House Party (29 page)

Mrs. Ames reached out smartly and slapped Claire across the cheek.
"Stop
that! Stop it this instant! I'll buy you a
dozen
new hats. Everything's insured for twice what it's worth." Then she paused and glanced darkly at her sister. "Violet," she asked tensely, "you
did
mail those letters I gave you Friday, didn't you?"

"I did, Lily, I
did!
I mailed them right at the post office, just before I got my hair done. I handed them
right
over the counter to the . . ."

"Thank you, Violet," Mrs. Ames sighed. "And thank God! In that case you need only to make your claims. Everything is covered." A little more gently she said to Claire: "I'm sorry I had to strike you, my dear, but you were getting hysterical."

The breeze rose and the fire burned with a force that made it almost impossible to hear anything else. Inside the house it had spread through the second floor and timbers of an alarming size began crashing to the lawn. Standing on a chair, Mrs. Ames raised her hand and shouted to her guests. "Listen to me,
everybody.
Well all go down to the bath house. This can spread. Now stop rushing about like a pack of fools and follow me!"

"Damn it, Lily," the general bellowed. "I'll show you who's a man. I'm going in there and . . .”

"No heroics,
please!"
Mrs. Ames said angrily.

"Daddy, stop being such an ass!" Betty cried.

The general stopped in his tracks.
"Little Soldier!”
he said, stunned.
"No!
I'm goin’ in there an' put out that fire single-handed or my name ain't Hell-for-Leather Cannon." He jogged toward the house.

"Walter!" Violet screamed.

Just then the porte cochere crashed in a shower of sparks onto Uncle Ned's car which was parked beneath it.

"My car!" Uncle Ned shrieked. "Sturgis! Save the car!"

There was a brief silence, then a low rumble, then a loud roar, then an explosion which blew the windows out of the house. The impact knocked General Cannon flat on the lawn. The radiator cap of the Hotchkiss sailed high into the air and thudded to the ground at Uncle Ned's feet.

"My car!” Uncle Ned wailed. "Elsie Mendl always said it was . .
."

“Walter! Walter, darling, are you
hurt?”
Violet screamed, running to the general. A spark caught the hem of fluttering chiffon skirt and just in time, Paul tackled his aunt and rolled her in the grass until the flame was out.

"Now
will you fools do as I say and come with me?" Mrs. Ames shouted.

General Cannon got up, feeling for broken bones and sheepishly followed the rest of the herd which Mrs. Ames was leading down to the bath house.

The enormous old house made a remarkable sight, and even down at the shore the intense heat could be felt.

In a surprisingly short time, considering the distance and the Republican Rally, the Volunteer Firemen of Pruitt's Landing arrived. Within half an hour their forces were augmented by the volunteer fire departments of Setauket, Stony Brook, St. James and Smithtown. It was a gallant gesture, but little more. The fire, fanned by the breeze, had had too good a start.

There was little water and less pressure. By the time the apparatus had been hooked up to pump salt water from the Sound, there was nothing left to save but the foundation and the twelve brick chimneys, which stood scarlet with heat against the sky. By one o'clock in the morning, the famous house was a heap of coals. Sure that no fire had spread to the forest, the other fire departments had gone clanging and screeching back to their villages, leaving the Pruitt's Landing volunteers to chaperone the piping hot remains of the old Pruitt Place.

Down at the bath house, most of the company slept fitfully wrapped in beach towels and blankets. Elly and Kathy, each held one of Felicia's children. Mrs. Ames, sitting bolt upright in an Adirondack chair, stroked Nanny's thin old shoulders and kept saying "There,
there,
Nanny! There, there! You'll come with me. I'll look after you. Go to sleep now."

Three times Claire had moaned "Miss Golden will kill me. That hat was . . ." At last John said quite gruffly: "If you mention that miserable hat once more,
I'll
kill you." Violet had wept dewily about dear Papa's house, had complained of Paul's rough treatment of her, and had finally settled down next to her sister. The general snored wetly.

It was beginning to grow light when Joe came over and laid a hand gently on Mrs. Ames's shoulder. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "How are you feeling—Mother?"

"About twenty years younger, Joe," Mrs. Ames said. "I might even say
thirty."
She sat silently, smiling, watching the sky grow brighter above the Sound.

It was just six when Betty Cannon woke up. Startled, she stared around the porch of the bath house, and then she remembered where she was and why. Betty couldn't help smiling as she looked at her neighbors. What an ill-assorted lot they were! There was Mrs. Clendenning, dozing peacefully, her make-up smeared, her bangs fallen away to reveal a forehead almost as high as Daddy's. Her hair was white at the roots, and her flounced, girlish skirts were badly singed. Yet she looked sweet and silly. Bryan tossed noisily on his blanket. How haggard he appeared in this light. Not like the dashing beau of twenty-four hours ago. And poor old Mr. Pruitt seemed awfully old and sad. His elegant suit was so crumpled and disheveled that he reminded her a bit of Charlie Chaplin. He stirred slightly and something dropped with a tinkle from his cupped hand. Betty noticed that it was his bridge and turned her eyes modestly away.

Felicia was still asleep, too. My, Betty thought, what a hard expression she has when she's asleep! There were deep lines around her mouth and her lipstick was the color of raw liver in the early morning light. Next to her Paul slept. He looked like a little boy, his face active and full of hope, yet quiet and relaxed in repose. If Betty were ever to have a son, she'd want his face to be just like that. Funny, Bryan had always seemed so handsome and Paul a dim carbon copy—and rather an elongated one—of Bryan. Yet, seeing them today, asleep, Bryan looked old and tired out; finished. Paul's face held promise.

Betty was startled by a familiar fanfaronade of moist snores, snorts, grunts and groans. It was Daddy. The general stirred and broke wind with the sound of a thunderbolt. His own noise woke him up. "Waaaf, woff, shlump, flump," he said.

"Hush, Daddy! Be still! Don't wake everyone up."

"Wha th' hell? Wh'um I?"

"Hush, Daddy."

The general blinked his eyes and then he began to regain consciousness and memory. "Fire, ver' bad fire," he said senselessly.

"Very bad, Daddy," Betty said with the patience of the mother of an idiot child. "Now I think you and I will drive home and make up a lot of coffee and rolls and eggs for these poor people. Come on. Get up."

The general got noisily to his feet. With plenty of cracking of joints he stretched and yawned.

General Cannon got complacently into the car and allowed Betty to drive him home. Gradually, with a great deal of blinking, throat-clearing, hawking and spitting, he seemed more or less awake. Betty parked the car in front of their door and went briskly into the kitchen, allowing her father to wander aimlessly through the house.

She worked with amazing speed and efficiency, setting two huge granite coffee pots on the back burners, and beating up four dozen eggs with the expertise of an Army cook. Betty was just pouring batter into a barrage of muffin tins when her father, considerably spruced up and dressed in his riding togs, came out to the kitchen.

"Little Soldier, haven't you ever gotten kinda sick of life around here?"

"Thoroughly sick of it, Daddy."

"Well, then, Little Soldier, hows about you an' me an' Timber-line packin' up an' goin' off fer a little trip somewheres? Canada, Alaska, maybe Collarada? I could shoot an' fish an you and Tim-berline could sorta 'tend camp an' . . ."

'That sounds lovely for you and Timberline," Betty said, regulating the oven. "Why
don't
you go? However, I'm going to be awfully busy right here. I'll be selling out the shop and putting Paul Ames's office into it I’ll have to be in and out of town so often that it might
be
a good idea for you to get away for a . . ."

"Din't you hear me say," General Cannon roared, "that I planned a little trip?"

"Yes, I heard you. But I won't be going with you. I'll be quite busy here. I'm moving out, by the way. I'm going to live behind the shop. I'll be working for Paul Ames and most likely I'll
be marrying him. At least I think so."

"Marry Paul Ames?"

"Probably. And if I don't . . "

"Now see here, I'll horsewhip the man that takes my little girl and . . ."

"Be still, Daddy. The chances are fairly good that Paul Ames and I will fall in love with each other and eventually marry. If we don't, that concerns only us. In the meantime, I've been lucky in finding a very brilliant young man who's interested in the same things I am. We like each other. Soon, I expect, we shall love each other. In any case, you must feel perfectly free to make your own plans without me."

"I ferbid you to . . ."

"Daddy, please—just hand that ham over here, I'll put it on the griddle. Please remember that I am of age and that you are no longer able to forbid or command
anything."

"Little Soldier," the general gasped. "Ya mean ta tell me that yer leavin' me?" Crocodile tears welled up in the general's eyes. This was an old trick the general worked very effectively on sluggish polo teams, slipshod cavalry troops, relaxed subalterns. His only mistake had been in telling Betty how effective his tears could be.

"Yes, Daddy. That's right."

The general was stunned by her callousness, her total lack of theater. He belched softly, took a deep breath, and then, in the manner of Sir Henry Irving, began one of his greater declamations. "I couldn't believe my ears when I heard it." Pause. "I sez to myself, ‘No. This ain't—isn't—true. This can't be my Little Soldier talkin' . .
.”

"Oh yes it is, Daddy."

The general loathed interruptions, but still he went on without commenting on Betty's insubordination. "Ta think after all our years together . . ."

"Too many years, Daddy. Bad for you and worse for me."

The general bridled. "Ta think," he repeated, "after all our years together, you could do this to your poor old father. Father . . ." pause ". . . faugh! I been both father an' mother to you. I sacrificed my career to . . ."

"Now that's not quite accurate, Daddy," Betty said calmly. "It is I who have been both father and mother to
you
—and what's more, you know it. If I weren't essential to your well-being you wouldn't be wanting me around on this trip. I'm the one who's sacrificed a career for you. You've had your career and now it's finished. Now my career is you and
your
career is you. Do be honest about these things—at least when you haven't an audience around."

The general turned an apoplectic color and moved toward Betty, his hand upraised. She looked at him coldly and said, "Be careful, Daddy, it's awfully hard to scramble this many eggs, and if I spilled this pan you'd only have to send out for more."

Stunned, the general tried a new attack. "Paul Ames! That la-de-dah, pitcher-drawin' young scamp. A few years in the Army'd do wonders for him."

"Certainly did wonders for
you,"
Betty said. Then she added, "I should think you'd be pleased. You've always been so anxious for all
possible alliances with the Ames family. You certainly seemed to be . . "

At this the general broke down. He began to sob, and Betty could see that he was really in earnest. "Betty, sweetheart, Little Soldier. I
gotta
get away. You
gotta
come with me. Can't you see what that Vi’let has planned fer me? Betty, you gotta
save
me. You gotta help me. That woman's a menace. I'd rather face a Sherman Tank. She's a reg'lar vampire. You gotta help me get away from her. Betty, I'm not a young man any more. The ole ticker ain't what it yoosta be. I . . ."

"Excuse me, Daddy," Betty said drily, brushing past him, "I want to get those covered dishes,"

"Betty! Can't you
hear
me? Don't you
care?
Ain't you gonta lift a finger to save me?"

"Save your Betty asked. "Save
you?
Why, Daddy, you've always been a
devil
with the ladies!"

"Betty. That Vi'let'll eat me alive! That type is always the worst You gotta help yer old father, you . . ."

"Speaking of eating, Daddy, I must get these things over to the bath house while they're hot. Just give me a hand out to the car, will you?"

"Betty!" the general bleated.

She loaded the back of the car with food and plates and forks and cups and paper napkins. She remembered cream and sugar, butter and a pot of jam. She remembered canned fruit juice and milk for the children. The general was still blubbering as she got into the car.

"Betty," he sobbed, "ain't you plannin ta cook my breakfast again today?"

"Come along with me, if you like," Betty said, "there's more than enough."

"Into the jaws of that man-eating Vi’let? Not on yer tintype!"

"Oh, she's not as bad as all that, Daddy. Besides, she's very rich. She could make you mighty comfortable. In fact, with all her money at your disposal, you could probably give me the half of Mother's money that's mine by law."

"Betty! That my Little Soldier would let mere money come between us . . ."

"Well, you could, couldn't you? Good-bye, Daddy, and in case you're gone by the time I get back . . ."

"Betty!"

She started the car and was gone.

Back at the bath house, life was stirring. Everyone was awake, except Felicia, who had retired into a dressing room to sleep for a few more hours. Fraulein had returned from the station in a taxi-cab, ostensibly to resume her duties with the children, but when she saw that the house was missing she became so frantic over the fire, over the loss of her mementoes, over the way the place looked, that she could do nothing but waddle around shrieking shrill expletives in German.

The young people and Violet were down on the beach. Violet had whimpered about the state of the dress she was wearing and said something about dear Walter, but otherwise she had been quite cheerful. "The only bath anyone is going to get this morning is down at the water," she called gaily, as she put on an especially inappropriate bathing suit of mustard yellow taffeta. She had led the procession of bathers. Kathy, once again in her little white pique suit, followed. Then Elly and Joe and John and Paul. Bryan looked so stunned and so beaten that Mrs. Ames told him to go swimming and cheer up. Claire, painfully emaciated in a suit that was never meant to get wet, tagged along after him. Manning hadn't been in the mood for swimming at all, but a whiff of himself and his clothes, still redolent of lobster shells, oily salad greens, avocado, beets and beer, convinced him that bathing was essential.

Mrs. Ames, sniffing softly to herself, remained on the bath house porch with Uncle Ned. Sturgis looked even older than Uncle Ned and he fussed and fumed around his employer, trying vainly to make the hair lie down, the moustache curl, to put a shine on the shoes and make the apricot silk dinner suit look a little less outlandish in the sunshine.

Uncle Ned, usually one of the noisiest and most demanding of masters, sat still and subdued, offering neither comment nor cooperation. Fang lay next to him, his purple tongue lolling out on the floor of the porch.

Worried about the unusual silence of her ancient kinsman, Mrs. Ames smiled vaguely at him and said: "All right, Uncle Ned?"

"Gone," he said hollowly. "Everything gone!”

"Oh, Uncle Ned, I'm so sorry. Truly I am. But everything's
covered.
We have one of those exhaustive insurance policies. All the stuff in the house, down to the last ashtray is on a big inventory. As for guests’ things, they're covered, too. You can get all new clothes, and a new car . . ."

"They don't make them like that any longer, dear girl," he said quietly.

"It's a shame about your car, Uncle Ned—about everything—but that car of yours was giving poor Sturgis a lot of trouble. I know it was. Now you can get back just what you paid for it and I know that was a lot. Why, you could buy a lovely big Cadillac, like Violet's in New York, or even a Rolls or a Mercedes-Benz."

"No. I shan't be able to, dear girl, I'll be needing the money to live. I've outlived everything now; my friends; my money; even my own life. It's
all gone."

"Oh!" Mrs. Ames gasped. "Oh, Uncle Ned, your memoirs! What about your publishers? What . . ."

"There weren't any publishers, Lily. I just said there were. There weren't any memoirs, either. Who wants to hear about me?"

"Everybody,
Uncle Ned. Everybody likes to hear about you. Please tell me about the time you were in Marienbad with King Edward and . . ."

"King Edward was in Marienbad, dear girl. I happened to be in Baden-Baden at the time. No, everything's gone. I'm a poor, destitute, useless old man."

"I'll help you, Uncle Ned. Without this house to support I have plenty. With the insurance money I'll have even more. Quite a lot, really. Violet will help, too. You know how generous she is. Money won't be a problem."

"That's good of you, dear girl. You were both always perfect pets and I
shall
need your help. But as I once said to Sir Osbert Sitwell, 'Man cannot live by . . .' As a matter of fact, I didn't say it at all and I've never met Sir Osbert. But still, Lily, Man
cannot
live by bread alone. I have nothing else left."

"But there's your religion, Uncle Ned. Surely that . . ."

"Even my religion is hardly what you'd call a religion. I only joined because dear Hermione, Duchess of . . . Actually, she wasn't a duchess of anything. But she told me that all the chic people who were left were flocking to the Catholic Church and so I did, too. I never paid much attention to it." Uncle Ned paused and then he brightened. "But come to think of it, Lily, when there hasn't been anybody worth noticing in the congregation I have heard one or two things that made very good sense."

"Why certainly you have. I happen to be an Episcopalian myself, but . . ."

"And I might help out once in a while. A lot of other, um, geriatric cases devote quite a bit of time to the Church. I could help lend tone to a charity bazaar or possibly go around and read to people in the hospitals . . ."

"That's a splendid idea, Uncle Ned," Mrs. Ames said eagerly.

"Or do you think they'd rather I just
talked
to them?"