The Goddess
On the same day Geraldine and Miss Upton were patronizing the department
stores in the city and getting such clothing as was absolutely necessary
for the girl. Geraldine's purchases were rigidly simple.
"I think you're downright stingy, child," commented Miss Upton when the
girl had overruled certain suggestions Miss Mehitable had made with the
fear of Ben Barry before her eyes.
"No, indeed. Don't you see how it's counting up?" rejoined Geraldine
earnestly. "All these things on your bill, and no telling how soon I can
pay for them."
Miss Upton noticed how the salesgirls appreciated the beauty they had to
deal with, and she was in sympathy with their efforts to dress Geraldine
as she deserved.
There were some shops into which the girl refused to enter, and it was
plain to her companion that these had been the scenes of some of her
repulsive experiences.
Also they shunned the restaurant where they had met; and every minute
that they were on the street Geraldine held tight to Miss Upton's
substantial arm.
"I shall be so glad when we get home," she said repeatedly.
"Now, look here," said Miss Upton, "there's one thing you've got to
accept from me as a present. You're my little girl and I've a right to
give you one thing, I hope."
"I'd much rather you wouldn't," returned Geraldine anxiously--"not until
I've paid for these."
She had changed the white dress she wore into town for a dark-blue skirt
and jacket which formed the chief item of her purchases, and on her head
she had a black sailor hat which Miss Upton had procured in Keefe.
"I want to give you," said Miss Upton--"I want to give you a--a droopy
hat!"
Geraldine laughed. "What in the world for, you dear? What do I need of
droopy hats?"
"To wear with your light things--your white dress, and--and everything."
"Miss Upton, how absurd! I don't need it at all. Don't think of such a
thing. I shan't go anywhere."
"I don't believe you know what you'll do," returned Miss Mehitable.
"Just come and try one on, anyway. I want to see you in it."
So, coaxing, while the girl demurred, she led her to the millinery
section of the store they were in. Of course, putting hats on Geraldine
was a very fascinating game, which everybody enjoyed except the girl
herself. There was one hat especially in which Miss Upton reveled,
mentally considering its devastating effect upon Ben Barry. It was very
simple, and at the most depressed point of the brim nestled one soft,
loose-leaved pink rose with a little foliage. Miss Upton's eyes
glistened and she drew the saleslady aside.
"I've bought it," she said triumphantly when she came back.
"It isn't right," replied Geraldine, although it must be admitted that
she herself had thought of Ben when she first saw the reflection of it
in the glass.
"Don't you want me to have any fun?" returned Miss Mehitable, quite
excited, for the price of the hat caused the matter to be portentous.
"Let him pay for it," she considered recklessly. "What's the harm as
long as he and I are the only ones who know it, and wild horses couldn't
drag it out of me?"
So, Geraldine carrying the large hatbox, they at last pursued their way
to the railway station and with mutual sighs of relief stowed themselves
into the train for Keefe.
"What you thinkin' about, child?" demanded Miss Mehitable after a long
period of silence.
Geraldine met her regard wistfully. "I was wondering if anybody is ever
perfectly happy. Isn't there always some drawback, some 'if' that has to
be met?"
"Was you thinkin' about Mrs. Barry, Geraldine? I'm sorry she had one o'
her haughty spells that day--"
"No, I was not thinking of her; it is Mr. Barry--Ben. He went on a very
dangerous errand yesterday."
"You don't say so! Why, he came in as gay as a lark with those apple
blossoms and he went out to his machine whistlin'. He couldn't have had
much on his mind. You know I told you yesterday he's as sensible as he
is brave."
"What good is bravery against a madman with a gun--still he promised, he
promised me he would not go to the farm alone."
"Then he'll abide by it. You do give me a turn, Geraldine, talkin' about
madmen and guns."
The girl sighed.
"I haven't had anything but 'turns' ever since I first saw the Carder
farm; but it is unkind to draw you into it. Sometimes I wish I had never
mentioned Pete to Mr. Barry, yet it seems disloyal to leave the boy
there when I owe him so much."
And then Geraldine told her friend in detail the part the dwarf had
played in her life.
* * * * *
Mrs. Barry was, of course, able to think of little else than the new
element which had come so suddenly into her calm, well-ordered life. She
shrank fastidiously from anything undignified, and she felt that through
no fault of her own she was now in an undignified position. In her son's
eyes she was a culprit. Even her humble friend, Mehitable Upton, had
revealed plainly an indignation at her attitude. When Ben left yesterday
telling her that he might be gone several days, without explaining why
or where, she felt the barrier between them even while he kissed her
good-bye. He had made a vigorous declaration of independence that night
at dinner, and now he had gone away to let her think it over, not even
noticing that her eyes were heavy from a sleepless night.
All that day, as she moved about her customary occupations, the thought
of Geraldine haunted her; the way the girl had avoided her eyes after
their first encounter, how she had clung to Miss Upton, and how eagerly
she had urged departure.
"So silly," thought Mrs. Barry while she fed her pigeons. "How absurd of
her to expect anything different from a civil reception."
Side by side with this condemnation, however, ran the consideration of
how Ben had probably flung himself at her feet so far as the Scout plane
would allow, and how he had even urged immediate matrimony. That hurt
too much! Mrs. Barry saw the pigeons through a veil of quick tears. One
more night she slept or waked over the problem, and as her thought
adjusted itself more to Geraldine, the practical side of the girl's
situation unfolded to her consideration. There would seem to be no
question of returning to the irate farmer to get her clothing, yet that
might be the very thing Ben was doing now; risking his precious life
again for this stranger who was nothing to them. The more Mrs. Barry
thought about it, the more restless she became. At last there was no
question any longer but that her only peace lay in going to Miss Melody.
After all, it was merely courteous to inquire how the girl had borne the
excitement of her escape; but in the back of Mrs. Barry's mind was the
hope that she might discover where her boy had gone now.
She made a hasty toilet, jumped into her electric, and drove
to Upton's Fancy Goods and Notions. The shades were drawn. The
taking-account-of-stock notice was still on the door which resisted all
effort to open it.
Knocking availed nothing. Mrs. Barry's lips took a line of firmness
equal to her son's. Walking around to the back door, she found it open
and entered the kitchen. It was empty.
She moved through the house into the shop. There was Mrs. Whipp, her
head tied up in a handkerchief, bending over a packing-box. She started
at a sound, raised her head, and stood amazed at the visitor's identity.
"I knocked, but you didn't seem to hear me," said Mrs. Barry with
dignity.
"Yes'm, I did hear a knock," returned Charlotte, "but they pound there
all day, and o' course I didn't know't was you. I tell Miss Upton if we
kept the door locked and the shades down all the time, we'd do a drivin'
business. Folks seem jest possessed to come in and buy somethin' 'cause
they can't. Did you want somethin' special, Mrs. Barry?"
"I came to see Miss Melody. I wished to inquire if she has recovered
from her excitement."
A softened expression stole over Charlotte's weazened face.
"She ain't here. They've gone to the city."
"Who--who did you say has gone?"
Mrs. Barry controlled her own start. Visions of two in that roadster
swept over her. Perhaps, she herself having forfeited her right to
consideration--there was no telling what might have happened by this
time. Mrs. Whipp's smile was frightfully complacent.
"Miss Upton and her went together," was the reply. "Of course, all the
girl's clo'es was in the den o' that fiend she got away from, and she
had to git some more."
Mrs. Barry breathed freer.
"Miss Upton cal'lated to get some things from her customers and fix 'em
over, but Mr. Barry, he wouldn't have it so."
"Are you referring to my son?"
"Yes, Miss Upton said he turned up his nose at hand-me-downs, so she had
to jest brace up and git 'em new."
Mrs. Whipp's eyes seemed to see far away and her expression under the
protecting towel was one quite novel.
Mrs. Barry cleared her throat.
"My son was here, then, before he went away on his--his little trip."
"Yes," replied Mrs. Whipp, appearing to perceive Dan Cupid over her
visitor's shoulder. "He come in to bring the apple blossoms and ask how
Geraldine was, and that night sech a box o' candy as he sent her! You'd
ought to 'a' seen it, Mis' Barry. P'r'aps you did see it." Charlotte met
the lady's steady eyes eagerly.
"No, I did not see it."
"Well, that poor little girl she couldn't half enjoy them bon-bons,
'cause she was so scared somethin' was goin' to happen to Mr. Barry."
"What do you mean?"
"Why, she was afraid he'd gone back to that farm where they murder folks
as quick as look at 'em." Charlotte sniffed a sniff of excited
enjoyment.
"What would he go there for?" demanded Mrs. Barry. "Surely not to get
those foolish clothes!"
"I don't know. I only know Geraldine cried. Miss Upton said so; but she
told her how Mr. Barry was jest as smart as he was brave and she took
her to the city to git her mind off."
Charlotte smiled with as soft an expression as the unaccustomed lips
could reveal, and nothing but stamping her aristocratic foot could have
expressed Mrs. Barry's exasperation.
"I am quite sure my son would not take any absurd and unnecessary step,"
she said, with such hauteur that Mrs. Whipp came out of her day-dream
and realized that the great lady's eyes were flashing. Without another
word the visitor turned and left the shop, her black and violet cape
sweeping through living-room and kitchen and back into her machine.
The rest of the day was spent by the lady in alternations of scorn,
vexation, and anxiety.
Late in the afternoon she heard a motor enter the grounds, and hurrying
to the door saw with a happy leap of the heart that it was Ben's
roadster. Her relief drove her to forgive and forget and to hurry out to
the piazza. The machine came on and she saw that her son was not alone.
A boy sat beside him.
The roadster stopped. Ben jumped out and kissed his mother, then
beckoned to Pete, who obediently drew near and stood on his curved legs,
his hat in his hand. He looked up at the queenly lady, and his eyes
which had ceased to wonder were still seeking.
"Is she here, Master?" he asked.
"No, but near by," replied Ben.
"Mother, I've engaged a new boy. His name is Pete. He is here for
general utility. He is very willing."
Mrs. Barry gazed in disapproval at the quaint, clean figure in his
brand-new clothes. Pete's rough hands constantly twirled his straw hat.
"You should have asked me," she said. "We don't need any more help."
Ben put his arm around her and drew her close to him. "Yes, we do," he
replied cheerfully, "down at Keefeport. Pete will go there and keep
things in shape. You will wonder how you ever got along without him; but
I need him first. He was one of the hands at the Carder farm--has been
there from a child and he knows more about his master's devilment than
anybody else."
"Ben!" His mother looked up reproachfully into the young fellow's happy
eyes. "Why did you need to risk your life again--"
"Oh, not a bit of that," laughed Ben. "I picked Pete out of a grocery
store--"
"Where is she, Master?" The voice of the boy was pleading again.
"Pete was a good friend to Miss Melody, the only one she had, and now
his reward is going to be to see her."
"You don't mean," exclaimed Mrs. Barry, "that you have spent a couple of
days to get this boy and dress him up in order to allow him to see Miss
Melody?"
"No, not exactly. I kidnapped him as an information bureau."
"Why can't you let that disgusting farmer alone?" asked the lady
despairingly.
"Because if I do, he won't let us alone," returned Ben shortly. "Well,
now, we've shown ourselves to you and we'll be off to keep my word to
Pete. Hop in, boy."
* * * * *
Miss Upton and Geraldine had reached home, hatbox and all, and were in
the dismantled shop answering Charlotte's questions when they heard an
automobile stop before the door and a cheery whistle sounded. The
repellent shades were still down at the windows.
"That's Ben Barry!" exclaimed Miss Mehitable. "Don't you dare to touch
that hat!" she added severely to Geraldine, whose cheeks flushed deeply
as a tattoo began on the locked door.
So the girl was standing in the middle of the room wearing the droopy
hat when Ben came in, followed by the dwarf at whom Miss Mehitable and
Charlotte stared.
Geraldine forgot her hat, and Ben Barry--forgot everything but the eager
adoration in the face of the transformed slave. "Why, Pete, Pete!" she
cried joyously, running to meet him.
The boy bit his lips to keep back the tears and his clumsy fingers
worked nervously as his goddess rested both her hands on his shoulders.
He couldn't speak, but gazed and gazed up into the eyes under the droopy
hat.
Ben Barry, his arms folded, looked on at the tableau while Geraldine
murmured welcome and reassurance.
"Aren't we the happiest people in the world, Pete?" she finished softly.
He choked. "Yes, and I'm not going back," he was able to say at last.
"I should say not," put in Ben. "I've brought somebody to help you move,
Mehit," he added. Miss Upton was still staring at the dwarf's legs.
"That's fine," said Geraldine. "Pete is just the right one for us."
The boy kept his eyes on hers.
"He can't ever get you again," he said, with trembling eagerness,
"'cause I know all about the girls he had there before you, and how one
jumped out the winder, and I know what hospital they took her to, for I
drove, and I'm goin' there with Mr. Barry, and he's goin' to--"
"Never mind, Pete," interrupted Ben quietly. "We're going to take care
of that without troubling Miss Melody."
The dwarf dropped back as Ben advanced. Charlotte said afterward that it
gave her a turn to see the manner in which the young man took both the
girl's hands and scanned her changed appearance.
"It looks perfectly absurd with this tailor suit," she said, blushing
and laughing. "Miss Upton _would_ give it to me. So extravagant!"
The elaborate wink which Miss Mehitable bestowed on Ben as he glanced
at her over his love's head was intended to warn him that he had a bill
to pay.
"Miss Upton has been your good fairy all along, hasn't she?" His look
was so intense and he spoke so seriously that Geraldine glanced up at
him half timidly and down again.
Charlotte pulled Miss Upton's dress and motioned with her head toward
the living-room; but, as Miss Mehitable said afterward, "What was the
good of _their_ goin' and leavin' that critter there?"
"Thank you for the candy, Mr. Barry," said Geraldine, meeting his eyes
again steadily, "but please don't. You have put me under everlasting
obligation, but will you do me one more favor? Will you let me help
these dear women and--and stay away, and--don't send me anything?"
Miss Mehitable understood this prayer, and she had a qualm as she
thought of the price of the bewitching hat which was at the present
moment doing its worst.
"Yes, for a little while," replied Ben. "Pete will get you moved and
settled at the Port and then he and I will take a trip. I don't know
how long we shall be away; but when we return you will understand that
the ogre's teeth have been extracted, the tiger's claws cut, and the
spider's web rent. How's that?" He smiled down into the girl's grave
eyes, still holding her hands close.
"If I could only find out what my father's debt to him really is, I
would consecrate my life to paying it," she said in a low tone.
Miss Mehitable felt that the atmosphere was getting very warm.
"Come here, Pete," she said. "I want to show you my kitchen." The dwarf
walked slowly backward to the door, his eyes on the young couple, as if
he feared to let them out of his sight lest they vanish and he waken.
"Come on, Charlotte."
The three disappeared, Miss Mehitable urging Pete by the shoulder.
"I'll try to find out," returned Ben; "and if it is possible to do that,
the debt shall be paid."
Geraldine caught her lip under her teeth and swallowed the rising lump.
"Oh, Mr. Barry--Ben," she said at last, "of course I have no words to
thank you--"
"I don't wish to be thanked in words."
"You're too generous."
"Not in the least," returned Ben quietly. "I want to be thanked. I want
each of us to thank the other all our lives. I to be grateful to you for
existing, and you to thank me for spending my days with the paramount
thought of your happiness."
They looked at each other for a long silent minute.
"Mrs. Whipp says your mother came to call on me to-day," said Geraldine
at last. "She described her manner so well that it is evident she came
at the point of your bayonet. I understand the situation entirely. I've
already heard that she is the great lady of the town. You are her only
son. Do you suppose I blame her when out of a clear sky you produced me
and made your feeling plain to her? Is it any wonder that she made hers
plain to me? I should think"--Geraldine gave an appealing pressure to
the hands holding hers--"I should think you could be generous enough
to--to let me alone."
Her eyes pleaded with him seriously.
"What am I doing?" asked Ben. "What do you suppose is the reason that
I'm wasting all these minutes when I might be holding you in my arms!"
He had to stop here himself and swallow manfully. "If you knew how you
look at this moment--and I don't kiss you--just because I'm giving
Mother a little time, so that you will be satisfied--"
"Then you'll promise--will you promise--you kept your promise about the
farm?"
"Yes; I found Pete in the village."
"Then you do keep promises! Tell me solemnly that you will leave your
mother in freedom. If you don't, Ben--Sir Galahad--I'll run away. I
really will--"
In her earnestness she lifted her face toward his, her eyes were
irresistible, and in an instant he had swept her into his arms and was
kissing her tenderly, fervently, to the utter undoing of the droopy hat
which fell unnoticed to the floor.
Voices approaching made him release her.
Very flushed, very grave, both of them, they looked into each other's
eyes, and Geraldine, being a woman, put both hands up to her ruffled
hair.
"I do promise you, Geraldine," he said, low and earnestly. "Whatever my
mother does after this you may know is of her own volition."
Pete burst into the room wild-eyed, followed by Miss Mehitable, who was
talking and laughing.
"He was afraid you'd go away without him," she said--"Mercy's sakes,
Geraldine Melody, look at your hat!" She darted upon it and snapped some
dust off its chiffon. "You'd better be careful how you throw this
around. We can't buy a hat like this every day."
"Oh, do forgive me, Miss Upton!" murmured the girl, her eyes very
bright. "It was her present to me," she added to Ben. "I'm so sorry!"
She went to Miss Mehitable and laid her cheek against hers, and Miss
Upton bestowed another prodigious wink upon the purchaser of the hat.
It did not break his gravity; a gravity which Miss Upton but just now
noticed.
"Come, Pete, we'll be going," said Ben, and his flushed, serious face
worried Miss Mehitable's kind heart, especially as no sign of his merry
carelessness returned in his brief leave-taking.
When they were gone and the door had closed after them, she looked at
the girl accusingly.
"Something has happened," she said, in a low tone not to attract
Charlotte.
"Don't be cross with me about the hat," said the girl, nestling up close
to her again. "I just love it--much better even than I did in the
store."
Miss Mehitable put an arm around her, not because at the moment she
loved her, but because she was there.
"I wonder," she said, "if there's anything in this world that can make
anything but a fool out of a girl before it's too late. I know you're
just as crazy about him as he is about you! If you wasn't, would you
have been snivellin' around because he might get hurt to the farm? And
yet jest 'cause o' your silly, foolish pride you've gone and refused
him. It's as plain as the nose on his splendid face. As if in the long
run it mattered if Mrs. Barry was a little cantankerous. She's run
everything around here so long that she forgets her boy's a man with a
mind of his own. It's awful narrow of you, Geraldine, awful narrow!"
Upon this the girl lifted her head and smiled faintly into the accusing
face.
"Won't it be nice to have Pete help us move," she said innocently.
Miss Upton's lips tightened. She dropped her arm, moved away, and put
the droopy hat back in its box.
"You're heartless!" she exclaimed. There was such a peachy bloom on the
girl's face. "I won't waste my breath."
"I love _you_," said Geraldine, meekly and defensively.
"Ho!" snorted her good fairy, unappeased.