POSTPRANDIAL CONVERSATIONS
It was a wonderful night. The sun had set in a glory of clouds while
Oscar was still endeavoring to fill 'em up. The moon was full and
"round as the shield of my fathers." It was very warm with not a breeze
stirring. Jeffry Tucker drew Nan down on the first fallen log they came
to out of reach of the noise from the pavilion.
"It is fine to be able to leave the city for a while," he said, drawing
in deep breaths of mountain air. "And now, Miss Nan Carter, I want you
to tell me what was the reason for the S. O. S. that you sent out to
me as plain as one pair of eyes can speak to another. I am a very old
friend of your father, have known him ever since I was a little boy at
school where I looked up to him and admired him as only a little boy
can a big one. I see he is in poor health, at least in a nervous state,
and I am wondering if there isn't something I can do. I don't want to
butt in--you understand that, don't you? But if I can help, I want to."
And then Nan Carter did just exactly what everybody always did: she took
Jeffry Tucker into her confidence and told him all of the troubles of
the family. He listened attentively.
"I see! The rent from the house in Richmond is the only income you can
depend upon just now, and your mother wants to live at home again and
have Miss Douglas make her debut in state. She has given up college for
lack of funds, but she is to make her debut instead--a much more
expensive pastime, I fancy. What does your father say?"
"Oh, that is the terrible part of it! We don't want anyone to appeal to
father--he is sure to say that mother must do just as she chooses. He
always has said that and he thinks that he is put on earth just to
gratify mother's every wish. Mr. Tucker, please don't think mother is
selfish--it isn't that--she is just inexperienced."
"Certainly not! Certainly not!" But that gentleman crossed his fingers
and quickly possessed himself of a bit of green leaf, which was the
Tucker twins' method, as children, when they made a remark with a mental
reservation, the remark for politeness and the mental reservation for
truth.
"You see, if father begins to think that mother wants things that it
will take more money to buy, he will go back to work, and Dr. Wright
says that nothing but a complete rest will cure him--rest and no
worries."
"Can't Dr. Wright have a plain talk with your mother and explain matters
to her?"
"Ye-e-s, but there is a kind of complication there, too. You see, Dr.
Wright had a horrid time at first trying to beat it into us that father
was in a bad way. Helen kicked against his diagnosis like I don't know
what, treated Dr. Wright mighty badly. He was fine about it and so
patient that by and by Helen came to her senses, and began to
appreciate all he had done for father, and she and Dr. Wright are real
good friends. Now Helen is siding with mother and thinks that whatever
mother wants to do she should do. She even wants Douglas to go to White
Sulphur with mother for several weeks, right now in our very busiest
season."
Mr. Tucker could not help laughing at the child by his side, so
seriously discussing the trials of her family and now talking about
their busiest season like some veteran hotel keeper.
"White Sulphur would mean an added expense, too," he suggested.
"Of course, and Helen says she will take her share of the summer's
earnings and send mother. Helen is very generous and very impulsive,
with no more idea of saving for winter than a grasshopper."
"This is what I take it you want me to do: make your mother change her
mind about going to White Sulphur and decide of her own accord that this
winter it would be a mistake to bring Miss Douglas out to make her bow
before Richmond society."
"Exactly! Oh, Mr. Tucker, if you only could without having father even
know that mother is not having everything she wants!"
"I'll do my best. I may have to take Dr. Wright into consultation before
I get through. Already a plan is surging in my brain."
"Let's fly back to the pavilion then and you start to work!"
Nan forgot to be shy in her eagerness to thank Mr. Tucker for his
interest in their affairs and her hurry to get him launched in the
undertaking of coercing her mother without that little lady's knowledge.
She wondered if she had spoken too plainly about Dr. Wright and Helen.
Nan was sentimental, as one of her poetic nature would be apt to be, and
the budding romance that she thought she could spy springing up between
Dr. Wright and her sister, far be it from her to blight. She felt sure
Dr. Wright would feel it to be his duty to protect his patient from
mental worry, but she was also sure that Helen would be quite impatient
if Dr. Wright ventured to criticize her mother. What a relief it was to
have unbosomed herself to this dear, kind Mr. Tucker, who understood her
so readily and still did not seem to think her poor little mother was
selfish or silly! (The crossing of fingers and holding something green
had escaped her notice.)
"I won't tell Douglas I have said anything to him," she promised
herself. "It would be difficult to explain that I caught his eye at the
supper table and he divined that I was in trouble. That is the truth,
though, no matter how silly it sounds."
She wondered what the plan was that had begun to surge but she
determined to leave it to Mr. Tucker. That gentleman, whatever his idea
of attack, did not immediately approach her mother but made his way to
the middle of the pavilion where he awaited his chance to break in on a
dance with Page Allison, his daughters' friend.
"She may be part of his plan! Who knows? At any rate, I believe he is
going to get us out of the trouble somehow."
As Douglas and Lewis left the pavilion they took the path straight up
the mountain. "Let's go this way and shake the crowd for a little
while," suggested Lewis.
"But we mustn't be long. Helen will have too much entertaining to do.
We can't get it out of our heads that we must treat these boarders as
though we were having a house-party."
"Well, I reckon that's the reason you have been so successful. I have
heard some of the fellows say that they never hear the chink of coin
here. It really seems like a house-party."
"I am so glad, but I am glad of the chink of coin, too."
"But, Douglas, I did not bring you out here to talk about boarders and
coin--I have got something else to say. Bill and I have just been
waiting until Cousin Robert and Cousin Annette got back because we
couldn't leave you without any protection----"
"Leave us! Oh, Lewis!"
"Do you mind really, Douglas?"
"Mind? Why, I can't tell you how much I mind!"
"We know we have no business staying here indefinitely and we feel we
must get to work. We are going to enlist for the Mexican border. We have
got over our grouch against Uncle Sam for firing us from West Point and
now that he needs us, we are determined to show him we are ready to
serve him in any capacity. You know we are right, don't you?"
"Ye-e-s, but----"
By that time Lewis had taken possession of Douglas' hands and with a
voice filled with emotion, he said:
"I can't bear to leave you, but now Cousin Robert is here he will make
it safe for you. I have tried to help some----"
"Oh, and you have! We couldn't have done a thing without you and Bill."
"I don't know about that. I believe there is no limit to what you Carter
girls can do--but, Douglas--honey--before I go to Mexico--I--I just
have to tell you how much I love you. I don't mean like a cousin--I'm
not such close kin to you after all--I mean I love you so much that the
thought of leaving you is agony. You knew all the time that it was no
cousin business, didn't you, Douglas?"
"Why, Lewis, I never thought of such a thing. You are almost like my
brother," and Douglas devoutly wished the moon would hurry up and get
behind a big black cloud that was coming over the mountain.
"Brother much! I'm not the least little bit like a brother. Bill's got
sisters and I don't believe he is bothering about leaving them one-tenth
as much as he is leaving Tillie Wingo. Why, honey, ever since I can
remember I have been meaning to get you to marry me when we both grew
up. Of course, I can't ask you to marry me now as I haven't a piece of
prospect and will have to enlist in the ranks and work up, but I mean to
work up fast and be so steady that I'll be a lieutenant before Carranza
and Villa can settle their difficulty. Won't you be engaged to me so
I'll have something to work for until I can see you again?"
"Engaged to you! Why, Lewis, I--I--how can I be when it is so sudden?
You never told me before that you cared for me the least little bit."
"Told you before! Ye Gods and little fishes! I've been telling you for
pretty near eighteen years."
"Well, I never heard you!"
"Why don't you say you don't give a hang for me and let me go?"
"But, Lewis, I give a whole lot of hangs for you and I don't want you to
go."
"Oh, I know the kind of hangs you give: just this brother and sister
business," and the young man dropped the girl's hands.
Douglas felt like crying, but Lewis was so absurd she had to laugh. What
time had she to think about getting engaged? She felt as though the
whole world rested on her young shoulders. Here was her mother wanting
her to make a debut, and Helen wanting to spend on a silly trip the
pitiful little money they had begun to save from their boarding camp.
And now Lewis Somerville and Bill Tinsley, the brawn and sinew of their
undertaking, suddenly deciding that they must enlist and hike out for
the Mexican border!
"We must go back to the pavilion," she said wearily. Her voice sounded
very tired and she stumbled a little as she turned to go down the path.
"Now, Douglas, I have distressed you," and Lewis was all thoughtfulness
and consideration. "I didn't mean to, honey--I just want you to say you
love me the way I love you."
"And I can't say it, because I never thought of your caring for me in
any different way. You are the best friend I have in the world."
"Well, that is something and I am going to keep on being it. Maybe when
I come back from Mexico you will think differently. You will write to
me, won't you?"
"Why, of course I will, Lewis! Haven't I always written to you?"
"Douglas, don't you think you could love me a little?"
"But, Lewis, I do love you a whole lot!"
"But I mean be engaged to me?"
"Lewis Somerville, would you want me to be engaged to you when you know
perfectly well that I have never thought of you except as the very best
friend I've got in the world, and if not as a brother, at least as a
cousin who has been almost like a brother? If I did engage myself to
you, you wouldn't have the least bit of respect for me and you know you
wouldn't; would you?"
But Lewis would not answer. He just drew her arm in his and silently led
her back to the pavilion. The big cloud had made its way in front of the
moon and he took advantage of the darkness to kiss her hand, but he was
very gentle and seemingly resigned to the brother business that he had
so scorned. His youthful countenance was very sad and stern, however, as
he turned and made his way to the tent that he shared with Bill and
Bobby.
Bill Tinsley and Tillie Wingo, too, were walking on the mountainside,
Bill as silent as the grave but in a broad grin while Tillie kept up her
accustomed chatter. It flowed from her rosy lips with no more effort
than water from a mountain spring.
"Do you know, Mr. Tinsley, that I have danced out five dresses this
summer? As for shoes! If Helen had not given me some of her slippers, I
would be barefooted this minute. I don't mind this rough dressing in the
day time, but I must say when evening comes I like to doll up. I believe
Mrs. Carter feels the same way. Isn't that a lovely dress she has on
this evening? There is no telling what it cost. If their mother can buy
such a frock as that, I think it is absurd for the girls to be working
so hard--and believe me, they are some workers. Now, I'm real practical
and know how to dress on very little and, if I do say it that shouldn't,
I bet there is not a girl in Richmond who makes a better appearance on
as little money as I spend, but I know what things cost--you can't fool
me--and I'm able to tell across the room that that filmy lace effect
that Mrs. Carter is sporting set her back a good seventy-five."
"Whew!" from Bill.
"Easy, seventy-five, I say, and maybe more! It would take a lot of
week-enders to pay for it and I bet she no more thinks about it than
she does about the air she breathes. Now she wants to bring Douglas
out and you know she wouldn't be willing to let her come out like a
poor girl--no sirree! Douglas would have to have all kinds of clothes
and all kinds of parties. She would have to come out in a blaze of
glory if her mother has a finger in it. Girls who come out that way
don't have such a lot on the ones who just quietly crawl out--like I
did, f'instance. I just quietly crawled--you could not call it
coming----"
Here Bill gave one of his great laughs, breaking his vow of silence. At
least it seemed as though he must have made such a vow as through all of
Tillie's chatter he had uttered not one word more than the "Whew" over
Mrs. Carter's extravagance. The picture of Tillie's quietly crawling
got the better of his risibles.
"You needn't laugh! I can assure you I came out in home-made clothes and
during the entire winter I had not one thing done for me to push me in
society--not a cup of tea was handed in my name. One lady did put my
card in some invitations she got out, trying to relaunch a daughter
who had been out for three seasons and gone in again, but she had an
inconvenient death in the family and had to recall the invitations; so
I got no good of it after all. Not that I cared--goodness no! I had all
the fun there was to have and I'm still having, although I'm not able to
keep in the swim, giving entertainments and what not. Of course, I was
not included in select luncheons and dinner dances and the like. Those
expensive blowouts are given with a view of returning all kinds of
obligations or of putting people in your debt so you are included in
theirs--but I got to all the big things and got there without the least
wire-pulling or working. Of course, I did get to some of the small
things because I was run in a lot as substitute when some girl dropped
out. I wasn't proud and did not mind in the least being second or third
choice. People who never entertain need not expect to be on the original
list. I just took a sensible view of the matter. I tell you, if a girl
wants to have a good time she's got no business with a chip on her
shoulder. Society is a give-and-take game and if you are poorish and
want to get without giving, you've got to be willing to do a lot in the
way of swallowing your pride. At least, I had no slights offered me
where the dancing men were concerned. I made every german and that is
something many a rich debutante can't say for herself."
Tillie paused for breath and then Bill opened his mouth to speak, but
the loquacious Tillie got in before he could begin and he had to wait.
"Now I believe Douglas would have lots of attention even if her mother
did nothing to help on, but Mrs. Carter would enjoy having a daughter in
society more than a daughter would enjoy being there, I believe, and
she would be entertaining and spending money from morning until night.
Of course, Lewis Somerville would be lots of help as he would stand
ready to take Douglas anywhere that she did not get a bid from some
other man----"
"But Lewis'll be gone," broke in Bill.
"Gone! Nonsense! Now that he is out of West Point I'll be bound he will
just dance attendance on Douglas. He is dead gone on her. That helps a
lot in a girl's first year: to have a devoted--that is, if he is not
silly jealous."
"He'll be gone."
"Gone where?"
"Mexican border!"
"But he is out of soldiering."
"Both of us enlisting!" Tillie was absolutely silenced for a moment and
Bill went on: "See here, Miss Wingo, Tillie! I'd be glad if you
would--if--I'm stuck on you for sure."
"Oh, come off! You know you think I'm the silliest ever."
"I think you are about the prettiest, jolliest ever. I wish you would
let me go off to Mexico engaged to you. It would make it lots easier to
work and I mean to work like a whole regiment and make good. Won't you,
Tillie?"
"Well, I don't care if I do. You are a fine dancer and I think a heap of
you, Bill. I'd rather keep it dark, though, if you don't mind, as it
queers a girl's game sometimes if she gets engaged."
"Lord, no! I don't mind just so I know it myself," and the happy Bill
enfolded his enamorata in his arms, although she carefully admonished
him not to crush her new dress.
"I never dreamed you were thinking about me seriously," she confessed as
she emerged from his embrace.
"Honest? Been dotty about you ever since you took me for a jitney driver
and tipped me a quarter. Got it yet."
"Look how dark it is! I believe we are going to have a storm. What a
great black cloud! Let's hurry, as I have no idea of getting my frock
wet."
Hurry they did and reached the pavilion just as great drops began to
fall. Bill was in a state of happy excitement over his engagement,
although it was something he must keep to himself. He felt like shouting
it on the housetops, but instead he gave one of his great laughs that
startled Mrs. Carter so she stopped dancing and hunted up Bobby.
"It sounded like bears and lions," she declared, "and I felt uneasy
about my baby."
She found that youngster fast asleep cuddled up in his father's arms,
the father looking very happy and peaceful. Robert Carter felt quite
like a little child himself with his great girls taking care of him.