The guest chambers in Dan Pritchard’s home were two in number—richly
furnished but solid looking rooms for men. Julia scuttled from one to
the other, in a frenzy of indecision as to which was worthy to receive
her charge, while Tamea sat at the head of the staircase and waited.
Julia was several minutes making her decision as to whether Tamea would
look best in the room with taupe carpet and the French gray single bed,
or the one with the old-rose carpet and the old black walnut double bed.
Finally she decided on the former, and then sought Mrs. Pippy to ask if
Miss Morrison had sent over a spare nightgown. It developed that Miss
Morrison had neglected this important detail, so Mrs. Pippy graciously
donated one of her own and Julia returned with it.
Then she discovered that Tamea, being a young woman of initiative and
decision, had very promptly solved the problem of sleeping quarters.
While she had been no stranger to bedsteads and pillows, nevertheless
her upbringing in Riva had taught Tamea that there was no necessity to
be particular as to a lodging for the night. She could always glean an
excellent rest on a mat spread on a stone floor, with a polished section
of the trunk of a coco-palm as a pillow; and while waiting for Julia to
return, the richly carpeted floor had attracted her attention. Promptly
she lay down in the hall, pillowed her head on her arm and went to sleep
almost instantly.
“Poor lamb!” murmured the sympathetic Julia, and fled to summon Mrs.
Pippy to behold the unconventional guest. Mrs. Pippy gazed
disapprovingly, shook her handsome silvery head as if to say, “Mr.
Pritchard’s action in bringing this tomboy home for us to care for is
quite beyond _me_!” and retired to her room again, still shaking her
head.
Julia awakened her sleepy charge. “Come with me, Tammy, darlin’,” she
pleaded. “Sure, the flure is no place for you.”
“It is very soft,” Tamea protested. “And very warm, for such a cold
country.”
“Wait till Sooey Wan—bad cess to him!—puts the furnace out. Ye’d be
froze shtiff in the mornin’, Tammy——”
“My name is Tamea Oluolu Larrieau. You may call me Tamea, but to others
I must be Mademoiselle Larrieau.”
“Oh, sure, why not lave me call ye Tammy? Not a one but me will use that
name.”
“Your desire is granted because you are kind to me, Julia.”
“Thank you, Tammy. Here, sit you down in this chair and I’ll take off
your shlippers. . . . Now, thin, here’s your nightgown. Take off your
clothes and put the nightgown on whilst I fix the bed for you and get
you a dhrink of wather.”
Tamea held up Mrs. Pippy’s nightgown and looked it over critically. “The
wife of the missionary in Riva had several such as this,” she commented.
“It is not pretty. I had prettier ones than this aboard ship, but—for a
reason—I brought no baggage ashore with me. I do not like this
garment.” She tossed it through the open bathroom door into the tub.
“Now, Tammy,” began Julia, mildly expostulating.
“I will not wear it, Julia.”
“Sure, why not, Tammy, you little ninny, you?”
“What is a ninny?”
“Heaven knows,” the helpless Julia replied, “but I’m thinkin’ I’m it,
whatever it may be. Why won’t you wear the nightgown, Tammy? Sure all
nice gir’rls——”
“It belongs to her,” said Tamea and pointed majestically upward. “It
bears the letter _P_.”
“Be the Rock of Cashel,” sighed poor Julia, “you’re windictive so you
are,” and without further ado she went upstairs and brought down one of
her own plain _chemises de nuit_. Without a word Tamea donned it and
crept dutifully into bed.
“Do you not say your prayers before you get into bed, Tammy?” the pious
Julia queried reproachfully.
Tamea shook her head, dark and beautiful against the snowy pillow. Julia
sighed. Her own problems were always dumped, metaphorically speaking, in
the lap of her Christian God, night and morning.
“This is truly a bed for a queen,” said Tamea thoughtfully. “Is Monsieur
Dan Pritchard, then, a very rich man?”
“He have barrels of it,” Julia replied reverently.
“My father gave me to him, Julia.”
“Faith, an’ that’s where he showed his common sinse. Divil a finer
gintleman could you find the wide wur’rld over.”
Fell a long silence. Then: “Where is Madame Pritchard?”
“The masther has never been married, Tammy.”
“What? Has he, then, in his house none but serving women?”
“Ssh! Don’t talk like that, Tammy. Of course he hasn’t.”
“Strange,” murmured Tamea thoughtfully. “He is different from other men
of his race. Have no women sought his favor?”
Julia was embarrassed and exasperated. “How the divil should I know?”
she protested indignantly.
“You live in this house. You are his servant. Have you not ears? Are you
blind?”
“I never shpy on the masther.”
“Perhaps,” Tamea suggested, “it is because Monsieur Dan Pritchard has a
hatred of women.”
“Sorra bit o’ that.”
“Then is it that women have a hatred of him?”
“They’d give the two eyes out of their heads to marry him.”
A silence. “All this is very strange, Julia.”
“Don’t worry about it, Tammy. Go to sleep now.”
“Here is a great mystery. Has Monsieur Dan Pritchard, then, no
children?”
“Heaven forbid!” Julia was now thoroughly scandalized.
“Here _is_ a mystery. Does he not desire sons to inherit his name and
wealth?”
“I never discussed the matther wit’ him.”
“This is, indeed, a strange country with strange customs.”
“We’ll think o’ that in the mornin’, Tammy darlin’. Shall I put out the
light?”
“Yes, my good Julia. Good night.”
“Good night, dear.” Julia switched off the light and retired to the
door. Here, poised for flight, she turned and shot back at her charge a
question that had been perplexing her:
“Are you a Protestant or a Catholic, Tammy?”
“Neither,” murmured Tamea.
“Glory be! ’Tis not a Jew you are?”
“No.”
“Well, what, thin?”
“Are you trying to convert me, Julia?”
“I am not.”
“Then why do you ask?”
“I’m that curious, Tammy.”
“If you act like a missionary’s wife I shall dismiss you from my
service, Julia. I have no religion. I am free. I do what I jolly well
please. Yes, you bet.”
“An’ there’s an idea for you!” Julia soliloquized as she passed softly
out. “Begorry, we’ll have a grand time of it with that one, so we will.
Somebody’s been puttin’ notions in her head. _Ochone!_ Where the divil
was that one raised, I dunno. Angel that she is to look at she’s had a
slack father an’ mother, I’ll lay odds on that.”
Julia sighed and went downstairs to seek the aid of Sooey Wan in
scratching out the numbers of her choice on a ticket for the next day’s
drawing in the Chinese lottery. She found Sooey Wan washing the dishes
and singing softly.
“Are you singin’ or cryin’, Sooey Wan?” Julia greeted him.
“Hullah for hell,” said Sooey Wan. He tossed a soup plate to the ceiling
and caught it deftly as it came down. “Boss ketchum velly nice girl,” he
began.
“Can’t the poor man be kind to an orphan without you, you yellow divil,
puttin’ dogs in windows?”
“Velly nice,” Sooey Wan repeated doggedly. “Pretty soon I think give
boss many sons.”
“Say-y-y, what sort o’ place is this gettin’ to be, anyhow?”
“Pretty soon Sooey Wan think this going be legular place. One house no
ketchum baby, no legular house.”
“Say nothin’ to Mrs. Pippy of what’s in that ould head of yours, Sooey
Wan. What wit’ one haythen downstairs an’ another upstairs the woman’ll
be givin’ notice.”
Sooey Wan pulled open a drawer in the kitchen table and tossed out a
handful of bills and silver. “Ketchum ten spot for you today, Julia,” he
explained. “You lucky. Ketchum ten spot, ketchum pearl.”
“Faith, you’ll catch more than that if you don’t lear’rn to mind your
own business,” Julia warned him.
* * * * *
Long after the household had retired Dan Pritchard sat before the living
room fireplace reviewing in his mind’s eye the startling events of that
day. He felt depressed, obsessed by an unreasonable, wholly inexplicable
presentiment of events still more startling to occur in the not very
distant future.
As a rule, the majority of women puzzled Dan, many of them frightened
him, and all of them disturbed him. Of all the women he had ever known,
Maisie Morrison alone appeared to possess the gift of contributing to
his mental rest, his sense of spiritual well-being, even while her
practical, definite and positive personality occasionally disturbed his
creature comfort, robbed him of that sense of leadership and strength
which it is the right of all men to exhibit toward the women of their
choice, and appeared to render null and void the necessity for any
exhibition of the protective instinct. Infrequently Dan complained to
himself that Maisie would be a transcendently wonderful girl if she but
possessed just a trifle more imagination; having convinced himself that
this was so, he would watch for definite evidence to convict Maisie of
such a lack, only to be hurled back into his old state of mental
confusion by indubitable evidence that Maisie could read him and his
innermost thoughts as readily as if he were a signboard.
When he had complained to Maisie that morning that he was a square peg
in the round hole, he had voiced the unrest which all born radicals
experience when forced to live conservatively. For Dan knew he was a
radical in his viewpoint on many things held sacred by his conservative
brethren; he knew he lacked the instinctive caution and constructive
conservatism so evident in Maisie. He felt as one whose soul was hobbled
with a ball and chain. Maisie, he knew, suffered from no such sense of
repression, and this knowledge of her mental freedom sometimes forced
upon him a secret, almost womanish irritation.
Sometimes Dan was almost convinced that he ought to rid himself of his
habit of introspection, marry Maisie and live happily ever afterward.
Then, just as he would be almost on the point of growing loverlike,
Maisie would seem to pop out at him from a mental ambush; would seem to
lay a cool finger on the soul of him and say quite positively: “Here,
Dan, is where it hurts. The pain isn’t where you think it is at all. You
are a foolish, imaginative man, and if you do not heed my direction now,
you will eventually regret that you did not.”
And then Dan, outwardly smiling and expansive but inwardly glum and
shriveling, would tell himself that he could never, never dwell in
idyllic married bliss with such a dominating and interfering woman; and
Maisie, secretly furious, baffled, would watch him change from the
devoted admirer to the warm friend.
Tonight Dan decided that he was, beyond the slightest vestige of a
doubt, tremendously fond of Maisie Morrison. But—he was not at all
certain that he loved her well enough to ask her to marry him; he
marveled now, more than ever previously, what imp of impulse had moved
him to kiss her that morning. How warm and sweet and responsive had been
that momentary pressure of her lips to his? He visualized again that
lambent light that had leaped into her eyes. . . had he gone too far?
The telephone in the booth under the stairs in the entrance hall rang
faintly. He reached for the extension telephone on the living room table
and said: “Yes, Maisie?”
“How did you know it was I?” Maisie’s voice demanded.
“I cannot answer that question, Maisie. I merely knew. You see, I was
just beginning to think that I might have called you up and——”
“Indeed, yes,” she interrupted. How like her, he reflected. Her agile
brain was always leaping ahead to a conclusion and landing on it fairly
and squarely. “I have waited three hours for a report from you, Dan, and
when eleven o’clock came and you had not telephoned I couldn’t restrain
my curiosity any longer. Mrs. Pippy telephoned about seven o’clock and
told me an extraordinary and unbelievable tale of a semi-savage young
woman whom you had brought home and established as a guest in your
bachelor domicile. Mrs. Pippy tried her best to appear calm, but I
sensed——”
“I’m quite certain you did, Maisie,” he interrupted in turn. “You sensed
Mrs. Pippy’s amazement, indignation and disapproval. You’re the most
marvelous woman for sensing things that I have ever known.”
“But then, Dan,” she reminded him, “you haven’t known very many women
intimately. You’re such a shy man. Sometimes I think you must have
gleaned all of your knowledge of my sex from your father and Sooey Wan.
Who is the South Sea belle, Dan, and what _do_ you mean by picking up
with such a creature and expecting me to help you render her
presentable?”
“I didn’t expect you to, Maisie. I didn’t ask you and I didn’t suggest
that Mrs. Pippy ask you.”
“I couldn’t get any very coherent information from Mrs. Pippy. She was
greatly agitated. However, I called Julia up a few minutes later and
from Julia I learned that your guest hasn’t sufficient of a wardrobe to
pad a crutch.”
“Julia is very amusing,” he replied evenly. “However, do not think the
young lady arrived here in a hula-hula costume. I am her guardian.”
“How do you know you are?” Maisie demanded, a bit crisply.
“Her father, Captain Larrieau, of our schooner Moorea, asked me to be
before he died this afternoon.”
“Hum-m-m!” Maisie was silent momentarily. “How like a man to think he
can fill such an order without outside help.”
He was exasperated. “There you go, Maisie,” he complained, “jumping to a
conclusion.”
“If I’ve jumped to a conclusion, Dan, rest assured I have landed
squarely on my objective. Why didn’t you telephone me the instant you
reached home with your ward? I would have been happy to aid you, Dan.”
“I am sure you would have been, Maisie, but—well——”
“I knew I was right, Dan. The only way I can find things out is to be
rude and ask questions. You thought I might not approve of——”
“Of what?” he demanded triumphantly.
“Of the young woman you brought home with you, of course.” Maisie’s
voice carried just a hint of irritation.
“Certainly not. I was certain you would approve of her. She’s quite a
child—about seventeen or eighteen years old, I should say—and a
perfectly dazzling creature—ah, that is, amazingly interesting in her
directness, her frankness, her unconventionality and innocence. I do
hope you’ll like her. I thought at first I could entrust her to Mrs.
Pippy but——”
“I gathered as much, Dan. Now, start at the beginning and tell me
everything about her.”
Dan complied with her demand. When the recital was ended, said Maisie:
“What are you going to do with her, Dan?”
“My instructions from her father were to educate her and affiance her to
some worthy fellow. I shall cast my eye around the local French colony
after the girl has completed her schooling. She has a fortune of
approximately a quarter of a million dollars—always an interesting
subject for contemplation and discussion in the matrimonial
preliminaries.” He heard her chuckle softly and realized that she found
amusement visualizing him in the role of a matchmaker. “I suppose,” he
ventured, “you’re wondering why I didn’t take her to a hotel.”
“Any other man in your sphere of life would, but I am not so optimistic
as to expect you to do the usual thing. I’m consumed with curiosity to
see your Tamea, Dan.”
“A meeting can be arranged,” he answered dryly. “As soon as my little
queen has had an opportunity to purchase a wardrobe befitting her rank
and wealth, I shall be happy to have you presented at court, Maisie.”
“I suppose you’re going to select her wardrobe?”
“No, I think Julia will attend to that.”
“In heaven’s name, Dan, why Julia? Have you ever seen Julia all dressed
up and about to set out for Golden Gate Park? Mrs. Pippy has excellent
taste.”
“Mrs. Pippy is not, I fear, the favorite of the queen.”
“Then I shall attend to her outfitting, Dan.
“Will you, Maisie, dear?”
“Of course, idiot.”
“Well, that lifts a burden off my shoulders.”
“You do not deserve such consideration, Dan. You’re too uncommunicative
when you are the possessor of amazing news. However, you’re such a
helpless, blundering Simple Simon I knew somebody would have to manage
you while you’re managing Tamea. So I concluded to volunteer for the
sacrifice.”
“Maisie, you’re a peach. I could kiss you for that speech.”
“Really, you’re running wild, Dan. You kissed me once today. And I’ve
been wondering why ever since.”
“How should I know?” he confessed. He had a sudden, freakish impulse to
annoy her.
“Stupid! Were I as stupid as you—— I’ll be at your house at about ten
o’clock tomorrow and take charge of your problem.”
“I shall be eternally grateful.”
“And eternally silly and eternally afraid of me and what I’m going to
think about everything. I could pull your nose. Good night.” She hung up
without waiting for his answer.
“I fear me Maisie is the bossy, efficient type of young woman,” he
soliloquized as he replaced the receiver. “I hope she and Tamea will hit
it off together. I sincerely hope it.”
At midnight Sooey Wan came in from Chinatown, following a prodigious
burning of devil papers in a local joss-house and a somewhat profitable
two hours of poker.
His slant eyes appraised Dan kindly. “Boss,” he ordered, “go bed. You
all time burn ’em too muchee light, too muchee coal, too muchee wood.
Cost muchee money.” He moved briskly about the room, switching off the
electric light. “Too muchee thinkee, too muchee headache,” he warned
Dan. “You not happy, boss, you thinkee too much. No good!”
“Oh, confound your Oriental philosophy!” Dan rasped back at him. “The
curse of it is, you’re right!”
Sooey Wan pointed authoritatively upward and Dan slowly climbed the
stairs to his room.
Thus ended a momentous day.