THE HOUSE OF LAUGHTER
The day after Christmas, and for many days thereafter, Robin counted
over the five precious bank-notes. She knew with her eyes shut each line
and shading of their fascinating decoration. She kept them in a little
heart-shaped box that had been a favor at a studio party she had gone to
with Jimmie a few years ago.
Their magic opened possibilities for her House of Laughter;
curtains--cushions--books--pictures--games, why, she could have all the
things she had wanted so much to complete her little cottage. And behind
her eager planning was a thought she kept shut tight away in her heart.
If there were any money left--by careful buying--the Queen would surely
want her to give it to Dale to perfect his model. For had not Adam Kraus
and Dale both said that the little invention would make everything at
the Mills better? She would present her gift to him at the "opening" of
the House of Laughter. Mrs. Lynch had assured her Dale would be there.
Under cover of the general merriment she would find an opportunity. She
went over and over, until she could say them backward, the few words
with which she would make him accept the money.
Beryl, not knowing what was going on in Robin's mind, declared she
fussed an awful lot over samples and lists for anyone who had so much
money to spend and Mrs. Lynch encouraged her economy because, she said,
"'Twas likely as not the roof'd leak in the Spring and shingles cost a
lot, they did." When Robin declared the lovely rose-patterned cretonne
too expensive, Mrs. Lynch helped her dye the cheese cloth they bought at
the village store a gay yellow. And she wisely counselled Robin to let
her write to Miss Lewis (remembering the simplicity of the Settlement
House where she had worked) and ask her to send up a few suitable
pictures and the right books with which to begin. "_She'll_ know,
dearie."
While the final preparations were going rapidly forward, Mrs. Lynch took
pains to spread the news of the House of Laughter through the Mill
Village by the simple medium of taking a cup of tea with Mrs. Whaley and
telling her all about it. "It's better it is than the written word," she
explained to Robin, who had worried over just how the Mill people were
going to know about their plans. "And when you send the cute little
cards around it'll be in crowds they come, you mark me."
"Don't you think everything'll be ready by Saturday night?" Robin asked
eagerly.
Percival Tubbs, for one, hoped everything would be, for he had not been
able to hold Robin to serious study since the holidays. And poor
Harkness had developed a stitch in his back hanging the pictures Miss
Lewis sent and laying clean white paper in cupboards and on shelves.
Though Beryl had not cared particularly whether the windows of the
living room of the House of Laughter were hung in rose or yellow, and
laughed when Robin chose a scarlet-robed picture of Sir Galahad, because
he looked as though he were seeing such a beautiful vision, to hang over
the shelf Williams had built as a mantel, she felt a lively interest in
the festivities which were to open the House to the Mill people. Robin
let her help in planning everything to the smallest detail.
The children were to come in the afternoon and play outdoors with their
sleds and indoors with the books and games, eat cookies and cocoa and
depart with beautiful red and blue and yellow balloons. In the evening
the young men and women and the fathers and mothers were to gather in
the living room and play games and sing and maybe dance and lock at the
books and make lovely plans and admire everything. There would be
sandwiches and coffee for them, too. And Robin would make a little
speech, telling them that the House of Laughter was all theirs to do
what they wanted with it and that the key would always hang just behind
the shiny green trellis. Robin had demurred at this last detail,
shrinking in horror at the thought of a "speech," but Beryl had insisted
that she really must because she was a "Forsyth."
Then Robin wrote and sent to each of the Mill houses cards inviting them
to come to the House of Laughter on Saturday night.
And, everything ready, she counted a precious two hundred dollars left
in the heart-shaped box. That, with what she had not spent from her
ridiculously big allowance, seemed a fortune.
Saturday dawned a crisp, cold, bright day, promising to the expectant
sponsors of the House of Laughter, all kinds of success. But at twelve
o'clock a little group of mill workers, chosen by their fellows, went to
Frank Norris, the Superintendent, and asked for higher wages and better
living conditions, Adam Kraus acting as their leader. It was not the
first time these complaints and requests had been laid before the
superintendent--but now, in the hearts of the hundreds of men and girls
who hung around the yards long after the noon whistle blew, a new hope
kindled, for there had never before been a man among them who could talk
so convincingly as Adam Kraus or could more effectually make old Norris
realize that they all knew now, to a man, that they could get more money
almost anywhere else and work and live like decent human beings. Adam
Kraus had opened their eyes. He was their hero--for the moment. As he
came, somewhat precipitously, from the office building they gave a quick
shout that died, however, with a menacing suddenness, as they saw his
failure written on his angry face. They pressed about him, eager for
details, but he would tell them nothing beyond a curt admission that he
had not been able to make Norris listen.
"I say, go to the Manor!" cried a man who had not been at the Mills more
than a month.
A strapping girl, with a coarse prettiness, laughed a mocking strident
laugh that expressed the feelings of the crowd even more than the louder
curses around her. The workers slowly dispersed, in little groups,
talking in excited, angry tones. Dale Lynch detached himself from one of
these groups and walked on alone, a frown darkening his face; nor did he
shake off his absorption even after he sat down at the table to eat his
mother's good Saturday meal--overcooked for standing.
"Has Adam been to Norris again?" asked big Danny.
Dale nodded. It was not necessary for either his father or mother to ask
the outcome of the call. "Norris wouldn't listen to a word. I've been
wondering if Adam is right--about the way to get this."
"He ought to know more'n you do," flared big Danny, who loved something
upon which to vent his own rancor.
"I suppose." Dale admitted, eating with quick, absent-minded gulps. "I'd
like to be the head of these Mills--I'd see both sides and make the
other fellow see, too."
"Sure, it's wonderful you'd be," murmured Mrs. Lynch, caressingly.
"Well, I'm about as far from it as I am from being President of the
United States. Adam has a better chance--if he ever gets his way.
_There's_ a leader."
Mrs. Lynch cut a generous portion of apple pie in a silence that said
plainly she did not agree with her boy. Dale ate the pie, wiped his
lips, pushed back the plate.
"The Rileys have got to move up the river."
"Dale, you don't say so?" Mrs. Lynch was all concern now. The Rileys
were neighbors. Tim Riley had fallen down an unguarded shaft at the
Mills and had hurt his back. Mrs. Lynch had helped Mrs. Riley care for
her husband and had grown very fond of the plucky little woman. "Why,
it's his death he'll get with the dampness up there, and those blessed
little colleens."
"Well, they've got to go. Riley can only work half-time now and he can't
afford one of these houses."
"Oh, dear, oh, dear," sighed Mrs. Lynch. "Don't tell Robin," she begged.
"It's so happy the child is with her House of Laughter, as she calls it
and--Dale, she's a different Forsyth."
"She's just a kid," he answered, in a tone that implied Robin could have
little weight against the impregnable House of Forsyth.
But a few hours later, when, with the coming of night into the valley,
the last tired youngster departed from the House of Laughter, balloon on
high, the "just a kid" fell to restoring the House to its original
perfection with a vim that seemed as tireless as her spirits.
"_Wasn't_ it a success? Didn't the children have a wonderful time?" she
begged to know, with all the happy concern of a middle-aged hostess.
"Are you dreadfully tired, Mother Lynch? Because tonight's the real
test." She stopped suddenly and leaned on her broom, her face very
serious. "I do hope the big girls will like it. I wish the Queen hadn't
said she didn't believe our--experiment would work. Why _won't_ it work?
Don't grown-ups like to be happy just as much as children--when they get
a chance?"
Mrs. Lynch had no answer for Robin's wondering. "Queens don't know about
things in this country," Beryl, instead, assured her. "These books are
just about ruined. I thought Tommy Black would eat up this Arabian
Nights."
"That shows how much they want them! I don't care if they _do_ eat
them." Robin was too happy to be disturbed by anything. Wasn't her
beautiful plan in the process of coming true? And didn't she have her
money in her pocket all ready for Dale's grasp?
She had brought flowers from the Manor which she arranged on the tables
and the mantel under her beloved Sir Galahad. These, with the mellow
glow of the lamps and the sun-yellow of the curtains, and the gleams of
red from the shiny stove, which had to do for the fireplace Robin had
wanted, and the brilliant scarlet of the Sir Galahad, all served to
soften and lend beauty to the faded bits of carpeting and the shabby
furnishings brought from the Manor attic.
"I do think everything's lovely and it's just because you've all been so
kind about helping," Robin declared, viewing the room with pride. "I
hope ever so many people'll come and that they'll believe it's theirs.
But, oh, Beryl, don't you think we could make them know without my
saying a speech?" And Robin shivered with nervousness.
"Of course not," Beryl answered with cruel promptness. "Anyway, as long
as you thought about all this you ought to get the credit." Beryl had no
patience with Robin's "blushing-unseen" nature. "It'll be easy, anyway.
You just ought to know how I felt the day Mr. Henri took me to play for
Martini. Why, my knees turned to putty. But then, _that_ was different.
Listen, there comes some one now! I'll stay in the kitchen until the
sandwiches are made."
Dale opened the door and Adam Kraus followed him in. Then, while Robin,
two bright spots of color burning in her cheeks, was showing them the
new books, a group of mothers arrived, stiff and miserable in their
Sunday best, and she shyly greeted them. When another knock sounded Mrs.
Lynch took the women in charge so that Robin might welcome the
newcomers. They were four of the Mill girls and they crowded into the
room, staring curiously about them and at Robin, whose greeting they
answered awkwardly. Spying Adam Kraus, they rushed to him with noisy
banter and laughter that had a shrill edge.
Robin, left alone and without the courage to join either group, watched
the girls as they gathered about Adam Kraus and Dale. Suddenly panic
seized her. She fought against it, she told herself that everything was
going all right and that in a few moments more people would come, and
these girls, who looked at her so rudely from the corners of their eyes,
would forget about her and have a good time. From the kitchen, where
Harkness was presiding, came the first faint aroma of coffee, and Beryl
and Mrs. Williams were piling dainty sandwiches on plates as fast as
their quick fingers could make them. Mrs. Lynch and the mothers seemed
to be gossiping contentedly at one end of the room but Robin wondered
why they talked so low, and why Mrs. Lynch now and then glanced
anxiously in her direction; once she heard something about "the Rileys"
and an imploring "hush" from Mother Lynch. Adam Kraus and the four girls
were urging Dale to do something and Robin saw a big girl with bold
black eyes lay a persuasive hand on Dale's arm, which Dale shook off
almost rudely. Robin hated the girl, and wished she had the courage to
break into the circle and drag Dale away from her, instead of standing
in such a silly way in the kitchen door with her tongue glued to the
roof of her mouth.
And, oh, why _didn't_ more people come? What was the matter?
After what seemed to Robin an interminable time, though in fact it was
only a few minutes, Adam Kraus moved toward her, trailed by the four
girls. "I've got to run along, Miss Forsyth," he said in his easy, soft
voice. "There's an important meeting in the village. You've fixed a nice
little doll house here."
The girl with the black eyes, standing just back of Adam Kraus'
shoulder, laughed--a scornful laugh.
"Too bad the Rileys can't move here!"
The Rileys again! Robin flushed at the girl's laugh and hateful eyes,
tried to answer Adam Kraus and to beg them all to wait until Harkness
brought in the coffee, but found her throat paralyzed and her feet
rooted to the spot. The Mill mothers saw Adam Kraus and the girls start
for the little hall and hastily moved in that direction themselves.
"Oh, _don't_ go!" Robin managed to cry, then, moving after them, "Mrs.
Lynch, make them stay. Why, I wanted this to be a _party_, to--to--This
is your House of Laughter! I--" She struggled desperately to recall the
words of the "speech" Beryl had declared perfect and to keep from
breaking down into tears before these hard, staring eyes.
The black-eyed girl elbowed her way out from behind the others, casting
a quick look at Adam Kraus as though for his approval. "I guess you
named this house all right, Miss Forsyth. It _is_ to laugh! But there
ain't many of us that know all poor little Mamie Riley's stood, and
cares about her the same way we cared for Sarah Castle that feels like
laughing tonight!" She tossed her head as though proud of her courage,
then singled out Dale for a parting shot. "We're sorry, Mr. Lynch, that
you're too good to come with us! Ma, (turning to a meek-faced woman),
leave the door unlocked. The meeting'll be a long one."
And just as Mrs. Williams patted down the last sandwich, Mrs. Lynch,
with a shaking hand, closed the door and, turning, faced Dale and Robin.
"Well, of all the ungrateful creatures!" cried Beryl, who had taken in
the little scene from the kitchen door.
"Now don't you be a-caring, girlie dear," begged Mrs. Lynch, frightened
at Robin's stricken face.
Robin turned her glance around the deserted room as though she simply
could not believe her eyes. It must surely be an awful dream from which
she would awaken. Mrs. Lynch went on, speaking quickly as though to
keep back her own tears of disappointment. "It's a grand time the
kiddies had this day, bless the little hearts of them, and a loving you
like you were some bit of a fairy--the impudence of them--"
"Who are the Rileys?" demanded Robin, sternly--for she _had_ to know;
the Rileys had spoiled her beautiful plans.
"Now don't you be a-bothering your bright head with the Rileys or anyone
else--"
Dale interrupted his mother. On his face still lingered the dark flush
that had crept up over it at the black-eyed girl's taunt.
"I don't know why Miss Forsyth _shouldn't_ know the reason the Mill
people didn't come tonight. There's a big protest meeting about the
Rileys--it wasn't gotten up until five o'clock or I'd have told you. Tim
Riley's been laid up for six months and he's just back on half-time and
can't ever do any better, I guess--and he's been ordered out of his
house which means--up the river--"
"Up--where Granny Castle lives?" broke in Robin, in a queer voice.
"Yes. And it's hard on Tim's wife and her children--they're just little
things. And he can't go anywhere else, now. It seems Tim's wife went
herself to Norris and begged for a little time until she heard from an
uncle up in Canada or found some way of earning extra money herself, and
Norris wouldn't give in for one day. The men are all pretty sore and
they called this meeting--"
"That's where that girl wanted you to go?"
"Yes. And that's why Adam Kraus had to hurry off."
Robin suddenly clutched at her pocket, her face flaming. "Dale, will you
hurry--down to that meeting--and take them--this?" She held out a thick
roll of bills. "It maybe isn't enough but it will help. I had saved it
for something else, but, oh, those babies just _can't_ go to that
dreadful place--"
Dale shook his head and put his hands behind him.
"That wouldn't go at that meeting, Miss Forsyth. The men would see red.
It isn't charity they want--it's justice. They're giving good honest
labor to Norris and he isn't fair in return. They're willing to pay to
live decently--they just want the chance. And to work decently, too. If
you knew the Rileys you'd know what a proud sort they are--they wouldn't
take your money any more than I would--or mother, here. If your aunt
were home or--if you'd go to Norris--" He considered a moment, frowning.
"The men and girls are so roused up that it'll be only a step to
organizing and all that sort of thing and these Mills have been pretty
free from labor trouble--if only Norris could be made to understand
that. But he's so set and out-of-date--" Dale laughed suddenly, a short,
bitter laugh, "I suppose I'm extra sore because he refused to even look
at my model."
"You all needn't take your spite out on Robin," broke in Beryl,
vehemently.
"Well--Miss Robin is a Forsyth and after all that's happened today, the
Forsyths aren't very popular with the Mill people. You mustn't blame
them too much," turning to Robin. "They're not in the mood to be
patronized and they look upon--all this--as a sort of--oh, charity."
Robin looked so bewildered and so small and so distressed that Dale laid
his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. His voice rang tender like his
mother's. "Don't you be a-worrying your kind little heart! And if you
begin right, you'll get your House of Laughter across to them--yet."
"Oh, what do you mean?" Robin caught desperately at the straw he
offered.
"Let them pay for it. They can. And they'll be willing to--when they get
the idea."
"But I wanted it to be--my gift."
"The opportunity for them to have it _will_ be your gift."
Mrs. Lynch suddenly beamed as though she saw a rift in all the clouds.
"Sure, that's the way Miss Lewis talked. And I forgetting it! Let them
pay as much as they can and it's a lot more they'll be a-treasuring
what's theirs. And no charity about it at all at all! These folks are
good, honest folks, dearie, and it's self-respecting they like to feel
and a-paying for what they get whether it's the food they eat or a bit
of fun. It's a beginning, anyway, this day and you shan't grieve your
blessed heart for, if I'm not mistaken, there'll be laughter enough in
this house by and by. Mind you what I said once about beginnings had to
come first!" Which was a long speech for Mrs. Lynch and amazingly
comforting to Robin.
She slipped the roll of bank-notes back into the pocket of her dress;
she could not even offer them to Dale, now. "You're dear and patient and
I guess I've been stupid and expected too much. But I shan't make any
more mistakes and I'm going to make the most of my 'beginning'."
"And now, Dale boy, why not have a bit of Mr. Harkness' good coffee?"
But, though Beryl and Robin pressed, Dale refused and slipped away and
Robin had a moment's picture of the triumph of the "horrid" girl when
she saw Dale come into the meeting. Then, remembering the plight of the
Rileys' she was ashamed of herself for not wanting Dale to go. Sitting
around the centre table she and Beryl ate sandwiches while Harkness and
Mrs. Lynch and Mrs. Williams sipped coffee. The fire sputtered and
gleamed cheerfully, and Sir Galahad's scarlet coat made a brilliant
splash of color in the soft glow of the room.
"Who was that big girl with the black eyes?" Robin found the courage to
ask Beryl when the whole dreadful evening was over and they were back at
the Manor.
"Oh, she's Sophie Mack. She and Sarah Castle were chums and worked
together. Dale says she's awfully clever but _I_ think she's horrid. The
way she spoke to him tonight."
Robin agreed that she was horrid. And she hated to think that her Prince
could find this Sophie Mack clever.
Too tired from the disappointing evening to want to talk, and too wide
awake to dream of going to sleep, she lay very still until Beryl's deep
breathing told her her companion had slipped into dreamland. Then she
crept from bed and crouched, a mite of a thing, at the window sill and
stared out into the brilliant night. A moon shone coldly over the snowy
hills, throwing into bold relief the stacks and buildings of the Mills.
Robin recalled that day she had first likened them to a Giant. That day
seemed--so much had happened since and she had grown so much
inside--very long ago and she a silly girl thinking stories about
everything. Her guardian, to amuse her, had talked about finding a Jack
to climb the Beanstalk and kill the monster. She smiled scornfully at
the fancy--so futile in the face of the tremendous misery--and
happiness--that Giant had the power to make!