 CHAPTER XXI LIFE'S JOGTROT AND A QUARAL Life went on at a jog-trot with me for a long time after the departure for France of the Braithwaites and Miss Sonnet. My mother-in-law missed her daughter, Mrs. Braithwaite, sorely. I believe, if it had not been for her pride in her brilliant daughter and her famous son-in-law, she would have become actually ill with fretting. I found my hands full and devising ways to divert her mind and planning dishes to tempt her delicate appetite. Because of her frailty and consequent inability to do much sightseeing, or, indeed, to go far from the house, Dickie and I spent a very quiet winter. Our evenings away from home together did not average one a week, and Dickie very rarely went anywhere without me. Except a Darby and Joan we are getting to be. He remarked one night as we sat one on each side of the library table, reading, His mother, as was her custom, had gone to bed early in the evening. Yes, isn't it nice? I returned, smiling at him. Ripping, Dickie agreed enthusiastically. Then, reflectively, funniest thing about it is the way I cotton to this domestic stunt. If anyone had told me before I met you, that I should ever stand for this husband-reading-to-knitting-wife sort of thing, I should have bought him a ticket to Matiawan pronto. He stopped and frowned heavily at me, and mimicked disapproval. Picture all spoiled, he declared, sighing. You are not knitting. Why, oh, why are you not knitting? Because I never shall knit. I returned, laughing, at least not in the evening while you are reading. That sort of thing never did appeal to me. Either the wife who has to knit or sew or darn in the evening is too inefficient to get all her work done in daylight, or she has too much work to do. In the first case, her husband ought to teach her efficiency. In the second place, he ought to help do the sewing or the darning. Then they could both read. Listen to the feminist, Carol Dickie. Then, with mock severity, of course I am to infer, madam, that my stockings are all properly darned. Your inference is eminently correct, demurely. Your mother darned them to-day. What I had told him was true. His mother had seen me looking over the stockings after they were washed, and had insisted on darning Dickie's. I saw that she longed to do some little personal service for her boy, and willingly handed them over. Dickie threw back his head and laughed heartily. Then his face sobered, and he came round to my side of the table and sat down on the arm of my chair. Speaking of mother, he said, rumbling my hair caressingly, I want to tell you, sweetheart, that you have made an awful hit with me the way you've taken care of her. Nobody knows better than I how trying she can be, and you've been just as sweet and kind to her as if she were the most tractable person on earth. He put his arms around me and bent his face to mine. Pretty nice and comfy this being, married to each other, isn't it? Very nice, indeed, I agreed, nestling closer to him. My heart echoed the words. In fact, it seemed almost too good to be true this quiet domestic cove into which our marital bark had drifted. The storms we had weathered seemed far past. Dickie's jealousy of my brother-cousin, Jack Bickett. My unhappiness over Lillian Underwood. Those tempestuous days surely were years ago instead of months. Now Jack was somewhere in France, and I had a queer little premonition that somewhere, somehow, his path would cross that of Miss Sonnet, the little nurse who had gone with Dr. Braithwaite's expedition, and who for years had cherished a romantic ideal of my brother-cousin, although she had never met him. Lillian Underwood was my sworn friend. With characteristic directness, she had cut the Gordian knot of our misunderstanding by telling me, against Dickie's protests, all about the old secret which her past and that of my husband shared. After her story, with all that it revealed of her sacrifice and her fidelity to her own high ideals, there never again would be a doubt of her in my mind. I was proud of her friendship, although, because of my mother-in-law's prejudice against them, Dickie and I could not have the Underwoods at our home. Our meetings, therefore, were few. But I had an odd little feeling of safety and security whenever I thought of her. I knew, if any terrible trouble ever came to me, I should fly to her as if she were my sister. My work at the Lotus Steady Club was going along smoothly. At home, Katie was so much more satisfactory than the maids I had seen in other establishments that I shut my eyes to many little things about which I knew my mother-in-law would have been most capulous. But my mother-in-law's acerbity was softened by her weakness. We grew quite companionable in the winter days when Dickie's absence at the studio left us together. Altogether I felt that life had been very good to me. So the winter rolled away, and almost before we knew it the spring days came stealing in from the south, bringing to me their urgent call of brown earth and sprouting things. I was not the only one who listened to the message of spring. Mother Graham grew restless and used all her meager strength in drives to the parks and walks to a nearby square where the Caucasus were just beginning to wave their brave greeting to the city. The warmer days affected Dickie adversely. He seemed a bit distraite, displayed a trifle of his earlier irritability, and complained a great deal about the warmth of the apartment. I tell you I can't stand this any longer, he said one particularly warm evening in April as he sank into a chair flinging his collar in one direction and his neck-tie in another. I'd rather be in the city in August than in these first warm days of spring. What do you say to moving into the country for the summer? Our month is up here the first anyway, and I'm perfectly willing to lose any part of the month's rent if we only can get away. But Dickie, I protested, unless we board, which I don't think any of us would like to do, how are we going to find a house, to say nothing of getting settled in so short a time? To my surprise Dickie hesitated a moment before answering. Then, flushing, he uttered the words which brought my little castle of contentment grumbling about me and warned me that my marital problems were not yet all solved. Why, you see, there won't be any bother about a house. Miss Draper has found a perfectly bully place not far from her sister's home. Miss Draper has found a house for us. I echoed Dickie's words in blank astonishment. His bit of news was so unexpected, amazement was the only feeling that came to me for a moment or two. Well, what's the reason for the awful astonishment? demanded Dickie, truculently. You look as if a bomb had exploded in your vicinity. He expressed my feeling exactly. I knew that Miss Draper had become a fixture in his studio, acting as his secretary as well as his model, and pursuing her art studies under his direction. But his references to her were always so casual and indifferent that for months I had not thought of her at all. And now I found that Dickie had progressed to such a degree of intimacy with her that he not only wished to move to the village which she called home, but had allowed her to select the house in which we were to live. I might be foolish overwrought, but all at once I recognized in Dickie's beautiful portrait a distinct menace to my marital happiness. I knew I ought to be most guarded in my reply to my husband, but I am afraid the words of my answer were tipped with the venom of my feeling toward the girl. I admit I am astonished, I replied coldly. You see, I did not know it was the custom in your circle for an artist's model to select a house for his wife and mother. You must give me time to adjust myself to such a bizarre state of things. I was so furious myself that I did not realize how much my answer would irritate Dickie. He sprang to his feet with an oath, and turned on me the old, black, angry look that I had not seen for months. That's about the meanest slur I ever heard, he shouted, just because a girl works as a model every other woman thinks she has the right to cast a stone at her and put on a how dare you brush your skirt against mine sort of thing. You worked for a living yourself not so very long ago. I should think you would have a little Christian charity in your heart for any other girl who worked. It strikes me that there is a slight difference between the work of a high school instructor in history, a specialist in her subject, and the work of an artist's model, I returned icily. But, laying all that aside, I should have considered myself guilty of a very grave breach of good taste if I had ventured to select a house for the wife of my principal, unasked and unknown to her. Cut out the heroics and come down to brass tacks, Dickie snarled vulgarly. Why don't you be honest and say you're jealous of the poor girl? I'll bet if the truth were known it isn't only the house she selected you'd walk at. I'll bet you wouldn't want to go to Marvin at all for the summer, regardless that I've spent many a comfortable week in that section, and like it better than any other summer place I know. Through all my anger at Dickie, my disgust at his coarseness came the conviction that he had spoken the truth. I was jealous of Grace Draper. There was no use denying the fact to myself. However strenuously I might try to hide the thing from Dickie. I told myself that I hated Marvin because it helped this girl that instead of spending the summer there I wished I might never see the place again. I was angrier than ever when the knowledge of my own emotion forced itself upon me, angry with myself for being so silly, angry with Dickie for having brought such provocation upon me. I let my speech lash out blindly, not caring what I said. You are wrong in one thing, right in another. I am not jealous of Miss Draper. To tell you the truth, I do not care enough about what you do to be jealous of you. But I would not like to live in Marvin for this season. I never counted in my list of friends a woman who possesses neither good-breeding nor common sense, and I do not propose to begin with Miss Draper. Dickie stared at me for a moment, his face dark and distorted with passion. Then, springing to his feet, he picked up his collar and tie and went into his room. Returning with fresh ones, he snatched his hat and stick and rushed to the door. As he slammed it after him, I heard another oath, one this time coupled with the reference to me. I sank back in the big chair, weak and trembling. Well, you have made a mess of it! My mother-in-law's voice, cool and cynical, sounded behind me. I felt like saying something caustic to her, but there was something in her tones that stopped me. It was not criticism of me, she was expressing, rather sympathy, accustomed as I was to every inflection of her voice. I realized this, and accordingly held my tongue until she had spoken further. I'll admit you had enough to make any woman lose her control of herself, went on Dickie's collar, with the fairness which I had found her invariably to possess in anything big, no matter how petty and fussy she was over trifles. But you ought to know Richard better than to take that way with him. Give Richard his head, and he soon tires of any of the thousand things he proposes doing from time to time. Oppose him, ridicule him, make him angry, and he'll stick to his notion as a dog to a bone. She turned and walked into her room again. I sat miserably huddled in the big chair, by turn angry at my husband, and remorseful over my own hastiness. What I do about dinner, Mrs. Graham, Katie's voice was subdued, sympathetic and respectful. I realized that she had heard every word of our controversy. The knowledge made my reply hurt. Keep it warm as long as you can. I will tell you when to serve it. Katie stalked out, muttering something about the dinner being spoiled, but I paid no heat to her. My thoughts were too busy with the conjectures and forebodings of the future to pay any attention to trifles. The twilight deepened into darkness. I was just nerving myself to summon Katie and tell her to serve dinner when the door opened, and Dickie's rapid step crossed the room. He switched on the light, and then, coming over to me, lifted me bodily out of my chair. "'Was the poor little girl jealous?' he drawled, with his face pressed close to mine. "'Well, she shall never have to be jealous again. We won't live in Marvin, naughty old town, full of beautiful models. We'll just go over to Hackensack, or some nice respectable place like that.' At first my heart had leaped with victory. Dickie had come back, and he was not angry. Then as his lips sought mine, and I caught his breath, my victory turned to ashes. The regret or repentance which had driven my husband back to my arms had not come from his heart, but from the depths of a whiskey-glass. CHAPTER XXII. An amazing discovery. It was two days after our quarrel over Grace Draper and her selection of a summer-home for us, before Dickie again broached the subject of leaving the city for the summer. "'By the way,' he said, as carelessly as if the subject had never been a bone of contention between us. That house I was speaking of, the other night, the one Miss Draper thought we would like, has been rented, so we will have to look for something else.' I had no idea how he had managed to get rid of taking the house after his portrait had gone to the trouble of hunting one up, nor did I care. I told myself that as the girl's insolent assurance in selecting a house for me had been put down I could afford to be magnanimous. So I smiled at Dickie and said with an ease which I was far from feeling. But there must be other places in Marvin that are desirable. That day we were out there, I caught glimpses of streets that must be beautiful in summer. Into Dickie's eyes flashed a look of tender pleasure that warmed me. Taking advantage of his mother's absorption in her fish he threw me a kiss. I knew that I had pleased him wonderfully by tacitly agreeing to go to Marvin, and that our quarrel was to him as if it had never been. I wish I had his mercurial temperament. Long after I have forgiven a wrong done to me, or an unpleasant experience, the bitter memory of it comes back to torment me. "'That's my bully girl,' was all Dickie said in reply. But when the baked fish had been discussed, and we were eating our salad, he looked up, his eyes twinkling. This green stuff reminds me that if I'm going to get my garden sass planted this year, or you want any flower beds, we'll have to get busy. Can you run out to Marvin with me to-morrow morning and look around? We ought to be able to find something we want. Real estate agents are as thick as fleas around that section." We made an early start the next morning. Mother Graham, with characteristic energy spurring up Katie with the breakfast, and successfully routing Dickie from the second nap he was bound to take. I had been up since daylight, for it was a perfect spring morning, and I was anxious to be afield. As we neared the entrance of the Long Island station, I thought of the first trip we had taken to Marvin, and the unpleasantness which had marked the day, and I plucked Dickie's sleeve timidly. Dickie, I swallowed hard and stopped short. He adroitly swung me across the street into the safety of the runway leading down into the station before he spoke. Well, what's on your conscience? He smiled down at me roguishly. You look as if you were going to confess to a murder at least. Not that bad, I smiled faintly. But, oh, Dickie, if I promise to try not to say anything irritating to-day, will you promise not to, either? Sure as you're born, Dickie returned cheerfully. Don't want to spoil the day, eh? It's such a heavenly day, I sighed. I feel as if I couldn't stand it to have anything marred. As we sat in the train that bore us to Marvin, Dickie outlined some of his plans for the summer. There are two or three of the fellows who come down here summers who I know will be glad to go dutch on a motorboat. He said, We can take the bulliest trips way out to deserted sand-islands where the surf is the best ever. We'll take along a tent and spend the night there some time, or we can stretch out in the boat. Then we must see if we can get a hold of some horses. Do you ride? Think of it! We've been married months, and I don't know yet whether you ride or not. No, I don't ride. But, oh, how I've always wanted to, I returned with enthusiasm. Then with the sudden qualm. But all that will be terribly expensive, won't it? Not so awful, Dickie said, smiling down at me. But even if it is, I guess we can stand it. I've had some cracking good orders lately. We'll have one whale of a summer. My heart beat high with happiness. Surely with all these plans for me, my husband's thoughts could not be much occupied with his beautiful model. As he lifted me down to the station platform at Marvin, I looked with friendliness at the dingy, battered old railroad station which I remembered, and the defiant sign near it, which trumpeted in large type, don't judge the town by the station, and the winding main street of the village which, when I had visited Marvin before, Dickie had wished to show me. Upon that other visit, our first sight of Grace Draper and Dickie's interest in her had spoiled the trip for me. I had insisted upon going back without seeing some of the things Dickie had planned to show me, and I had disliked the thought of the town ever since. But with Dickie's loving plans for my happiness dazzling me, I felt a touch of the glamour with which he invested the place in my eyes. I caught at his hand in an unwanted burst of tenderness. Let's walk down that old winding street which you told me about last winter, I said. I've wanted to see it ever since you spoke about it. We'll probably motor down it instead, he grinned. There's a real estate office just opposite here, and I see the agent's fliver in front of the door where he stands just inside his office. The spider and the fly, eh, Maj? Well, Mr. Spider, here are two dear little flies for you. Oh, Dickie! I dragged at his arm in protest. Don't spoil our first view of that street by whirling through it in a car. Let's saunter down at first, and then come back to the real estate man. You have a gleam of human intelligence sometimes, don't you? Dickie inquired banteringly. Then he took my arm to help me cross the rough places in the country road. We had almost reached the door of the office when Dickie caught sight of a plainly dressed woman coming toward us. I heard him catch his breath, his grasp on my arm tightened, and with an indescribable agile movement he fairly bolted into the real estate office, dragging me with him. I'll explain later, he said in my ear, just follow my lead now. As he turned to the retun little real estate agent who came forward to greet us, a look of surprise on his round face, I looked through the window at the woman from whose sight he had dodged. Then I felt that I needed an explanation, indeed, for the woman whose eyes my husband so evidently wished to avoid was Mrs. Gorman, Grace Draper's sister. So I was to live in a house of Grace Draper's choosing after all. This was the thought that came most forcibly to me when Mr. Brennan, the owner of the house Dickie had impetuously decided to rent, told us that Miss Draper had looked over the place for an artist's friend, and that she would have taken it only for finding another house nearer her own home. I was so absorbed in my own thoughts that I did not at first notice Dickie's embarrassment when Mr. Brennan asked him if he knew Grace Draper. It was only when the man who had all the earmarks of a gossiping countryman repeated the question that I realized Dickie's confusion. Did you say you knew her? Yes, I know her. She works in my studio, remarked Dickie shortly. Oh! The exclamation had the effect of a long-drawn whistle. Then you probably were the artist's friend she spoke of. I probably was. Dickie's tone was grim. I knew how near his temper was to exploding, and the look which I beheld on the face of Mr. Birdsall, the little real estate agent, galvanized me into action. Dear, what do you suppose led Grace to think we would like that other place better than this? I flashed a tender little smile at Dickie. Of course we would like to be nearer her, but this is not very far from her home, and it is so much better, isn't it? Dickie took the cue without a tremor. Why, I suppose she thought you would find this house too big for you to look after, he replied in a matter-of-fact way. That was awful dear and thoughtful of her, I murmured, careful to keep my voice at just the right pitch of friendliness toward the absent Grace. But I don't think this will be too much, for we can shut up the rooms we don't need. I had the satisfaction of seeing the puzzled looks of Mr. Brennan and Mr. Birdsall change into an evident readjustment of their ideas concerning my husband and Grace Draper, but I did not relax my iron hold upon myself. I knew if I dared let myself down for an instant angry tears would rush to my eyes. When did you say we could move in? I turned to Mr. Brennan, determined to get away from the subject of Grace Draper as quickly as possible. Today, if you want it. No, returned Dickie, but we will want it soon. When do you think we can move? He turned to me. I spent three busy days at the Brennan place. There was much to be done both inside and outside the house. After the first day, Katie did not return with me as my mother-in-law needed her in the apartment. But I engaged another woman with the one I had for the work in the house and put the grinning William in charge of an old man I had secured to clean up the grounds and make the garden. I soon found that I had a treasure in Mr. Jones, who was a typical old Yankee farmer, a wise and little man with chin whiskers. He could only give me a day or two occasionally as he was old and confided to me that he was subject to the rheumatics. But while I was there he plowed and harrowed and planted the garden, cleared the rubbish away, and made me innumerable flower beds, keeping an iron hand over the irresponsible William, whose grin gradually faded as he was forced to do some real work for his day's wages. A riotous and extravagant hour in a seed and bulb store resulted in my getting all the flower favourites I had loved in my childhood. I also bought the seeds of all vegetables which Dickie and I liked, and a few more and put them in Mr. Jones's capable hands. If there was a variety of vegetables or flower seeds which looked attractive in the seed-mass catalog and which remained unbought, it was the fault of the salesman, for I conscientiously tried to select every one. I plant the location of a few of the beds and then confide it to Mr. Jones the rest of the outdoor work, knowing that he could finish it after my return to the city. Mr. Birdsall, the agent, was very tractable about the kitchen, sending men the second day to paint it. So at the end of the third day, when I turned the key in the lock of the front door, I was conscious that the house was as clean as soap and water and hard work could make it, that the grounds were in order, and the growing things I loved on their way to greet me. I fancy it was high time things were accomplished, for in some way I had caught a severe cold. At least that was the way I diagnosed my complaint. My throat seemed swollen, my head ached severely, and each bone and muscle in my body appeared to have its separate pain. When I reached the apartment I felt so ill that I undressed and went to bed at once. You must spray your throat immediately, my mother-in-law said in a business-like way, and I suppose we ought to send for that jack-and-appies of a doctor. Even through my suffering I could not help but smile at my mother-in-law's reference to Dr. Pettit, who had attended her and her illness. She had summarily dismissed him because he had forbidden her to see to the unpacking of her trunks when she was barely convalescent, and we had not seen him since. I am sure I will not need a physician, I said, trying to speak distinctly, although it was an effort for me to articulate. Wait until Dickie comes, anyway. For distinct in my mind was a mental picture of the look I had detected in Dr. Pettit's eyes upon the day of his last visit to my mother-in-law. I remembered the way he had clasped my hand in parting. The feeling was indefinable. I scored myself as fanciful and conceited for imagining that there had been anything special in his farewell to me or in the little courtesies he had tendered me during my mother-in-law's illness. But I told myself again, as I had, after closing the door upon his last visit, that it would better all around if he did not come again. If you wait for Richard, you'll wait a long time, his mother observed grimly. He called up a while ago and said he had been invited to an impromptu studio party that he couldn't get away from, and that he would be home in two or three hours. But I know Richard, if he gets interested in anything like that, he won't be home until midnight. I do not pretend either to analyze or excuse the feeling of reckless defiance that seized me upon hearing of Dickie's absence. I reflected bitterly that I had taken all the burden of seeing to the new home and was suffering from illness contracted because of that work while Dickie was frolicking at a studio party with never a thought of me. I know without being told that Grace Draper was a member of the frolic, and here I was suffering yet refusing the services of a skilled physician because I fancied there was something in his manner the tolerance of which would savor of disloyalty to Dickie. I turned to my mother-in-law to tell her she could summon the physician but found that I could hardly speak. My throat felt as if I were choking. "'The spray,' I gasped. Thoroughly alarmed Mother Graham assisted me in spraying my throat with the strong antiseptic solution. Then I gave her the number of Dr. Pettit's office and she called him up. I heard her tell him to make haste, and then she came back to me. I saw that she was frightened about the condition of my throat, but the choking feeling gave me no time to be frightened. I kept the spray going almost constantly until the physician came. It was the only way I could breathe.' Dr. Pettit must have made a record journey, for the doorbell signaled his arrival only a few moments after Mother Graham's message. He gave my throat one swift, shrewd glance, then turned to his small valise, and drew from it a stick, some absorbent cotton, and a bottle of dark liquid. With swift shore movements he prepared a swab, and turned to me. "'Open your mouth again,' he said gently, but perumpterily. I obeyed him, and the antiseptic bathed at the swollen tonsil surely and skillfully. As I swayed, almost staggered, in the spasm of coughing and choking which followed, I felt the strong, sure support of his arm touching my shoulders, of his hand grasping mine. Now lie down,' he commanded gently, when the paroxysm was over. He drew the covers over me himself, lifted my head and shoulders gently with one hand, while with the other he raised the pillows to the angle he wished. Then he turned to my mother-in-law. She has a bad case of tonsillitis, but there is no danger, he said quietly, utterly ignoring her rudeness at the time of his last visit. I will stay until I have swabbed her throat again. She has to have these pellets. He handed her a bottle of pink tablets. Once every fifteen minutes until she has taken four, then every hour until midnight. Let her sleep all she can and keep her warm. I would like two hot water bags filled, if you please, and a glass of water. She must begin taking these tablets as soon as possible. As my mother-in-law left the room to get the things he wished, Dr. Pettit came back to the bedside and stood looking down at me. Where's your husband? He asked, a note of sternness in his voice. I shook my head. I was just nervous and sick enough to feel the question keenly. I could not restrain the foolish tears which rolled slowly down my cheeks. Dr. Pettit took his handkerchief and wiped them away. Then he said in almost a whisper, Poor little girl, how I wish I could bear the pain for you. My recovery from the attack of Tenselytus, thanks to Dr. Pettit's remedies, was almost as rapid as the seizure had been sudden. My mother-in-law, forgetting her own invalidism, carried out the physician's directions faithfully. The choking sensation in my throat gradually lessened, until by midnight I was able to go to sleep. I have no idea when Dickie came home from his impromptu studio-party. His mother, whose deftness, efficiency, and unexpected tenderness surprised me, arranged a bed for him on the couch in the living-room, and I did not hear him come in at all. My poor little sweetheart, this was his greeting the next morning. If I had only known you were ill, the old blowout could have gone plump. It was a stupid affair anyway, had a rotten time. It doesn't matter, Dickie, I said wearily, and closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. I knew Dickie was puzzled by my manner, for I could feel him silently watching me for several minutes. Then evidently satisfied that I was really sleeping, he tiptoed out of the room, and a little later I heard him depart for his studio, first cautioning his mother to call him if I needed him. I spent a most miserable day after Dickie had left, in spite of my mother-in-law's tender care and Katie's assiduous attentions. The studio-party, of which I was sure Grace Draper was a member, rankled, as did anything connected with the student model of Dickie's. The memory of the village gossip concerning her friendship for my husband, which I had heard in Marvin, troubled me, while even Dickie's solicitude for my illness seemed to my overwrought imagination to be forced artificial. His exclamation, my poor little sweetheart, did not wring true to me, I felt bitterly that there was more sincerity in Dr. Pettit's low words of the day before. Poor little girl, I wish I could bear this pain for you, than in Dickie's protestations. How genuinely troubled the tall young physician had been! How resentful of Dickie's absence from my bedside! How tender and strong in my paroxysms of choking! I felt a sudden added bitterness toward my husband that the memory of my suffering should have blended with it no recollection of his care, only the tender sympathy of a stranger. But in two days I was my usual self again, ready for the arduous tasks of moving and settling. Mother Graham and I spent a hectic day in the furniture and drapery shops, buying things to supplement her furniture and mine, which we had arranged to have sent to the Brennan House in Marvin. I found that her judgment as to values and fabrics was unearring, but her taste as to colors and designs frequently clashed with mine. Say for the fact that she became fatigued before we had finished our shopping, there would have been no individual touch of mine in our home. As it was, I was not sorry that she found herself too indisposed to go with me the second day, so that I had a chance to put something of my own individuality into the new furnishings. Another two days in Marvin, with the aid of a workman unpacking and arranging the crated furniture and our purchases, the new home was ready to step into. We were a gay little party as we went together through the house inspecting all the rooms. When we came to Dickies he barred us out. Now, remember, no stealing of keys and peering into Bluebeard's closet, said Dickie Gailey, as he closed and locked the door of his room. You flatter yourself, sir! I swept him a low bow. I really haven't the slightest curiosity about your old room. Sour grapes, he mocked, and then impressively, and no matter what packages or furniture come here for me they are not to be unwrapped. Just leave them on the porch or in the library until I come home. I wouldn't touch one of them with a pair of tongs, I assured him. See that you don't, he returned, hanging the key up and hastily kissing me. Now I've got to run for it. He hurried down the stairs and out of the front door. I stood looking after him with a smile of tender amusement. The day after Dickie's purchases arrived he rose early. No studio for me to-day, he announced. Can you get a hold of that man who helped you clean up here? I want an able-bodied man for several hours to-day. I think so, I returned quietly, and going to the telephone, soon returned with the assurance that William of the Wide Grin would shortly be at our house. That's fine, commented Dickie, and now I want you and Mother to get out of the way after breakfast. Go for a walk or a drive or anything so you are not around. I want to surprise you this afternoon. I'll bet that room will make your eyes stick out when you see it. I had a wonderful tramp through the woods, enjoying it so much that it was after four o'clock when I finally returned home. Dickie greeted me exuberantly. Come along now, he commanded, rushing me upstairs. Come, Mother! The elder Mrs. Graham appeared at the door of her room, curiosity and disapproval struggling with each other in her face. But curiosity triumphed. With a protesting snort she followed us to the door of the locked room. Dickie unlocked the door with the flourish and stood aside for us to enter. I gasped as I caught my first sight of the transformed room. Dickie had not exaggerated. It was wonderful. The paper had been taken from the walls, and they and the ceiling had been painted a soft gray with just a touch of blue in its tint. The woodwork was ivory tinted throughout, while the floor was painted a deeper shade of the gray that covered the walls. Almost covering the floor was a gorgeous Chinese rug with wonderful splashes of blue through it. I knew it must be an imitation of one costing a fortune, but I realized that Dickie must have paid a pretty penny even for the counterfeit, for the coloring and design were cleverly done. The blue of the rug was reproduced in every detail of the room. The window draperies of thin oriental fabric had bands of Chinese embroidered silk cunningly sewed on them. These bands carried out in the azure groundwork and the golden threads of the motif of the rug. The cushions, which were everywhere in evidence, were made of the same embroidered silk which banded the window draperies, while blue strips of the same material were thrown carelessly over a teakwood table and a chest of drawers. A chaise lounge of bamboo piled with cushions stood underneath the windows, which commanded a view of the rolling woodland and meadows I had found so beautiful. Three chairs of the same material completed the furnishings of the room, save for a wonderful Chinese screen reaching almost from the ceiling to the floor, which hid a single iron bed painted white of the type used in hospitals, a small bureau also painted white, and a shaving mirror. Don't want any junk about in my sleeping quarters, Dickie explained as I looked behind the screen. Well, what do you think of it? He demanded at last in a hurt tone, as I finished my inspection of the walls, which were almost covered with the originals of Dickie's best magazine illustrations framed in narrow black strips of wood. It is truly wonderful, Dickie, I returned, trying to make my voice enthusiastic. I could have raved over the room, for I did think it exquisitely beautiful had not my woman's intuition detected that another hand than Dickie's had helped in its preparation. Only a woman's cunning fingers could have fashioned the curtains and the cushions I saw in profusion about the room. I knew her identity before Dickie, after pointing out in detail every article of which he was so proud, said hesitatingly, I wish, Madge, you would telephone Miss Draper and ask her to run over to tomorrow and see the room. You see, I was so anxious to surprise you that I did not want to have you do any of the work, and she kindly did all of this needlework for me. I know she is very curious to see how her work looks. Of course, I will telephone Miss Draper if you wish it, Dickie, but don't you think you ought to do it yourself? She is your employee, not mine, and I never have seen her, but twice in my life. I flatter myself that my voice was as calm as if I had not the slightest emotional interest in the topic I was discussing. But in reality I was furiously angry, and I felt that I had reason to be. Now that's a nice catty thing to say, Dickie exploded wrathfully. Hope you feel better now you've got it off your chest, and you can just trot right along and telephone her yourself. Gee, you haven't been a martyr for months, have you? When Dickie takes that cutting, ironical tone, it fairly maddens me. I could not trust myself to speak, so I turned quickly and went out of the room which had become suddenly hateful to me, and found refuge in my own. My exit was not so swift, however, but that I overheard words of my mother-in-law's which were to remain in my mind. Richard, she exclaimed angrily, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. You act like a silly fool over this model of yours. What business did you have asking her to do this needlework for you in the first place? You ought to have known Margaret would not like it. I did not hear Dickie's reply, for I had reached my own room, and closing and locking the door, I sat down by the window until I should be able to control my words and actions. For one thing I had determined. I would not have a repetition of the scenes which Dickie's temper and my own sensitiveness had made an almost daily occurrence in the earlier months of our marriage. I could not bring myself to treat Grace Draper with the friendliness which Dickie appeared to wish from me, but at least I could keep from unseemly squabbling about her. But my heart was heavy with misgiving concerning this friendship of Dickie's for his beautiful model as I opened my door and went down the hall to Dickie's room. My mother-in-law's voice interrupted me. Come in here a minute, she said abruptly, as she trailed her flowing negligee past me into the living-room. As I followed her in, wondering, she closed the door behind her. I saw with amazement that her face was pale, her lips quivering with emotion. Child, she said, laying her hand with unwanted gentleness on my shoulder, I want you to know that I entirely disapprove of this invitation which Richard has asked you to extend. Of course you must use your own judgment in the matter, and it may be wise for you to do as he asks. But I want to be sure that you are not influenced by anything I may have said in the past about not opposing Richard in his whims. He is going too far in this thing, she went on. I cannot counsel you. Each woman has to solve these problems for herself. But it may help you to know that I went through all this before you were born. She turned swiftly and went up to her room again. Father, she must mean her life with him. In a sudden, swift, pity and gleam of comprehension, I saw why my mother-in-law was so crabbed and disagreeable. Life had embittered her. I wondered miserably if my life with her son would leave similar marks upon my own soul. CHAPTER XXIV. A SUMMER OF HAPPINESS THAT ENDS IN FEAR. I do not believe I shall ever know greater happiness than was mine in the weeks following Grace Draper's first visit to our Mormon home. Many times I looked back to that night, when I had lain sobbing on my bed, fighting the demon of jealousy and gasped in amazement at my own folly. That evening had ended in Dickie's arms on our moonlight veranda, and ever since he had been the royal lover of my honeymoon days which had preceded our first quarrel. I wondered vaguely sometimes if he had guessed the wild grief and jealousy which had consumed me on that night, but if he had any inkling of it he made no sign. Grace Draper had gone out of our lives temporarily. If I had needed reassurance as to Dickie's real feelings for her, the manner in which he told me the news of her going would have given it to me. Blast the luck! he growled one evening after reading a manuscript which he had been commissioned to illustrate. Here's something I'll need Draper for, and she's two hundred miles away. I ought to have known better than to let her go. The tone and words were exactly what he would have used if the girl had been a man or a boy in his employ. Even in my surprise at his news I recognized this, and my heart leapt exultantly. I was careful, however, to keep my voice nonchalant. Why, has Miss Draper gone away? I asked. Oh, that's so. I didn't tell you. He returned carelessly, looking up from the manuscript. Yes, she went away two days ago. She has a grandmother, or aunt, or old party of some kind down in Pennsylvania who is sick and has sent for her. Guess the old girl has scads of coin tucked away somewhere, and Draper thinks she'd better be around when the aged relative passes in her chicks. Better cookie she won't die at that, but if she's going to I wish she'd hurry up about it. I need Draper badly, and she won't be back until the old girl either croaks or gets better. Under other circumstances, the callousness of this speech, the coarseness of some of the expressions, the calling of Miss Draper by her surname, would have graded upon me. But I was too rejoiced both at the girl's departure and the matter-of-fact way in which Dickie took it to be capulous about the language in which he couched the news of her going. The way Draper is gone is gone. The words set themselves to a little tune, which lilted in my brain. I felt as if the only obstacle to my enjoyment of our summer in the country had been removed. How I did revel in the long, beautiful summer days. Dickie appeared to have a great deal of leisure, in contrast to the days crowded with work which had been his earlier in the spring. Each year I work like the devil in the spring so as to have the summer, June especially comparatively free," he exclaimed one day, when I commented on the fact that he had been to his studio but twice during the week. I had dreamt in my girlhood of vacations like the one I was enjoying, but the dream had never been fulfilled before. Dickie had fixed up a tennis court on the grassy stretch of lawn at the left of the house, and we played every day. Two horses from the livery were brought around two mornings each week, and after a few trials I was able to take comparatively long rides with Dickie through the exquisite country surrounding Marvin. Our motorboat trips were frequent also, although Dickie found that it was more convenient to rent one when he wished it than to enter into any ownership arrangement with anyone else. Automobile trips in which his mother joined us, long rambles through the woods and meadows which we took alone, little dinners at the numberless shore resorts, all these made a whirl of enjoyment for me unlike anything I had ever known. I was careful to cater to my mother in lost wishes in every way I could. Either because of my attentions, or of the beautiful summer days, she was much softened in manner so that there was no unpleasantness anywhere. This is the bulliest vacation I ever spent, Dickie said one evening after a long tramp through the woods. It was one of the frequent chilly evenings of a long island summer when a fire is most acceptable. Katie had built a glorious fire of dry wood in the living-room fireplace, and after dinner we stretched out lazily before it. Mother Graham and I in armchairs, Dickie on a rug with cushions bestowed comfortably around him. I am naturally very glad to hear that, I said demurely, and Dickie laughed aloud. That's right, take all the credit to yourself, he said teasingly. Then, as he saw a shadow on my face, for I never have learned to take his banter lightly, he added in a tone meant for my ear alone, but you are the real reason why it's so bully, old top. The very next day Dickie and I went for a long walk. We had nearly reached the harbour when I saw Dickie start suddenly, gaze fixately at someone across the road, and then lift his hat in a formal, unsmiling greeting. My eyes followed his, and met the cool half-quisical ones of Grace Draper. She was accompanied by a tall, very good-looking youth who was bending toward her so assiduously that he did not see us at all. Why, I didn't know Miss Draper had returned, I said, wondering why Dickie had kept the knowledge from me. I didn't know it myself, Dickie answered, frowning. Queer, she wouldn't call me up. Wonder who that deca-napes with her is anyway. Dickie was moody all the rest of the trip. I know that he has the most easily wounded feelings of any one in the world, and naturally he resented the fact that the beautiful model whom he had befriended, and who was his secretary and studio assistant, had returned from her trip without letting him know she was at home. If I only could be sure that Peake at an employee's failure to report to him was at the bottom of his sulkiness. But the memory of the good-looking youth who hung over the girl so assiduously was before my eyes. I feared that the reason for Dickie's moody displeasure was the presence of the unknown admirer of his beautiful model. Of course, all pleasure in the day's outing was gone for me also, and we were a silent pair as we wandered in and out through the sandy beaches. Dickie conscientiously, but perfunctorily, pointed out to me all the things which he thought I would find interesting, and in which under any other circumstances I should have reveled. In my resolution to be as chummy with Dickie as possible, I determined to put down my own feelings towards Grace Draper. But it was an effort for me to say what I wished to Dickie. We had chatted about many things, and were nearly home when I said timidly, Dickie, now that Miss Draper is back, don't you think you and I ought to call on her and her sister and have them over to dinner? Dickie frowned impatiently, for heaven's sake, don't monkey with that old cat, Mrs. Gorman, she is making trouble enough as it is. He bit his lip the next instant, as if he wished the words unsaid, and for a wonder I was wise enough not to question him as to the meaning of the little speech. But into my heart crept my own particular little suspicious devil. Always too ready to come is this small familiar demon of mine, and once there he stayed, continually whispering ugly doubts and queries concerning the trouble that Mrs. Gorman was making over her sister's intimate studio association with my husband. My constant brooding affected my spirits. I found myself growing irritable. The next day after Dickie and I had seen Miss Draper and her attendant Cavalier on the road to Marvin Harbor, Dickie made a casual reference at the table to the fact that she had returned to the studio and her work as his secretary and model. She said she called up the studio when she got in, and again yesterday morning, but I was not in, he said. I realized that the girl had cleverly soothed his resentment at her failure to notify him that she had returned from her trip. Whether it was the result of my own irritability or not, I do not know, but Dickie seemed to grow more indifferent and absent-minded each day. He was not irritable with me. He simply had the air of a man absorbed in some pursuit and indifferent to everything else. Grace Draper's attitude toward me puzzled me also. She preserved always the cool but courteous manner one would use to the most casual acquaintance, yet she did not hesitate to avail herself of every possible opportunity to come to the house. Then two or three times during the latter part of the summer I found that she had managed to join outings of ours. Whether this state of affairs was due to Dickie's wishes or her own subtle planning, I could not determine. I struggled hard with myself to treat the girl with friendliness, but found it impossible. My manner toward her held as much reserve as was compatible with formal courtesy. Of course this did not please Dickie. Dickie was also developing an unusual sense of punctuality. I always had thought him quite irresponsible concerning the keeping of his appointments, and he never had any set time for arriving at his studio. But he suddenly announced one morning that he must catch the 8.21 train every morning without fail. The next one gets in too late, he said, and I have a tremendous amount of work on hand. The explanation was plausible enough, but there was something about it that did not bring true. However, the solution of his sudden solicitude for punctuality did not come to me until Mrs. Hawke, one of my neighbors, called with her daughter Sealy and enlightened me. We have just heard something we thought you ought to know, Sealy began, primly. So Ma and I hurried right over, so as to put you on your guard. Yes, sighed Mrs. Hawke, rocking vigorously as she spoke. Everybody knows I'm no gossip. I believe you can't say nothing good about nobody. You should keep your mouth shut. But I says to Sealy, as soon as I heard this, Sealy says I, it's our duty to tell that poor thing what we know. I started to speak, to stop whatever revelation she wished to make, but I might as well have attempted to stem a torrent with a leaf bridge. We've heard things for a long time, Mrs. Hawke went on. But we didn't want to say nothing, especially as you seem such friends, her running here and all. But we notice she ain't been coming lately, and then our willy, he hears things a lot over at the station, and he says it's common talk over there that your husband and that draper girl are planning to elope. They take the same train every morning together, come home on the same one at night, and they're as friendly as anything. Mrs. Hawke, I snapped out. If I had known what you were going to say, I would not have allowed you to speak. Your words are an insult to my husband and myself. You will please to remember never to say anything like this to me again. Mrs. Hawke rose to her feet, her face an unbecoming brick red. Her daughter's black eye snapped with anger. Come, Seely," the elder woman said. I don't stay nowhere to be insulted when all I've tried to do is give a little friendly warning to a neighbor. Mother and daughter hurried down the path, chattering to each other like two angry squirrels. Her it's stuck-up thing! I heard Seely say spitefully as they went through the fence. I hope Grace Draper does take him away from her. She's got a nerve, I must say, talking to us like that. I don't believe she cares anything about her husband anyway. She might have changed her mind had she seen me fly to my room as soon as she was safely out of sight, lock the door, and bury my face in the pillows, that neither my mother-in-law nor Katie should hear the sobs I could not repress. Dicky, Dicky, Dicky, I moaned. Have I really lost you? Of course I knew better than to believe the statement of the elopement. I had seen and heard enough of village life to realize how the slightest circumstance was magnified by the community loafers. That Dicky and the girl took the same train going and coming from the city was a fact borne out by my own observations. I had remarked Dicky's regularity in catching the 8.21 in the mornings, something so opposed to his usual unpunctual habits, and wondered why. Now I had the solution. I told myself, dully, that I was not surprised, that I had really known all along something like this was coming. My thoughts went back to the night, a few weeks before, when I had suffered a similar paroxysm of grief over Dicky's evident interests in the girl. Then all my doubts and fears had been swept away in Dicky's arms on the moonlit veranda. I caught my breath as I realized in all its miserable certainty the impossibility of any such tender scene now. Dicky and I seemed as far apart emotionally as the poles. But the determination I had reached that other night, before Dicky's voice and caresses dispelled my doubts, I made my own again. There was nothing for me to do but to wait quietly, with dignity, until I was absolutely certain that Dicky no longer loved me. Then I would go out of his life without scenes or recriminations. I would not lift a finger to hold him. By the time I had gained control of myself once more, Dicky came home. "'Letter for you,' he said, from the office of your old principal. He tossed it into my lap, eyeing it and me curiously. I knew that his desire to know what was in it had made him remember to give it to me. His mother, who had opened her door at his step, came forward eagerly. I opened the letter to find an offer of my old school position. My principal wrote that the woman who was appointed to the position had been suddenly taken ill and could not possibly fill it. He asked me to write him my decision at once, as it was within a few days of the opening of the school. Mechanically I read it aloud. My brain was whirling. I wondered if, perhaps, this was the way out for me. If Dicky really did not love me any longer, I ought to accept this position, even if by taking it I broke my agreement with the Lotus Study Club. I did not like the thought of leaving the women who had thus honored me, but, on the other hand, if Dicky and I were to come to the parting of the ways, I could not refuse this rare chance to get back into the work I had left for his sake. I decided to be guided by his attitude. If he were opposed to my course, I would know that my actions had ceased to be resentful to him, and I would accept the position, but if he showed willingness at the proposition. I did not have long to wait. As I lifted my eyes to his face, when I had finished reading the letter, I saw the old, familiar black frown on his face. I never had thought that my heart would leap with joy at the sight of Dicky's frown, but it did. Before either of us could say anything, his mother spoke, Isn't it splendid? You are a most fortunate woman, Margaret, to be able to step back into a position like that. If it had come earlier when my health was so poor, you could not have taken it. Now you can accept it, for I am perfectly able to run the house. You of course will write your acceptance at once. She paused. I knew she expected me to reply, but I closed my lips firmly. Dicky should be the one to decide this. He did it with thoroughness. I thought we settled all this rot last spring, he said. Mother, I don't want to be disrespectful, but this is my business and mages, not yours. You will refuse, of course, mage. He turned to me in the old, imperious manner. Once before I should have resented it. Now I reveled in it. Dicky cared enough about me, whether from pride or love, to resent my going back to work. If you wish it, Dicky, I said quietly. He turned a grateful look at me. Then his mother's voice sounded imperiously in our ears. I think you have said quite enough, Richard," she said, with icy dignity. Will you kindly telegraph Elizabeth that I shall start for home to-morrow? I certainly shall not stay in a house where I am flouted as I have been this morning. CHAPTER XXV The big house seemed very lonely to me after my mother-in-law's abrupt departure. I had not dreamt that I could possibly miss the older woman's companionship, especially after her hateful behavior concerning my refusal of the school position. But when she had left in dignified dudgeon for a visit with her daughter Elizabeth, I realized that I had come to like her, to depend upon her companionship more than I had thought possible. If the country had not been so beautiful, I would have proposed going back to the city. But the tall hedges enclosing the old place were so fresh and green, the rolling woodland view from my chamber window so restful, my beds of dahlias, cosmos, marigolds, and nasturtiums so brilliant that I could not bring myself to leave it. If I had not had the vague uneasiness concerning Dicky, I could have been perfectly happy in spite of the loneliness. But my uneasiness concerning Dicky's friendship with Grace Draper was deepening to real alarm and anger. I had nothing more tangible than the neighborhood gossip which I had so thoroughly repulsed when it was offered to me by Mrs. Hoke and her daughter. But Dicky was becoming more and more distraite, and when he would allow nothing to keep him from taking the morning train on which Miss Draper traveled to the studio, I remembered that when we had first come to Marvin, he had taken any forenoon train he happened to choose. The second morning after his mother's departure, Dicky almost missed kissing me goodbye in his mad haze to catch his train. He rushed out of the door after a most perfunctory pick at my cheek, and I saw him almost running down the little lane bordered by wild flowers that led across lots to the railroad station. I cannot bear this any longer, I muttered to myself, clenching my hands as I saw the hoax, mother and daughter, watching him from their screened porch, and imagined their satirical comments on his eagerness to make the train. I sat listlessly on the veranda for an hour, then the ringing of the telephone roused me. As I took down the receiver, I heard the droning of the long-distance operator. Is this Marvin 971? And at my affirmative answer the husky voice of Lillian Underwood. Hello, my dear! Her voice had the comforting warmth which it had held for me ever since, the memorable day when by her library fire we had resurrected the secret which her past life and dickies shared. We had buried it again, smoothed out all our misunderstandings in the process, and been sworn friends ever since. Oh, Mrs. Underwood! My voice was almost a peal of joy. I am so glad to hear your voice! Are you very busy? Is there anything you cannot leave for the day? She was direct, as usual. Only the dog and cat and Katie, I answered. Good! Then what train can you get into town, and where can I meet you? I want you to lunch with me. I have something important to talk over with you. I hastily consulted my watch. If I hurry, I can catch the 1021. Where can I see you? The train reaches the Pennsylvania at eleven o'clock. I'll be in the woman's waiting-room at the Pennsylvania, not the Long Island. The main waiting-room. Look for me there. Goodbye! As soon as I caught sight of Lillian, I knew that something was the matter, or she would not look at me in that way. Impulsively I laid my hand on hers. Tell me, Mrs. Underwood, is anything the matter? She imprisoned my hand in both of hers and patted it. Nothing that cannot be helped, my dear," she said determinately. Now I am going to forbid asking another question until we have had our luncheon. I declined to discuss the affairs of the nation or my own on an empty stomach, and my breakfast this morning consisted of the juice of two lemons and a small cup of coffee. Why, I asked mechanically, though I knew the answer. The awful penalty of trying to keep one's figure, she returned lightly, but I certainly am going to break training this noon. I am simply starved. Her tone and words were reassuring, although I still felt there was something behind her light manner which intimately concerned me. But I had learnt to count on her downright honesty and her words nothing that cannot be helped, my dear, steadied me, gave me hope that no matter what trouble she had to tell me, she had also a panacea for it. We discussed our luncheon leisurely. Under the influence of the brazing air, the beautiful view, the delicious vines, I gradually forgot my worries, or at least pushed them back into a corner of my brain. As we lingered over the ices, Lillian leaned over the table to me. "'Will you do me a favour?' she asked abruptly. "'Try me,' I smiled back at her. "'Ask me to your home for a week's stay. I have an idea you need my fine Italian hand at work about now.' I looked at her, wonderingly. Then I began to tremble. "'Don't look like that,' she commanded sharply. Nothing dreadful is the matter, but that dicky bird of yours needs his wings clipped a bit, and I think I am the person to apply the shears.' So there was something wrong with Dicky after all. "'Of course, it's that draper-cat,' said Lillian Underwood, and the indignation in her voice was a saff to my wounded pride. "'Then you know,' I faltered. "'Of course, I know, you poor child. Know, too, how distressed you have been, although Dicky doesn't dream that I gathered that from his ingenuous plea for the lady.' My brain whirled. Dicky, making an ingenuous plea to Lillian Underwood for his Portage Grace Draper, I could not understand it. If Dicky has spoken of my feeling toward Miss Draper, even to you, I began stormily, feeling every instinct outraged. "'Don't, dear child,' Mrs. Underwood reached her firm, cool hand across the table, and put it over my hot, trembling fingers. You can't fight this thing by getting angry, or by jumping at conclusions. Now listen to me.' There was a peremptory note in her voice that I was glad to obey. I resolved not to interrupt her again. "'Don't misunderstand me,' she went on, "'and please don't be angry when I say you are about as able to cope with the situation as a new-born baby would be. That's the reason why I want you to let me come down and be a big sister to you. Will you?' "'Of course, you know I will,' I returned. "'But won't Dicky resent?' "'Dicky won't dream what I'm doing,' she retorted tartly, and when he does wake up I'll take care of him.' Always the note of domination of Dicky, always the calm assumption which I knew was justified, that no matter what she did he would not remain angry at her. It spoke much for the real liking I felt for Lillian Underwood that the old resentment I felt for this condition of things was gone for ever. I knew that she was my friend even more than Dicky's, and her history had revealed to me to what length she would go in loyalty to a friend. "'You see,' she went on, "'if the draper woman were the ordinary type of model, there would be no problem at all. Dicky has always been a sort of sur-galahad of the studios, and he had been too proud to engage in even a slight flirtation with any girl in his employ. He is very sincerely in love with you, too, and that safeguards him from any influence that is not quite out of the ordinary. But I tell you, this draper girl is a person to be reckoned with. She is hard as nails, beautiful as the devil, and I believe her to be perfectly unscrupulous. She is as interested in Dicky as she can be in any one outside herself, and I think she would like to smash things generally just to gratify her own egotism. "'You mean?' I forced the words through stiff lips. I mean she is trying her best to make Dicky fall in love with her, but she isn't going to succeed. But I am afraid she has succeeded. The whale broke from me almost without my own volition. Why, the monosyllable was sharp with anxiety. I knew better than to keep my part of the story from her. I told her of Dicky's growing coldness to me, his anxiety to get the train upon which Miss Draper traveled, the neighborhood gossip, his determination not to have me meet her sister. I also laid bare the coldness with which I had treated the girl, and my determination never to say a word which would lead Dicky to believe I was jealous of her. When I had finished, Lillian leaned back in her chair and laughed lightly. "'Is that all?' she demanded. I thought you had something really serious to tell me. If you'll do exactly as I tell you, we'll beat this game hands down.' "'I'll do just as you say,' I responded, although it humiliated me to be put in the position of trying to beat any game, the stake of which was my husband's affections.' "'Well, then, that has settled,' she said, rising. Now for the first gun of the campaign. Call Dicky up, tell him you just lunched with me, and you are ready to go home any time he is.' "'Oh, I can't do that. I couldn't bear to feel that he might prefer to take the train with her.' Lillian came to my side, gripped my shoulders hard, and looked into my eyes grimly. "'See here,' she said, "'are you going to be a baby or a woman in this thing?' I swallowed hard. I knew she was right. "'I'll do whatever you wish,' I responded meekly. "'So I called Dicky on the telephone, and after explaining my unexpected presence in town, arranged to meet him at the station and go home with him. "'Sounds as if we were going to dine with friend-husband,' said Lillian, as I hung up the receiver. "'Yes, we're going home by trolley from Jamaica. It ought to be a beautiful trip. Dicky must have been thinking of such a trip before, for he told me there was a train to Jamaica at five minutes of four which connects with the trolley, and he usually gets mixed on the schedule of the trains from Marvin.' "'What's that?' Lillian stopped short, then turned the subject. "'How would you like to go down to the station on top of a bus?' She asked, "'Oh, would you prefer a taxi?' "'The bus, by all means,' I returned. "'I see we are kindred souls,' she said. "'I don't on a bus-ride myself.' We were within a few blocks of the railroad station when she said, "'I hope I am mistaken, but I think Miss Draper will be a member of your trolley-trip home, and I want you to be prepared to act as if it were the thing you most desired.' "'If you are right, I will not go,' I said, a cold fury at my heart. "'I will take the next train home.' "'You will do no such thing,' Lillian's voice was imperative. "'You promised you would let me be your big sister in this thing, and you have got to let me run it my way.' "'See here, my dear,' her tones were caressing now, "'you must use the weapons of a woman of the world in this situation, not those of an unsophisticated girl. The primitive woman from the East Side would waltz in and destroy the beauty of any lady she found philandering, however innocently, with her spouse. The proud, sensitive, inexperienced woman would have done just what you have contemplated. Go home alone and ignore the wanderers. "'But, my dear, you must do neither of those things. You cannot afford to play in Draper's hand like that.' "'Tell me what I must do,' I said wearily.' "'In a minute. First let me put you right on one question. Dickie is not in love with this girl yet. If he were, he would not wish any meeting between you and her. He is interested and attracted, of course, as any impressionable man with an eye for beauty would be if thrown in constant companionship with her. And forgive me, but I am sure you have taken the wrong tack about it. You must dissemble, act apart, meet her feminine wiles with sharper weapons. Now you have been cold to her, avoided seeing her when possible, and while not quarreling with Dickie about her, yet evidencing your disapproval of her in many little ways.' "'It is quite true,' I answered miserably. "'Then turn over a new leaf right now. You may be sure at this minute that Dickie is worrying more about your attitude toward this trip than he is over Miss Draper's dimples. He expects you to have a grouch. Give him a surprise, greet the lady smilingly, express your pleasure at having her companionship on your trip, but manage to register delicately your surprise at her being one of the party. No, better leave that part to me. You do the pleasant greeting. I'll put over the catty stuff. But on your honour, until I see you again, will you put down your feelings and cultivate Grace Draper, letting your attitude change slowly so Dickie will suspect nothing?' "'I'll try,' I said faintly. "'You'll do it,' she said bluntly. I want her to be almost a member of the family by the time I get there.' The trip by trolley with my husband and Grace Draper through the beautiful country lying between Jamaica and Hempstead will always remain in my memory as a turning point in my ideas of matrimony and its problems. Lillian Underwood's talk with me had destroyed all my previous conceptions of dignified, wifely behaviour in the face of a problem like mine. So all during the journey home, through the fragrant September air, I paid as much attention to my role of calm friendliness as any actress would to a first-night appearance. Remembering Lillian's advice to make the transition gradual, from the frigid courtesy of my former meetings with Grace Draper, to the friendly warmth we had planned for our campaign, I adopted the manner one would use to a casual but interesting acquaintance. I kept the conversational ball rolling on almost every topic under the sun, but I found that the burden of the talk fell on my shoulders. The girl was plainly uneasy and puzzled at my manner. Dickie's thoughts I could not fathom. I caught his eyes fixed on me once or twice with admiration and a touch of bewilderment in them, but he said very little. It was a wonderful night, warm with the languor of September, fragrant with the heavy odours of ripening fruit and the late autumn blossoms. There was no moon, but the long summer twilight had not yielded entirely to the darkness, and the stars were especially bright. A night for lovers, for vows given and returned. It was this, if ever a night was. What a wonderful journey this would have been for me if only this other woman was not on the other side of my husband. Then with savage resentment I realized that she might also be thinking what possibilities the evening would have held for her if I had not been a third on the little journey. Whatever Dickie was thinking I dared not guess. Whatever it was I was sure that his thoughts were not dangerously charged with emotion as were mine and Grace Draper's. I was fiercely glad of his irresponsibility for the first time. Come on, girls, here's Crest Haven. I've got a brilliant idea. We'll get one of these open flippers they have at the station, and motor to Marvin luxuriously. Beats waiting for the train all hallow. I opened my lips to protest against the extravagance, then closed them without speaking, flushing hotly at the danger I had escaped. Nothing would have so embarrassed Dickie and delighted Miss Draper as any display of financial prudence on my part. Oh, Mr. Graham, how wonderful! Miss Draper gave the impression of finding her voice mislaid somewhere about her and deciding suddenly to use it. This is just the night for a motor-ride. Her voice matched the night, cooing, languorous, seductive. I knew if she had voiced her real thoughts she would have willed that I be dropped anywhere by the roadside so that she might have the enchanting solitude of the ride with Dickie. A daring thought flashed into my brain as we stepped into the taxi. Why not pretend to play into her hand? It would prove to both Dickie and her that I was indifferent to their close friendship, and I was secretly anxious to see what way Dickie would reply to my proposition. Dear, I said with emotion, I fancy just the right note of conjugal tenderness in my voice. Won't you drop me at the house first before you take Miss Draper home? I'm afraid I am getting a headache. I've had a rather strenuous day with Lillian, you know, and I really am very tired. You will excuse me, I am sure, Miss Draper. I'll try never to quit like this again, but my headaches are not to be trifled with. I am so sorry, her voice was conventional, but I caught the under note of joy. Of course I will excuse you. Are you sure the ride over there wouldn't do your head good, Maj? Oh, no, Dickie, I feel that I must get home quickly. But that does not need to affect your plans. Katie is at home. I do not need you in the least. Go ride along and enjoy your ride. I only wish I felt like doing it, too. I fairly held my breath the rest of the ride. Dickie had not replied to my suggestion. What would he do when we reached the house? The taxis sped along over the smooth roads, turned up the driveway at the side of the house, and halted before the steps of the veranda. Dickie sprang out, gave his hand to me, and then turned to the driver. Take this later to Marvin, he said. She will tell you the street. How much do I owe you? One dollar and a half. I knew the charge was excessive, but I also knew enough to hold my tongue about it. Dickie paid the man, and spoke to the girl inside. Good night, Miss Draper. You see, you will have to enjoy the ride for the both of us. Oh, Dickie, I protested, but with a fierce little thrill of triumph at my heart. This is a shame. Honestly, I do not need you. Go on over with Miss Draper. Of course he will do no such thing! The girl spoke with finality. I could imagine the storm of jealous rage that was swaying her. There is nothing else for Mr. Graham to do but to stay with you, her tone added. You have compelled him to do so against his will. Dickie leaned from the cab. Her face looked is a really beautiful in the faint light. I knew she meant to make Dickie regret that he could not accompany her. Good night, she said sweetly. I am so sorry you do not feel well. I sincerely hope you will be better in the morning. But as the taxi rolled away, my heart beating a triumphant accompaniment to the roll of its wheels, I knew she was wishing me every malevolent thing possible. I was glad she could not guess the bitter taste in my cup of victory. Long after Dickie was asleep, I lay on my porch bed, looking out at the stars, and debating over and over the question, did Dickie refuse to accompany Grace Draper to her home because of consideration for me, or because he was afraid to trust himself alone with her. CHAPTER XXVI A voice that carried far. Ah, Mrs. Graham, this is an unexpected pleasure. Dr. Pettit's eyes looked down into my own with an expression that emphasized the words he had just uttered. His outstretched hand clasped mine warmly, his impressive greeting embarrassed me a bit, and I turned instinctively toward Dickie to see if he had noticed the young physician's extraordinarily cordial greeting. With this I had no opportunity to discover, for as I turned, a taxi drew up to the curb with the under-woods, who had come down to spend the promised week with us, Dickie and I were waiting for the little Cresthaven Beach trolley, and Dickie sprang to meet Grace Draper and the Durkeys, Alfred Durkey and his mother who completed our party for the motorboat trip. I am very glad to see you, Dr. Pettit, I murmured conventionally, then hurriedly, pardon me a moment, I must greet these guests, I will be back. When I turned again to him after welcoming Grace Draper with forced friendliness, and the Durkeys with the real warmth of liking I felt for them, I found him talking to Lillian. Dr. Pettit, it appeared, was waiting for the same car we wished to take, and no one looking at our friendly chatting group would have known that he did not belong to the party. It was when we were all seated comfortably in the trolley, bowling merrily along over the grass-drawn track that Lillian voiced a suggestion which had sprung into my own mind, but to which I did not quite know how to give utterance. Look here, she said brusquely, I am not the hostess of this party, but I am practically one of the family, so I feel free to issue an invitation if I wish. Dr. Pettit, what's the matter with you joining our party for the day? Dickie here has been howling for another man to help lug the grub all morning. Unless you are set on a solitary day, that man might as well be you, she punctuated the parody with a mocking little moo. I had a sneaking little notion that Dickie would have been glad of the opportunity to box Lillian's ears for her suggestion. I do not think he enjoyed the idea of adding Dr. Pettit to the party, but, of course, in view of what she had said, there was nothing for him to do but to pretend a cordial acquiescence in her suggestion. That's the very thing, he said, with the hardiness which only I, and possibly Lillian, could dream was assumed. Lill, you do occasionally have a gleam of human intelligence, don't you? I do hope you have no plan that will interfere with coming with us, he said to the physician. We have a big boat charter down here at the beach, and we're going to loaf along out to one of the desert islands and camp for the day. That sounds like a most interesting program, said the young physician. His voice held a note of hesitation, and he looked swiftly inquiringly at me and back again. It was so carelessly done that I do not think any one noticed it, but I realized that he was waiting for me to join my voice to the invitation. Well, Dr. Pettit, the key came up at this juncture, out for the day. His tone was cordial enough, but I, who knew every inflection of Dickie's voice, realized that he did not relish the appearance of Dr. Pettit upon the scene. Yes, I'm going down to the shore for a dip, the young physician returned. And then, without the stiff dignity which I had seen in his professional manner, he acknowledged the introductions which I gave him to Grace Draper and the Durkes. I trust you will think it interesting enough to make it worth your while to join us, I said demurely, lifting my eyes to his, and catching a swift flash of something which might be either relief or triumph in his steely gray ones. Indeed, I shall be very glad to accompany you," he said, smiling. Our boat, a large, comfortable one, built on lines of usefulness, rather than beauty, slipped over the dancing blue waters of the bay like an enchanted thing. A neat striped awning was stretched over the rear of the boat beneath which we lounged at ease. The boat sped on as lazily as our idle conversation, and finally we came in sight of a gleaming beach of sand, with sea-weeds so luxuriously tangled that it looked like small clumps of bushes, with the calm, still water of the bay on one side, and the lazily rolling surf on the other. Behold our desert island! Dicky exclaimed dramatically, springing to his feet. He ran the boat skilfully up on the beach and grounded her. Harry Underwood stepped forward to assist me ashore, but Dr. Pettit, with unobtrusive quickness, was before him. As I laid my hand in that of the young physician, Harry Underwood gave a hoarse stage laugh. I told you so, he croaked maliciously. I knew I had a rival on my hands. As Harry Underwood uttered his jibing little speech, Dicky raised his head and looked fixately at me. It was an amazed, questioning look, one that had in it something of the bewilderment of a child. In another instant he had turned away to answer a question of Grace Draper's. I felt my heart beating madly. Was Dicky really taking notice of the attentions which Harry Underwood and Dr. Pettit were bestowing upon me? I had no time to ponder long, however, for Lily and Underwood seized my arm almost as soon as we stepped on shore and walked me away until we were out of earshot of the others. Did you see Dicky's face? She demanded breathlessly. When Harry and that lovely doctor of yours were doing their rival gallant act, it was perfectly lovely to see his lordship so puzzled. That doctor friend of yours was certainly sent by Providence just at this time. Let's keep up the judicious little flirtation with him, and I'll wager that before the weeks out Dicky will have forgotten such a girl as Grace Draper exists. If it had not been for the memory of Lily and's advice ringing in my ears, I think I should have much astonished Dr. Pettit and Harry Underwood when they started into the surf with me. The whole situation was most annoying to me, and besides, it was so unutterably silly. I might have been any foolish schoolgirl of seventeen with a couple of immature youths vying for my smiles for any reserve or dignity there was in the situation. My fingers itched to astonish each of the smirking men with the sound box on the ear, but my fiercest anger was against Dicky. If he had been properly attentive to me, Mr. Underwood and Dr. Pettit would have no opportunity, indeed would not have dared to pay me the idiotic compliments or to offer the silly attentions they had given me. But Dicky and Grace Draper were romping in the surf like two children splashing water over each other and running hand in hand toward the place far out on the sand, for it was low tide, where they could swim. They might have been alone on the beach for anything their appearance showed to the contrary, and yet, as I gazed, I saw Dicky look past the girl in my direction with a quick, furtive, watching glance. As they went farther into the surf, he sent another glance over his shoulder toward me, as I caught it, guessing that in all his apparent interest in Grace Draper, he was yet watching me and my behavior, something seemed to snap in my brain. I would give him something to watch. With a swift movement I slipped a little bit away from the two men by my side, and filling my hands with water, splashed it full into the face of Harry Underwood. "'Dare you to play Blind Man's Bluff,' I said gaily, sending another handful into Dr. Pettit's face, and then slipping adroitly to one side, I laughed with, I fancy, as much mischief as any hoidon of sixteen could have put into her voice at the picture the men made trying to get the salt water out of their eyes. I had no compunctions on the score of their discomfort, for I felt that I had a score to settle with each of them. The way in which each took my rudeness, however, was characteristic of the men. Harry Underwood's face grew black for a minute, then it cleared, and he laughed boisterously. "'You little devil,' he said, "'I'll pay you for that. Ever get kissed under water? Well, that's what will happen to you before this day is over.' Dr. Pettit's face did not change, but into his grey eyes came a little steely glint. He said nothing, only smiled at me. But there was something about both smile and eyes that made me more uncomfortable than Harry Underwood's bizarre threat. I was so unskilled in this game of banter and flirtation that I was at a loss what to say. Recklessly I grasped at the first thing which came into my mind. "'You'll have to catch me first,' I said daringly, and turning ran swiftly out toward the open sea. I am only a fair swimmer, but the sea was unusually calm, so that I went much farther than I otherwise would have dared. When I found the water getting too deep for walking I started swimming. As I swam I looked over my shoulder. The two men were following me, both swimming easily. Dr. Pettit was in the lead, but Harry Underwood, with powerful strokes, was not far behind him. I concluded that Dr. Pettit had been the swifter runner, but that the other man was the better swimmer. As I saw them coming toward me I realized that I had given them a challenge which each in his own way would probably take up. I was dismayed. I felt that I could not bear the touch of either man's hand. In another moment my punishment had come. Dr. Pettit overtook me, stretched out his hand, just touched me with a caressing, little gesture, and said in a low tone, Don't be afraid, little girl, if you will accord me the privilege I will see that your friend does not get a chance of fulfilling his threat. I knew that he intended his words for my ear alone, but he had not counted on Harry Underwood's quick ear. That gentleman swam lazily toward us, saying as he passed us, with a malicious little grin. Better go slow upon that protecting heroine from villain's stunt. I see friend husband is getting a bit restless. He forged on into the surf, with long powerful strokes, that yet had the curious appearance of indolence which invests every action of his. Startled at his words, I looked toward the place where I had last seen Dickie romping in the waves with Grace Draper. The girl was swimming by herself. Dickie, with rapid strokes, was coming toward us. For the love of heaven, Madge! he said, angrily, as he came up to us. Haven't you any more sense than to come away out here? This sea is calm, but it is treacherous, and you are farther out than you have ever gone before. Come back with me, this minute. The sight of Grace Draper swimming by herself gave me an inspiration. The game which Lillian had advised me to play was certainly succeeding. I would keep it up. Have you taken leave of your senses? I demanded, assuming an indignation, I did not feel. Dr. Pettit was saying nothing to me that could possibly interest you. I felt a little twinge of conscience at the fib, but I had too much at stake to hesitate over a quibble. As for Casting Sheep's eyes, as you so elegantly express it, you've been doing so much of it yourself that I suppose it is natural for you to accuse other people of it. Now what do you mean by that? Dickie demanded, staring at me with such an innocent air, that I could have laughed if I had not been thoroughly angry at his silly attempt to misunderstand me. Don't be silly, Dickie," I said, pettishly. I can swim perfectly well out here, and even if anything should happen, Dr. Pettit and Mr. Underwood are surely good swimmers enough to take care of me. I could not resist putting that last little barbed arrow into my quiver, for Dickie, while a good swimmer even I could see was not as skillful as either Mr. Underwood or Dr. Pettit. Dickie waited a long moment before answering, then he spoke tensely, sternly. Madge, answer me! Are you coming back with me now or are you not? The tone in which he put the question was one which I could not brook, even at the risk of seriously offending Dickie. An angry refusal was upon my lips when Harry Underwood's voice saved me the necessity of a reply. There, there, Dickie Bird, keep your bathing suit on," he admonished roughly. Of course she'll go back. We'll all go back. A regular triumphal procession with beautiful heroin escorted by watchful husband, treacherous villain, and faithful friend. He grinned at Dr. Pettit, and we all swam back to shallower water. Dr. Pettit and Mr. Underwood gradually edging off some distance away from Dickie and me. I could not help smiling at the ludicrous aspect we must have presented. Dickie must have been watching me narrowly, for he suddenly growled. Do the devil with Grace Draper! Dickie cried, and his voice was louder, carried farther than he realized. I'm not bothering about her. She's getting on my nerves, anyway. But you happen to be my wife, and what you do is my concern. Don't you forget that, my lady.