Thus matters went on. The cruel, piercing winter months had waned; balmy
spring with her flattering promises had again visited the land, and in
turn was now giving place to the sultry days of summer. The tired shop
girls, behind their counters, looked as though they could barely drag
their weary limbs along. Imelda had for some time felt as though she
could not possibly hold out much longer when, near the close of an
unusually hot and close June day, a lady, small of figure and dressed in
the airiest of summer costumes, came tripping down the aisle and
stopping just in front of Imelda’s counter said:
“Some real laces, please.”
With a start and smothered cry of “Alice!” Imelda went forward and the
little lady caught the stately head and drew it down, imprinting the
warmest of kisses upon the pale lips.
“Still in the old place? I thought I would find you here, providing you
had not done as I did—got married and settled down as the queen of some
fair home.”
A silvery laugh dropped from the cherry lips, but the laugh sounded just
the least bit forced, and the bright glow on the rounded cheek,—was it
really the flush of perfect happiness? Imelda looked long and carefully
into the blue eyes, but though they were clear she could not read within
their depths, the dimpling smile hid everything, if there was anything
to hide.
“Why, where did you get your cranky ideas? O, I forget,—you still live
in Chicago, which city, as I believe, has known many changes, and, I
suppose, the people who inhabit the dear old place must of course change
with it. But Harrisburg is a rather conservative town, you know, and
radical or progressive ideas are not much indulged in by its people. How
is it? am I right? have you been imbibing some of these new foolish
notions?”
Imelda smiled. This little chatterbox was rattling on at a great rate,
on a subject she evidently knew little about, and had already exhausted
her store of knowledge. What would she think if she knew exactly what
Imelda’s views at present were? The girl behind the counter had an idea
that her visitor would be somewhat shocked. So she only answered:
“Maybe I have, it is in the air, you know, like a contagious disease.”
Alice laughed.
“Is it dangerous?” she asked, but not waiting for a reply she continued:
“Have you time? I would like to have you with me this evening so that we
could enjoy a quiet dinner together. May I call for you?”
A flush stole over the pale face. When had such a pleasure ever been
offered her? For a moment she hesitated, then threw scruples to the
winds.
“Yes; you may come. I will be ready. This is indeed kind of you to make
me such an offer, and I assure you I shall appreciate it.”
The dainty gloved hand was raised in a mock threatening manner.
“If you speak again in that strain I shall punish you by failing to put
in an appearance. But I must not forget—your address, please.” Imelda
wrote name of street and number on a slip of paper and Alice Westcot
tripped down the aisle and out to where her carriage was in waiting.
Imelda’s lips quivered as she watched the friend of former days pass
out.
There were but few of the girls in the store now who had known Alice.
The few who had seen the meeting between the two wondered who the richly
attired lady could be who was on intimate terms with the sad faced but
well liked companion and co-worker who had a smile and kind word for all
but who made friends with none—none except the jolly, mirth-loving but
proud Margaret Leland.
Imelda sighed as the form of Alice disappeared. Who would have thought,
looking at the dainty figure, that in former years she had stood at the
self-same counter where Imelda now presided. That she had wealth at her
command was easy to be seen. But was she happy? If she was not she knew
well how to hide it. No casual observer would have noticed anything
wrong and when her carriage in the evening drove up to the number that
Imelda had given her the pretty figure was robed in daintiest white.
When Imelda appeared in the doorway in her plain black lawn and simple
sailor hat she hesitated a moment. She knew she would look out of place
at the side of this richly attired lady, and she would rather not go.
But already Alice was calling to her to come. “For,” she said, “we want
a good long evening together and we cannot afford to waste time.”
Imelda hesitated no longer. Why should she? Did the possession of wealth
alone make Alice Westcot her superior? She told herself, No! They had
been friends in the days of long ago, Imelda had found Alice a dear
girl, sweet and pure and true, but for all that she knew that mentally
this little woman was not her equal.
So she took her place at Alice’s side without further hesitation and
they were soon whirling along toward one of the beautiful parks. Imelda
gave herself up to the luxury of such delicious comfort, such sense of
pleasure as seldom came to her. Alice chattered on at her side, telling
her all about her life; telling her of the many bright spots it
contained; of the beautiful home with its richly furnished rooms, its
charming grounds and surroundings; of the husband who showered wealth
upon her; of the two pretty blossoms—her little daughters, one dark eyed
with glossy curls like the father and who was named Meta, while the
youngest was fair and flaxen-haired like herself, and had been given the
name of Norma.
Imelda listened like one in a dream. Was Alice’s life all sunshine? She
made bold to ask her. For a moment the bright sunny face clouded, then a
silvery laugh rippled from the ripe red lips.
“Why not? Certainly it is sunshine, all sunshine. Have I not everything
my heart desires? No more hard work, no more eking out and economizing,
no more planning how to make both ends meet. My husband’s purse is open
to me always. I have nothing else to do but be happy.”
And then, not giving Imelda time to ask any more questions, she in turn
began to question her. She poured such an avalanche of questions upon
her that Imelda did not know which to answer first. So bewildering was
the torrent that Alice was obliged to repeat them more slowly. Imelda
answered them all to the satisfaction of the persistent questioner who
gradually came in possession of all the dark facts that had brought so
much pain into the young girl’s life and only at the close of the story
did she understand that Imelda was all alone and her tender little heart
swelled and two pearly drops fell upon the hands of the girl as she
lifted them and pressed them to her cheeks.
“My poor, proud girl,” she said, “how you must have suffered! Listen,
Imelda. How would you like to live with me? O, no!” she said as she
looked into the surprised eyes of the girl, and read therein a refusal.
“I understand you too well to offer you a home without a way of earning
it. I understand your proud nature better. But I would like someone
trustworthy to take care of my little daughters. For really I am too
much of a butterfly to have so grave a charge on my hands without some
one more competent to aid me. I do not understand how to train my
babies. But you, who have had so much experience, would know always what
to do and they really are such dear little darlings. I am sure you would
soon learn to love them and then you should be treated as just the lady
that you are, not as a servant but as my own dear friend, and you should
have so much time all your own when you might read or paint or study,
and you shall cultivate that precious talent of yours, music. Say yes,
dear, you shall never be sorry for it, I promise you,” and the little
cajoler wound her arm about the neck of the dumb-founded girl and laid
her face against hers and coaxed and kissed and plead until Imelda gave
the so much desired promise. Then Alice was happy as a child and said
that Imelda must leave the store instantly so she could prepare to go
with her when she should return to her home.
“I expect to remain only a little over a week, and until then you shall
come and live with me at the hotel where I am staying.” But to this
Imelda would not listen. It was all so sudden she could hardly realize
what it involved. A sharp pang entered her heart as she thought of
Margaret and Wilbur. Ah, yes, it meant to give up these tried and
trusted friends. No! oh no, she could not leave without devoting some of
the last hours of her stay in the dear old city that had always been her
home, to the friends whose lives were so closely woven in with hers. She
finally succeeded in making Alice understand as much. In the morning
when she told Margaret, it seemed at first as though she could not
comprehend it. The large soft eyes filled with tears and the sensitive
lips quivered when the comprehension came home to her, but she bravely
choked a sob as she said:
“You are right. Why should you wear out your life, standing day after
day behind the counter in that store, when opportunities are offered you
that do not fall to the lot of every working girl. Yes, it is certainly
my advice to accept this offer, and make the most of it. But I insist
that you spend the evening with me at my mother’s home. We must make the
most of your short stay with us.”
Imelda did not refuse. She felt it was not so easy to sunder ties. She
also felt a sadness steal over her as she thought of how soon she was to
turn her back upon all the scenes of the old life, and some very sharp
pangs made themselves manifest.