THE HONOR GIRL (11 page)

Her uncle patted her again and smiled.

“You’re going to do a grand thing, child, and I’m sorry we can’t all be unselfish enough to be glad for you. I guess your father needs you too. You’ll do him good.”

“I guess it will do me good, too, Uncle James,” said Elsie meekly, trying to smile through her tears. “I’ve been living a pretty nice selfish life for the last five years. It’s time I took some of the hardships.”

“But you mustn’t think we shan’t miss you, child,” said her uncle again with a sigh. “You’ve been like one of our own, you know, and we don’t know the difference.” Then he stooped and kissed her goodnight. Elsie went up to her pretty room where the lamp was lighted, touching with a rosy glow the brass bed, with its blue satin eider-down comforter rolled at the foot, its pretty silver things on the little bird’s-eye maple dressing-table, its blue and white draperies, its long mirror in the closet door that had been put in so she could see how her dresses hung, and all the pretty trifles that had been added to that room from time to time just to please her. She would have to leave it all and go to that other forlorn little room. Could she ever endure it? A sudden rush of tears again blurred the sight of the beloved things; and she shut the door quickly and locked it.

She could hear Bettina and Katharine talking in low, annoyed tones. She knew they were discussing her. She could hear her aunt walking about in her room on the other side of the hall, and she thought how it would be to be away from them every night; not to be at the pleasant supper-table, nor have the young people coming in the evening, nor go to the different entertainments together any more; and all at once it seemed more than she could bear, and she had an impulse to rush in and tell her aunt she had not meant it, that she could not go ever.

But instead she threw herself down on the pretty bed, and cried as if her heart would break.

After a little the enormity of her sacrifice dwindled somewhat, and she was able to look at things more sanely. She was able to remember once more the things that had called her out to Morningside, and made her really want to go and stay. She recalled her father’s sad smile, and the wistful lighting of Jack’s eyes when he had said how great it would be if she were there all the time. She thought of that row of photographs on Gene’s bureau, and suddenly she felt sure once more that nothing could move her from her purpose. She would go and she would see whether there was not some way to make her brothers as interesting and attractive in the eyes of the world as if they too had been taken by Aunt Esther when they were younger and brought up as she had been. It should not be too late! She would see what she could do. She would make them go to college, perhaps. What if she should?

And in the sudden rush of thoughts over this idea she brightened up and prepared herself for retiring. But, when she lay down, it was not to sleep. Her mind went over and over the day’s experiences: Her brothers’ joy over finding her in the house; the bright things they had said and done; the way they had helped her and tried to make things easier; the gratitude they had so freely expressed. Her heart thrilled and thrilled again, and she knew perfectly now that no brass beds and silver-backed hairbrushes and satin coverlets, no, nor aunts, nor cousins, nor friends would be able to keep her from the course she had chosen to take. She had tasted the joy of service for love, and she could never be satisfied to live just for self again.

T
he Sabbath was a rather unhappy day. Aunt Esther and the girls went about with gentle, hurt looks upon their faces, frequent sighs, and an abstracted, anguished air that wrung poor Elsie’s heart. One or two attempts the girl made to win her aunt over to her way of thinking, but received only cold, bitter words concerning her father or else a rush of tears.

“Better let her alone a bit, little girl,” whispered her uncle after Elsie’s last attempt, when her aunt had left the room in tears. “She’ll come to see and understand, and she knows in her heart it’s right. That’s what’s hurting her. Just wait, and she’ll come around and be proud of you all right, Elsie.” Elsie quite sadly said no more, but she did a good deal of thinking and planning.

Monday afternoon she took the trolley for Morningside. There were some things she must arrange before matters went any further, and now was the time to do it before Aunt Esther said anything more. She must have a talk with her father.

When she reached Morningside, she stopped at the store, got some oysters, and ordered milk, crackers, celery, and a few other things sent up. It wouldn’t take long to make an oyster stew, and she could talk while they were eating. She noticed some cut flowers in one of the shop windows, and went in and bought three big yellow chrysanthemums. Perhaps her father and brothers wouldn’t care for them, but they seemed to brighten things up a lot for her and to give her courage to make the big changes that were before her.

It was half past four when she reached the house, and there was not much time to do a great deal. She went upstairs, and did a bit of tidying. A glance into her own room gave her a moment of homesickness. She would have to have that thoroughly cleaned before she could feel at home there. Would she ever feel at home? Well, never mind, so long as she made a home for the others!

She took the things out of the tiny closet, and carried them up to the storeroom. She dusted the bureau and the books and chairs, gave a hopeless look at the old walnut bedstead, and reflected that she must get together some bedding for herself if she were coming out to live. Then she shut the door, and went downstairs. It would be time enough to think about that room when she had to live in it. She wouldn’t have to be in it much, anyway; so why worry? It would be only nights and mornings. There would be so much to be done she wouldn’t have time to think of herself.

She went about dusting and putting things in order again. At half past five she put some potatoes into the oven to roast, set the table with the three big chrysanthemums in the middle in a tall glass pitcher, and got everything ready for supper. There were celery in a glass dish, a quivering mould of jelly, a plate of crisp crackers, and a dish of tiny little sweet pickles. The oyster stew was beginning to send a savory steam through the house when the bus arrived with the brothers.

Elsie ought to have seen their faces brighten when they caught sight of the flowers. What had happened? Not Elsie there again so soon! That would be too good to be true.

But, when they flung wide the kitchen door, and Jack gave a cheery whistle, there sure enough she was, running out of the kitchen to meet them, with her sleeves rolled high and a big apron enveloping her. The gaunt cat followed, amorously winding herself between Elsie’s feet and actually purring hoarsely, an out-of-practice but quite genuine purr.

They just danced around her, those two big brothers, and whirled her off her feet with their joy. They shouted and whistled and sang and laughed until the neighbors across the way must have wondered what had come to the house of Hathaway.

The trolley stopped while they were in the midst of their rejoicing, and the father arrived, amazed at the noise. He came in as if not quite sure yet whether his senses were betraying him or not, and the daughter read a real welcome in his smile as he looked around with a kind of wistful contentment.

Elsie had telephoned her aunt that she was staying out to dinner that night, and would be home by nine o’clock if possible; so she had not a great while to remain, and must do her talking rapidly. After the oysters were brought in and everybody served, she began.

“Father, I’ve been thinking of what you said about wanting me to come home. I think I’ll come if I can manage it. You know I’m going to school in the city, and I’d have to be away all day—”

But the whoops of joy from her brothers interrupted her conversation for several minutes; and both big fellows left their seats, and came around to embrace her in their eagerness. When the uproar had somewhat subsided, she began again.

“I should have to have a good servant, father; do you think we could manage it? You know I shouldn’t have much time to work. But I could teach her what to do, and I could be here evenings. I think we could have good times together.”

The father lifted his whitening head and looked at her with yearning tenderness.

“You can have all the servants you want, child, if you’ll just come back and put some soul into this old house,” he said feelingly; and then he rested his forehead in his hands and groaned.

Elsie, deeply touched, came around to him and put her arms about his bowed head, kissing him tenderly, a strange new yearning coming into her heart. Why had she never realized before that she had left true and loving hearts for her own selfish ease? And yet they had been willing for her good to have her away all these years!

The father lifted his face after a time, and his cheeks were wet with tears.

“I’d like to have you come back, daughter, if you think it won’t be sacrificing too much,” he said in a shaken voice. “We maybe don’t know how to make things look so fancy as they do at your aunt’s house—we’re only three lonely men, but we’ll do the best we can to make you happy. I’m making enough to keep you well and get a servant too.”

He patted her hand awkwardly. This beautiful grown-up daughter embarrassed him.

“It’s been no home here since your mother left, but maybe you can bring home into it once more,” he said tenderly.

Elsie and her brothers did the dishes before she left; but they had to do some rushing, for Elsie did not wish to distress her aunt any more than necessary by being late. Both boys elected to escort her back to the city, and she bade her father good-bye, promising to be out early Saturday morning to stay.

When the boys left their sister at their aunt’s door, they walked on down the street in silence for several blocks. They were so absorbed in thought that somehow by common consent they had not thought to take the car.

“That’s a big thing for her to do; do you know it kid?” said Gene at last. “Did you get a look into that parlor window? That’s some room compared to ours! See that fireplace with the fire shining on those brass and irons and the big lamp with the colored globe, and that big grand piano. She’s leaving a lot to come out to our dump.”

“Yes. And
some dump!
” breathed the younger brother contemptuously. “Say, why couldn’t we have a fireplace? There’s a room enough on the side of the room where the mantelpiece is. I always did like to see an open fire.”

“Tell Dad. Maybe he’ll do something.”

“I will!” declared Jack. “Gee! How’d we ever get to living in such a mess, anyway? I use to wish I would never see the dump again when I went away to school in the morning, and I use to wish I could die when I went home at night. Of course one doesn’t mind when there’s some place to go, but most times you want a spot to relax in between.”

“Same here,” declared Gene. Then they walked several more blocks in silence.

Suddenly they found themselves in the business section and passing a large department store. Eugene came to a halt before a great window display.

The scene represented a room in a mansion, the walls hung with soft, neutral tints, the windows draped in white and rose, the cushions on the white willow chairs repeating the same tints. On the floor was a costly Oriental rug in which rose and gray and green predominated in lovely silky blending. Before the little white dressing-table with its threefold mirror was seated a waxen lady in negligee robe of rose chiffon, with boudoir cap of rose and silver lace, toying with the silver-backed brushes and other articles of the toilet that lay upon the delicate lace-edged linen cover. Over at the other end of the room with a white chest of drawers and a delicate bed with insets of wicker. The bed was covered with a costly spread of handsome openwork lace over pink satin, and at the foot was folded a puffy satin quilt of rose color.

“Some class!” ejaculated Jack, looking carefully at the details. “Say, Gene, we oughtta fix up her room. She fixed ours. What d’ ya say? Let’s do it.”

“Take some cash to make up that outfit.”

“Well, how much ya got? Guess I’ve got a hundred lying around, and Todd owes me fifty he borrowed last month. He promised to fork over soon.”

“Guess I can match you once again,” said Gene. “I’ve been saving up to buy a car when a good bargain comes along, but that can wait.”

“We may want a car too, now,” said Jack thoughtfully. “Wish I hadn’t blown so much going up in airplanes and playing poker, but a fellow had to do something to pass the time away.”

“Well, I guess we might manage to get some kind of an outfit together by Saturday if we make a good stab at it. What do you say to taking tomorrow off and seeing what we can do?”

The two went on reluctantly from that window to others, gradually discovering what seemed to be the style in bedroom furnishings, noting the differences of qualities and shapes and colors, lingering long at a window filled with Oriental rugs.

At last they took the car for Morningside, still discussing which bedroom set had been the prettier, the one on Market Street or the gray one at Filleree’s.

It was late when they reached home and their father was asleep in his chair. They roused him, and poured into his ears their plans, taking him into the front room to show him where a fireplace might be built. They were so excited about it that they stayed up ’til midnight planning just where the chimney could go. They even took a candle, and all three went out-of-doors to see whether it would interfere with the windows upstairs if it were placed where they had planned.

When they went upstairs, Jack flung back his sister’s door and turned on the light, going in with a critical look around. It was strange how Elsie’s advent had been the only tolerable tidy spot in the house, the shrine for a sort of ideal of womanhood, had now become a musty, dusty, gloomy spot, far too poor for the girl who was coming to occupy it.

‘“Gee! Isn’t it fierce?” exclaimed Jack. “No wonder she never came back before! I s’pose she’s used to fine things like those we saw in the windows tonight. Say, Gene, this wallpaper’s rotten. It would give any girl the jimjams to wake up in a room like this. Couldn’t we get it papered before Saturday if we hired Harlin and made him hustle?”