"WHEN A MAN MARRIES----"
Ryder and his bride climbed the winding road to the wide and pillared
veranda of the hotel behind the other shipwrecked passengers from the
motor bus. In the rear of the hotel was a considerable village; they
could see the twinkling lights in the small frame dwellings and the
glare of acetylene lamps in the big general store.
"I--I really think," Ruth observed, "that the bridge is not safe.
Didn't it tremble as we came over it?"
"Seemed rather a rickety affair, that's a fact," Ryder agreed. "But
we're all right now. We've reached the hotel. It looks friendly and
comfortable--and old-fashioned. Nothing much untoward can happen to
us here, dear."
He said it tenderly, and looked at her lovingly. Nothing more was
needed as they entered the wide foyer to advertise the fact that they
were newly wed. The clerk--and even the bellboys--welcomed them with
broad smiles. But Ryder was getting hardened to the notoriety of
their situation now.
He went to the desk to register and get the key of the rooms he had
ordered before leaving New York, while Ruth went toward a quiet spot
which overlooked the entire foyer to wait for him.
His business finished, Ryder turned to look for his bride. He saw
men standing or sitting about, talking, smoking, and reading. He saw
women, knitting or crocheting for the most part, in the foyer and in
the parlors, into which he hastily looked. But where was Ruth?
Where could she have gone--and why? The bellboy waited at the
elevator, while Ryder stood helplessly, not knowing what to do.
In a moment Ruth came from around a corner in the hall, eyes shining
and a smile on her face. When she caught sight of Ryder, she went
directly to him, unheedful of all others, and a deeper expression
sprang into her happy eyes.
The man felt moved to the depth. Could this look be for him?
"I have been exploring a little," she said, as she came up to him,
"and this is a lovely place to stay. I am glad we came here." Then,
dropping her voice so that no chance passerby might hear, she added:
"Oh, I am happy--so happy--too happy, almost!"
Ryder had the whimsical thought as he crossed the foyer with his wife
that he would like to shout aloud his own happiness and exultation.
He hung back just a moment before entering the elevator with Ruth, to
give a bellboy some money and certain instructions. Then the couple
were shown to their rooms.
"Oh, they are fine! Lovely!" cried Ruth delightedly, as soon as they
were alone. "You dear boy! I believe you engaged the best suite in
the house!"
"The best I could get," admitted Ryder modestly.
"But you mustn't be extravagant," and she came close to him, smiling
directly into his eyes with a look in her own that almost dazzled him.
"Folks can afford to be extravagant at this time if at no other," he
declared stoutly, wondering if she knew the Pinewood Inn people were
charging him thirty dollars a day for the suite.
"You--you are a dear!" she said, and, putting her hands suddenly on
his shoulders, she pressed closer, offering him her lips.
The gracefulness of this little gesture was delightful. Ryder felt
the flush rise in his cheeks as though he really were a youth. In
that instant, when he first kissed his wife, he felt keen
satisfaction that he had lived a clean, decent life and could meet
her innocent caress without shame.
"I believe you are going to be a disgracefully indulgent husband,"
she said, laughing and gliding quickly out of his arms. "I must stop
that. You will make a wreck of your ship of fortune on the rock of
an expensive wife."
"Oh, there are a few shots left in the locker yet," said Ryder grimly.
They could not dress for dinner as Ruth's trunks had not yet arrived
and his own luggage would not be along until the next day. Ruth had
toilet articles and brushes in her bag and she brought out of this,
too, a wonderful little dressing sack, all ruffles and ribbons and
lace, to wear while she dressed her hair.
"May I smoke?" Ryder asked, sitting down to wait for her.
"Of course. I like to see you. It--it seems so homey," and she
showed him a blushing face and sparkling eyes for an instant at the
curtained doorway of the inner room.
She reappeared in the dressing sack, which was cut to reveal most
charmingly her throat and forearms. Ryder watched her lazily through
the smoke of his cigar while she performed the graceful rites of the
hairdresser. He never remembered having seen a woman brush and
arrange her hair before, and this intimate and innocent art of the
toilet thrilled him.
She had finished and turned to him with a smile for his approval when
there came a rap on the door. She tripped across the room and opened
it.
"For Mrs. Ryder," mumbled the boy.
"Oh! I thought they were for me!" Ruth exclaimed disappointedly.
"You have come to the wrong suite, boy," and she closed the door
lingeringly.
Ryder sprang up, laughing. "What was it?" he asked.
"Oh, such lovely flowers! A great heap of them."
Ryder strode to the door, still chuckling.
"She hasn't had it long enough to know her new name," he thought, and
opened the door to call after the boy:
"All right! Those flowers come here, sonny. Let me have 'em."
He came back, bearing the heap of blossoms in his arms. "They're for
you, girlie," he said.
She uttered a little scream of delight and came at him like a small
whirlwind. But she could not encircle both him and the roses in her
embrace, so she satisfied herself for the moment with the flowers,
sitting down in a low chair, with her face buried in the fragrant
blossoms, and rocking herself to and fro in delight.
"You will spoil me!" she said, looking up at him, as he stood above
her with that broad, quiet smile of his stealing over his big face.
John Ryder was by no means a handsome man, but he was good to look
upon because of his manliness. "These are so beautiful! Let us fill
every vase in the suite."
This they did together. And every time their hands met (and, oh! how
many times this happened as they divided or arranged the flowers)
they both thrilled at the contact, looking at each other and smiling
and coloring like two children caught in some innocent escapade.
It was a happy hour--an hour quite unmarred by a thought or a
suspicion of any possible disaster. On his part Ryder had forgotten
what trouble was like.
The patronage of the hotel was large all the year around, and at
dinner they held the good-natured attention of the entire
dining-room. There was a good orchestra, attentive waiters, soft
lights, the murmur of conversation, fine women in fine
gowns--everything to make the place attractive. Mrs. John Ryder in
her plain traveling dress, however, was eclipsed by none of the other
women.
Ryder, watching her, saw many approving glances from other diners,
too, and smiled. He was thinking how she would shine--this jewel of
a woman he had married!--when she had time to find some real "bridey"
finery. She looked like a little brown thrush now; she would look
like a bird of paradise when he had given her _carte blanche_ at a
Fifth Avenue modiste's.
He allowed her to go upstairs alone after dinner while he strolled
into the office for some cigars. Several of the men he had seen at
the tables were grouped there talking earnestly, and as Ryder stood
at the cigar counter he overheard loud voices from the private office
of the manager at the rear of the stand.
A man near by was saying: "I tell you the bridge has sunk in the
middle--it's impassable. All that held the wabbly old thing together
were the flooring planks. This town is as far behind the times as
any yap hamlet I ever saw. Why, we're actually stuck here till they
build a new bridge! Can't get a machine over it, or through the
tide-water; and the railroad bridges are nothing but skeletons, you
very well know."
"What about going over to Bearsburg----"
"Nothing doing! The roads behind this hotel are the worst in the
world. The main road is impassable for autos because of the work
being done on it. It will be a good road some time next spring. As
for the other highways, they are merely lanes and farm paths."
"Guess you are marooned here, then, Carey," chuckled another. "Might
as well make up your mind to it. Come on! let's see if we can't get
up a game and murder a little time."
At that moment the door of the manager's office opened and the clerk
come out. He had a worried expression of countenance. Now, hotel
clerks are supposed to be urbane at all times. Flood or fire should
not alarm the well-trained hotel clerk.
Ryder looked quickly into the inner room. He saw the rather fleshy,
white-waistcoated manager--a man of evident choleric temper. He was
talking loudly with a plainly dressed man who had a paper in his
hand, which he was evidently insisting that the manager accept.
"You must accept this service, Mr. Bangs," the smaller man
interrupted, the manager stopping his sputtering long enough to catch
his breath. "It is not my fault, and personalities make no
difference. I am merely a court officer. This is returnable next
Monday. Shall I read you the original paper?"
Bangs seized the paper offered him and swore largely. "You get out
of here!" he roared. "I'll fix Giddings for this trick. Dispossess
me, will he? I'll show him! I'll--I'll ruin his old hotel for him!"
Ryder walked away with his cigars. Other people's trouble did not
stick in his mind now. Broken bridges and impassable roads did not
disturb him in the least; nor was he worried by the manager's
difficulties. He had come here for at least two peaceful, delightful
weeks--and he was going to get them.
When he entered his own rooms there had been a transformation scene
enacted. Ruth's trunks had arrived, and she had removed her
traveling dress, had slipped on the dressing sack again, and, to the
eyes of a mere man, she seemed burrowing in the several trunks like a
squirrel in a heap of fallen leaves.
"Those poor porters," she explained, "had such hard work getting
these boxes over here. The wagon could only come to the bridge, you
know, and they told me they had to pole the luggage over in a
punt---and that leaks and isn't safe. Then they brought the boxes on
barrows to the hotel. Re'lly! They worked so hard that I gave them
a dime each."
"Oh!" Ryder clapped a hand over his mouth, and then sneezed to hide
his laughter. "Had--hadn't I better stay out until this is all
over?" he asked. He thought some of hunting up the porters and
seeing that they had larger tips.
"No. You can remain if you will be good. And you can see my
dresses, too. I think I did very well in getting them--especially
when I wasn't _sure_, you know."
"Sure of what?" he asked, comfortably, establishing himself in a
reserved seat--that is, one that was not already hidden under billows
of feminine wear.
"Why, sure I should marry you," she said, turning to give him a
roguish look.
"Oh--ah--yes," murmured Ryder. Then he started. "By the way, what
chance did you have to get ready----"
His question was interrupted by a heavy summons at the door. He went
himself this time. One of the bellboys was there.
"Sorry, sir," said the boy in a low voice, "but the manager, Mr.
Bangs, has to tell you that the hotel is to be vacated at once. He
had no notice himself, so he can give you none."
"What in thunder do you mean?" demanded Ryder, in amazement.
"Yes, sir. You can't stay here, sir."
"Why not? Does the manager want his money in advance?"
"No, sir. 'Tain't you alone. Everybody's got to get out, sir.
We're all losing our jobs, sir. I--I don't know what to do myself,
sir----"
"Why, it's ridiculous!"
"I don't know nothin' about it, sir. I was just told to tell
everybody in this corridor. And you've all got to get right out. He
wouldn't let the clerk telephone to the rooms 'cause it would take so
much time. Mr. Bangs says he will turn off the lights at half past
eight and lock the door--that's in half an hour, sir. There's to be
no service after that time."
The boy hurried to the door of the next suite. Ryder was too amazed
at first to feel proper anger. To be told that, in half an hour, one
must get out of a hotel in which one has just established oneself----
"It is preposterous!" determined John Ryder, turning back into his
rooms. He saw Ruth, all unconscious of the unpleasant announcement,
still busy over the trunks. The uselessness of her task suddenly
smote his mind. "Why," he muttered, "she's wasting her time. She
might as well stop that if we can't stay here. And, by thunder!
where will we go if this hotel closes--and at such an hour?
"There's not another hotel open in Pinewood, I understand. The
bridge is down. That fellow says traffic to the west is barred by
the condition of the roads. The dickens!"
Ruth had paid no attention to his mutterings. She was quite
unconscious of his perplexity, or of its cause. He came to a quick
decision.
"I'm going downstairs a moment, dear," he said.
"All right."
"All right, what? Haven't you a name for me?" he inquired, drawing
her to him.
"All right--hubby," she replied, blushing slightly, and he kissed her
and then shot out of the room and dashed down the single flight of
stairs to join the excited crowd already milling about the hotel desk.