It was five years since I had seen my old chum, Dick Trevgern, back
in Boston, while Mrs. Trevgern I had never seen at all. So when, last
winter, I found myself at Santa Barbara, where they lived, one of the
first things I did was to trace them in the telephone book and call up
Dick. The result was an urgent invitation to dinner that evening. I was
quite keen to meet my friend's wife, and all the more so, since Dick,
who is one of the finest fellows in the world, is, or used to be, also
one of the oldest-fashioned, and had seemed to be destined for bachelor
joys; so I wondered what could be the special charms that had subjugated
him.
I found them as cozy as a married couple of two years' standing has a
right to be, in a rose-embowered cottage on one of the hill streets near
the Mission. Mrs. Trevgern I found to be a very pretty, vivacious, and
in every way attractive girl,--she was only twenty,--and as they were
evidently very fond of each other I rejoiced at Dick's good sense and
good fortune. It was a very jolly little dinner, and altogether as
pleasant an evening as I have ever passed. At some indirect reference to
the topic (it is hard to find a name for it that is agreeable to every
one, but I will use a well-worn phrase) the emancipated woman, I had
an opportunity of seeing that the lady clearly was of the affirmative
party, whereas I knew, from recollection of old times, and anyway
because Dick was Dick, that his view on the question was a decided No.
This raised an interesting little speculation in my mind, and when,
about eleven o'clock, Mrs. Trevgern declared that she was going to leave
us two together for a good confabulation over old days, and retired for
the night, I made some half-joking reference to the matter, and asked
Dick how it happened that he, of all men, had chosen a wife out of the
emancipation camp.
"Oh, well," he replied, "she is a dear good girl"--I hastened to say
that I was sure of it--"and we have lots of fun out of our different
ideas on little things like that. The odd thing is, though, that it
was Kitty's fad for woman's rights and that sort of thing that is
responsible for her being Mrs. Trevgern--I mean, that was what you might
call the exciting cause. Pull your chair up to the fire and I'll tell
you all about it. It was really quite a joke."
"No doubt it will be news to you that I used to know Kitty years ago,
before either you or I came to California. All the time that you fellows
were ragging me about being an old bachelor, I knew my own mind and
meant to marry Kitty some day. I don't think you knew her people, the
Draytons. They lived down at Quincy, close to us, and our families were
old friends. At the time that I got this appointment out here she was
only sixteen, but before I came away from Boston I told her I loved her,
and that when I had got on my feet I was going to ask her to marry me.
I didn't want her to promise then, for it didn't seem square to ask her;
but I had a pretty good idea that she liked me, and I figured that in
two or three years I could be so placed that I might fairly ask her,
and, as young as she was, she would hardly have fallen in love with any
one else. After I came to California I wrote to her now and then, not
often, and no spooning, you know, but just to keep myself in her mind;
and she answered with good, sensible, newsy letters."
"She was always a particularly bright girl, with a good idea of what
was going on in the world and a mind of her own about it. In one of
her letters she said she had been going to a set of lectures by some
confounded Englishwoman, on The Woman of To-morrow, or the Day after
To-morrow, or something, and asked me what I thought about what she
called Woman's Awakening. I dare say you remember how we used to argue
all that stuff in our old Debating Club--didn't we just!--and how I
always got sat upon for being a back number and not lining up with the
hatchet brigade? Well, I hadn't changed my mind--haven't yet, for that
matter--but I didn't suppose she cared two hairpins about it, and I
replied with some old joke or other, and let it go. From other letters,
though, I soon saw that Kitty had got really keen on the suffrage
business, and that she knew I was a heretic: but we both had sense
enough not to let the subject get on the argumentative line."
"It ran on that way until two years ago, and then her people came to
spend the winter in California. In the early spring they came up to
Santa Barbara, and I saw Kitty again. I hadn't weakened at all in my
loving her, and she was prettier than ever--almost as pretty as she is
now, bless her.--Yes, I knew you'd think so, old man.--By that time I
was doing quite well, and prospects were good enough so that I felt I
could ask her to marry me. One day, on a drive round by Montecito, I
asked her. She wouldn't promise: said she liked me as much as ever, and
didn't care about any one else, but didn't think she ought to marry me,
and so on. I couldn't get her to say why for a long time, but at last
it came out. Some one, that idiotic Englishwoman, I suppose, had put it
into the dear girl's head that it was her duty not to ally herself with
'a reactionary' (I think that was the word) and in this case that meant
poor harmless me. I argued till I must have been blue in the face, but
I couldn't get her to give in: she says now that she thought she would
make me give in. And so it had to stay, but my consolation was that I
knew she really cared for me. It was just head against heart, and though
I knew, as I said, that Kitty's head was as good as anybody's, I thought
her heart was better yet. I told her, though, that I shouldn't let it
rest like that for long."
"A day or two later I had an engagement to go up with them to look
at the Mission. One of the Fathers showed us through, a dozen or
more people altogether, regular tourist style, and we had seen about
everything there was, when some one asked if we couldn't go into the
sacred garden. You know what I mean? There's a private garden that
most people don't get to see, and which, as the story goes, no woman
is allowed to enter. The priest said he was sorry, but it was only by
special permission that any visitor saw that garden and that permission
was never given for ladies to see it. Kitty pricked up her ears at
that."
"'Do you mean to say,' she said to me, as we walked on, 'that there is
a part of the Mission where men may go and women mustn't?' 'I don't mean
to say so,' I told her, but the Padre here does, and I'm afraid that
settles it.' 'Indeed, it doesn't,' she said. 'What does he mean? Is
there something horrid there that is not nice for women to see?' 'No,'
I replied; 'it's nice enough, just a garden. They call it sacred, but
I don't know why.' 'Oh, I see,' remarked Kitty, 'sacred from women, no
doubt. That's just like these monks: they think this is the Middle Ages
still. I suppose you think so too. You may go anywhere, because you are
a man, but a woman is to be shut out of this and that--they're sacred!'
I could see she was pretty much excited, and I tried to calm her down.
'Now, Kitty,' I said, 'you know very well that as far as I'm concerned
there's nothing on earth that I want so much as for you and me to be
together always and everywhere. Let them keep their old garden: anyway,
if it's too sacred for you it would certainly kill me on the spot.'
'It's all very well to make fun,' she returned, 'but it's the principle
that has to be fought. It's absurd, it's--it's mediaeval! And you're
mediaeval too,' she wound up. 'Well,' I said, 'I always knew I was a bit
old-fashioned, but I was never called a regular antique before.' That
made her laugh, and we forgot all about the old garden till we got back
to the house."
"At least, I thought she had forgotten, but when I said good-bye she
came with me to the door, and said, 'Dick, I'm going to see that garden
at the Mission. It isn't that I care about the garden, but I do care
about the principle. I'm going to get in somehow, and I want to know,
will you help me?' 'My dear Kitty,' I answered, 'I'm your man: at least
you know I want to be. The only thing is, how do you mean to do it?'
'That's for you to arrange,' she said. 'You men think you can do things
better than women, so here's a chance to show what you can do.' 'Well,'
I remarked, 'it looks like a burglar's job, and I've not done much in
that line: but you know what I said, that I want to go everywhere you
go, and if that means jail, I'm game.' She looked a bit serious when I
talked about jail, for she thought I was in earnest: but she didn't back
down, and I said I would see what plan I could think up."
"I easily found out whereabout the garden was, and the only way I could
see to get Kitty in there was by climbing over the wall some evening
after dark. It was an adobe wall, and not very high. I could easily get
over it myself, but for Kitty we ought to have a ladder. There was a
bright little Mexican chap I knew, whom I had met one day up by the
Mission. He lived near there, and one day I had seen him haunting about
and got him to pose in a picture. After that we'd had chats now and
then. It occurred to me that Julio could find a short ladder and
bring it to the place: and I had an idea--old-fashioned, you see, as
usual--that he would make a kind of chaperon, too, to save a little bit
of the respectabilities. I told Kitty my plan, and she thought it was
all right, jumped at it, in fact; so we set the time for two days after
the next full moon. We figured that as it was sundown soon after five
o'clock, we could do our wall-climbing when it got dark, say about half
past six, before the moon came up. It would rise about seven, and we
should have plenty of light to investigate the garden. Kitty did pretty
much as she liked at home, as regards being in or out, so all she
would need to tell her people was that she was going to be with me that
evening."
"Well, I arranged it with Julio. He was a mischievous little rascal, and
it looked like a good joke to him; and a couple of dollars was good pay
for a joke. When the evening came, I called for Kitty about six o'clock.
I had told her to dress in some kind of color that would not show too
much by moonlight, so she had on a big gray cloak of her mother's that
covered her all up. It had a hood, too, so she didn't need a hat. For
fun I had drawn a large placard, with 'Votes for Women' on it in big
letters. I meant to tack it to a tree or something if I got a chance,
but Kitty didn't know anything about this."
"When we got to the place, Julio was there with his ladder. It is very
quiet round there at night, and there was not much danger of any one
coming past. I got up first on the wall to make sure the coast was
clear. There were lights shining from two or three windows, but no one
was moving, so I beckoned Kitty to come, and she climbed up and sat on
the wall while Julio came up. Then I quietly pulled up the ladder and
lowered it on the garden side. I went down first, and then Kitty. She
was a bit excited, I could see, but as game as ever. I had told Julio to
wait up on the wall by the ladder till we came back."
"It was about seven o'clock and nearly moonrise when we started on our
tour. I took Kitty's hand. She was rather trembly, but she said she
meant to see everything there was in this precious garden. I did, too,
now we were in. We went along a path by the wall and found a seat. There
was no reason for hurrying, so we sat down to wait till the moon was
up. It was certainly pretty especially with Kitty there; there were tall
black cypresses, and climbing roses, and orange trees just coming into
bloom; and when the moonlight touched the old belfries, and there came
the murmuring sound of chanting from some place within the Mission,
Kitty whispered to me that the garden really was almost sacred, and I
quite agreed with her."
"After a few minutes we went on. The garden is laid out in beds of
shrubs and flowers, with winding walks between. We kept in the shade as
much as we could, as there were several windows that look on the garden,
and some one might see us if we made ourselves conspicuous. But there
were lots of trees, and we skirmished about from one to another and had
no end of a good time. Kitty was enjoying it immensely, and it did seem
a pretty good joke to be dodging about in the old garden right under
their noses, for we could see them now and then through the windows. We
were standing under a big cypress that had been trimmed up to ten feet
or so above the ground, when I remembered my placard. I unfolded it
and showed it to Kitty, and then fixed it on the tree with thumb-tacks.
Kitty was dancing about with joy at the placard, and almost clapping her
hands, but I made her stop for fear some one would hear her."
"We had nearly been all round the garden, taking it easily, and sitting
down now and then. We were laughing and joking under our breath, and I
was thinking that this would be a good place to propose to her
again; rather romantic, you know, to pop the question under those
circumstances. It was getting time to clear out, but we sat down again
for a few minutes before we went. Kitty threw the cloak off, and in her
white dress and by the moonlight in that old garden, she looked--well,
you can imagine--no, you can't, though, no one could who didn't see her.
So I up and told her all I wanted to say. The darling took it like an
angel, but just out of mischief--I know, for she has said so herself
since then she hummed and hawed and began to talk about different points
of view and stuff like that. Well, at that very moment, a door opened
and a man, one of the priests, came out. We were sitting in the shadow,
but the door was right opposite, and I suppose the bright light coming
through the doorway shone on Kitty's white dress. Perhaps he heard us,
too, for I guess we had forgotten about talking under our breath: I know
I had. Anyhow, he spotted us. We saw him stop for a second and heard
him say something to himself, and then he came right toward us. I saw
we were in for it, so I caught Kitty by the hand and we ran. I heard the
Father, or Brother or whatever they call themselves, coming after us: we
could hear his skirts flapping about and I think he must have been a fat
man from the way he puffed."
"We were right at the other end of the garden from where the ladder was.
Kitty is a good runner, and we had a good lead and were nearly there
when suddenly Kitty almost stopped and exclaimed, in a horrified voice,
'The cloak, Dick! we've left it behind, and it has mother's name on it!'
Whew! that's a bad mess, I thought. It must be got, that was certain.
'You run on,' I told her, 'and get up the ladder. Do you see it?'
'Yes,' she said, 'but what about you?' 'I'm going back for the cloak,'
I answered. 'You get up the ladder and wait for me. I'll stop him
following you. Quick, Kitty, hurry up!' I watched her get to the ladder
and then started back. I didn't know just where the priest was, as we
had lost him somewhere among the trees, but I ran back, got the cloak,
and started again cautiously for the ladder. When I was halfway there I
caught sight of him staring at the placard. I can't understand to
this day why he hadn't raised a racket. I think that placard must have
hypnotized him. Well, he saw me and called to me to stop. As he was
between me and the place where the ladder was, I saw I couldn't get past
him, so I ran back to the other end of the garden again, and he came
running after me. When he came to the door I saw him stop a moment and
then go in, evidently to get help. That was my time. I sprinted back as
fast as I could, for it was getting rather too interesting. Kitty was
there all right, sitting on the wall, but I couldn't see Julio nor any
ladder. 'Dick!' she called down to me, 'I've let the ladder drop down
on the other side. Can you get up without it?' 'How on earth did you do
that?' I asked. 'I was afraid that horrid monk might come along and see
me, and take the ladder away to keep you from getting up,' Kitty said:
'so I pulled it up after me, and then it slipped and went down the other
side.' 'Never mind,' I replied, 'I can climb up: but where is Julio?' 'I
haven't seen him,' she said: 'but never mind him, come along up.'"
"I threw the cloak up to her, and then jumped at the wall to clamber up.
I caught the top all right, but the rotten adobe bricks came away, and I
tumbled down with half a dozen of them on top of me, and in falling, by
the worst kind of luck, I sprained my foot. I tried to get up, but found
I couldn't stand on the hurt foot. 'What's the matter, Dick?' asked
Kitty. 'Sprained foot,' I said. 'I don't see how I'm going to climb up
that wall now. I can't jump high enough with one foot, and the adobes
would most likely come down again, anyhow. Confound that imp, Julio!
he would have saved all this mess if he had done as I told him. I guess
we're trapped, I am, anyway.'"
"Every moment I expected to see the Mission people coming, and there
was the chance of some one coming along the road, too, and finding Kitty
playing Humpty-Dumpty. The poor little thing was nearly crying. 'Oh,
Dick,' she said, 'does it hurt much? Oh, I know it must, and it's all my
fault. What will they do to us, Dick?' 'Well,' I answered, 'they can't
skin us and eat us, you know. I shouldn't mind about myself, only that
it makes a fellow look like a fool. You ought to marry me now, Kitty,
for no one else will,' I added, severely. 'Don't you think so?' 'Oh, I
suppose so, Dick,' she said, half laughing and half crying, 'No one else
will marry me, either, for that matter. I wonder you want to, after
my getting you into this fix.' 'All right, darling,' I said: 'it's a
bargain, mind. They have n't got us yet, anyhow,' I went on. 'Here they
come, though,' as half a dozen petticoated figures issued from the door.
I saw them go toward the other end of the garden, where I had last been
seen, and begin searching about. 'Now, Kitty,' I told her, 'when they
come this way you just let yourself down the other side as far as you
can, and then drop. You are lighter than I, and I think the bricks will
hold. Then run home as quickly as you can, and lie low.' 'Dick,' the
little trump replied, indignantly, 'do you suppose I'm going to run away
and let you stand the blame? Do you think I'm one of those putty kind of
girls?' I tried to argue with her but--well, you know what suffragists
are; she wouldn't budge. 'Dick,' she exclaimed at last, 'what am I
thinking of? I can drop down, as you said, and get the ladder over to
you.' I'd thought of that, of course, but I couldn't stand the idea
of her falling and perhaps getting hurt. 'You mustn't do it, Kitty,'
I declared. 'If you get hurt as well, we shall be in a worse hole than
ever.' My mind was working like lightning, and suddenly I thought of
the cloak. 'Kitty' I said, 'throw the cloak down to me.' It was a good
old-fashioned cloak, with yards and yards of stuff in it. I twisted it
into a sort of rope, and then stood up against the wall on my good foot
and threw the end over as far as I could. 'How far does it reach?' I
asked. 'Plenty far enough,' she answered. I didn't need to say any more.
She took hold of it and let herself down, and I heard her drop to the
ground. In another moment she was up on the wall and puffing the ladder
after her. It made an awful row, and I saw some of the people stop and
listen. It was touch and go then, I could see. Kitty lowered the ladder,
and in half a jiffy I was up. As we were pulling the ladder up, they saw
us and began to come on the run, but they were just about half a minute
too late. I sent Kitty down and then scrambled down myself. Just then,
along came that young scamp Julio, as innocent as you please. 'Take the
ladder and run that way,' I ordered, 'and let it drag so as to make lots
of noise.'"
"Kitty was shaking all over, what with excitement and fright, and pity
for my foot. We sat down against the wall and listened to the chaps
inside calling us awful names in Spanish, Irish, German, and about
everything else. My foot was pretty painful, and so swollen that I could
hardly get my shoe off. Kitty produced a bandage from somewhere and
bound the foot so as to keep it stiff, and then I got up and with the
help of the wall and Kitty's arm I hobbled off with her in the opposite
direction from that in which Julio had gone, while the sounds in the
garden got fainter and fainter, showing that he was drawing the enemy's
fire, as I expected."
"Of course the thing got into the papers somehow, but luckily the names
didn't, for Julio didn't get caught. And as you see, Kitty lived up to
her bargain."