BED-TIME CONFIDENCES
THAT night a series of interesting shadows trooped across the little
Dutch mirror, in the moonlight, but nobody watched beside it to see how
faithfully it reflected the procession of guests, straggling up the path
below. After the first pleased glance Gay had flown down-stairs to throw
open the front door and bid them welcome. It was almost more than she
had dared to hope that the old Colonel would come, and "Papa Jack" and
Kitty's Grandmother MacIntyre. But they had needed no urging. Gay was
reaping the aftermath now, of her first visit to the Valley. They had
not forgotten the obliging little guest who had entertained them with
her violin playing, amused them with her quaint unexpected speeches, and
charmed old and young alike with her enthusiastic interest in everything
and everybody.
Ranald had more than that to remember, for he had carried on a vigorous
correspondence with Gay for the last six months, started by a "dare"
from Allison. Alex Shelby's memory of her dated back only to that
morning, but the picture of a sunny little head up among the roses, and
that line "Sandalphon the angel of glory" had been in his thoughts all
day.
Their effort to show the newcomers how cordial a Lloydsboro welcome
could be, was met by a hospitality which held them in its spell till
after midnight. Lucy was in her element. As the popular daughter of a
popular army officer, she had played gracious hostess ever since she had
learned to talk. As for Gay, so anxious was she that her friends should
be pleased with her family and her family with her friends, that she
threw herself with all her might into the task of making each show off
to the other.
An outside fire-place on the broad front porch was one of the features
of the Cabin. The June night was cool enough to make the blaze on its
hearth acceptable, and Lucy turned the picturesque old kettle, bubbling
on the crane, to practical use, making coffee to serve with the
marsh-mallows, which Jameson handed around on long sticks, that each one
might toast his own over the glowing coals.
The informality of it all, and the good cheer, made every one relax into
his jolliest mood, and Gay, hearing the old Colonel's laugh, as
stretched out on the settle by the fire, he told stories and toasted
marsh-mallows with a zest, felt that they had struck the right key-note
in this first evening's entertainment. It was the harbinger of many
others that would follow during the summer.
It was her violin that held them longest. Standing just inside the door
where Kitty could accompany her on the piano, she played one after
another of the favourite tunes that were called for in turn, till the
fire burned low on the porch hearth, and even the voices of the night
were stilled in the dense beech woods around the Cabin.
It was later than any one had supposed when Mrs. Sherman made the
discovery that the hall clock had stopped.
"She didn't know that I stopped it on purpose," confessed Gay, when the
last carriage had driven away, and Lloyd was following her sleepily
up-stairs. She paused to bolt the bed-room door behind them.
"This has been a lovely evening for me. It gives one such a comfortable
I-told-you-so sort of feeling to have everything turn out as you
prophesied it would. Of course I knew that Lucy would feel the charm of
the Valley, and like it a thousand times better than the mountains or
seashore or anywhere else, but I wasn't so sure of Jameson. Now my mind
is completely at rest for the summer. I stopped worrying when I saw him
hobnobbing with the Colonel and your father about those Lexington horses
he wants to buy. He was so tickled over those letters of introduction
they gave him. And he was so charmed to air his knowledge of the
Philippines to Mrs. Walton. He spent a month there you know. I fairly
patted myself on the back all the time he was talking. Somehow I feel so
responsible for this household. There! I forgot to remind them to bring
that bothersome old silver pitcher upstairs!"
Hastily unbolting the door she called out in sepulchral tones that
echoed through the dark house, "_Remember the Maine!_"
There was a laugh in the room across the hall, then her brother-in-law
who had just come up-stairs, shuffled down again in his slippers.
"I suppose I'll have to remind them every night this summer," continued
Gay. "I don't like to call out 'remember the silver pitcher that was our
great-great-grandmother Melville's, and the soup ladle that some old
Spanish grandee gave to one of Jameson's Castilian ancestors,' for if a
burglar were prowling around he would be all the more anxious to break
in. So the month I visited them, before we came here, I adopted that
slogan for my war-cry: '"_Remember the main_" thing in life to be saved
from burglars!' It always sends one or the other of them skipping, for
they feel the responsibility of preserving such heirlooms for posterity.
I used to wish that I were the oldest daughter, so that that pitcher
would be handed down to me on my wedding day. I didn't realize what a
bore it would be to be tied for life to such a responsibility. I asked
Jameson why he didn't put it and the ladle in a safety vault and be done
with it, and he read me such a lecture on the sacredness of old
associations and family ties that I somehow felt that his old soup-ladle
expected me to send it a written apology."
Gay had bolted the door again, and as she talked, drew the curtains
across the casement windows. Now she sat on the edge of the bed, shaking
out her wealth of sunny hair, to brush and braid it for the night. It
was a cosy room, with low ceiling and old-fashioned wall paper. With the
curtains drawn and the candles in the quaint pewter sticks lighting up
the claw-footed mahogany furniture, it was an ideal place for the
exchanging of bedtime confidences. Gay was the first to break the
silence.
"What was the matter with Betty tonight? She was as quiet as a mouse.
Hardly had a word to say, and all the time I was playing, she sat
looking out into the night as if she were ready to cry."
"No wondah! They were so beautiful, some of those nocturnes and things,
that we all had lumps in our throats. Nothing's the mattah with Betty.
It's just the last chaptah she can't get to suit her. She's gone around
in a sawt of dream all day."
"Who's playing the devoted to her now?"
"Nobody as far as I know. _All_ the boys love Betty. They've been
perfectly devoted to her ever since she came to Locust to live; but
not--not in the sentimental way you mean; for instance the way that Alex
Shelby cares for Kitty."
"Oh _don't_ tell me there is anything in that," wailed Gay, "at least on
Kitty's part, for I've set my heart on her marrying a friend of mine in
San Antonio, so she'll always be near me. You know when Mammy Easter
told her fortune, it was that her fate would come through running water
when the weather vane points _West_. I'm wild to have her visit me at
Fort Sam Houston next year, and this Frank Percival is the very one of
all others for her. He's a banker and as good as gold and--oh well,
there's no use wasting time singing his praises to _you_ when I want him
for Kitty! But about this Alex Shelby, Kitty told me this very afternoon
that it is _you_ he admires so much. She told me all about that Bernice
Howe affair, and said that ever since Katie Mallard up and told him how
honourably you acted in the matter, he has put you on a pedestal and
given you a halo. She said you could have him crazy about you if you'd
so much as lift an eyelash in encouragement."
"Don't you believe it!" cried Lloyd. "That's just Kitty's way of
throwing you off the track. We've been unusually good friends evah since
he found out why I broke my engagement to go riding with him, but he is
at The Beeches every bit as much as he is at The Locusts, and it's you
he'll be in love with befoah the summah is ovah. He was the first one
reflected in yoah looking glass, for he confessed this evening how he
sat and watched you on the laddah, and how he'd thought of you all day;
and he even quoted poetry about it, and that's a very serious symptom
for Alex to show. He nevah was known to do such things befoah! Then
tonight he was simply carried away by yoah playing. He adores a violin
and you played all his favourites. Oh I see yoah finish!"
There was a pause in which Gay kicked off her slippers and sat absently
gazing at them, while Lloyd tied the ribbons which fastened the lace in
the collar of her dainty gown. Again it was Gay who spoke first.
"Doesn't it seem queer to think of Allison's being engaged? It is such a
little while since we were all school girls together. Nobody knows whose
turn will come next. It makes me feel like a soldier on a battle
field--comrades being shot down all around you right and left and you
never knowing how soon it'll be your turn to fall. It's awful! Lloyd,
what's become of that boy out in Arizona, the one who sent you those
orange-blossoms in Joyce's letter when I was here before? He was best
man at Eugenia Forbes' wedding."
"Oh, you mean Phil Tremont!" answered Lloyd placidly, without the
conscious blush that Gay had expected to see. "He is out West again,
doing splendidly, Eugenia writes."
"I thought you wrote to him yourself."
Lloyd, stooping to pick up her dress and hang it over a chair, did not
see with what keen interest Gay watched her as she questioned.
"Oh, we still keep up a sawt of hit and miss correspondence. He writes
every few weeks and I manage to reply once in two months or so. It's
dreadfully uphill work for me to write to people whom I nevah see. It's
been two yeahs since he was heah, and I nevah know what he'll be
interested in."
"I suppose it's easier writing to some one you've known all your life,
like Malcolm MacIntyre for instance. I'm so sorry he and Keith are
abroad this summer."
Lloyd's face dimpled mischievously as she began to see the drift of
Gay's questioning. "I can't tell you how easy it is to write to Malcolm,
because I've nevah done it. Now it's my turn to ask questions. Where did
you get this new photograph of Ranald Walton on yoah dressing table? Beg
it from Kitty as you did that one at Warwick Hall, when he was a little
cadet, or get it from headquartahs?"
"Direct from headquarters," confessed Gay with a laugh. "He isn't so
afraid of girls as he used to be. Wasn't he charming tonight?"
So the questioning and answering went on for quarter of an hour longer,
each anxious to find how far the other had drifted into the unexplored
country of their dreams. Then Gay blew out the candles and climbed into
the high four-posted bed beside Lloyd, where they lay looking out
through the open window into the starlight. The moon had been down for
some time. It was so still here in the heart of the beech woods that the
silence could almost be felt. The girls spoke in whispers.
"It settles down on one like a pall," said Gay. "Are you sleepy?"
"Not very," answered Lloyd, stifling a yawn.
"Then there's one more person in the valley I want to ask about. I
believe I've heard an account of every one else. Where's Rob Moore and
what is he doing? I thought he would come over with you all tonight."
"Poah old Rob," answered Lloyd, swallowing another yawn. "His fathah
died a little ovah a yeah ago, and he's nevah been like himself since.
He seemed to grow into a man in just a few hours. It was awfully
sudden--Mistah Moore's death. The shock neahly killed Rob's mothah, and
the deah old judge, his grandfathah, you know, was simply heartbroken.
Rob just gave up his entire time to them aftah that. He was such a
comfort. Nevah left the place, and took charge of all the business
mattahs, to spare them every worry. When things were settled up they
found there wasn't as much left as they had thought there would be, and
Rob wouldn't touch a cent to finish his law course. He was afraid his
mothah would have to deny herself some luxury she had always been used
to, and he didn't want her to miss a single one she had had in his
fathah's lifetime. So he took a position in Louisville, and has been
working like a dawg evah since. He reads law at night with the old
Judge, so I scarcely evah see him. We've just drifted apart, till it
seems as if the little old Bobby I grew up with is dead and gone. I
missed him dreadfully at first, all last summah, for he'd almost lived
at our house, and was just like a brothah. I haven't seen him at all
this vacation, though to be suah I've only been home this one day."
In the dim starlight Lloyd could not see the complacent smile on Gay's
face, but her voice showed that she was well pleased with the answers to
her string of questions.
"Now I'll tell you why I put you through such a catechism," she began.
"I wanted to make sure that the coast is clear, so that you can
undertake a mission that is to be laid at your door this summer.
Jameson's brother Leland will be here to-morrow afternoon. If he takes a
fancy to the place he will probably stay as long as we do, and we are
all very anxious for him to stay. He's only three years younger than
Jameson, but the two were left alone in the world when they were just
little tots, and Jameson has been like a father to him. He feels so
responsible for him and so does Lucy. I do too, now, although he's only
my brother-in-law's brother, because I persuaded them to come here for
the summer, and Jameson wanted to go somewhere where Leland would be
satisfied to stay."
"What's the mattah with him, that he needs so much looking aftah? If
he's twenty-three yeahs old it seems to me that he might take the
responsibility of himself on his own shouldahs. Is he wild?"
"No. Jameson says he's always been too high-minded to do the things men
mean when they talk about sowing their wild oats; but he is as utterly
irresponsible as a will-o-the-wisp. He won't stay tied down to
anything--just drifts around, here and there, having a good time. It's a
pity that he isn't as poor as a church mouse. Then he'd have to do
something. He's so bright he easily could make something splendid of
himself. Now Jameson has good sensible ideas about not squandering his
money, and although he doesn't have to work any more than Leland does,
he looks after the details of his own business as a man should.
"He knows all about the mines he has stock in down in Mexico, and he
studies mineralogy and labour problems and investments, and has an
office that he goes to regularly every morning. He takes after his
father's side of the house, practical English people. But Leland is like
his mother's family (they were proud old Spaniards just a generation or
so back). He is adventurous and roving and romantic, and has the _dolce
far niente_ in the blood. Jameson says that all that Leland needs is to
be kept keyed up to the right pitch, for he is so impetuous and
headstrong that he always gets what he starts after, no matter what
stands in the way; and that if he could just fall heels over head in
love with some girl with great force of character, who wouldn't look at
him till he'd measured up to her standards, it would be the making of
him."
Lloyd yawned. "Excuse me for saying it," she began teasingly, "but I
don't see how you can get up so much interest in anybody like that, even
if he is yoah brothah-in-law's brothah. It sounds to me as if he is just
plain _lazy_ and I nevah did have any use for a man that had to be
nagged all the time to keep his ambition up to high-watah mark."
Gay sat up in bed in her earnestness. "Oh Lloyd, don't say that!" she
protested. "Don't judge him till you've seen him. He's perfectly dear in
lots of ways, in spite of his faults. You'll find him fascinating.
Everybody does. And I'm going to be entirely honest with you--I've
fairly _prayed_ that you'd like him. You are so strong yourself, the
strongest character of any girl I know, and you influence people so
forcibly in spite of themselves, that I've felt from the start it would
be the making of Leland if you'd take him in hand this summer."
Lloyd smothered a laugh in the pillow. "'Why don't you speak for
yourself, John,'" she said mischievously. "Why don't _you_ take him in
hand? You are already interested so much that you'd only be combining
pleasuah with duty."
Gay was too much in earnest to tolerate any levity, and went on in her
intense eager way. "Oh I've already worn myself out trying to influence
him, but it's of no use. He knows me too well. He's called me 'Pug' and
'Red-bird' ever since we went to kindergarten together. I'm just one of
the family. But I've showed him your picture and told him what an
unapproachable, unattainable creature you are, and whetted his curiosity
till it's as keen as a razor. Oh I've played my little game like an
expert, and he doesn't suspect in the faintest degree what I want. He
thinks I'm trying to interest him in Kitty Walton. I told him she's the
darlingest, jolliest, prettiest thing in ten states, and that I'd
guarantee he wouldn't feel bored once this entire summer if he'd make
her acquaintance.
"But you--I've painted as so indifferent and entirely above his reach,
that just to prove to me I'm mistaken, he'll nearly break his neck to
put himself on good terms with you. It's just as Jameson says, he'll
ride rough-shod over everything that stands in his way, to get what he
wants."
Lloyd raised herself on her elbow and turned a protesting face towards
her eloquent bed-fellow.
"Well of all cool things," she began, half inclined to be indignant, yet
so amused at Gay's masterly management that the exclamation ended in a
giggle. "Where do _I_ come in, pray? You say he always gets what he goes
aftah. Did it evah occur to you that I might not want to be taken
possession of in that high-handed way? That _I_ might have something to
say in the mattah? Haven't you as much interest in my welfare as in
yoah sistah's husband's brothah?"
"Of course! you blessed little goose!" exclaimed Gay, giving the arm
next hers an impetuous squeeze. "Don't I know the haughty Princess well
enough to be sure that all the king's horses and all the king's men
couldn't budge her against her will? I'm not looking ahead any farther
than this summer. But if you could just shake him up and put him on his
mettle that long, that's all I ask of you. And seriously, dear, you
might go the world over and not find one who measures up to your ideals
in more ways. He's well born and talented and rich and fairly
good-looking. He's so entertaining one never tires of his company,
good-hearted and generous to a fault, and--Oh Lloyd, _please_ say you'll
take enough interest to keep him keyed up to the right pitch for awhile.
It's all he lacks to make a splendid man."
"Do you know, I think that's a mighty big lack," said Lloyd, honestly.
"I've had strings on my harp that wouldn't stay strung. It's the most
exasperating thing in the world. You know how it is, with a violin.
Right in the midst of the loveliest passages one will begin to slip
back--just a trifle, maybe, not more than a hair's breadth, but enough
to make it flat and spoil the harmony. Then you stop and tune it up
again, and go on for awhile, but back it will slip just when you've
gotten to depending on it. You know I couldn't have any respect for a
man who had to be kept up to the notch that way. It would spoil the
whole thing to have him flat on a single note when I'd depended on him
to ring clear and true."
Gay had no reply ready for this unexpected argument, and her experience
with stringed instruments made it very forcible. It was several minutes
before she answered, then she spoke triumphantly.
"But you know what a master can do where a novice would fail. He can fit
the keys to hold any position he gives them. Leland has never felt the
touch of a master-hand. No one has ever controlled him. He has always
been petted and spoiled. He has never known a girl like you. I'm sure
that if you were only willing to make the attempt to arouse his pride
and ambition, you could do wonders for him."
It was the most potent appeal Gay could have made. To feel that her
influence may sway a man to higher, better things, will make even the
most frivolous girl draw quicker breath with a sense of power, and to a
conscientious girl like Lloyd this seemed an opportunity and a
responsibility that could not be lightly thrust aside.
"Well," she said finally, after a moment of hesitation, "I'll try."
Gay reached over with an impulsive kiss. "Oh you _dear_! I knew you
would. Now I can let you go to sleep in peace. 'Something accomplished,
something done, has earned a night's repose.' It must be awfully late.
Goodnight dear."
Long after Gay had fallen asleep, Lloyd lay thinking of the mission thus
thrust upon her. If this Leland Harcourt had needed reforming, she told
herself, she wouldn't have had anything to do with him. Her poor
Violet's experience with Ned Bannon had taught her one lesson--how
mistaken any girl is who thinks she can accomplish _that_. But to be the
master-hand that could put in tune some really splendid instrument (ah,
Gay's appeal was subtle and strong) _any_ girl would be glad and proud
to be _that_: the inspiration, the power for good, the beckoning hand
that would lead a man to the noblest heights of attainment.
There was something exhilarating, uplifting in the thought, that
banished sleep. Night often brings exalted moods that seem absurd next
day. Lying there, looking out at the stars, the pleasing fancy came to
her that each one was a sacred altar-flame, given into the keeping of
some unseen vestal virgin. Now she too had joined this star-world
Sisterhood, and had lighted a vestal fire on the altar of a promise. In
its constant watch, she would keep tryst with all that Life demanded of
her.