Shaking the spray out of her eyes, her hair, she emerged to a grand
orchestral flare. The same obsequious hands that applauded her helped
her from the gold coping. Waiters dared to smile behind their trays. Up
to her knees her dark-cloth skirt clung dankly. Water glistened on her
shoulders, spotted her blouse. Mr. Jimmie Fitzgibbons lay back in his
chair, weak from merriment.
"Gad! I didn't think she had it in her! Gad! I didn't!"
"Bo-o-o-o!" She shook herself like a dainty spaniel, and he grasped the
table to steady himself against his laughter.
"Gad! I didn't!"
"Fine weather for ducks!"
"Gad!"
"I'm a nice girl and they treat me like a sponge."
"Gad!"
"April weather we're havin', ain't it?"
"You ain't much wet, are you, Doll?"
"Bo-o-o-o!"
"Here, waiter, get the lady a coat or something. Gad! you're the hit
of the place, Doll! Aw, you ain't cold, hon? Look, you ain't even wet
through--what you shaking about?"
She drew inward little breaths of shivery glee. "I ain't wet! Say,
whatta you think that fountain's spouting--gasoline? I--ain't--wet!
Looka my hair curling up like it does in a rain-storm! Feel my skirt
down here at the hem! Can you beat it? I ain't wet, he says!"
"Here, drink this, Doll, and warm up."
"No."
She threw a dozen brilliant glances into the crowd, tossed an
invitational nod to the group adjoining, and clapped her hands for the
iridescent Christmas ball that dangled over their table.
"Here, send 'er over--here, give you leave. I'm some little catcher
myself."
It bounded to her light as air, and she caught it deftly, tossed it
ceilingward until it bounced against an incandescent bulb, tossed it
again, caught it lightly, nor troubled to heed the merry shouts for its
return.
From across the room some one threw her a great trailing ribbon of gilt
paper. She bound it about her neck like a ruff. A Christmas star with
a fluted tissue-paper edge floated into her lap. She wore it like an
earring, waggling it slyly so that her curls were set a-bobbing.
"Gimme my bear."
She hugged the woolly image to her as if she would beg its warmth, her
teeth clicking the while with chill.
"Take a little swallow or two to warm you up, Doll!"
"Gee! I took your dare, Jimmie--and--and--br-r-r-r!"
"A little swallow, Doll!"
"I took your dare, Jimmie, and I--I can feel my skirt shrinking up
like it was rigging. I--I guess I'll have to go to work next week in a
sheet."
"Didn't I tell you I was backing this toot, sister?"
"I didn't have no right to dive in there and spoil my duds, Jimmie. I--"
"Who had a better right?"
"Ain't it just like a nut like me? But I 'ain't had a live time for so
long I--I lost my head. But I 'ain't got no right to spoil the only
duds I got to my back. Looka this waist; the color's running. I
ought to--I--Oh, like I wasn't in enough of a mess already
without--without--acting the crazy nut!"
"Aw, Doll, cut the tragedy! Didn't I tell you I was going to blow you to
anything your little heart desires?"
"But the only duds I got to my back, Jimmie! Oh, ain't I a nut when I
get started, Jimmie! Ain't I a nut!"
She regarded him with tears in her eyes and the wraith of a smile on her
lips. A little drop escaped and she dashed it away and her smile broke
out into sunshine.
"Ain't I a nut, though!"
"You're a real, full-blooded little winner, that's what you are, and you
can't say I ain't one, neither, Doll. Here's your damages. Now go doll
yourself up like a Christmas tree!"
He tossed a yellowback bill lightly into her lap, and she made a great
show of rejecting it, even pushing it toward him across the table and to
the floor.
"I--Aw, what kind of a girl do you think I am? There, take your money.
I--honest, I--What kind of a girl do you think I am?"
"Now, now, sister, don't we understand each other? Them's damages,
kiddo. Wasn't it me dared you? Ain't it my fault you doused your duds?"
"Yes, but--"
"Aw, come now, Doll, don't pull any of that stuff on me! You and me
understand each other--not?"
"Yes, but--"
"Take and forget it. You won it. That ain't even interest on the filly's
winnings. Take it. I never started nothing in my life I couldn't see
the finish to. Take it and forget it!" He crammed the bill into her
reluctant fingers, closed them over it, and sealed her little fist with
a grandiose pat. "Forget it, Doll!"
But her lids fluttered and her confusion rose as if to choke her.
"I--honest, I--Aw, what kind of a girl do you think I am?"
"I told you I think you're the sweetest, livest little queen I know."
"Aw!"
"Come on, little live wire. Put on your swell, hothouse-trimmed hat. I'm
going to take you to a place farther up the street where there are two
staircases and a fountain twice as big for you to puddle your little
footsies in. Waiter--here--check--get a cab! Here, little Doll, quit
your shivering and shaking and lemme help you on--lemme help you."
She was suddenly pale, but tense-lipped like a woman who struggles
on the edge of a swoon. "Jimmie, honest, I--I'm shaking with chills!
Jimmie--I--I can't go in these duds, neither. I--I gotta go home now.
He'll be wakin' and I--I gotta go home now. I'm all shaking." In spite
of herself her lips quivered and an ague shot through her body. "I--I
gotta go home now, Jimmie. Look at me shivering, all shivering!"
"Home now!" His eyes retreated behind a network of calculating wrinkles
and she paled as she sat. "Home now? Say, Doll, I thought--"
"Honest, I wanna go to the other place, but I'm cold, Jimmie, and--wet
through. I gotta keep well, Jimmie, and I--I oughtta go home."
"Pah!" he said, spluttering out the end of a bitten cigar. "If I'd 'a'
known you was a puny Doll like that!"
"I ain't, Jimmie; I--"
"If I'd 'a' known you was that puny! It's like I been sayin', Doll, it
ain't like you and me don't understand each other. I--"
"Sure we do, Jimmie. Honest, I--To-morrow night I--I can fix it so
that--that the sky's my limit. I'll meet you at Hinkley's at eight,
cross my heart on a wishbone, Jimmie."
"Cross it!"
"There!"
"To-night, Jimmie, I'm chilled--all in. Look at me in these duds,
Jimmie. I'm cold. Oh, Jimmie, get me a cab quick, please; I'm co-old!"
She relaxed frankly into a chill that rumbled through her and jarred her
knees together. A little rivulet of water oozed from her hair, zigzagged
down her cheek and seeped into her blouse, but her blue-lipped smile
persisted.
"Ain't I a nut, though! But wait till you see me dolled up to-morrow
night, Jimmie! Eight at Hinkley's. I didn't have a hunch how cold--how
cold that water was. Next time they gotta--heat it."
"Got to heat it is good, Doll! All I got to do is ask once, and my
word's law round here. Here, take a swallow and warm up, hon. You don't
need to go home if you warm up right."
But the glass tinked against her teeth.
"I--I can't'"
"Gowann, kiddo!"
"I'll take some home with me to warm me up when I get in bed, Jimmie.
I--Not that kind, give it to me red like you did last Tuesday night,
without the sparkles. That's the kind to warm me up. Order a bottle of
red without the sparkles, Jimmie--without the sparkles. I--I can't stand
no more bubbles to-night."
He helped her into her coat, and she leaned to him with a little
movement of exhaustion that tightened his hold of her.
"Hurry a cab, waiter; the lady's sick!"
"Ain't I a nut, though!"
"Poor wet little Doll, I didn't think you was much more'n damp! You
gotta make up for this to-morrow night, Doll. Eight sharp, Doll, and no
funny business to-morrow night."
"Eight sharp!"
"Swell little sport you are, gettin' the chills! But we understand each
other, don't we, Doll?"
"Sure, Jimmie!"
"Come on, hon. Shakin' like a leaf, ain't you? Wait till I get you out
in the cab, I'll warm you up. You look just like a Christmas doll, all
rigged up in that hat and that star and all--just like a Christmas
doll."
"My grizzly, my brown grizzly! Gee, I nearly forgot my grizzly!"
And she packed the huge toy under her arm, along with the iridescent
ball and the gewgaws of her plunder, and out into the cab, where an
attendant tucked a bottle of the red warming wine between them.
"Ready, Doll?"
"Ready."
The silent storm had continued its silent work, weaving its blanket
softer, deeper. The straggling pedestrians of early morning bent their
heads into it and drove first paths through the immaculate mantle.
The fronts of owl cars and cabs were coated with a sugary white rime.
Broadway lay in a white lethargy that is her nearest approach to sleep.
Snow-plows were already abroad clearing tracks, dry snow-dust spinning
from under them. At Longacre Square the flakes blew upward in spiral
flurries, erratic, full of antics. The cab snorted, plunged, leaped
forward. Mr. Fitzgibbons inclined toward the little huddle beside him.
"Sweetness, now I got you! You little sweetness you, now I got you,
sweetness!"
"Jimmie! Quit! Quit! You--you old--you--you--"
The breath of a forgotten perfume and associations webby with age stir
through the lethargy of years. Memories faded as flowers lift their
heads. The frail scent of mignonette roused with the dust of letters
half a century old, and eyes too dim and watery to show the glaze of
tears turn backward fifty years upon the mignonette-bowered scene of
love's young dream. A steel drawing-room car rolling through the clean
and heavy stench of cow pasture, and a steady-eyed, white-haired
capitalist, rolling on his rolling-stock, leans back against the
upholstery and gazes with eyes tight closed upon a steady-eyed,
brown-haired youngster herding in at eventide. The whiff of violets from
a vender's tray, and a young man dreams above his ledger. The reek of a
passing brewer's wagon, and white faces look after, suddenly famished.
When the familiar pungency of her boarding-house flowed in and round
Mrs. Violet Smith, she paused for a moment and could not push through
the oppression. Then, with the associations of odor crowding in about
her, she stripped herself of her gewgaws, as if here even the tarnished
tinsel of pleasure could have no place, and tiptoed up the weary wind
of three unlighted flights and through the thick staleness of unaired
halls.
At the third landing a broom and a dirty tangled debris of scrub-cloths
lay on the topmost stair, as if an aching slavey had not found the
strength to remove them. They caught the heel of her shoe, pitching her
forward so that she fell sharply against her own door. In the gloom
she paused for a palpitating moment, her hands pressing her breast,
listening; then deposited her laden hat, the little pile of tinsel and
the woolen bear on the floor outside the door.
"Vi! Vi! That you, dear?"
She pulled at her strength and opened the door suddenly, blowing in like
a gale. "It's me, darlin'."
She was suddenly radiant as morning, and a figure on the bed in the far
corner of the dim-lit room raised to greet her with vague, white-sleeved
arms outstretched. She flew to their haven.
"Darlin', darlin', how you feeling?"
"Vi, poor tired little girl!"
"Harry, how you feeling, darlin'? They worked the force all night--first
time ever. How you feeling, darlin'--how?" And she burrowed kisses on
the poor, white face, and then deep into the tiny crib and back again
into the vague white arms. "Oh, my babies, both of you! How you feeling,
darlin'? So worried I've been. And the kid! Oh, God, darlin', I--I been
so busy rightin' stock and all--all night they kept the force. I got
such news, darlin'. We should worry that it's snowing! Such news,
darlin'! The kid, Harry--did Mrs. Quigley bring her milk on time? How
you feeling, darlin'! You 'ain't coughed, have you?"
He kissed her damp hair and turned her face up like a flower, so that
his deep-sunk eyes read into hers. "I 'ain't coughed once since noon,
darlin'. We should worry if it snows is right! A doctor's line of talk
can't knock me out. I can buck up without going South. I 'ain't coughed
once since noon, Vi; I--"
A strangling paroxysm shook him in mockery of his words, and she
crouched low beside the bed, her face etched in the agony of bearing
each rack and pain with him.
"Oh, my darlin'! Oh--oh--"
"It's--all right now, Vi! It's all right! It's all right!"
"Oh, my darlin', yes, yes, it's all right now! All right now!"
She ran her hands over his face, as if to reassure herself of his very
features, nor would she let him read into her streaming eyes.
"Lay quiet, Harry darlin'; it's all right! Oh, my darlin'!"
"'S-s-s-s-h, Vi dear! Sure it's all right. 'S-s-s-s-h! Don't cry, Vi!"
"I--I-oh--oh--"
"'S-s-s-s-h, darlin'! Don't!"
"I--oh, I can't help it; but I ain't cryin', Harry, I ain't!"
"All worn out and cold and wet, that's what's a-hurtin' you. All worn
out and hysterical and all! Poor little Vi-dee!"
"I--I ain't."
"It's all over now, Vi. See, I'm all right! Everything's all right! Just
my luck to have the first one since noon right when you get home. It's
all over now, Vi. Everything's over, Christmas rush and all. Don't you
worry about the snow, neither, darlin'. I knew it would scare you up,
but it takes more than a doctor's line of talk to down-and-out me."
"I--I ain't worryin', darlin'."
"You're the one I been worryin' about, Vi. It's just like the kid was
worried too--cried when Mrs. Quigley sung her to sleep."
"Oh, my baby! Oh, my baby!"
"Don't worry, dear. She don't even know it's Christmas--a little thing
like her. And, anyways, look, Vi-dee, Mrs. Quigley brought her up that
little stuffed lamb there. But she don't even know it's Christmas, dear;
she don't even know. You poor, tired little kiddo!"
"I ain't tired."
"I been lying here all night, sweet, thinking and thinking--a little
doll like you hustling and a big hulk like me lying here."
"'S-s-s-s-h! Honest, Harry, it's fun being back in the store again till
you get well--honest!"
"I never ought to let you done it in the beginning, darlin'. Remember
that night, even when I was strong enough to move a ox team, I told you
there was bum lungs 'way back somewhere in my family? I never ought to
let you take a chance, Vi-dee--I never ought!"
"'S-s-s-s-h! Didn't I say I'd marry you if you was playin' hookey from
the graveyard? Wasn't that the answer I give you even when you was
strong as a whole team?"
"I didn't have no right to you, baby--the swellest little peach in the
store! I--I didn't have no right to you! Vi-dee, what's the matter? You
look like you got the horrors--the horrors, hon! Vi-dee!"
"Oh, don't, Harry, don't. I--I can't stand it, hon. I--I'm tired,
darlin', darlin', but don't look like that, darlin'. I--got news--I got
news."
'"S-s-s-s-h, baby, you're all hysterical from overwork and all tired out
from worry. There ain't no need to worry, baby. Quigley'll say it can go
over another week. She ain't dunning for board, she ain't, baby."
"I--oh--I--"
"Shaking all over, baby, just like you got the horrors! I bet you got
scared when you see the snow coming and tackled Ingram to-day, and
you're blue. What you got the horrors about, baby--Ingram?"
"No! No!"
"I told you not to ask the old skinflint. I told you they won't do
nothing after twelve weeks. I ain't bluffed off by snow-storm, Vi. I
don't need South no more'n you do, I don't, baby. I ain't a dead one by
a long shot yet! Vi, for God's sake, why you got the horrors?"
She tried to find words and to smile at him through the hot rain of
her tears, and the deep-rooted sobs that racked her subsided and she
snuggled closer and burrowed into his pillow.
"I--I can't keep it no longer, darlin'. I ain't cryin', I--I 'ain't got
the horrors. I'm laffin'. I--I seen him, Harry--Ingram--I seen him
just before closin', and--and--oh, Harry, you won't believe it, he
said--he--I--I'm laffin' for joy, Harry!"
"What? What, Vi? What?"
She fumbled into the bosom of her blouse and slid a small folded square
of yellowback bill into his hand.
"What? What, Vi? What?"
"A cool hundred, darlin'. Ingram--the Aid Society, because it's
Christmas, darlin'. They opened up--a cool hundred! We--we can light out
To-morrow, darlin'. A cool hundred! Old Ingram, the old skinflint, he
opened up like--like a oyster. South, all of us, to-morrow, darlin'; it
ain't nothing for me to get a job South. When I seen it was snowin'
I'd 'a' killed somebody to get it. I--I had to have it and we got it,
darlin', we--we got it--a cool hundred!"
He lay back on the pillow, suddenly limp, the bill fluttering to the
coverlet, and she slid her arm beneath his head.
"You could have knocked me down, too, darlin'. Easy, just like that he
forked over. 'What's a Aid Society for?' he kept sayin'. 'What's a Aid
Society for?'"
"Vi, I--"
"Don't cry, darlin', don't cry. I just can't stand it!"
"I--"
"'S-s-s-s-h! Easy, just like that he gimme it, darlin'."
"And me lying here hatin' him for a skinflint and his store for a
bloodsucker and the Aid Society for a fake!"
"Yes, yes, darlin'."
"I feel new already, Vi. I can feel the sun already shining through me.
If he was here, I--I could just kiss his hand; that's how it feels for
a fellow to get his nerve back. I got my chance now, Vi; there ain't
nothing can keep me down. Just like he says--I'll be a new man out
there. Look, hon, just talking about it! Feel how I got some strength
back already. An hour ago I couldn't hold you like this."
"Oh, my darlin'!"
He sat up suddenly in bed and drew her into his arms and she laid her
cheek against his, and in the silence, from the trundle crib beside
them, the breathing of a child rose softly, fell softly.
"I--I blew us to a real Christmas, darlin', us and the kid. I--I
couldn't help it. I couldn't bear to have her wake up without it, Harry,
her and you--and me."
"A real Christmas, baby!"
"Red wine for you, darlin', like I brought you last Tuesday night and
warmed you up so nice. The kind the doctor says is so grand for you,
darlin'--red wine without bubbles like he says you gotta have."
"Red wine!"
"Yeh, and black grapes like I brought you last Tuesday, and like he says
you oughtta have--black grapes and swell fruit that's good for you,
darlin'."
"A real blow-out, Vi-dee."
"A bear for the kid, Harry!"
"Vi!"
"Yeh, a real brown grizz, with the grin and all, like she cried for in
the window that Sunday--a real big brown one with the grin and all."
"That cost a real bunch of money, sweet!"
"Yeh, I blew me like sixty for it, hon, but she cried for it that Sunday
and she had to have a Christmas, didn't she, darlin', even if she is too
little. It--it would 'a' broke my heart to have her wake up to-morrow
without one."