“Do you know,” Iris continued, “Charlie Lien’s taking you up is the
funniest thing—”
“Why?” I demanded.
“Because you are so unlike Vivi Strange—”
“Vivi Strange?”
“Don’t you know?” said Iris. “Why I thought everybody knew!”
“No,” I had to say.
“Vivi Strange was Charlie’s old girl. Her mother has taken her to the
Mediterranean for the benefit of her health,—so she says—that is her
mother. But those whose chief delight it is to gossip say it was to get
her away from Charlie.”
I felt red and angry. A surge of jealousy swept through me. So Charlie
has or had another girl.
We played cards, we drank, smoked, had lunch, played cards, drank again,
and smoked more, and returned to the city. I asked to be put down at
Horace’s. I wished for a cup of coffee, naturally I must pull myself
together before returning home.
I had tea all by myself in Horace’s. I’m afraid my nerves are getting in
a frightful shape, however, I had a good tea, for Charlie gave me our
winnings, three dollars and sixty-five cents. Thank goodness, Sister
Mary would be at home on my return and her children. They would draw
attention from me.
As I walked home I kept revolving in my mind “Vivi Strange was Charlie’s
old girl.” What a fool I am! But the realization that I am a fool did
not dissipate my jealousy. I obtained some relief by occupying my mind
with the problem as to why Mrs. Strange had taken her daughter away and
of what she was frightened. Who were the Stranges and would not Charlie
Lien be considered a good match? And yet I knew that in entertaining
this question, I was deceiving myself. I realized I could only so
deceive myself, because I wished to do so.
“’Ook, ’ook Uncle Dack, ’orses,” I heard a child’s voice exclaim as I
passed along the upper hall to my new retreat, the small room adjoining
my former room and used by Mumsie as a sewing and lumber-room.
“Yes, they are very fine horses,” replied the voice of Mr. Bang. The
child was evidently Miss Jessie.
“’Ook, ’ook, Uncle Dack, why does one ’orse put out his hoot before the
other ’orse puts his hoot out?”
“That’s because the horses are not keeping step, Jessie. What makes you
ask so many questions?”
Jessie evidently ignored both the question and the implied admonition,
for she continued:
“’Ook, ’ook, Uncle Dack, the moon has its hace all boken.”
“Yes,” agreed Mr. Bang.
“Why doesn’t the moon get its hace mended?”
“Because the moon is naughty and is too careless.”
I took off my things and as the door was open, entered the room, Mr.
Bang was at the window amusing himself with Lawrence. Mr. Bang turned at
my entrance and with the shade of a smile on his face introduced Jessie
to me. The little girl was very bashful and placed her arms over her
eyes and remained quiet. Her Uncle urged her to shake hands with the
kind lady, but without result, until she raced towards me and threw her
arms around my neck and gave me a great hug.
“Where’s Mother?” I asked.
As Jessie did not answer, Mr. Bang informed me his sister had gone with
Mumsie on some errand, and that Jean, the nurse, was in the kitchen
preparing the nursery supper.
Then I heard Uncle in the hall and soon he came cheerily in, caught the
children up and kissed them, beaming with pleasure. I could not but feel
sorry for him as an old thought came back to me that Providence had been
unkind in not giving him a family. What a different atmosphere this was
to the one I had recently been in, the Hunt Club! What a pain it would
be to Uncle had he a daughter, and found her out in deceit such as mine.
My conscience was at me again, and my head ached.
I was really prepared for something very awful in Sister Mary, and the
fact that Jessie and Lawrence were such fine youngsters had not affected
my estimate. Picture my surprise, when I found her a very pretty woman
with most engaging manners. She enquired after my health and said she
hoped I was enjoying my stay in town so prettily, that she quite won my
heart and made me dislike her brute of a brother still more. I cannot
understand how Uncle and Mumsie allowed him to speak so ill-naturedly of
her. “If Sister Mary had as good an opinion of other people as she has
of herself, she would be a high-class citizen,” is his latest comment.
At dinner Mumsie gossiped with Sister Mary, and Uncle and Mr. Bang
chatted on politics and business. I understand Uncle is financially
interested in his nephew’s enterprises. I was left pretty much to my own
thought, which, needless to say, dwelt upon Charlie Lien and my other
new friends. When conversation flagged I amused myself watching the
expressions of Sister Mary and her brother. Whenever the latter made a
remark to Auntie, apprehension marked the features of his sister. She
appeared to have seated herself on the proverbial keg of powder. And
he—Mr. Bang—appeared also to be on edge, and even more taciturn and
cynical than ever.
“Why did they give the Henry-the-Eighth Hotel its name?” I asked Uncle.
All eyes at once were turned on me. Mr. Bang’s glance being even
contemptuous if not surly, I thought.
“Because that jolly monarch’s name suggests magnificence and
extravagance. You have read of the ‘Field of the Cloth of Gold?’”