
poor girl. It came on quite suddenly just before dinner, and it alarmed me
for fear she couldn't appear. Just before dinner I was naming over the way
the people were to go in, and I said that I had to put engaged people
together and separate husbands and wives, after the manner of real life,
and Payson asked if I was sure Louise King and Charlie Hardy were engaged,
and I said yes, although it never had been announced, and just then
Frankie burst into tears. It was a suspicious time for crying, especially
as that egregious flirt had paid her a great deal of attention; but
Frankie would tell _me_, I am sure, and then she really had been to the
dentist's that morning. So I gave her something for it which she said
cured it. I was so vexed at her for making her eyes red, for her blue
dress brought it out. If she had been crying over the other, she might
have spared her tears, for I don't believe Charlie and Louise are engaged.
I think they have quarrelled, for when Charlie offered his arm to Louise,
she looked up with that way she has of throwing her head back, and I
declare to you, Ruth, I saw, I positively saw, forked lightnings shoot
from her eyes. They blazed so I was afraid they would set his tie on fire.
As for Charlie, he turned first green, then magenta, then a rich and
lively purple. I give you my word they did not speak to each other during
that dinner, nor would Louise stay to the cotillon. Charlie danced it with
Frankie. Nice state of affairs, isn't it?"
I felt myself grow weak. But Sallie proceeded gayly: "Then you know how
hard I have tried to propitiate those miserable Asburys. I declare, I
think Alice might meet me half way. Perhaps she didn't like being seated
between Frank Mayo and Brian Beck, but both she and that awful Frost man
sat as stiff and unsmiling as if they had swallowed curtain-poles by the
dozen." Sallie does not mind an extra word or two to strengthen a simile.
I tried to imagine Alice and Mr. Frost gulping down the articles Sallie
mentioned, but mine was no match for Sallie's nimble fancy and I gave it
up. "I do hope that Pet Winterbotham will not marry that man. I should as
soon see her led to the altar by a satin-lined casket. I had to invite him
when I found that Frankie could come. Wasn't Brian Beck dreadful, and
didn't you think you would go to sleep under Frank Mayo's stories? And
didn't Grace Beck's airs with Mr. Whitehouse amuse you? Oh, she will hold
that head of hers so high if Pet marries Jack. How bored Asbury looked,
didn't he? So selfish of him not to pretend to be pleased. Even Rachel
vexed me by not being nicer to Asbury. I declare, Ruth, I was so irritated
at the queer way every one acted, I felt as if it would be a relief to
make faces at them, instead of beaming on them the hospitable beam of a
hostess. I wonder how they would have liked it."
"They might have considered it rather unconventional perhaps."
Sallie smiled absent-mindedly, pressed her hand to her flushed cheek,
looked over towards the Mayo house, and then, meeting my inquiring glance,
dropped her eyes in confusion.
"Well," I said tentatively.
Sallie leaned back in her chair, put her hands behind her head, and closed
her eyes.
"I wonder," she said dreamily, "why I ever attempt to do things. Why can't
people let me alone, and why don't I let them alone? Most of all, why do I
ever try to keep a secret?"
I knew then that she had been rattling on because her mind was full of
something else. I don't believe she knew half that she had said. Presently
to my surprise I saw a tear steal down her cheek.
"O Sallie!" I exclaimed, now really worried, "what is it?"