A FOOLISH GIRL
In the meantime Harriet Hamlin was equally as unhappy as Bab and Mollie.
For, instead of owing Madame Louise a mere fifty dollars, she owed her
almost five hundred and she dared not ask her father for the money to pay
the bill. The dividend, with which she had tempted Mollie to make her
ill-advised purchase, amounted to only twenty-five dollars. It had seemed
a sufficient sum to Harriet to pay down on her friend's investment, but
she knew the amount was not large enough to stay the wrath of her
dressmaker, as far as her own account was concerned.
Now, Harriet had never intended to let her bill mount up to such a
dreadful sum. She was horrified when she found out how large it really
was. Yet month by month Harriet had been tempted to add to her stock of
pretty clothes, without inquiring about prices, and she now found herself
in this painful predicament.
Harriet, also, thought of every possible scheme by which she might raise
the money she needed. On one thing she was determined. Her father should
never learn of her indebtedness. She would take any desperate measure
before this should happen; for Harriet stood very much in awe of her
father, and knew that he had a special horror of debt.
Since Charlie Meyers had behaved so rudely to Barbara, on the night of
their automobile ride to Mt. Vernon, Harriet had had nothing to do with
him. But now, in her anxiety, she decided to appeal to him. She could
think of no other plan. Charlie Meyers was immensely rich and a very old
friend. Five hundred dollars could mean very little to him, and Harriet
could, of course, pay him back later on. She fully intended to live
within her allowance in the future and save her money until she had paid
every dollar that she owed.
But how was Harriet to see Charlie Meyers? After all she had said about
him to the "Automobile Girls," she was really ashamed to invite him to
her house. So Harriet dispatched a note to the young man, making an
appointment with him to meet her on a corner some distance from the
house on the same afternoon that Bab made her uncomfortable visit to
Mrs. Wilson.
Charlie Meyers was highly elated when he read Harriet Hamlin's note. He
had known her since she was a little girl in short frocks and was very
fond of her. He had been deeply hurt by her coldness to him since their
automobile party, but he was such an ill-bred fellow that he simply had
not understood how badly he had behaved. He did know that Mr. Hamlin
disliked him and did not enjoy his attentions to his daughter; so he
hated Mr. Hamlin in consequence.
When Harriet's note arrived, he interpreted it to mean that she was sorry
she had treated him unkindly, and that she did care for him in spite of
her father's opposition. So he drove down to the designated corner in his
car, feeling very well pleased with himself.
Harriet, however, started out to meet the young man feeling ashamed of
herself. She knew that she was behaving very indiscreetly, but she
believed that Charlie Meyers would be ready to help her and that she
could make him do anything she wished. She accepted his invitation to
take a ride, but she put off the evil moment of voicing her request as
long as possible, and as they glided along in Meyers' car, she made
herself as agreeable to her escort as she knew how to be.
After they had driven some distance out from Washington in the direction
of Arlington, the old home of General Robert E. Lee, Charlie Meyers said
bluntly to Harriet:
"Now, Harriet, what's the matter? You said in your note that you wanted
to see me about something important. What is it?"
Harriet stopped abruptly and looked rather timidly at Meyers. She had
been trying in vain to lead up to the point of asking her favor, and here
her companion had given her the very opportunity she required.
Yet Harriet hesitated, and the laughter died away on her lips. She knew
she was doing a very wrong thing in asking this young man to lend her
money. But Harriet had been spoiled by too much admiration and she had
had no mother's influence in the four years of her life when she most
needed it. She was determined not to ask her father's help, and she knew
of no one else to whom she could appeal.
"I am not feeling very well, Charlie," Harriet answered queerly, turning
a little pale and trying to summon her courage.
"You've been entertaining too much company!" Charlie Meyers exclaimed. "I
don't think much of that set of 'Automobile Girls' you have staying with
you. They are good-looking enough, but they are kind of standoffish and
superior."
"No, indeed; I am not having too much company," Harriet returned
indignantly, forgetting she must not let herself grow angry with her
ill-bred friend. "I am perfectly devoted to every one of the 'Automobile
Girls,' and Ruth Stuart is my first cousin."
Harriet and Charlie were both silent for a little while after this
unfortunate beginning to their conversation, for Harriet did not know
exactly how to go on.
"I am worried," she began again, after a slight pause in which she
counted the trees along the road to see how fast their car was running.
"I am worried because I am in a great deal of trouble."
"You haven't been getting engaged, have you, Harriet?" asked the young
man anxiously. "If you want to break it off, just leave matters to me."
Harriet laughed in spite of herself. It seemed so perfectly absurd to
her to be expected to leave a matter as important to her happiness as her
engagement to a person like Charlie Meyers to settle.
Charlie Meyers was twenty-two years of age. He had refused to go to
college and had never even finished high school. His father had died when
he was a child, leaving him to the care of a stepmother who had little
affection for him. At the age of twenty-one the boy came into control of
his immense fortune. So it was not remarkable that Charlie Meyers, who
had almost no education, no home influence and a vast sum of money at his
disposal, thought himself of tremendous importance without making any
effort to prove himself so.
"No, I am not engaged, Charlie," Harriet answered frankly. "But I do want
you to do me a favor, and I wonder if you will do it?"
The young man flushed. His red face grew redder still. What was Harriet
going to ask him? He began to feel suspicious.
Now this rich young man had a peculiarity of which Harriet had not
dreamed, or she would never have dared to ask him for a loan. He was very
stingy, and he had an abnormal fear that people were going to try to make
use of him.
Harriet had started with her request, so she went bravely on:
"I'll just tell you the whole story, Charlie," she declared, "so you
will see what an awful predicament I am in. I know you won't tell Father,
and you may be able to help me out. I owe Madame Louise, my dressmaker,
five hundred dollars! She has threatened to bring suit against me at the
end of a week unless I pay her what I owe before that time. Would you
lend me the money, Charlie? I am awfully ashamed to ask you. But I could
pay you back in a little while."
Harriet's voice dropped almost to a whisper, she was so embarrassed. Her
companion must have heard her, for he was sitting beside her in the
automobile, but he made no answer.
Poor Harriet sat very still for a moment overcome with humiliation. She
had trampled upon her pride and self-respect in making her request, and
she had begun to realize more fully how very unwise she had been in
asking such a favor of this young man. Yet it had really never dawned on
the girl that Charlie Meyers could refuse her request. When he did not
answer, she began to feel afraid. Harriet could not have spoken again for
the world. Her usually haughty head was bent low, and her lids dropped
over her eyes in which the tears of humiliation were beginning to gather.
"Look here, Harriet," protested the young man at last. "Five hundred
dollars is a good deal of money even for me to lend. What arrangements do
you want to make about paying it back?"
"Why, Charlie!" Harriet exclaimed. "You can have the interest on the
money, if you like. I never thought of that."
"You can pay me back the interest if you wish," Charlie replied sullenly.
"But you know, Harriet, that I like you an awful lot, and for a long time
I've been wanting you to marry me. But you've always refused me. Now if
you'll promise to marry me, I'll let you have the money. But if you
won't, why you can't have it--that's all! I am not going to lend my good
money to you, and then have you go your way and perhaps not have anything
more to do with me for weeks. I tell you, Harriet, I like you an awful
lot and you know it; but I am not going to be made a fool of, and you
might as well find it out right now."
Harriet was so angry she simply could not speak for a few minutes. The
enormity of her mistake swept over her. But silence was her best weapon,
for Charlie Meyers began to feel ashamed. He was dimly aware that he had
insulted Harriet, and he really did care for her as much as he was
capable of caring for any one.
"I didn't mean to make you angry, Harriet," he apologized in a half
frightened voice. "I don't see why you can't care for me anyhow. I've
asked you to marry me over and over again. And I can just tell you, you
won't have to worry over debts to dressmakers ever again, if you marry
me. I've got an awful lot of money."
"I am very glad you have, Mr. Meyers," Harriet answered coldly, with a
slight catch in her voice. "But I am certainly sorry I asked you to lend
any of it to me. Will you never refer to this conversation again, and
take me home as soon as you can? I don't think it is worth while for me
even to refuse your offer. But please remember that my affection is
something that mere money cannot buy." Harriet's tone was so scornful
that the young man winced. He could think of nothing to reply, and turned
his car around in shame-faced silence.
Harriet too was very quiet. She would have liked to tell her companion
what she truly thought of him, how coarse and ill-bred he was, but she
set her lips and remained silent. She did not wish to make an enemy of
Charlie Meyers. After that day's experience, she would simply drop him
from her list of acquaintances and have nothing more to do with him.
Stupid though he was, the discomfited young man felt Harriet's silent
contempt. He wanted to apologize to her, to explain, to say a thousand
things. But he was too dense to know just what he should say. It was
better for him that he did wait to make his apology until a later day,
when Harriet's anger had in a measure cooled and she was even more
miserable and confused than she was at that time.
"I am awfully sorry, Harriet," Charlie Meyers stumbled over his words as
he helped her out of his machine. "You know I didn't exactly mean to
refuse your request. I'll be awfully glad to--"
But Harriet's curt good-bye checked his apologetic speech, and he turned
and drove swiftly away.