"Well"--Nannie laughed self-consciously--"he says that any one as pretty
and refined as I might marry anybody; that I must be careful not to
throw myself away."
"Would it be throwing yourself away to marry Dick?"
"It might be. He looked all right to me before I went into the office.
But after you've seen men like Mr. Knox--well, our kind seem--common."
Mrs. Ashburner was calling that Dick McDonald was down-stairs. Nannie,
powdering her nose with Mary's puff, was held by the earnestness of the
other woman's words.
"Let Dick love you, Nannie. He's such a dear."
Dick was, Nannie decided before the evening was over, a dear and a
darling. He had brought her a box of candy and something else in a box.
Mrs. Ashburner had shown him into the dining-room, which she and Nannie
used as a sitting-room when the meals were over. The boarders occupied
the parlor and were always in the way.
"Say, girlie, see here," Dick said as he brought out the box; and Nannie
had gazed upon a ring which sparkled and shone and which looked, as Dick
said proudly, "like a million dollars."
"I wanted you to have the best." His arm went suddenly around her. "I
always want you to have the best, sweetheart."
He kissed her in his honest, boyish fashion, and she took the ring and
wore it; and they went to the play in a rosy haze of happiness, and when
they came home he kissed her again.
"The sooner you get out of that office the better," he said. "We'll get
a little flat, and I've saved enough to furnish it."
Nannie was lighting the lamp under the percolator. Mrs. Ashburner had
left a plate of sandwiches on one end of the dining-room table. Nannie
was young and Mrs. Ashburner was old-fashioned. Her daughter was not
permitted to eat after-the-theatre suppers in restaurants. "You can
always have something here."
"Don't let's settle down yet," Nannie said, standing beside the
percolator like a young priestess beside an altar. "There's plenty of
time---"
"Plenty of time for what?" asked her lover. "We've no reason to wait,
Nannie."
So Dick kissed her, and she let him kiss her. She loved him, but she
would make no promises as to the important day. Dick went away a bit
puzzled by her attitude. He wanted her at once in his home. It hurt him
that she did not seem to care to come to him.
It was a cold night, with white flakes falling, and the policeman on the
beat greeted Dick as he passed him. "It is a nice time in the morning
for you to be getting home."
"Oh, hello, Tommy! I'm going to be married. How's that?"
"Who's the girl?"
"Nannie Ashburner."
"That little redhead?"
"You're jealous, Tommy."
"I am; she'll cook sausages for you when you come home on cold nights,
and kiss you at your front door, and set the talking machine going, with
John McCormack shouting love songs as you come in."
Dick laughed. "Some picture, Tommy. And a lot you know about it. Why
don't you get married and try it out?"
Tommy, who was tall and ruddy and forty, plus a year or two, gave a
short laugh. "I might find somebody to cook the sausages, but there's
only one that I'd care to kiss."
"So that's it. She turned you down, Tommy?"
"She did, and we won't talk about it."
"Oh, very well. Good-night, Tommy."
"Good-night."
So Dick passed on, and Tommy Jackson beat his hands against his breast
as he made his way through the whirling snow, his footsteps deadened by
the frozen carpet which the storm had spread.
Mary Barker was delighted when Nannie told of her engagement to Dick.
She talked it over with Mrs. Ashburner. "It will be the best thing for
her."
Mrs. Ashburner was not sure. "I've drudged all my life and I hate to see
her drudge."
"She won't have it as hard as you have had it," Mary said. "Dick will
always make a good income."
"She will have a harder time than you've had, Mary," said Mrs.
Ashburner, and her eyes swept the pretty room wistfully. "Many a time
when I've been down in my steaming old kitchen I have thought of you up
here in your blue coat and your pretty slippers, with your hair
shining, and I've wished to heaven that I had never married."
"Things haven't been easy for you," said Mary gently.
"They have been harder than nails, Mary. You've escaped all that."
"Yes." Mary's eyes did not meet Mrs. Ashburner's. "I have
escaped--that."
Nannie and her mother slept in the back parlor of the boarding-house.
They had single beds and it was in the middle of the night that Mrs.
Ashburner said: "Are you awake, Nannie?"
"Yes, I am."
"Well, I can't seem to get to sleep. Maybe it's the coffee and maybe
it's because I have you on my mind. I keep thinking that I hate to have
you get married, honey."
"Oh, mother, don't you like Dick?"
"Yes. It ain't that. But it's nice for you in the office and you don't
have to slave."
Nannie sat up in bed, and the light from the street lamp shone in and
showed her wide-eyed, with her hair in a red glory. "I shan't slave,"
she said. "I told Dick."
"Men don't know." Mrs. Ashburner spoke with a sort of weary bitterness.
"They'll promise anything."
"And I am not going to be married in a hurry, mother. Dick's got to wait
for me if he wants me."
It sounded very worldly-minded and decisive and Mrs. Ashburner gained an
envious comfort in her daughter's declaration. She had never set herself
against a man's will in that way. Perhaps, after all, Nannie would make
a success of marriage.
But Nannie was not so resolute as her words might have seemed to imply.
Long after her mother slept she lay awake in the dark and thought of
Dick, of the break in his voice when he had made his plea, the light in
his eyes when he had won a response, his flaming youth, his fine boy's
reverence for her own youth and innocence. It would be--rather
wonderful, she whispered to her heart, and fell asleep, dreaming.
The next morning was very cold, and Nannie, coming early into Kingdon
Knox's office to take his letters, was in a glow after her walk through
the snowy streets. Her cheeks were red, her eyes sparkled, and the ring
on her finger sparkled.
Knox at once noticed the ring. "So that's it," he said, and leaned back
in his chair. "Let's talk about it a little."
They talked about it more than a little, and the burden of Kingdon
Knox's argument was that it was a pity. She was too young and pretty to
marry a poor man and live in a funny little flat and do her own work
and spoil her nails with dishwashing. "Personally, I think it's rather
dreadful. A waste of you, if you want the truth."
Poor Nannie, listening, saw her castles falling. It would be rather
dreadful--dishwashing and a gas stove and getting meals.
"He is awfully in love with me," she managed to say at last.
"And you?" He leaned forward a little. Nannie was aware of the feeling
of excitement which he could always rouse in her. When he spoke like
that she saw herself as something rather perfect and princesslike.
"Wait--for Prince Charming," he said.
Nannie was sure that when Prince Charming came he would be like Mr.
Knox; younger perhaps, but with that same lovely manner.
"Of course," Mr. Knox said gently, "I suppose I ought not to advise, but
if I were you"--he touched the sparkling ring--"I should give it back to
him."
So after several absorbing talks with her employer on the subject,
Nannie gave the ring back, and when poor Dick passed his friend the
policeman on his way home he stopped and told his story.
"They are all like that," Tommy said, "but if I were you I wouldn't
take 'no' for an answer."