_Elise Goes Forth to Conquer_
Elise had been environed by very plebeian surroundings. Being ignorant
of her birth-right, her sympathies were wholly with her associates. Not
that as yet they had had any occasion for active development; only the
tendencies were there. In a vague, indefinite way she had heard of kings
and queens, of lords and ladies, grand personages, so far above common
folk that they needs must have mongrel go-betweens to make known their
royal wills. Though she knew that kings and queens had no domain beneath
the eagle's wings, she had absorbed the idea that in the distant East
there was springing up a thrifty crop of nobilities who had very royal
wills which only lacked the outward insignia. These, having usurped that
part of the eagle's territory known as the East, were now sending into
the as yet free West their servile and unscrupulous minions.
This was common talk among the imported citizens who flocked nightly to
the Blue Goose, and in this view of the case the home-made article
coincided with its imported fellows. There were, however, a few
independents like Bennie, and these had a hard row of corn. By much
adulation the spirit of liberty was developing tyrannical tendencies,
and by a kind of cross-fertilization was inspiring her votaries with the
idea that freedom meant doing as they pleased, and dissenters be damned!
On this evening Elise was in attendance as usual at the little arcade,
which was divided from the council-room by a thin partition only.
Consequently, she had overheard every word that passed between Pierre
and his visitors. She had given only passive attention to Morrison's
citation of grievances; but to his proposed plan of action she listened
eagerly.
Her sympathies were thoroughly enlisted over his proposed strike more
than over Pierre's artful suggestion of covert nagging. Not that she
considered an ambushed attack, under the circumstances, as
reprehensible, but rather because open attack revealed one's personality
as much as the other course concealed it. The first year only of
humanity is wholly satisfied, barring colic, with the consciousness of
existence. The remaining years are principally concerned with impressing
it upon others.
Elise was very far from possessing what might be termed a retiring
disposition. This was in a large measure due to a naturally vivacious
temperament; for the rest, it was fostered by peculiarly congenial
surroundings. In this environment individuality was free to express
itself until it encountered opposition, when it was still more freely
stimulated to fight for recognition, and, by sheer brute force, to push
itself to the ascendant. This being the case, Elise was sufficiently
inspired by the exigencies of the evening to conceive and plan an
aggressive campaign on her own account. Being only a girl, she could not
take part either in Morrison's open warfare, or in Pierre's more
diplomatic intrigues. Being a girl, and untrammelled by
conventionalities, she determined upon a raid of her own. Her objective
point was none other than Firmstone himself. Having come to this
laudable conclusion, she waited impatiently an opportunity for its
execution.
Early one morning, a few days later, Elise saw Firmstone riding
unsuspiciously by, on his way to the mine. Previous observations had
taught her to expect his return about noon. So without ceremony, so far
as Pierre and Madame were concerned, Elise took another holiday, and
followed the trail that led to the mine. At the falls, where she had
eaten breakfast with Zephyr, she waited for Firmstone's return.
Toward noon she heard the click of iron shoes against the rocks, and,
scattering the flowers which she had been arranging, she rose to her
feet. Firmstone had dismounted and was drinking from the stream. She
stood waiting until he should notice her. As he rose to his feet he
looked at her in astonished surprise. Above the average height, his
compact, athletic figure was so perfectly proportioned that his height
was not obtrusive. His beardless face showed every line of a
determination that was softened by mobile lips which could straighten
and set with decision, or droop and waver with appreciative humour. His
blue eyes were still more expressive. They could glint with set purpose,
or twinkle with quiet humour that seemed to be heightened by their
polished glasses.
Elise was inwardly abashed, but outwardly she showed no sign. She stood
straight as an arrow, her hands clasped behind her back, every line of
her graceful figure brought out by her unaffected pose.
"So you are the old man, are you?" The curiosity of the child and the
dignity of the woman were humorously blended in her voice and manner.
"At your service." Firmstone raised his hat deliberately. The dignity of
the action was compromised by a twinkle of his eyes and a wavering of
his lips.
Elise looked a little puzzled.
"How old are you?" she asked, bluntly.
"Twenty-eight."
"That's awfully old. I'm sixteen," she answered, decisively.
"That's good. What next?"
"What's a minion?" she asked. She was trying to deploy her forces for
her premeditated attack.
"A minion?" he repeated, with a shade of surprise. "Oh, a minion's a
fellow who licks the boots of the one above him and kicks the man below
to even up."
Elise looked bewildered.
"What does that mean?"
"Oh, I see." Firmstone's smile broadened. "You're literal-minded.
According to Webster, a minion is a man who seeks favours by flattery."
"Webster!" she exclaimed. "Who's Webster?"
"He's the man who wrote a lexicon."
"A lexicon? What's a lexicon?"
"It's a book that tells you how to spell words, and tells you what they
mean."
Elise looked superior.
"I know how to spell words, and I know what they mean, too, without
looking in a--. What did you call it?"
"Lexicon. I thought you just said you knew what words meant."
"I didn't mean big words, just words that common folks use."
"You aren't common folks, are you?"
"That's just what I am," Elise answered, aggressively, "and we aren't
ashamed of it, either. We're just as good as anybody," she ended, with a
toss of her head.
"Oh, thanks." Firmstone laughed. "I'm common folks, too."
"No, you aren't. You're a minion. M'sieu Mo-reeson says so. You're a
capitalistic hireling sent out here to oppress the poor workingman. You
use long tape-lines to measure up, and short rods to measure holes, and
you sneak in the mill at night, and go prying round the mine, and
posting notices, and--er--oh, lots of things. You ought to be ashamed of
yourself." She paused in breathless indignation, looking defiantly at
Firmstone.
Firmstone chuckled.
"Looks as if I were a pretty bad lot, doesn't it? How did you find out
all that?"
"I didn't have to find it out. I hear M'sieu Mo-reeson and Daddy and
Luna and lots of others talking about it. Daddy says you're 'smooth,
ver' smooth stuff,'" she mimicked. Elise disregarded minor
contradictions. "'Twon't do you any good, though. The day is not far
distant when down-trodden labour will rise and smite the oppressor.
Then----" her lips were still parted, but memory failed and inspiration
refused to take its place. "Oh, well," she concluded, lamely, "you'll
hunt your hole all right."
"You're an out-and-out socialist, aren't you?"
"A socialist?" Elise looked aghast. "What's a socialist?"
"A socialist is one who thinks that everyone else is as unhappy and
discontented as he is, and that anything that he can't get is better
than what he can. Won't you be seated?" Firmstone waved her to a
boulder.
Elise seated herself, but without taking her eyes from Firmstone's face.
"Now you're making fun of me."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"What makes you think so?"
"Because you sit there and grin and grin all the time, and use big words
that you know I can't understand. Where did you learn them?"
"At school."
"Oh, you've been to school, then, have you?"
"Yes."
"How long did you go to school?"
"Ten or twelve years, altogether."
"Ten or twelve years! What an awful stupid you must be!" She looked at
him critically; then, with a modifying intonation, "Unless you learned a
whole lot. I know I wouldn't have to go to school so long." She looked
very decided. Then, after a pause, "You must have gone clear through
your arithmetic. Zephyr taught me all about addition and division and
fractions, clear to square root. I wanted to go through square root, but
he said he didn't know anything about square root, and it wasn't any
use, anyway. Did you go through square root?"
"Yes. Do you want me to teach you square root?"
"Oh, perhaps so, some time," Elise answered, indifferently. "What else
did you study?"
"Algebra, trigonometry, Latin, Greek." Firmstone teasingly went through
the whole curriculum, ending with botany and zoology.
Elise fairly gasped.
"I never knew there was so much to learn. What's zoo--what did you call
it--about?"
"Zoology," explained Firmstone; "that teaches you about animals, and
botany teaches you about plants."
"Oh, is that all?" Elise looked relieved, and then superior. "Why, I
know all about animals and plants and birds and things, and I didn't
have any books, and I never went to school, either. Do all the big folks
back East have to have books and go to school to learn such things? They
must be awful stupids. Girls don't go to school out here, nor boys
either. There aren't any schools out here. Not that I know of. Mammy
says I must go to school somewhere. Daddy says I sha'n't. They have no
end of times over it, and it's lots of fun to see daddy get mad. Daddy
says I've got to get married right away. But I won't. You didn't tell me
if girls went to school with you."
"No; they have schools of their own."
Elise asked many questions. Then, suddenly dropping the subject, she
glanced up at the sun.
"It's almost noon, and I'm awfully hungry. I think I'll have to go."
"I'll walk down with you, if you'll allow me."
He slipped his arm through the bridle and started down the trail. Elise
walked beside him, plying him with questions about his life in the East,
and what people said and did. Firmstone dropped his teasing manner and
answered her questions as best he could. He spoke easily and simply of
books and travel and a thousand and one things that her questions and
comments suggested. Her manner had changed entirely. Her simplicity,
born of ignorance of the different stations in life which they occupied,
displayed her at her best. Her expressive eyes widened and deepened, and
the colour of her cheeks paled and glowed under the influence of the new
and strange world of which he was giving her her first glimpse.
They reached the Blue Goose. Firmstone paused, raising his hat as he
turned toward her. But Elise was no longer by his side. She had caught
sight of Morrison, who was standing on the top step, glowering savagely,
first at her, then at Firmstone.
Morrison was habilitated in his usual full dress--that is, in his
shirt-sleeves, unbuttoned vest, a collarless shirt flecked with
irregular, yellowish dots, and a glowing diamond. Just now he stood with
his hands in his pockets and his head thrust decidedly forward. His
square, massive jaw pressed his protruding lips against his curled
moustache. His eyes, narrowed to a slit, shot forth malignant glances,
his wavy hair, plastered low upon a low forehead and fluffed out on
either side, flattened and broadened his head to the likeness of a
venomous serpent preparing to strike.
Elise reached the foot of the stone steps, shot a look of fierce
defiance at the threatening Morrison, then she turned toward Firmstone,
with her head bent forward till her upturned eyes just reached him from
beneath her arching brows. She swept him a low courtesy.
"Good-bye, Mr. Minion!" she called. "I've had an awfully nice time."
She half turned her head toward Morrison, then, as Firmstone lifted his
hat in acknowledgment, she raised her hand to her laughing lips and
flung him a kiss from the tips of her fingers. Gathering her skirts in
her hand, she darted up the steps and nearly collided with Morrison, who
had deliberately placed himself in her way.
She met Morrison's indignant look with the hauteur of an offended
goddess. Morrison's eyes fell from before her; but he demanded:
"Where did you pick up that--that scab?" It was the most opprobrious
epithet he could think of.
Elise's rigid figure stiffened visibly.
"It's none of your business."
"What have you been talking about?"
"It's none of your business. Is there any more information you want that
you won't get?"
"I'll make it my business!" Morrison burst out, furiously. "I'll----"
"Go back to your gambling and leave me alone!" With unflinching eyes,
that never left his face, she passed him almost before he was aware of
it, and entered the open door.
Could Morrison have seen the change that came over her face, as soon as
her back was toward him, he might have gained false courage, through
mistaking the cause. Loathing and defiance had departed. In their place
were bewildering questionings, not definite, but suggested. For the
first time in her life her hitherto spontaneous actions waited
approbation before the bar of judgment. The coarse, venomous looks of
Morrison ranged themselves side by side with the polished ease and
deference of Firmstone.
As she passed through the bar-room long accustomed sights were, for the
first time, seen, not clearly, but comparatively. In the corridor that
led to the dining-room she encountered Pierre. She did not speak to him.
The quick eyes of the little Frenchman noted the unwonted expression,
but he did not question her. At the proper time he would know all.
Meantime his concern was not to forget.
Elise opened the door of the dining-room and entered. Madame looked up
as the door closed. Elise stood with distant eyes fixed upon the
pathetically plain little woman. Never before had she noticed the
lifeless hair strained from the colourless tan of the thin face, the
lustreless eyes, the ill-fitting, faded calico wrapper that dropped in
meaningless folds from the spare figure. Madame waited patiently for
Elise to speak, or to keep silence as she chose. For a moment only Elise
stood. The next instant Madame felt the strong young arms about her,
felt hot, decided kisses upon her cheeks. Madame was surprised. Elise
was fierce with determination. Elise was doing penance. Madame did not
know it.
Elise left Madame standing bewildered, and darted upstairs to her little
room. She flung herself on her bed and fought--fought with ghostly,
flitting shadows that elusively leered from darker shades, grasped at
fleeting phantoms that ranged themselves beside the minatory demons,
until at last she grew tired and slept.
Elise had left the Blue Goose in the morning, a white-winged, erratic
craft, skimming the sparkling, land-locked harbours of girlhood. She
returned, and already the first lifting swells beyond the sheltering bar
were tossing her in their arms. She had entered the shoreless ocean of
womanhood.
Pierre passed from the corridor to the bar-room. He glanced from the bar
to the gaming-tables, where a few listless players were engaged at
cards, and finally stepped out upon the broad piazza. He glanced at
Morrison, who was following Firmstone with a look of malignant hatred.
"Meestaire Firmstone, he bin come from ze mine?"
"To hell with Firmstone!" growled Morrison. He turned and entered the
saloon.
Pierre followed him with knowing eyes.
"To hell wiz Firmstone, heh?" He breathed softly. "_Bien!_"
Pierre stood looking complacently over the broken landscape. Much
understanding was coming to him. The harmlessness of the dove radiated
from his beaming face, but the wisdom of the serpent was shining in his
eyes.