"MADAME, I WONDER if you would be so gracious as to do me a favor?" Mr.
Hawkins, coming through the office door, put his dark hat on quickly so
that he could remove it in a sweeping, deferential gesture.
"Of course," I said automatically, looking up from my morning's
bookkeeping. "That is, maybe," I added warily.
His brown eyes, as usual, were sparkling with a private amusement. He
always gave the impression that he loved people, but couldn't resist a
few chuckles at their expense.
"I fear the matter of the black rubber spider has caused you to
mistrust me," he said. "Ah, madame, I apologize deeply if my little
joke frightened you. Pray have the kindness to forget it long enough to
do for me something for which both my fiancee and I will be grateful."
"Your fiancee!" I exclaimed. "You mean Miss Nestleburt has--you're
going to be--"
"Yes, she has done me the great honor of consenting to become my wife.
Our nuptials will take place a week from today, when my work in Palm
Springs will be done. And today, if your husband can spare you, I would
be most happy if you would come with me and help me select a small gift
for my bride-to-be."
Grant was just finishing a late and solitary breakfast. (A fried egg,
smothered in applesauce.) He could manage, he told me sleepily. David
was in school and the baby was playing quietly in her playpen; and not
many customers come in the morning as a rule. I got my coat and purse
while Mr. Hawkins waited, and then he helped me gallantly into his
green coupe.
We stopped at a drugstore on the corner of San Gorgonio Avenue, in the
heart of Banning. A sweet smell, compounded of fragrant cosmetics and
candy and soda fountain concoctions, met us as we went in.
The drugstore was crowded. Children and a few men were clustered around
the comic books at the magazine stand; the seats in front of the soda
fountain were full of workers having a morning coke or cup of coffee.
Matrons and business men thronged the store, and the clerks were
rushing about busily.
We strolled farther into the drugstore, Mr. Hawkins' broad shoulders
clearing a path for us, and finally he touched my arm respectfully. He
had stopped at a table laden with merchandise. The table held
everything from toothbrushes to expensive cosmetic sets. Probably, I
thought, he wanted my opinion on whether one of the cosmetic sets would
be an appropriate gift.
I was standing there in the crowd, smiling amiably, when suddenly he
picked up a toothbrush, waved it in the air, and bellowed,
"What--you mean to say you actually haven't brushed your teeth for
three years? Well, COME ON, I'm going to buy you a toothbrush!" And he
took me by the elbow and herded me ostentatiously through a staring,
shocked, and slightly revolted crowd, to the nearest clerk.
He put some coins into her hand and said loudly, "Don't bother to wrap
it up, I'm going to get her home and make her use this toothbrush right
away. Did you ever hear of anyone going three years without brushing
their teeth? Why, the Board of Health ought to get after people like
that!"
I was scarlet with rage and mortification. I summoned up a sickly smile
for the benefit of the curious eyes that were around me. But then those
eyes all darted down toward my mouth, eager for a glimpse of my teeth.
I pressed my lips tightly together--a move which, I realized later,
must have convinced everyone that my teeth were covered with enough
film to shoot another Gone With the Wind.
I stalked out of the drugstore, and Mr. Hawkins, the toothbrush in one
hand, followed, shrieking with laughter.
I got into the car silently and grimly. When he had controlled his
mirth enough to start the car I said with venom, "Now don't give me any
of that 'I apologize deeply, madame!' stuff."
I glanced sidewise at him. His cheeks were still quivering, and wet
with tears.
Chuckling intermittently, he drove the car to a candy store a few
blocks away.
He got out and made a flourish as though to help me out of the car. I
sat there and stared at him stonily.
"I'm not going into another store with you," I stated. "If you really
want my advice on a gift, just bring it out here to the car and I'll
tell you what I think about it. I'd even tell you what I think about
you, if I weren't a lady."
"Madame, I assure you--" he protested. Then, his words apparently
evoking the memory of my expression in the drug store, he turned away
quickly. His shoulders were shaking as he went through the doorway of
the candy store.
Presently, followed by an anxious salesgirl, he came out, carrying
several attractive, cellophane-wrapped boxes. With a regal disdain that
must have puzzled the salesgirl, I indicated that a box of chocolate
covered dates was the choicest delicacy of the lot.
I was still in a bad mood that evening when I came back from cabin 15
and climbed up on the typewriter case on the kitchen chair, after
sprinkling a clothesbasket full of clean clothes and getting them ready
to iron. The difficulty of reading, and the headlights which clamored
for my attention and turned out to belong to cars which were going so
fast that it was obvious they weren't likely to stop, began to irritate
me more than they ever had before.
Finally, after I had made three unsuccessful attempts to read one
sentence through to the end, I snapped my book shut, sighed loudly for
the benefit of Grant, who was reading on the davenport--and leaned
hard, with violent disgust, against the back of the chair.
My disgust was much more violent when I found myself sprawling
helplessly in the clothesbasket, like a huge turtle on its back. I had
forgotten that the height of the typewriter case was enough to make the
chair back--short enough to start with--practically nonexistent.
Grant came running to help me out of the clothesbasket. I looked at him
sharply. Yes, he was smiling a little.
That settled it! The idea, him sitting and reading, and then laughing
at me when I injured myself after working about fourteen hours in one
stretch!
I'd fix him. I thanked him graciously for his help, smoothed the
clothes in the basket, replaced the typewriter, and resumed my watch.
I glanced around at Grant, after a few minutes. He was immersed in his
newspaper once more, and looked very comfortable.