Charles Hemple had had a nervous collapse. There were twenty years of
almost uninterrupted toil upon his shoulders, and the recent pressure at
home had been too much for him to bear. His attitude toward his wife was
the weak point in what had otherwise been a strong-minded and
well-organized career--he was aware of her intense selfishness, but it
is one of the many flaws in the scheme of human relationships that
selfishness in women has an irresistible appeal to many men. Luella's
selfishness existed side by side with a childish beauty, and, in
consequence, Charles Hemple had begun to take the blame upon himself for
situations which she had obviously brought about. It was an unhealthy
attitude, and his mind had sickened, at length, with his attempts to put
himself in the wrong.
After the first shock and the momentary flush of pity that followed it,
Luella looked at the situation with impatience. She was "a good
sport"--she couldn't take advantage of Charles when he was sick. The
question of her liberties had to be postponed until he was on his feet.
Just when she had determined to be a wife no longer, Luella was
compelled to be a nurse as well. She sat beside his bed while he talked
about her in his delirium--about the days of their engagement, and how
some friend had told him then that he was making a mistake, and about
his happiness in the early months of their marriage, and his growing
disquiet as the gap appeared. Evidently he had been more aware of it
than she had thought--more than he ever said.
"Luella!" He would lurch up in bed. "Luella! Where _are_ you?"
"I'm right here, Charles, beside you." She tried to make her voice
cheerful and warm.
"If you want to go, Luella, you'd better go. I don't seem to be enough
for you any more."
She denied this soothingly.
"I've thought it over, Luella, and I can't ruin my health on account of
you--" Then quickly, and passionately: "Don't go, Luella, for God's
sake, don't go away and leave me! Promise me you won't! I'll do anything
you say if you won't go."
His humility annoyed her most; he was a reserved man, and she had never
guessed at the extent of his devotion before.
"I'm only going for a minute. It's Doctor Moon, your friend, Charles. He
came to-day to see how you were, don't you remember? And he wants to
talk to me before he goes."
"You'll come back?" he persisted.
"In just a little while. There--lie quiet."
She raised his head and plumped his pillow into freshness. A new trained
nurse would arrive to-morrow.
In the living-room Doctor Moon was waiting--his suit more worn and
shabby in the afternoon light. She disliked him inordinately, with an
illogical conviction that he was in some way to blame for her
misfortune, but he was so deeply interested that she couldn't refuse to
see him. She hadn't asked him to consult with the specialists, though--a
doctor who was so down at the heel....
"Mrs. Hemple." He came forward, holding out his hand, and Luella touched
it, lightly and uneasily.
"You seem well," he said.
"I am well, thank you."
"I congratulate you on the way you've taken hold of things."
"But I haven't taken hold of things at all," she said coldly. "I do what
I have to----"
"That's just it."
Her impatience mounted rapidly.
"I do what I have to, and nothing more," she continued; "and with no
particular good-will."
Suddenly she opened up to him again, as she had the night of the
catastrophe--realizing that she was putting herself on a footing of
intimacy with him, yet unable to restrain her words.
"The house isn't going," she broke out bitterly. "I had to discharge the
servants, and now I've got a woman in by the day. And the baby has a
cold, and I've found out that his nurse doesn't know her business, and
everything's just as messy and terrible as it can be!"
"Would you mind telling me how you found out the nurse didn't know her
business?"
"You find out various unpleasant things when you're forced to stay
around the house."
He nodded, his weary face turning here and there about the room.
"I feel somewhat encouraged," he said slowly. "As I told you, I promise
nothing; I only do the best I can."
Luella looked up at him, startled.
"What do you mean?" she protested. "You've done nothing for me--nothing
at all!"
"Nothing much--yet," he said heavily. "It takes time, Mrs. Hemple."
The words were said in a dry monotone that was somehow without offense,
but Luella felt that he had gone too far. She got to her feet.
"I've met your type before," she said coldly. "For some reason you seem
to think that you have a standing here as 'the old friend of the
family.' But I don't make friends quickly, and I haven't given you the
privilege of being so"--she wanted to say "insolent," but the word
eluded her--"so personal with me."
When the front door had closed behind him, Luella went into the kitchen
to see if the woman understood about the three different dinners--one
for Charles, one for the baby, and one for herself. It was hard to do
with only a single servant when things were so complicated. She must try
another employment agency--this one had begun to sound bored.
To her surprise, she found the cook with hat and coat on, reading a
newspaper at the kitchen table. "Why"--Luella tried to think of the
name--"why, what's the matter, Mrs.----"
"Mrs. Danski is my name."
"What's the matter?"
"I'm afraid I won't be able to accommodate you," said Mrs. Danski. "You
see, I'm only a plain cook, and I'm not used to preparing invalid's
food."
"But I've counted on you."
"I'm very sorry." She shook her head stubbornly. "I've got my own health
to think of. I'm sure they didn't tell me what kind of a job it was when
I came. And when you asked me to clean out your husband's room, I knew
it was way beyond my powers."
"I won't ask you to clean anything," said Luella desperately. "If you'll
just stay until to-morrow. I can't possibly get anybody else to-night."
Mrs. Danski smiled politely.
"I got my own children to think of, just like you." It was on Luella's
tongue to offer her more money, but suddenly her temper gave way.
"I've never heard of anything so selfish in my life!" she broke out. "To
leave me at a time like this! You're an old fool!"
"If you'd pay me for my time, I'd go," said Mrs. Danski calmly.
"I won't pay you a cent unless you'll stay!"
She was immediately sorry she had said this, but she was too proud to
withdraw the threat.
"You will so pay me!"
"You go out that door!"
"I'll go when I get my money," asserted Mrs. Danski indignantly. "I got
my children to think of."
Luella drew in her breath sharply, and took a step forward. Intimidated
by her intensity, Mrs. Danski turned and flounced, muttering, out of the
door.
Luella went to the phone and, calling up the agency, explained that the
woman had left.
"Can you send me some one right away? My husband is sick and the baby's
sick----"
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hemple; there's no one in the office now. It's after
four o'clock."
Luella argued for a while. Finally she obtained a promise that they
would telephone to an emergency woman they knew. That was the best they
could do until to-morrow.
She called several other agencies, but the servant industry had
apparently ceased to function for the day. After giving Charles his
medicine, she tiptoed softly into the nursery.
"How's baby?" she asked abstractedly.
"Ninety-nine one," whispered the nurse, holding the thermometer to the
light. "I just took it."
"Is that much?" asked Luella, frowning.
"It's just three-fifths of a degree. That isn't so much for the
afternoon. They often run up a little with a cold."
Luella went over to the cot and laid her hand on her son's flushed
cheek, thinking, in the midst of her anxiety, how much he resembled the
incredible cherub of the "Lux" advertisement in the bus.
She turned to the nurse.
"Do you know how to cook?"
"Why--I'm not a good cook."
"Well, can you do the baby's food to-night? That old fool has left, and
I can't get anyone, and I don't know what to do."
"Oh, yes, I can do the baby's food."
"That's all right, then. I'll try to fix something for Mr. Hemple.
Please have your door open so you can hear the bell when the doctor
comes. And let me know."
So many doctors! There had scarcely been an hour all day when there
wasn't a doctor in the house. The specialist and their family physician
every morning, then the baby doctor--and this afternoon there had been
Doctor Moon, placid, persistent, unwelcome, in the parlor. Luella went
into the kitchen. She could cook bacon and eggs for herself--she had
often done that after the theatre. But the vegetables for Charles were a
different matter--they must be left to boil or stew or something, and
the stove had so many doors and ovens that she couldn't decide which to
use. She chose a blue pan that looked new, sliced carrots into it, and
covered them with a little water. As she put it on the stove and tried
to remember what to do next, the phone rang. It was the agency.
"Yes, this is Mrs. Hemple speaking."
"Why, the woman we sent to you has returned here with the claim that you
refused to pay her for her time."
"I explained to you that she refused to stay," said Luella hotly. "She
didn't keep her agreement, and I didn't feel I was under any
obligation----"
"We have to see that our people are paid," the agency informed her;
"otherwise we wouldn't be helping them at all, would we? I'm sorry, Mrs.
Hemple, but we won't be able to furnish you with any one else until this
little matter is arranged."
"Oh, I'll pay, I'll pay!" she cried.
"Of course we like to keep on good terms with our clients----"
"Yes--yes!"
"So if you'll send her money around to-morrow? It's seventy-five cents
an hour."
"But how about to-night?" she exclaimed. "I've got to have some one
to-night."
"Why--it's pretty late now. I was just going home myself."
"But I'm Mrs. Charles Hemple! Don't you understand? I'm perfectly good
for what I say I'll do. I'm the wife of Charles Hemple, of 14
Broadway----"
Simultaneously she realized that Charles Hemple of 14 Broadway was a
helpless invalid--he was neither a reference nor a refuge any more. In
despair at the sudden callousness of the world, she hung up the
receiver.
After another ten minutes of frantic muddling in the kitchen, she went
to the baby's nurse, whom she disliked, and confessed that she was
unable to cook her husband's dinner. The nurse announced that she had a
splitting headache, and that with a sick child her hands were full
already, but she consented, without enthusiasm, to show Luella what to
do.
Swallowing her humiliation, Luella obeyed orders while the nurse
experimented, grumbling, with the unfamiliar stove. Dinner was started
after a fashion. Then it was time for the nurse to bathe Chuck, and
Luella sat down alone at the kitchen table, and listened to the bubbling
perfume that escaped from the pans.
"And women do this every day," she thought. "Thousands of women. Cook
and take care of sick people--and go out to work too."
But she didn't think of those women as being like her, except in the
superficial aspect of having two feet and two hands. She said it as she
might have said "South Sea Islanders wear nose-rings." She was merely
slumming to-day in her own home, and she wasn't enjoying it. For her, it
was merely a ridiculous exception.
Suddenly she became aware of slow approaching steps in the dining-room
and then in the butler's pantry. Half afraid that it was Doctor Moon
coming to pay another call, she looked up--and saw the nurse coming
through the pantry door. It flashed through Luella's mind that the nurse
was going to be sick too. And she was right--the nurse had hardly
reached the kitchen door when she lurched and clutched at the handle as
a winged bird clings to a branch. Then she receded wordlessly to the
floor. Simultaneously the door-bell rang; and Luella, getting to her
feet, gasped with relief that the baby doctor had come.
"Fainted, that's all," he said, taking the girl's head into his lap. The
eyes fluttered. "Yep, she fainted, that's all."
"Everybody's sick!" cried Luella with a sort of despairing humor.
"Everybody's sick but me, doctor."
"This one's not sick," he said after a moment. "Her heart is normal
already. She just fainted."
When she had helped the doctor raise the quickening body to a chair,
Luella hurried into the nursery and bent over the baby's bed. She let
down one of the iron sides quietly. The fever seemed to be gone
now--the flush had faded away. She bent over to touch the small cheek.
Suddenly Luella began to scream.