Dick's roadster stood in the driveway.
There was a fire burning in the living-room grate. And before it,
stretched out on the davenport asleep, lay Dick.
Gloria tiptoed into the room and stood looking down at him. His face
was flushed, and he breathed quickly. Suddenly he opened his eyes.
"Gloria," he said. And his voice was like that of a sick child who
wants his mother.
"What's happened to you?" Gloria asked.
"Nothing," Dick answered. "I've had a nasty little cold for days,
and it seems to have slipped up behind me, all of a sudden. Haven't
got any lemons in the house, have we?"
"I guess so." Gloria went out into the kitchen. Maggie was there,
tearfully peeling onions.
"Maggie," her mistress said, "have we any lemons? Mr. Gregory wants
one for his cold."
"It's a hot lemonade he wants," Maggie said, "as I've been telling
him for the last hour. But nothing would he take till yourself came
home. I'll make it, and then we'll get him into bed between blankets
with a hot water bottle to his feet ... and let him sweat the cold
out of himself by morning."
She moved briskly around the kitchen as she spoke, filling the
tea-kettle and mixing lemon juice and sugar together in a tall glass.
Gloria went back to Dick.
"Come upstairs," she said. "Maggie thinks you ought to go to bed.
And while you're undressing I'll put a hot water bottle in your bed."
In fifteen minutes Dick was comfortable. Gloria turned to leave the
room. She wanted to telephone the employment agency about a maid to
take Maggie's place. For she was sure that the first thing Mother
Gregory would do would be to send for Maggie to come back to her.
"Don't go," Dick said. "Stay here and talk to me."
"What is there to talk about?" Gloria asked indifferently.
"Lots of things," Dick answered. "What has my golden girl been doing
all day?"
"Fighting with your mother, mostly," said Gloria with piercing
sweetness. Dick looked miserable.
"And if you want to make a hit with me, you'll never ask me to have
anything to do with her again," she went on bitterly. "She's been
bawling me out for not doing my own housework. I notice she keeps a
maid, all right! And she had the cheek to tell me I ought to go
ahead and have a whole family of children ... when she had only one
herself!"
Dick stared at her thoughtfully.
"She had three, you know ... my mother," he said at last. "The other
two died. I am sorry you rowed with her, Gloria."
"That's right, blame it all on me!" Gloria replied. "It was she who
started it. I was having lunch with May Seymour and she made me
leave the table and go home with her ... and then started to tell me
what a terrible woman I am. So I just got out of her darned old car.
And you can do as you please about it, but I'm through with your
family!"
Downstairs Maggie was striking the Japanese dinner gong. It chimed
like the very voice of peace and harmony.
Gloria ran down to the dining-room to eat alone.
So this was marriage!
Facing an evening alone while Dick dozed upstairs.
Doing her own housework beginning to-morrow? Helping Dick get along,
year after year? Losing her looks in the meantime!
... Why, she wouldn't be much better off than her own mother!
The only difference would be that she, herself, would have a better
house and more money to run it with ... roast lamb instead of stew,
fresh peas instead of canned ones!
Gloria pounded the table in her anger and disappointment.... How
life had tricked her! ... Well, she'd get herself out of this mess,
somehow!
The next morning Dick was better but too ill to leave the house.
Gloria sat beside him while he ate breakfast before the bedroom fire.
"Dicky-bird," she said with all her sweetness, "I'm going to hire a
maid of our own to-day, dear. I want to get her used to the house
before we throw our first party."
"Party?" asked Dick, startled.
"Now don't say we can't afford one, first thing," Gloria cried.
"I've figured it all out. It won't cost much for food and cocktails
and a little jazz band. Not much over a hundred dollars..."
Maggie appeared in the doorway.
"A Miss Briggs downstairs to see you, Mr. Dick," she said.
"Miss Briggs," Gloria repeated. "Who in the world is Miss Briggs?"
"Miss Briggs is my secretary," Dick answered.
"Please ask her to come upstairs, Maggie," he went on. "I told her
yesterday when I left that if I wasn't able to come to the office
to-day, she'd have to bring my mail out here this morning. Is there
any kind of table around that she could use for her typewriter?"
"I suppose she'll have to use my spinet desk. I hope she won't
scratch it," Gloria said.
She was taking the ornaments and blotter from it when Miss Briggs
knocked on the door.
She was a small, plain woman of thirty or so. Her one good point was
her eyes, Gloria saw at a glance. They were black-lashed blue ones,
tired and shadowy.
"How do you do, Mrs. Gregory," she smiled when Dick introduced her to
Gloria.
"What a marvelous voice!" the girl thought. Miss Briggs' voice was
low and silver-sweet as a flute. She began to unpack her typewriter.
Gloria had never thought of any other woman being in Dick's life.
And yet, this Miss Briggs saw more of Dick than she herself saw of
him.
She was all alone with him eight or nine hours every day, in his
office.
... And Gloria could tell, from the way she had looked at him when
she came into the room, that her whole life was bound up in Dick.
She wondered if Dick knew it. Probably not...
Probably Dick didn't want to know it. Men were not interested in
plain little women of thirty.... What they wanted was the Gloria
kind of girl ... the ones with scented, burnished hair, skin like
satin, and little useless, pink-tipped hands. Exquisite toys of
women.... And she was going to go on being that kind....
With sudden determination Gloria went to the telephone and called an
employment agency.
"Pardon me, ma'am."
It was the voice of Maggie behind her. Gloria wheeled sharply.
"Pardon me, but if that's the Finnish employment agency you're
calling, there's no need for it," Maggie went on. "Mr. Dick's mother
phoned me first thing this morning and told me I was to stay on here
as long as you needed me ... particularly as Mr. Dick was sick."
"Is that so?" Gloria dropped the receiver in her surprise. Then she
put it back on its hook and walked into the livingroom. She was
thinking hard.
"Please come here, Maggie," she called in a few minutes.
"What would it cost to get up a midnight supper for about thirty
people?" she asked when Maggie stood before her. "Chicken salad,
sandwiches, French pastry and coffee. And how much help would you
need to serve such a supper?"
"Oh, I wouldn't want to be bothered having any hired help around,"
Maggie said with fine scorn. "Let's see, if I make the pastry
myself, I think we could do it for about thirty dollars."
"Well, I'm thinking of having a little party next Friday night,"
Gloria told her. "So go ahead and make your plans."
She spent the rest of the morning at the telephone. She ordered six
dozen pink roses, and as many daffodils. She called up May Seymour
to ask her the name of the jazz orchestra she had had at her New Year
party last year.
"What do you think you're tearing off--a regular party?" May asked
slangily. "Well, you want to remember one thing when you're getting
your crowd together.... Any party is absolute zero in entertainment
to me unless Jim Carewe is there. Get me, dearie?"
"I do," Gloria answered. "I'll call him right up and invite him."
She did.
She wondered whether she ought to ask Lola and Bill Hough. Bill was
a good mixer and heaps of fun, of course.
But Lola was such a frump. She wasn't pretty any more.... She
wouldn't take a cocktail.... Besides, she watched Bill like a cat
for fear he might happen to have a little fun. And she would
telephone her house two or three times during the evening to see if
the children were all right ... and bore everybody to death telling
what cute things they said and did!
No. Gloria made up her mind not to ask the Houghs to her party.
As she started up the stairs to Dick's room, Gloria heard Miss Briggs
coming down.
"Work all done?" Gloria asked gayly. She was happy now that she knew
she was going to have her party. Every one had accepted ... even to
the Gails, the most high-brow of Dick's high-brow friends. The Gails
went to Europe every year or two, and Myra Gail spoke of the Avenue
de l'Opera as if it were Main Street.
Gloria went to the door to say good-by to Miss Briggs. As she
watched her go down the street, she remembered the day she had
watched Stanley Wayburn walk swiftly away.
She laughed.... She would ask Stan to her party!
She telephoned his hotel.
"This is Gloria Gregory," she said softly when she heard his voice at
the other end of the wire. "I'm having a few friends in Friday
night, and I want you to come. Will you?"
There was silence for a long minute.
"You know I couldn't get there until after the show..." Stan's voice
replied.
"I'll expect you about half-past eleven, then. Don't forget," Gloria
said.
She thrilled with excitement as she ran upstairs to Dick.
"Hurrah!" she cried, opening the door of their room. "Everybody can
come! And I've got everything ordered for Friday night, even the
jazz band! Oh, it's going to be a knock-out of a party..."
"Do you mean to say you've gone ahead and asked people here for a
party Friday night!" Dick exclaimed. "Why, you don't even know that
I won't be in bed with pneumonia by then. I'm as sick as a dog, now.
Ask Maggie to make me some more hot lemonade, will you? I'm going to
take a hot bath and go back to bed."
Dick was much better Friday night.
"I want you to go down in the kitchen as soon as you're dressed and
mix the punch, darling," Gloria lilted. "The pineapple juice and all
the rest of the things for it are ready in big crocks in the pantry.
And the washtub is on the floor in the corner...."
"What do you mean, washtub?" Dick asked, battling with his shirt
studs.
"That's what we're going to make the punch in," his wife laughed.
"This isn't going to be a Sunday school festival, sweetie peach.
It's going to be a real live party with a kick in it! And I want the
punch to be one-third fruit juice and two-thirds gin. Now remember!"
Dick didn't say a word. His wife had just come into his range of
vision.
He had never seen any one so beautiful in all his life. He was sure
no one else ever had either!
Gloria was all in white that floated around her as she walked across
the bedroom. There were strands of pearls around her neck, and
bracelets of them on her arms.
"You look like a snow queen," Dick told her. "Remember the Snow
Queen in Andersen's fairy tales?"
"Well, then, don't touch me!" Gloria put up one rosy palm as he came
toward her. "I'm made of ice and I'll freeze you to death..."
But Dick had her in his arms.
"Oh, Dick, leave me alone!" she cried, wrenching herself away. "Look
there! You've just ruined my hair..."
Frowning, she sat down before the dressing-table and began to smooth
her soft shining curls.
"Gloria," Dick said suddenly. "Don't you think we're making too much
punch for this crowd? They're likely to get sick, dancing in this
warm house if they drink too much..."
"Oh, no, they won't," Gloria answered serenely. "They're all used to
it ... all except Lola Hough. Come on, let's go downstairs. I'll
get out the cigarettes while you mix the punch."
She had finally asked Lola and Bill Hough. Dick had insisted upon
it. He liked the Houghs, and didn't want to hurt their feelings by
leaving them out, he said.