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One Woman's Life, a novel by Robert Herrick |
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Part Three. Aspirations - Chapter 2. A Funeral And A Surprise |
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_ PART THREE. ASPIRATIONS CHAPTER II. A FUNERAL AND A SURPRISE When Horatio telephoned the news, Milly hurried over to the West Side, and was taken to her grandmother's room. The little old lady seemed extraordinarily lifelike in her death--perhaps because there had been so little outward animation to her life. Her thin, veined hands were folded neatly over her decent black dress, as she had sat so many hours, perfectly still. The neat bands of white hair curved around the well-shaped ears, and the same grim smile of petty irony that Milly knew so well and hated was graven on the thin lips.... She was taken to that cemetery on the Western Boulevard which Milly as a girl had prevented her from visiting on her daily walk. There were several old ladies from the boarding-house at the funeral, and one other thin-faced woman, whom Milly vaguely remembered to have seen somewhere. Milly returned from the funeral with her husband, and they were both silent and thoughtful, occupied not so much with the dead as with the future her going must disturb. They had not dared voice to each other the idea that had been troubling them both since the first news of Mrs. Ridge's death had reached them. At last, when they had left the car and were approaching their own home, Bragdon said,--"I suppose, Milly, we ought to have your father live with us." "I suppose so," Milly sighed. "Poor papa--he feels it dreadfully.... He's done so much for me always, Jack." Her husband might rejoin that Horatio had done little for him, but he said instead,-- "We shall have to find a larger apartment." Milly sighed. It was difficult enough to get on in the little one. "You'll go over to-morrow to see him about it?" Bragdon continued courageously. "Father can't come 'way out here to live--it's too far from his business." "We'll have to move nearer the business then." "Not to the West Side!" Milly exclaimed in horror. "What difference does it make?" her husband asked, as he wearily took up his drawing-board. "You don't know the West Side," Milly muttered. "Well, we can't leave him alone in that boarding-house, can we?" That was exactly what Milly would have liked to do, but she had not the courage to say so in the face of her husband's ready acceptance of the burden. The next day, as she revolved the unpleasant situation on her way to see her father, she said to herself again and again,--"Not the West Side. I won't have that--anything but that!" For to return to the West Side seemed like beginning life all over again at the very bottom of the hill. * * * * * When Milly announced her invitation to her father, Horatio exhibited a strange diffidence. "We'll find some nice little apartment nearer the city where you'll have no trouble in getting to your business," Milly said in kindly fashion. "I guess not," Horatio replied. "Not but that it's real kind of you and John." "Why not?" "Well, you see, daughter, your husband ain't my kind," he stammered. "He's all right--a good fellow, and he seems to make you happy--but I don't much believe in mixing up families." "What will you do?" And after further embarrassment, Horatio confessed with a red face,-- "Perhaps I'll get married myself soon." "Papa--you don't mean it!" Milly exclaimed, rather shocked, and inclined to think it was one of Horatio's raw jokes. "Why not?... I ain't as old as some, if I'm not as young as others." "Who is the lady?" "A fine young woman!... I've known her well for years, and I can tell you she'll make the right sort of wife for any man." "Who can it be?" demanded Milly, now quite excited, and running over in her mind all of her father's female acquaintance, which was not extensive. "Miss Simpson," Horatio said. "Expect you don't remember Josephine Simpson--she was the young woman who was in the office when I had the coffee business." "That woman!" Milly gasped, remembering vividly now the sour, keen scrutiny the bookkeeper had given her the last time she had been in the office of the tea and coffee business. It must have been Miss Simpson who had stood a little to one side behind her father at the funeral. The thin-faced woman had a familiar look, but in her best clothes Milly had not recognized her. Horatio resented the tone of his daughter's exclamation. "Let me tell you, Milly," he asserted with dignity, "there are few better women living on this earth than 'that woman.' She's looked after a sick mother and a younger sister all her life, and now I mean she shall have somebody look after her." The little man rose an inch bodily with his intention. "I think it's very nice of you, papa." "Nice of me! An old hulks like me?... I guess it's nice of her to let me.... We'll make out all right. Will you come to the wedding?" he concluded with a laugh. "Of course--and I'm so glad for you, really glad, papa. I hope Josephine'll make you very happy." And she kissed her father. On her way back to the city Milly laughed aloud several times with amusement mingled with relief. "Who would have thought it--and with such a scarecrow!" She stopped at the _Star_ to tell Jack the news. They had lunch together and laughed again and again at "love's young dream." "He won't be lonely now!" Milly said. "I suppose he had to have some woman attached to him," her husband mused; "when a man has reached his age and has had 'em about always--" "Well, I like that!" Milly pouted. "Anyway, that let's us out," was the final comment of both upon the approaching nuptials of Horatio. It was not the only surprise that the little old lady's death provided the young couple with. It was discovered that she had made a will, and, what was still more wonderful, that she had really something to will! Various savings-bank books were found neatly tied up with string in her drawer below a pile of handkerchiefs. The will said, after duly providing for the care of her grave, "To my beloved granddaughter, I give and bequeath the residue of my estate," which upon examination of the bank-books was found to be rather more than three thousand dollars all told. "To me!!" Milly almost shouted when her father read the slip of paper to her. She was divided in her astonishment between surprise that there should be any money left, and that the little old lady, who had fought her all her life, should give it all to "her beloved granddaughter." Bragdon could not appreciate the full irony of the situation. "And why not to you?" he asked. "You don't know grandma!" Milly replied oracularly, feeling that any attempt to explain would be useless.--And, it may be added, Milly did not know her grandmother, either. She could no more appreciate the steady, stern self-denial that had gone to the gathering of that three thousand dollars than she could the nature of a person who would nag for twenty years the girl she meant to endow. That also belonged among the puritan traits, as well as a sneaking admiration for the handsome, self-willed, extravagant granddaughter. "She ought to have left it to you," Milly said to her father. "I guess she thought she had done enough for me already," Horatio said lightly. "She knew about Josephine, too--expect she thought the green parlor furniture would be the right thing for us. Josephine's likely to appreciate that more'n you, Milly!" Milly was amply content with this division. * * * * * Husband and wife lay awake for long hours that night, in a flutter of excitement, discussing Milly's marvellous windfall. "Just think," Milly cried, snuggling very close to her husband. "We'll go abroad as soon as we can pack up, shan't we? And you will paint! And all thanks to poor old grandma." "It _is_ luck," the artist agreed thankfully. "And I brought it to you--poor little me, without a _sou_!... Three thousand ought to last a long time." (Milly was invariably optimistic about the expansibility of money.) "It'll be a good starter, anyway," her husband agreed, "and before it's gone I ought to be making good." So that night two very happy married people went to sleep in each other's arms to dream of a wonderful future. _ |
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