PEACOCKS
Early the next day Pola appeared with Mr. Dugald in Sunset Lane in a
simple garb that must have satisfied even her exacting cousin. Her mood
was in accord with her attire as though she had left her sophistication
behind with her silks and her rouge. She declared she felt as "peppy as
they make them" and ready to do anything anyone suggested. And Mr.
Dugald, resigned to wasting two weeks to entertaining his young cousin,
of whom he was really very fond, promptly offered an astonishing
assortment of suggestions from which he commanded the girls to choose.
"Why, you wouldn't believe there were so many things to do!" cried Pola
with real enthusiasm. "Sidney, you'll have to decide." And Sidney at
once decided upon a tramp to Peaked Hill on the ocean side with an
early picnic supper.
In the days that followed, Sidney's first admiration for Pola returned.
Though Pola would never again be the idol she was much more enjoyable
as a chum. Her spirits, though an affectation, were infectious and gay;
in her pretty clothes and with her pretty face she made Sidney think of
a butterfly, a fragile, golden-winged, dainty flitting butterfly. She
professed to enjoy everything they did--even to the picnics. She
tramped endlessly in her unsuitable shoes without a murmur of fatigue
and Sidney suspected that she really _did_ care a great deal for her
cousin Dugald's approval.
With Mr. Dugald they motored to Highland Light and to Chatham. They
toured the shops at Hyannis. They sailed with Captain Hawkes on the
_Mabel T_. They rose very early one morning and went to the Coast Guard
Station to watch the drill and then ate ham and eggs with Commander
Nelson. More than once Sidney donned the cherry crêpe de chine and
dined with Mrs. Allan and Pola and Dugald at the hotel, feeling very
grand and traveled.
But to Sidney's deep regret Pola professed an abhorrence of swimming.
"Just please don't _ask_ me," she had begged, shuddering. "I loathe it!
It's one of my complexes. Of course I've gone swimming in almost every
body of water on the globe, but I hate it. You'll spoil my fun
_utterly_ if you even try to make me!" After that Sidney could not
urge. She did not know what complexes were, but Pola had made them
sound real and convincing and a little delicate. Though Sidney missed
the jolly swims with Lavender and Mart she refrained from even a hint
of her feelings.
Often when they were together Pola waxed confidential over her cousin.
"He's a thorn in Aunt Lucy's side," she explained one day as the girls
lounged in Pola's room at the hotel, a huge box of candy on a stool
between them. "She always wants him to go in for society and to go
abroad with her and do all the fashionable resorts on the Continent,
but couldn't you _see_ him? Not for Duggie boy, ever! When she starts
planning something like that he bolts off somewhere and the next thing
you hear is that he's painted a wonderful picture and sold it or had
first mention or a gold medal. Of course that makes him terribly
interesting and there are dozens of single ladies from forty to
fourteen itching to catch him. And Dug's such a simple old dear that he
doesn't know it. But his mother does and she has them all sorted over
and the eligible ones ticketed. You see Dug will be dreadfully rich
some day and goodness knows what he'll do with the money for he hasn't
the brains of a child where business is concerned. His father's even
richer than Dad."
Sidney literally blinked before the picture Pola drew--blinked and
blushed that she had dared angle for Mr. Dugald herself like the
forty-to-fourteen single ladies. Mr. Dugald belonged to a world that
was foreign to the Romley girls, Pola's dazzling, peacock-world.
Sidney felt immensely flattered that Pola had taken her in among her
peacocks. (Secretly, too, she considered that she carried herself well
among them. She was most careful of her dress, now!) She did not know
that Pola's sort instinctively seeks out someone to dazzle, that Pola's
generosity was a part of the dazzling process. She thought Pola
wonderful to accept so casually her gilded privileges. Why, if Pola
didn't like a dress or a hat or a pair of shoes she simply didn't wear
it; she could buy anything she wanted from any one of the priceless
bits of jewelry in the shops at Hyannis to the delectable sweets in the
tea-rooms on Commercial Street. She could do just as she pleased--even
more than Mart, for _she_ never had to darn or mend or wipe dishes or
dust or hang up her clothes or brush them. Realizing all this Sidney
came to forgive that first condescension that had stung; she thought
Pola little short of an angel to be so prettily friendly with them all.
So engrossed was Sidney in basking in Pola's favor that for a time she
felt no compunctions at deserting Mart and Lavender; in fact she did
not even think of them. Both Mart and Lavender had become suddenly very
busy with affairs that kept them out of sight. If, once in awhile,
Sidney wondered what they were doing something of Pola's or something
Pola said quickly crowded the thought from her head. But one afternoon
they encountered Mart as they strolled toward the Green Lantern to sit
under its gay awnings and drink tea. Sidney introduced Mart to Pola and
to cover Pola's rude stare she added quickly: "We're going down to the
Green Lantern, Mart. Won't you come with us?" conscious as she said it
that her voice sounded stilted.
"No, thanks. I'm going to do something lots more exciting than sitting
_there_! And I'm in a hurry, too." And with that Mart swung on past
them, her head high.
Sidney had a moment's longing to run after her and coax her to come,
but Pola's light giggle checked her. "Isn't she a riot? I'd have _died_
if she'd come with us!"
"Oh, Pola--she'll hear you!" pleaded Sidney.
She hated herself because she did not tell Pola at once how bravely
Mart shouldered her responsibilities, about gran'ma, who looked to Mart
for everything. Instead she simply walked along with Pola and let Pola
giggle. Pola, sensing Sidney's feelings, slipped her arm through hers
and gave it an affectionate little squeeze.
"You're such a funny child," she said softly. "You'd be nice to
anything. I can't, of course, for I go around to so many places and
mother's warned me often about strangers. Anyway, it's lots nicer for
just us two to be together, isn't it?"
But in spite of Pola's soft flattery and countless lumps of sugar the
tea tasted bitter to Sidney and the Green Lantern, with its futurist
awnings, its bizarre hangings and cushions, had no allure. The thought
came suddenly to Sidney that it had been a whole week since she had
even seen Mart; in that time she had scarcely exchanged more than a
half dozen words with Lavender.
To the tune of Pola's ceaseless chatter Sidney's thoughts kept darting
back to that uncomfortable fact. Pola always talked of things she had
done at home, abroad, at school, of her boy friends whom she called
"men." She liked to hint of countless "affairs" which simply must not
come to her mother's attention, assuring Sidney that she was absolutely
the only one to whom she confided these deep intrigues. She had worn
Guy Townsend's fraternity pin the whole winter before and not a soul
had known whose pin it was for Guy was tabooed by mothers in general
and Mrs. Allan in particular. Now Pola was simply crazy over a Jack
Sicard who was playing the lead in "Hearts Aquiver." But not even
Jack's manly beauty, as described by Pola, failed to draw from Sidney
more than a mild: "He must be cute." Pola gave way to vexation.
"You're scarcely listening to me, Sidney Romley, when I'm telling you
things I haven't told a _soul_! I believe you're still thinking of that
ridiculous girl we met."
"She isn't ridiculous!" Sidney was prompt enough now in Mart's defense.
"She looks funny, but you see I've gotten well acquainted with her and
she's awfully nice."
"Oh, _nice_, of course! But _anyone_ can be nice! You know perfectly
well, Sidney, that there's as much class in this country as there is in
Europe and being _nice_ does not break down social barriers."
Sidney had no answer ready for this. Curiously into her mind flashed
what Mr. Dugald had said about the solid aristocracy. But somehow she
knew Pola would not understand this. Pola went on:
"I'm a dreadful little snob, anyway. But I suppose that is the result
of my education. It would be funny to go to the most expensive schools
and have all the culture that Europe can offer and _not_ be a snob."
Still Sidney stared into her teacup. She thought Pola was all wrong,
but she did not know how to say it. Pola herself had told her that she
had gone to Grace Hall because it had no examinations and graduated a
girl anyway--so much for Pola's education. And culture--what benefited
all the culture of Europe if Pola found enjoyment only in the company
of youths her mother would not permit in the house?
Pola mistook Sidney's silence for hurt. "You goose, I'm not saying I
think I'm any better than _you_ are! But you must see that neither of
us are a bit like that native girl!" Which admission Pola considered
most generous.
"I wasn't thinking about whether you are any better than I am or not.
I've been brought up, you see," with a rueful laugh, "to believe that
my father being a poet set _me_ a little apart from everyone else. And
I've hated it. What I was thinking was that there really isn't any
class difference in people--except what we make ourselves, like the
League building a barrier around me and you thinking you're in another
class from Mart because you're rich. Maybe it isn't really the outside
things that count, maybe it's the big things we have got or haven't got
inside us--"
"Like what?" demanded Pola.
Sidney was thinking of Lav's self-effacing ambition to serve the world
from the seclusion of a laboratory, of Mart's cheerfulness in the face
of her lot and her loyal affection for her exacting and rheumatic
grandmother; of the courage of Mart's grandfather, Ambrose Calkins, who
had lost his own life in going back to his sinking schooner for the
cook who could not swim; of her own ancestor, Priscilla Ellis. _Those_
were the things which set people apart from their fellows, Sidney
thought, but the understanding was too new in her own heart for her to
find words in which she could tell Pola of it. "Like what?" Pola
demanded again and this time her voice was a little haughty.
"Oh, I don't know," Sidney laughed. "I'm all mixed up. I guess I was
trying to say something Mr. Dugald said once to me."
"Oh, _Dug_!" laughed Pola. "He's nutty about all that! Look at the way
he lives here on the Cape. But mother says he'll get over it when he
marries. Now I have no intention of getting serious this grand day so
let's have another piece of that chocolate fudge cake--it's on me, too,
remember!" Which was Pola's pretty way of pretending she did not know
that Sidney did not have any money with her. The dollar Sidney had
earned for posing had long since been spent.
Sidney was relieved that Pola had rescued her from the "deep water." At
the same time she suffered from the sense that she had not made Pola
see Mart in another light. She had failed in loyalty. The sparkling
blue of the bay that stretched before them only reminded her that this
was the hour she usually went swimming. Due to Pola's "complex" she had
not gone swimming for a whole week.
Even with her mouth full of the fudge cake, she vowed to herself that
the very next day she would hunt out her chums and her old pastimes.
Pola and Mr. Dugald must plan without her!
She had promised to dine again at the hotel with Pola and her mother
but as soon as she could after dinner she returned to Sunset Lane.
Because of her determination her heart was lighter. And her way was
made easier, too, for Mrs. Allan had told Pola at dinner that the
"Truxtons were at Chatham Bars." Pola had been as excited over the
Truxtons as her mother.
"Can we go and see them right away?"
"Not tonight. But I have arranged for a car and Shields will drive us
over tomorrow. We can stay there for a few days. I shall welcome the
change for this place has been very stupid for me, my dear."
"Poor mamma! I've been selfish. It'll be a lark seeing Cora Truxton
again!" Pola had explained to Sidney: "We met the Truxtons at Nice.
Cora and Millicent are both older, but they're the _cutest_ girls. Will
we go in the morning, mamma?"
Pola's manner had indicated that the coming of the Truxtons into their
plans raised a barrier that now excluded Sidney. Throughout the dinner
she had talked exclusively of the trip on the morrow and the renewing
of that acquaintance that had begun in Nice. But Sidney felt nothing
but a sense of escape.
She found Aunt Achsa alone in the cottage on Sunset Lane. She was
sitting on the doorstep, "coolin' off." Sidney sat down beside her.
"Where's Lavender?" she asked, wishing Lavender was at home that she
might begin her "making up" at once.
"Don't know. And I wish I did. Don't know what's gotten into that boy.
I'm as worried as can be."
"About Lav? Oh, what's the matter?" For Aunt Achsa was close to tears.
Something must have happened to break her habitual optimism.
"He's acted so queer like lately. Cal'late you'd of noticed it if you
hadn't been off so much with Mr. Dugald's folks. I thought it might a'
been his stomach and I put a powder into his coffee, but he ain't been
a mite different--"
"But what does he do, Aunt Achsa? He looks all right--"
Now Aunt Achsa hesitated. One tear separated itself from its fellows
and rolled down her withered cheek and dropped upon her withered hand.
She looked at it, startled, then lifted her hand and dashed it across
her eyes.
"I swum, I'm cryin'. Don't know as I know when I've cried before. And
cryin' before I have anything as I can see to cry for. But Sidney, I
set such a lot on that boy--it's like I was his mother and his father
and his brothers and his sisters all mixed up in one--gran'ma, too. He
was such a little mite when I took him, y'see and then he's not like
other boys and I've had to do a heap of lovin' to make up to him. I've
prayed every day of my life for the Lord to keep him happy in spite of
things and that was a pretty big prayer for I don't suppose the Lord
wants us all to be happy all the time, that ain't His way of bringing
us up. But I thought He might make an exception for Lav. Land sakes,
how I go on--and you nigh to cryin' yourself." For she had caught
Sidney blinking back something glistening from her own eyes.
"Aunt Achsa, Lavender is wonderful. He's talked to me a lot and he's
going to be a great man some day, I know. He has the grandest plans
shut away in his heart and he _is_ happy--"
Aunt Achsa looked at her, startled. "Plans--how _can_ he when he's--"
She bit off the words. Her lips trembled.
"Aunt Achsa, it doesn't matter what one's like on the outside!" Now
Sidney floundered for the second time in one day under the pressure of
her own thoughts. "I mean--Lav can do anything he wants to do, anyway.
And he's working hard reading and studying and some day, after awhile,
he'll go away somewhere and study more--"
"Sidney Romley, you're _crazy_!" cried Aunt Achsa, in a quavering
voice. "Go away! How _can_ he go away when we ain't even the money to
go 'sfar as Orleans. And he ain't plannin' to go on anyone's _charity_!"
"Oh, I don't mean he's going away _soon_! I shouldn't have told anyway
for Lav told me as a secret. But I thought maybe it would make you
happier knowing he had great ambitions. And he'll tell you sometime
himself."
When Aunt Achsa spoke it was in a thin, grieved voice.
"It's what I didn't want him to ever take into his head. Goin' off
somewhere--alone. For I'm too old to go with him and he'll need me!"
"Oh I wouldn't have told you if I'd thought it would make you unhappy.
He won't go for a long time, Aunt Achsa. And when he does he'll come
back real often."
Now Aunt Achsa sat so still that Sidney thought she had consoled her.
But Aunt Achsa was facing in her own way this at which Sidney had
hinted, drawing for it from that courage of hers that had not yet been
exhausted. Well, if it was best for Lavender some day to go away she'd
send him away with a smile even though the heart that had taken him, a
wee baby, from the dying mother did burst with loneliness. Besides,
even if Lavender went away she could go on praying to the Lord to keep
him "happy"--no distance could keep her from doing that!
"It's like as not his plans in his head that's makin' him act so quiet
like and short-spoken. And last night he didn't sleep in his bed at
all!"
"Why, Aunt Achsa, where _was_ he?" gasped Sidney, really startled.
"I don't know, dearie. He used to take to spells like that when he was
little. But lately he's got over them. I followed him once and I found
him out in the sand dunes lying flat on his face cryin' awful--out loud
and beatin' his arms. I let him be. I stole home and I never let on I
knew. When he came back all white lookin' I had a nice cake ready--roll
jell, his favorite."
"Do--do you think he was out in the sand dunes--last night?"
"I don't know. He come in about nine o'clock, awful quiet and I didn't
ask him anything, but I just set his breakfast before him as though the
morning wa'n't half over. And then he went off again and I ain't seen
him sense. I thought mebbe it was these folks of Mr. Dugald's--"
"What do you mean, Aunt Achsa?" But Sidney knew what she meant.
"Like as not Lav's plain jealous. Mr. Dugald hasn't had any time for
anything but toting this Pola round everywhere and Lav notices it. He
hasn't any right to be jealous as I can see for Miss Pola is Mr.
Dugald's own cousin, but Lav thinks the sun rises and sets in Mr.
Dugald. And like as not he misses you--"
"I've missed Lav dreadfully. I didn't know how much I missed him and
Mart until today when it came over me suddenly that the things I was
doing with Pola weren't really much fun--just at first they were
because they were different. I'm afraid, Aunt Achsa, that I love
different things! But tomorrow I am going to play all day long with Lav
and Mart, see if I don't. I can't wait for tomorrow to come!"