RE-CREATION
Were you ever wakened in the early morning by the clear whistle of a
meadow-lark over your head, with the rich scent of the mountain pines
coming to you on the pure light air of a new day, with the sun wrapping
the earth in misty blue, and staining the mountains with rose? To
David, lying on his cot in the open air, every dawning morning was a
new creation, a brand new promise of hope. To be sure, the enchantment
was like to be broken in a moment, still the call of the morning had
fired his blood, and given him a new impetus,--impetus, not for work,
not for ambition, not for activity, just an impetus to lie quietly on
his cot and be happy.
The birds were shortly rivaled by the sweeter, dearer, not less
heavenly voice of little Julia, calling an imaginary dog, counting her
mother's eyes, or singing to herself an original improvise upon the
exalted subject of two brown bugs. And a moment later, came the sound
of rapturous kissing, and Carol was awake. And before the smile of
content left his face, she stood in the doorway, her face flushed with
sleep, her hair tumbling about her face, a warm bath robe drawn about
her. Always her greeting was the same.
"Good morning, David. Another glorious day, isn't it?"
Then Julia came splashing out in Aunt Connie's new rose-colored boudoir
slippers, with Connie in hot barefooted pursuit. And the new day had
begun, the riotous, delirious day, with Julia at the helm.
Connie had amusing merry tales to tell of her work, and her friends,
and the family back home. And time had to be crowded a little to make
room for long drives in the Harmer Six. Carol promptly learned to
drive it herself, and David, tentatively at first, talked of trying his
own hand on it. And finally he did, and took a boyish satisfaction in
his ability to manipulate the gears. Oh, perhaps it made him a little
more short of breath, and he found that his nerves were more highly
keyed than in the old time days,--anyhow he came home tired, hungry,
ready to sleep.
Even the occasional windy or cloudy days, when the Harmer Six was left
wickedly wasting in the garage, had their attractions. How the girls
did talk! Sometimes, when they had finished the dishes, Carol, intent
on Connie's story, stood patiently rubbing the dish pan a hundred, a
thousand times, until David would call pleadingly, "Girls, come out
here and talk." Then, recalled in a flash, they rushed out to him,
afraid the endless chatter would tire him, but happy that he liked to
hear it.
"Speaking of lovers," Connie would begin brightly,--for like so many of
the very charming girls who see no charm in matrimony, most of Connie's
conversation dealt with that very subject. And it was what her
auditors liked best of all to hear. Why, sometimes Carol would
interrupt right in the middle of some account of her success on the
papers, to ask if a certain man was married, or young, or good looking.
After all, getting married was the thing. And Connie was not
sufficiently enthusiastic about that. Writing stories was very well,
and poems and books had their place no doubt, but Shakespeare himself
never turned out a masterpiece to compare with Julia sitting plump and
happy in the puddle of mud to the left of the kitchen door, her round
pink face streaked and stained and grimy.
"I really did decide to get married once," Connie began confidentially,
when they were comfortably settled on the porch by David's cot. "It
was when I was in Mount Mark one time. Julia was so sweet I thought I
could not possibly wait another minute. I kept thinking over the men
in my mind, and finally I decided to apply my business training to the
problem. Do you remember Dan Brooks?"
Carol nodded instantly. She remembered all the family beaus from the
very beginning. "A doctor now, isn't he? Lives next door to the folks
in Mount Mark. I used to think you would marry him, Connie. He is
well off, and nice, too. And a doctor is very dignified."
Connie agreed warmly, and David laughed. All the Starrs had been so
sensible in discussing the proper qualifications for lovers, and all
had impulsively married whenever the heart dictated.
"Yes, that's Dan. Did you ever notice that cluster of lilac bushes
outside our dining-room window? Maybe you used it in your own beau
days. It is a lovely place to sit, very effective, for Dan's study
overlooks it from the up-stairs, and their dining-room from
down-stairs. So whenever I want to lure Dan I sit under the lilacs.
He can't miss me.
"One day I planted myself out there with a little red note-book and the
telephone directory. Dan and his mother were eating luncheon. I was
absorbed in my work, but just the same I had a wary eye on Dan. He
shoved back his chair, and got up. Then he kissed his mother lightly
and came out the side door, whistling. I looked up, closed the
directory, snapped the lock on my note-book, and took the pencil out of
my mouth. I said, 'Hello, Danny.' Then I shoved the books behind me.
"'Hello, Connie.--No, I wouldn't invite Fred Arnold if I were you. It
would just encourage him to try, try again, and it would mean an
additional wound in the heart for him. Leave him out.'
"I frowned at him. 'I am not doing a party,' I said coldly.
"'No? Then why the directory? You are not reading it for amusement,
are you? You are not--'
"'Never mind, Dan. It is my directory, and if I wish to look up my
friends--'
"'Look up your friends!' Dan was plainly puzzled. 'None of my
business, of course, but it is a queer notion. And why the tablet?
Are you taking notes?' He reached for the notebook with the easy
familiarity that people use when they have known you all your life. I
shoved it away and flushed a little. I can flush at a second's notice,
Carol. It is very effective in a crisis. I'll teach you, if you like.
It only requires a little imagination."
Carol hugged her knees and beamed at Connie. "Go on," she begged.
"How did it turn out?"
"'Well,' he said, 'you must be writing a book. Are you looking up
heroes? Mount Mark isn't tremendously rich in hero material. But here
am I, tall, handsome, courageous.'
"I sniffed, then I smiled, then I giggled. 'Yes,' I agreed, 'I was
looking up heroes, but not for a book.'
"'What for then?'
"'For me.'
"'For you?'
"'Yes, for me. I want a hero of my own. Dan,' I said in an earnest
impressive manner, 'you may think this is very queer, and not very
modest, but I need a confidant, and Aunt Grace would think I am crazy.
Cross your heart you'll never tell?'
"Dan obediently crossed, and I drew out the books.
"'I am going to get married.'
"Dan pulled his long members together with a jerk and sat up. He was
speechless.
"I nodded affirmatively. 'Yes. Does it surprise you?'
"'Who to?' he demanded furiously and ungrammatically.
"'I haven't just decided,' I vouchsafed reluctantly.
"'You haven't--great Scott, are they coming around in droves like
that?' He glanced down the street as if he expected to see a galaxy of
admirers heaving into view. 'I knew there were a few hanging around,
but there aren't many fellows in Mount Mark.'
"'No, not many, and they aren't coming in droves. I am going after
them.'
"Having known me almost since my toothless days, Dan knew he could only
wait.
"'I am getting pretty old, you know.'
"He looked at me critically and gave my age a smile.
"'I am very much in favor of marriage, and families, and such things.
I want one myself. And if I don't hurry up, I'll have to adopt it.
There's an age limit, you know.'"
"'Age limit,' he exploded.
"'I think I shall have a winter wedding, a white one, along in January.
Not in December, it might interfere with my Christmas presents.'
"'Connie--'
"'I am going to be very systematic about it. In this note-book I am
making a list of all the nice Mount Markers. I couldn't think of any
myself right offhand, so I had to resort to the directory. Now I shall
go through the list and grade them. Some are black-marked right at the
start. Those that sound reasonable, I shall try out. The one that
makes good, I shall marry. I've got to hurry, too. My vacation only
lasts a week, and I have to work on my trousseau a little. It's lots
of fun. I am perfectly fascinated with it.'
"Dan had nothing to say. He looked at me with that blankness of
incomprehension that must be maddening in a man after you are married
to him."
Carol squeezed David's hand and gurgled rapturously. This was her
great delight, to get Connie talking, so cleverly, of her variegated
and cosmopolitan love-affairs.
"'I suppose you are surprised,' I said kindly, 'and naturally you think
it rather queer. You mustn't let any one know. Mount Mark could never
comprehend such modernity. I feel very advanced, myself. I want to
spring up and shout, "Votes for Women" or "Up with the Red Flag," or
"Villa Forever," or something else outspoken and bloody.'"
Carol and David shook with laughter, silently, not to interrupt the
story.
"'How about love, Connie?' suggested Dan, meekly.
"'I believe in love, absolutely. That is my strongest point. As soon
as I find a champion, I am going to concentrate all my energy and all
my talent on falling dead in love with him.'
"'Have you found any eligibles yet?'
"'Yes, Harvey Grath, and Robert Ingersoll, and Cal Keith, and Doctor
Meredith.'
"'Where do I come in?'
"'Oh, we know each other too well,' I said with discouraging
promptness. 'The real fascination in getting married is the novelty of
it. There wouldn't be any novelty in marrying you. I know as much
about you as your mother does. Eggs fried over, meat well done, no
gravy, breakfast in bed Sunday morning, sporting pages first,--it would
be like marrying father. Now I must get to work, Danny, so you'd
better trot along and not bother me. And you must keep away evenings
unless you have a date in advance. You might interrupt something if
you bob in unannounced.'
"'May I have a date this evening?' he asked with high hauteur.
"'So sorry, Danny, I have a date with Cal Keith.' I consulted the
note-book. 'To-morrow night Doctor Meredith. Thursday night, Buddy
Johnson.'
"'Friday then?'
"'Yes, Friday.'
"The next time he saw me, he said first thing, which proved he had been
thinking seriously, 'I suppose it will be the end of my hanging around
here if you get married.'
"Evidently he thought I would contradict him. But I didn't.
"'I am afraid so,' I admitted. 'My husband will be so fearfully
jealous! He will be so crazy about me that he won't allow another man
to come within a mile of me.'
"Dan snorted. 'You don't know how crazy he'll be about you.'
"'Oh, yes, I do, for when I pick him out, I'll see to that part of it.
That will be easy. It is picking him out that is hard.'
"You know how Dan is, Carol. He is very fond of the girls, especially
me, and he makes love in a sort of semi-fashion, but he never really
wanted to get married. He liked to be a bachelor. He noticed how
other men ran down after marriage, and he didn't want to run down. He
saw how so many girls went to seed after marriage, and he didn't want
them to belong to him. 'Let well enough alone, you fool,' was his
philosophy. I knew it. He had told me about it often, and I always
said it was sound good sense.
"The second afternoon I told him I was going to wear white lace to be
married in, and had picked out my bridesmaids. I asked him where would
be a nice place to go for a honeymoon, and he flung himself home in a
huff, and said it was none of his business where I went but he
suggested New London or Danville. I showed no annoyance when he left
so abruptly. I was too busy. I drew my feet up under me and went on
making notes in my red book. He looked out from behind the windows of
the dining-room, carefully concealed of course, but I saw him. I could
hear him nearly having apoplexy when he saw me utterly and blissfully
absorbed in my book."
Carol chuckled in ecstasy. She foresaw that Connie was practically
engaged to Dan, a prince of a fellow, and she was so glad. That little
scamp of a Connie, to keep it secret so long.
"Oh," she cried, "I always thought you loved each other."
"So?" asked Connie coolly. "Dan admitted he was surprised that my
plans worked so easily. Before that he had been my escort on every
occasion, and the town accepted it blandly. Now I had a regular series
of attendants, and Dan was relegated to a few spare moments under the
lilacs now and then. He couldn't see how I got hold of the fellows.
He said they were perfect miffs to be nosed around like that. Why
didn't they show some manhood? Boneless, brainless jelly fishes,
jumping head first because a little snip of a girl said jump.
"The third day I called him on the phone.
"'Dan, come over quick. I have the loveliest thing to show you.'
"He did not wait for a hat. He dashed out and over the hedge, and I
had the door open for him.
"'Oh, look,' I gurgled. I am not a very good gurgler, but sometimes
you just have to do it.
"Dan looked. 'Nothing but silverware, is it?'
"I was hurt. 'Nothing but silverware? Why, it is my silverware, for
my own little house. It cost a terribly, criminally lot, but I
couldn't resist it. I really feel much more settled since I bought it.
There is something very final about silverware. See these pretty
doilies I am making. Aunt Grace is crocheting a bedspread for me, too.
Those are guest towels,--they were given to me.'
"Dan's lips curled scornfully. He turned the lovely linens roughly,
and wiped his hands on a dainty guest towel.
"'Connie, this is downright immodest. Furnishing your house before you
have a lover!'
"'Do you think so?' I kissed a circular hand-embroidered table-cloth.
'If I had known it was such fun furnishing my house, I'd have had the
lover years ago and don't you forgit it.'
"'I am disappointed in you.'
"'I am sorry,' I said lightly. 'But I am so excited over getting
married, that I can't bother much about what mere friends think any
more. My husband's opinions--'
"'Mere friends,' he shouted. 'Mere friends! I am no mere friend,
Connie Starr. I'M--I'M--'
"'Yes, what are you?'
"Well, I am your pal, your chum, your old schoolmate, your best
friend,--'
"'Oh, that was before I was engaged.'
"'Engaged?' Dan was staggered. 'Are you really engaged then? Have
you found the right one?'
"'Being engaged alters the situation. You must see that.'
"'Who is it?'
"'Oh, don't be so silly. I haven't found the right one yet. But the
principle is just the same. With marriage just ahead of me, all the
rest of the world must stand back to give place to my fiancé.'
"Dan sneered. 'Yeh, look at the world standing back and gazing with
envy on this moonbeam fiancé. Look!'
"'Oh, Dan it is the most fascinating thing in the world. In four
months I may be standing at the altar, dressed in filmy white,--I
bought the veil yesterday,--promising to love, honor and obey,--with
reservations,--for the rest of my life. A little home of my own, a
husband to pet, and chum with,--I am awfully happy, Dan, honestly I am.'
"And Carol I did enjoy it. It was fun. I was simply hypnotized with
the idea of having a house and a husband and a lot of little Julias.
Dan glared at me in disgust. Then he went home, snarling about my
mushiness. But he thought it was becoming to me. He said I got
prettier every day. I would not even let him touch my hand any more.
You know Dan and I were pretty good pals for a long time, and he was
allowed little privileges like that. Now it was all off. Dan might
rave and Dan might storm, but I stood firm. He could not touch my
hands! I was consecrated to my future husband.
"'It may not be wicked, Dan, I do not say it is. But it makes me
shiver to think what would happen if my husband caught you doing it.
He might kill you on the spot.'
"'You haven't got a husband,' Dan would snap.
"'The principle is just the same.' Then I would dimple up at him. I
am not the dimply type of girl, I know, but there are times when one
has simply got to dimple at a man, and by wrinkling my face properly I
can give the dimple effect. I have practised it weary hours before the
mirror. I have often prayed for a dimpled skin like yours, Carol, but
I guess the Lord could not figure out how to manage it since my skin
was practically finished before I began to pray. 'I keep wondering
what he will like for breakfast,' I said to Dan. 'Isn't that silly? I
hope he does not want fried potatoes. It seems so horrible to have
potatoes for breakfast.' Then I added loyally, 'But he will probably
be a very strong character, original, and unique, and men like that
always have a few idiosyncrasies, so if he wants fried potatoes for
breakfast he shall have them.'
"Dan sniffed again. He was becoming a chronic sniffer in these days of
my engagement.
"'Yeh, he'll want fried potatoes all right, and postum, and left-over
pumpkin pie. I have a picture of the big mutt in my mind now.
"Constance," he'll say, "for pity's sake put more lard in the potatoes
when you fry them. They are too dry. Take them back and cook them
over." He will want his potatoes swimming in grease, he is bound to,
that's just the kind of man he is. He will want everything greasy.
Oh, you're going to have a sweet time with that big stiff.'
"I shook my fist at him. 'He will not!' I cried. 'Don't you dare make
fun of my husband. He--he--' Then I stopped and laughed. 'Isn't it
funny how women always rush to defend their husbands when outsiders
speak against them? We may get cross at them ourselves, but no one
else shall ridicule them.'
"'Yes, you are one loving little wife all right. You sure are. You
won't let any one say a mean word against your sweet little
snookie-ookums. Oh, no. Wait till you get to darning his socks, you
won't be so crazy about him then.'
"'I do get a little cross when I darn his socks,' I confessed. 'I
don't mind embroidering monograms on his silk shirts, but I can't say
that so far I really enjoy darning his socks. Still, since they are
his, it is not quite so bad. I wouldn't darn anybody else's, not even
my own.'
"'Are you doing it already?' Dan gasped. He found it very hard to keep
me and my husband straight in his mind.
"'I am just pretending. I practise on father's. I want to be a very
efficient darner, so my patches won't make his poor dear feet sore.'
"'Lord help us,' cried Dan, springing to his feet and flinging himself
through the hedge and slamming the door until it shook the house. He
went away angry every time. He simply couldn't be rational. One day
he said he guessed he would have to be the goat and marry me himself
just to keep me out of trouble. Then he blushed, and went home and
forgot his hat.
"Came down to the last day. 'It has simmered down to Harvey Grath and
Buddy Johnson,' I told him. 'Harvey Grath,--Buddy Johnson,--Harvey
Grath,--Buddy Johnson. Do run away, Danny, and don't be a nuisance.
Harvey Grath,--Buddy Johnson.'
"Dan neglected his patients until it is a wonder they did not all
die,--or get well, or something. He sat up-stairs in his study
watching an endless procession of Harvey Graths and Buddy Johnsons,
coming, lingering, going.
"That night, regardless of the illuminating moon, I took Buddy Johnson
to the lilac corner. Dan was up-stairs smoking in front of his window.
Buddy didn't know about that window, but I did. He took my hand, and I
let him. I leaned my head against his shoulder,--not truly against,
just near enough so Dan could not tell the difference. Buddy tried to
kiss me, and nearly did it. I wasn't expecting it just at that minute.
Dan sprang from his chair before the conclusion, so he did not know if
the kiss was a fact, or not. Then I moved two feet away. Dan came out
and marched across to the lilacs.
"'Connie,' he said, 'I am sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to you
a few minutes. It is a matter of business.' To Buddy he said, 'You
know Connie always helps me out when I get stuck. Can you give me a
minute, Connie?'
"I said, 'Of course I can. You'll excuse me won't you, Buddy? It is
getting late anyhow.'
"So Buddy went away and Dan marched we up on the porch where it was
dark and shady.
"'Are you engaged to Buddy Johnson?'
"'No.'
"'Thank Heaven.'
"Dan kissed me, regardless of the accusing eyes of my husband in the
background."
Carol breathed loudly in her relief. He kissed her. Connie did not
care. They were engaged.
"Dan breathlessly took back everything he ever said about getting
married, and being a bachelor, and so forth. He said he was crazy to
be married, always had been, but didn't find it out before. He said he
had always adored me. And I drew out my note-book, and showed him the
first page,--Doctor Daniel Brooks, O. K. And every other name in the
book was checked off.
"Dan was jubilant." Connie's voice trailed away slowly, and her
earnest fine eyes were cloudy.
"An engagement," cried Carol, springing up.
"No," said Connie slowly, "a blunder."
"A blunder," faltered Carol, falling back. "You did it on purpose to
make him propose, didn't you?"
"Yes, and he proposed, and we were engaged. But it was just a blunder.
It was not Dan I wanted. Carol, every woman feels like that at times.
She is full of that great magnificent ideal of home, and husband, and
little children. It seems the finest thing in the world, the only
flawless life. She can't resist it, for the time being. She feels
that work is silly, that success is tawdry, that ambition is wicked.
It is dangerous, Carol, for if she gets the opportunity, or if she can
make the opportunity, she is pretty sure to seize it. I believe that
is why so many marriages are unhappy,--girls mistake that natural
woman-wish for love, and they get married, and then--shipwreck."
Carol sat silent.
"Yes," said David sympathetically, "I think you are right. You were
lucky to escape."
"I knew that evening, that one little evening of our engagement, that
having a home and a husband, and even a little child like Julia, would
never be enough. Something else had to come first. And it had not
come. I went to bed and cried all night, so sorry for Dan for I knew
he loved me,--but not sorry enough to make me do him such a cruel
injustice. The next morning I told him, and that afternoon I returned
to Chicago.
"I have thought a whole lot more of my job since then."
"But why couldn't you love him?" asked Carol impatiently. "It seems
unreasonable, Connie. He is nice enough for anybody, and you were just
ripe and ready for it."
Connie shrugged her shoulders. "Why didn't you love somebody else
besides David?" she asked, and laughed at the quick resentment that
flashed to Carol's eyes.
"Well," concluded Connie, "God certainly wanted a few old maids to
leaven the earth, and I think I have the making for a good leavener.
So I write stories, and let other women wash the little Julias' faces,"
she added, laughing, as Julia, unrecognizably dirty, entered with a
soup can full of medicine she had painstakingly concocted to make her
daddy well.