AUNT CRETE TRANSFORMED
THEY locked the house early one morning when even the dusty bricks
had a smell of freshness to them before the hot sun baked them for
another day. The closed blinds seemed sullen like a conquered tyrant,
and the front door looked reproachfully at Aunt Crete as she turned
the key carefully and tried it twice to be sure it was locked. The
lonesome look of the house gave the poor old lady a pang as she turned
the corner in her softly rustling silk coat and skirt. She felt it had
hardly been right to put on a new black silk in the morning, and go off
from all the cares of the world, just leave them, boldly ignore them,
like any giddy girl, and take a vacation. She regarded herself with
awe and a rising self-respect in every window she passed. Somehow the
look of dumpiness had passed away mysteriously. It was not her old self
that was passing along the street to the station bearing a cut-steel
hand-bag, while Donald carried her new satchel, and her new trunk
bumped on a square ahead in the expressman’s wagon.
[Illustration: “SHE BEAMED UPON THE WHOLE TRAINFUL OF PEOPLE”]
It was a hot morning, and the great city station seemed close and
stuffy; but Aunt Crete mingled with the steaming crowd blissfully. To
be one with the world, attired irreproachably; to be on her way to a
great hotel by the sea, with new clothes, and escorted devotedly by
some one that was her very own, this indeed was happiness. Could any
one desire more upon the earth?
Donald put her into a cab at the station, and she beamed happily out at
the frightful streets that always made her heart come into her mouth on
the rare occasions when she had to cross them. The ride across the city
seemed a brief and distinguished experience. It was as if everybody
else was walking and they only had the grandeur of a carriage. Then
the ferry-boat was delightful to the new traveller, with its long,
white-ceiled passages, and its smell of wet timbers and tarred ropes.
They had a seat close to the front, where they could look out and watch
their own progress and see the many puffing monsters laboriously plying
back and forth, and the horizon-line of many masts, like fine brown
lines against the sky. Aunt Crete felt that at last she was out in
the world. She could not have felt it more if she had been starting
for Europe.
The seashore train, with its bamboo seats and its excited groups of
children bearing tin pails and shovels and tennis-rackets, filled
her with a fine exhilaration. At last, at last, her soul had escaped
the bounds of red brick walls that she had expected would surround
her as long as she lived. She drew deep breaths, and beamed upon the
whole trainful of people, yelling baby and all. She gazed and gazed
at the fast-flying Jersey scenery, grown so monotonous to some of the
travellers, and admired every little white and green town at which they
paused.
Donald put her into a carriage when they reached the shore. Half an
hour off they had begun to smell the sea, and to catch glimpses of
low-lying marshes and a misty blueness against the sky. Now every
friendly hackman at the station seemed a part of the great day to Aunt
Crete. So pretty a carriage, with low steps and gray cushions and a
fringe all around the canopy, and a white speckled horse, with long,
gentle, white eyelashes. Aunt Crete leaned back self-consciously on
the gray cushions, and enjoyed the creak of her silk jacket as she
settled into place. She felt as if this was a play that would soon be
over; but she would enjoy it to the very end, and then go back to her
dish-washing and cellar-cleaning, and being blamed, and bear them all
in happy remembrance of what she had had for one blissful vacation.
She did not know that Donald had telephoned ahead for the best
apartments in the hotel. She was engaged in watching for the first
blue line of the great mysterious ocean; and, when it came into sight,
billowing suddenly above the line of board walk as they turned a
corner, her heart stood still for one moment, and then bounded onward
set to the time of wonder.
Two obsequious porters jumped to assist Aunt Crete from the carriage.
The hand-baggage drifted up the steps as if by magic, and awaited them
in the apartments to which they arose in a luxurious elevator. Aunt
Crete noticed several old ladies with pink and blue wool knitting,
sitting in a row of large rocking-chairs, as she glided up to the
second floor. It gave her rest on one point, for they all wore white
dresses. She had been a little dubious about those white dresses that
Donald had insisted upon. But now she might enjoy them unashamed. O,
what would Luella say?
She glanced around the room, half-fearfully expecting to find Luella
waiting there. Somehow, now she was here, she wanted to get used to
it and enjoy it all before Luella came. For Luella was an uncertain
quantity. Luella might not like it, after all! Dreadful thought! And
after Donald had taken so much trouble and spent so much money all to
surprise them!
The smiling porter absorbed the goodly tip that Donald handed him, and
went his way. Aunt Crete and Donald were left alone. They looked at
each other and smiled.
“Let’s look around and see where they’ve put us,” said Donald, pushing
the swaying curtains aside; and there before them rolled the blue tide
of the ocean. Aunt Crete sank into a chair, and was silent for a while;
and then she said: “It’s just as big as I thought it would be. I was so
afraid it wouldn’t be. Some folks next door went down to the shore last
year, and they said it didn’t look big enough to what they’d expected;
and I’ve been afraid ever since.”
Donald’s eyes filled with a tender light that was beautiful to see. He
was enjoying the spending of his money, and it was yielding him a rich
reward already.
The apartments that had been assigned to them consisted of a parlor and
two large bedrooms with private baths. Donald discovered a few moments
later, when he went down to the office to investigate, that Luella and
his aunt occupied a single room on the fourth floor back, overlooking
the kitchen court. It was not where he would have placed them, had they
chosen to await his coming and be taken down to the shore in style. But
now that they had run away from him, and were too evidently ashamed
of him, perhaps it was as well to let them remain where they were, he
reflected.
“Aunt Carrie and Luella have gone out with a party in a carriage for an
all-day drive to Pleasure Bay,” announced Donald when he came up. “Aunt
Carrie’s ankle must be better.”
“Well, that’s real nice!” exclaimed Aunt Crete with a smile, turning
from her view of the sea, where she had been ever since he left her.
“I’m glad Luella is having a good time, and we sha’n’t miss her a mite.
You and I’ll have the ocean all to ourselves to-day.”
Donald smiled approvingly. He was not altogether sure he cared to meet
that other aunt and cousin at all. He was not sure but he would like
to run away from them, and carry Aunt Crete with him.
“Very well,” he said, “I’m glad you’re not disappointed. We’ll do just
whatever we want to. Would you like to go in bathing?”
“O, my! Could I? I’ve always thought I’d like to see how it would feel,
but I guess I’m too old. Besides, there’s my figger. It wouldn’t look
nice in a bathing-suit. Luella wouldn’t like it a bit, and I don’t want
to disgrace her, now I’m here. She always makes a lot of fun of old
people going in and sitting right on the edge of the water. I guess it
won’t do.”
“Yes, it will do, if you want to. Didn’t I tell you this was my party,
and Luella isn’t in it? That’s ridiculous. I’ll take you in myself,
Aunt Crete, and we’ll have the best time out; and you sha’n’t be
scared, either. I can swim like a fish. You shall go in every day.
Would you like to begin at once?”
“I should,” said Aunt Crete, rising with a look of resolution in her
face. She felt that Luella would condemn the amusement for her; so, if
she was to dare it, it must be done before her niece appeared.
They went down to the beach, and for a few minutes surveyed the
bathers as they came out to the water. Then with joy and daring in her
face Aunt Crete went into the little bath-house with wildly beating
heart, arrayed herself in the gay blue flannel garb provided for her
use, and came timidly out to meet Donald, tall and smiling in his blue
jerseys.
They had a wonderful time. It was almost better than shopping. Donald
led her down to the water, and very gently accustomed her to it until
he had led her out beyond the roughness, where his strong arms lifted
her well above the swells until she felt as if she was a bird. It was
marvellous that she was not afraid, but she was not. It was as if she
had that morning been transferred back over forty years to her youth
again, and was having the good times that she had longed for, such
as other girls had—the swings, and the rides, and the skatings, and
bicyclings. How many such things she had watched through the years,
with her heart palpitating with daring to do it all herself! Her
petulant sister and the logy Luella never dreamed that Aunt Crete
desired such un-auntly indulgences. If they had, they would have taken
it out of her, scorched it out with scorn.
The white hair with its natural waves fluffed out beautifully, like
a canary’s feathers, after the bath, and Aunt Crete was smiling and
charming at lunch in one of her fine new white dresses. She had hurried
to put it on before Luella appeared, lest they might all be spirited
away from her if Luella discovered them. She reflected with a sigh that
they would likely fit Luella beautifully, and that that would probably
be their final destination, just as Luella’s discarded garments came to
her.
But there was nothing to mar the lunch-time and the beautiful
afternoon, wherein, after a delicious nap to the accompaniment of the
music of the waves, she was taken to drive in the fringed carriage
again, while a bunch of handsome ladies, old and young, sat on the
hotel piazza in more of those abundant rockers, and watched her
approvingly. She felt that she was of some importance in their eyes.
She had suddenly blossomed out of her insignificance, and was worth
looking at. It warmed her heart with humble pleasure. She felt that
she had won approval, not through any merit of her own, but through
Donald’s loving-kindness. It was wonderful what a charm clothes could
work.
“Put on your gray silk for dinner,” said Donald with malice
aforethought in his heart.
“O,” gasped Aunt Crete, “I think I ought to keep that for parties,
don’t you?”
“If ever there was a party, it’s going to be to-night,” said Donald.
“It’s going to be a surprise-party. You want to see if Aunt Carrie and
Luella will know you, you know.”
So with trembling fingers Aunt Crete arrayed herself in her purple
and fine linen, very materially assisted by a quiet maid, whom Donald
had ordered sent to the room, and who persuaded Aunt Crete to let her
arrange the pretty white hair.
It was surprising to see, when the coiffure was complete, that she
looked quite like the other old ladies, who were not old at all, only
playing old.
“I don’t believe they will know me,” whispered Aunt Crete to herself as
she stood before the full-length mirror and surveyed the effect. “And
I didn’t think I could ever look like that!” she murmured after a more
prolonged gaze, during which she made the acquaintance of her new self.
Then she added half wistfully: “I wish I had known it before. I think
perhaps they’d have—liked me—more if I’d looked that way all the time.”
She sighed half regretfully, as if she were bidding good-by to this
new vision, and went out to Donald, who awaited her. She felt that the
picnic part of her vacation was almost over now, for Carrie and Luella
would be sure to manage to spoil it someway.
Donald looked up from his paper with a welcome in his eyes. It was
the first time she had seen him in evening dress, and she thought him
handsome as a king.
“You’re a very beautiful woman, Aunt Crete; do you know it?” said
Donald with satisfaction. He had felt that the French maid would know
how to put just the right touch to Aunt Crete’s pretty hair to take
away her odd, “unused” appearance. Now she was completely in the
fashion, and she looked every inch a lady. She somehow seemed to have
natural intuition for gentle manners. Perhaps her kindly heart dictated
them, for surely there can be no better manners than come wrapped up
with the Golden Rule, and Aunt Crete had lived by that all her life.
They entered the great dining-hall, and made their way among the palms
in a blaze of electric light, with the head waiter bowing obsequiously
before them. They had a table to themselves, and Aunt Crete rejoiced
in the tiny shaded candles and the hothouse roses in the centre, and
lifted the handsome napkins and silver forks with awe. Sometimes it
seemed as if she were still dreaming.
The party from Pleasure Bay had reached home rather late in the
afternoon, after a tedious time in the hot sun at a place full of
peanut-stands and merry-go-rounds and moving-picture shows. Luella had
not had a good time. She had been disappointed that none of the young
men in the party had paid her special attention. In fact, the special
young man for whose sake she had prodded her mother into going had not
accompanied them at all. Luella was thoroughly cross.
“Mercy, how you’ve burned your nose, Luella!” said her mother sharply.
“It’s so unbecoming. The skin is all peeling off. I do wish you’d wear
a veil. You can’t afford to lose your complexion, with such a figure as
you have.”
“O, fiddlesticks! I wish you’d let up on that, ma,” snapped Luella.
“Didn’t you get a letter from Aunt Crete? I wonder what she’s thinking
about not to send that lavender organdie. I wanted to wear it to-night.
There’s to be a hop in the ballroom, and that would be just the
thing. She ought to have got it done; she’s had time enough since I
telephoned. I suppose she’s gone to reading again. I do wish I’d
remembered to lock up the bookcase. She’s crazy for novels.”
All this time Luella was being buttoned into a pink silk muslin heavily
decorated with cheap lace. There were twenty-six tiny elusive buttons,
and Luella’s mother was tired.
“What on earth makes you so long, ma?” snarled Luella, twisting her
neck to try to see her back. “We’ll be so late we won’t get served, and
I’m hungry as a bear.”
They hurried down, arriving at the door just as Aunt Crete and Donald
were being settled into their chairs by the smiling head waiter.
“For goodness’ sake! those must be swells,” said Luella in a low tone.
“Did you see how that waiter bowed and smiled? He never does that to
us. I expect he got a big tip. See, they’re sitting right next our
table. Goodness, ma, your hair is all slipped to one side. Put it up
quick. No, the other side. Say, he’s an awfully handsome young man.
I wonder if we can get introduced. I just know he dances gracefully.
Say, mother, I’d like to get him for a partner to-night. I guess those
stuck-up Grandons would open their eyes then.”
“Hush, Luella; he’ll hear you.”
They settled into their places unassisted by the dilatory waiter, who
came languidly up a moment later to take their order.
Aunt Crete’s back was happily toward her relatives, and so she ate her
dinner in comfort. The palms were all about, and the gentle clink of
silver and glass, and refined voices. The soft strains of an orchestra
hidden in a balcony of ferns and palms drowned Luella’s strident voice
when it was raised in discontented strain, and so Aunt Crete failed
to recognize the sound. But Donald had been on the alert. In the
first place, he had asked a question or two, and knew about where his
relatives usually sat, and had purposely asked to be placed near them.
He studied Luella when she came in, and felt pretty sure she was the
girl he had seen on the platform of the train the morning he arrived in
Midvale; and finally in a break in the music he distinctly caught the
name “Luella” from the lips of the sour woman in the purple satin with
white question-marks all over it and plasters of white lace.
Aunt Carrie was tall and thin, with a discontented droop to her lips,
and premature wrinkles. She wore an affected air of abnormal politeness
and disapproval of everything. She was studying the silver-gray
silk back in front of her and wondering what there was about that
elegant-looking woman with the lovely white waved pompadour and puffs,
and that exquisite real lace collar, to remind her of poor sister
Lucretia. She always coupled the adjective “poor” with her sister’s
name when she thought of all her shortcomings.
Luella’s discontent was somewhat enlivened by the sight of the young
man that had not gone on the drive to Pleasure Bay. He stood in the
doorway, searching the room with keen, interested eyes. Could it be
that he was looking for her? Luella’s heart leaped in a moment’s
triumph. Yes, he seemed to be looking that way as if he had found the
object of his search, and he was surely coming down toward them with a
real smile on his face. Luella’s face broke into preparatory smiles.
She would be very coy, and pretend not to see him; so she began a
voluble and animated conversation with her mother about the charming
time they had had that day, which might have surprised the worthy woman
if she had not been accustomed to her daughter’s wiles. She knew it to
be a warning of the proximity of some one that Luella wished to charm.
The young man came on straight by the solicitous waiters, who waved
him frantically to various tables. Luella cast a rapid side glance, and
talked on gayly with drooping head and averted gaze. Her mother looked
up, wondering, to see what was the cause of Luella’s animation. He was
quite near now, and in a moment more he would speak. The girl felt
excited thrills creeping up her back, and the color rushed into her
cheeks, which were already red enough from the wind and sun of the day.
“Well, well,” said the young man’s voice in a hearty eagerness Luella
had never hoped to hear addressed to herself, “this is too good to be
true. Don, old man, where did you drop from? I saw your name in the
register, and rushed right into the dining-room——”
“Clarence Grandon, as true as I live!” said a pleasant voice behind
Luella. “I thought you were in Europe, bless your heart. This is the
best thing that could have happened. Let me introduce my aunt——”
Some seconds before this Luella’s thrills had changed to chills.
Mortification stole over her face and up to the roots of her hair. Even
the back of her neck, where her bathing-suit was cut low and square,
turned angry-looking. The pink muslin had a round neck, and showed a
half-circle of whiter neck below the bathing-suit square. But Luella
had the presence of mind to smile on to her mother in mild pretence
that she had but just noticed the advent of the young man behind. An
obsequious waiter was bringing an extra chair for Mr. Grandon, and he
was to be seated so that he could look toward their table. Perhaps he
would recognize her yet, and there might be a chance of introduction to
the handsome stranger. Luella dallied with her dinner in fond hope, and
her mother aided and abetted her.
The lovely old lady with the silver-gray silk and the real lace collar
and beautiful hair had her back squarely toward the table where Luella
and her mother sat. They could not see her face. They could only notice
how interested both the young men were in her, and how courteous they
were to her; and they decided she must be some very great personage
indeed. They watched her half enviously, and began to plan some way to
scrape an acquaintance with her. One glimpse they had of her face as
the head waiter rushed to draw back her chair when she had finished her
dinner. It was a fine, handsome face, younger than they had expected to
see, with beautiful sparkling eyes full of mirth and contentment. What
was there in the face that reminded them of something? Had they ever
met that old lady before?
Luella and her mother brought their dallied dessert to a sudden ending,
and followed hard upon the footsteps of the three down the length
of the dining-hall; but the lady in gray and her two attendants had
disappeared already, and disconsolately they lingered about, looking
up and down the length of piazzas in vain hope to see them sitting in
one of the great rows of rockers, watching the many-tinted waves in the
dying evening light; but there was no sign of them anywhere.
As they stood thus leaning over the balcony, a large automobile, gray,
with white cushions, like a great gliding dove, slipped silently up
to the entrance below them in the well-bred silence that an expensive
machine knows how to assume under dignified owners.
Luella twitched her mother’s sleeve. “That’s Grandon’s car,” she
whispered. “P’raps I’ll get asked to go. Let’s sit down here and wait.”
The mother obediently sat down.