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Bab: A Sub-Deb, a novel by Mary Roberts Rinehart |
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Chapter 2. Theme: The Celebrity (cont.) |
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_ CHAPTER II (CONT.)
J. Shirley; Dirge.
"Well!" she said. "Is this the way you intend going to dinner?" "I do not care for any dinner," I replied. Then, seeing she did not understand, I said coldly. "How can I care for food, mother, when the Sea looks like a dying ople?" "Dying pussycat!" mother said, in a very nasty way. "I don't know what has come over you, Barbara. You used to be a normle Child, and there was some accounting for what you were going to do. But now! Take off that nightgown, and I'll have Tanney hold off dinner for half an hour." Tanney was the butler who had taken Patrick's place. "If you insist," I said coldly. "But I shall not eat." "Why not?" "You wouldn't understand, mother." "Oh, I wouldn't? Well, suppose I try," she said, and sat down. "I am not very intellagent, but if you put it clearly I may grasp it. Perhaps you'd better speak slowly, also." So, sitting there in my room, while the sea throbed in tireless beats against the shore, while the light faded and the stars issued, one by one, like a rash on the Face of the sky, I told mother of my dreams. I intended, I said, to write Life as it realy is, and not as supposed to be. "It may in places be, ugly" I said, "but Truth is my banner. The Truth is never ugly, because it is real. It is, for instance, not ugly if a man is in love with the wife of another, if it is real love, and not the passing fansy of a moment." Mother opened her mouth, but did not say anything. "There was a time," I said, "when I longed for things that now have no value whatever to me. I cared for clothes and even for the attentions of the Other Sex. But that has passed away, mother. I have now no thought but for my Career." I watched her face, and soon the dreadfull understanding came to me. She, to, did not understand. My literary Aspirations were as nothing to her! Oh, the bitterness of that moment. My mother, who had cared for me as a child, and obeyed my slightest wish, no longer understood me. And sadest of all, there was no way out. None. Once, in my Youth, I had beleived that I was not the child of my parents at all, but an adopted one--perhaps of rank and kept out of my inheritance by those who had selfish motives. But now I knew that I had no rank or Inheritance, save what I should carve out for myself. There was no way out. None. Mother rose slowly, stareing at me with perfectly fixed and glassy Eyes. "I am absolutely sure," she said, "that you are on the edge of somthing. It may be tiphoid, or it may be an elopement. But one thing is certain. You are not normle." With this she left me to my Thoughts. But she did not neglect me. Sis came up after Dinner, and I saw mother's fine hand in that. Although not hungry in the usual sense of the word, I had begun to grow rather empty, and was nibling out of a box of Chocolates when Sis came. She got very little out of me. To one with softness and tenderness I would have told all, but Sis is not that sort. And at last she showed her clause. "Don't fool yourself for a minute," she said. "This literary pose has not fooled anybody. Either you're doing it to apear Interesting, or you've done somthing you're scared about. Which is it?" I refused to reply. "Because if it's the first, and you're trying to look literary, you are going about it wrong," she said. "Real Literary People don't go round mooning and talking about the ople sea." I saw mother had been talking, and I drew myself up. "They look and act like other people," said Leila, going to the bureau and spilling Powder all over the place. "Look at Beecher." "Beecher!" I cried, with a thrill that started inside my elbows. (I have read this to one or two of the girls, and they say there is no such thrill. But not all people act alike under the influence of emotion, and mine is in my Arms, as stated.) "The playwright," Sis said. "He's staying next door. And if he does any languishing it is not by himself." There may be some who have for a long time had an Ideal, but without hoping ever to meet him, and then suddenly learning that he is nearby, with indeed but a wall or two between, can be calm and cool. But I am not like that. Although long supression has taught me to disemble at times, where my Heart is concerned I am powerless. For it was at last my heart that was touched. I, who had scorned the Other Sex and felt that I was born cold and always would be cold, that day I discovered the truth. Reginald Beecher was my ideal. I had never spoken to him, nor indeed seen him, except for his pictures. But the very mention of his name brought a lump to my Throat. Feeling better imediately, I got Sis out of the room and coaxed Hannah to bring me some dinner. While she was sneaking it out of the Pantrey I was dressing, and soon, as a new being, I was out on the stone bench at the foot of the lawn, gazing with wrapt eyes at the sea. But Fate was against me. Eddie Perkins saw me there and came over. He had but recently been put in long trowsers, and those not his best ones but only white flannels. He was never sure of his garters, and was always looking to see if his socks were coming down. Well, he came over just as I was sure I saw Reginald Beecher next door on the veranda, and made himself a nusance right away, trying all sorts of kid tricks, such as snaping a rubber Band at me, and pulling out Hairpins. But I felt that I must talk to somone. So I said: "Eddie, if you had your choice of love or a Career, which would it be?" "Why not both," he said, hiching the rubber band onto one of his front teeth and playing on it. "Niether ought to take up all a fellow's time. Say, listen to this! Talk about a eukelele!" "A woman can never have both." He played a while, struming with one finger until the hand sliped off and stung him on the lip. "Once," I said, "I dreamed of a Career. But I beleive love's the most important." Well, I shall pass lightly over what followed. Why is it that a girl cannot speak of Love without every member of the Other Sex present, no matter how young, thinking it is he? And as for mother maintaining that I kissed that wreched Child, and they saw me from the drawing-room, it is not true and never was true. It was but one more Misunderstanding which convinced the Familey that I was carrying on all manner of afairs. Carter Brooks had arrived that day, and was staying at the Perkins' cottage. I got rid of the Perkins' baby, as his Nose was bleeding--but I had not slaped him hard at all, and felt little or no compunction--when I heard Carter coming down the walk. He had called to see Leila, but she had gone to a beech dance and left him alone. He never paid any attention to me when she was around, and I recieved him cooly. "Hello!" he said. "Well?" I replied. "Is that the way you greet me, Bab?" "It's the way I would greet most any Left-over," I said. "I eat hash at school, but I don't have to pretend to like it." "I came to see YOU." "How youthfull of you!" I replied, in stinging tones. He sat down on a Bench and stared at me. "What's got into you lately?" he said. "Just as you're geting to be the prettiest girl around, and I'm strong for you, you--you turn into a regular Rattlesnake." The kindness of his tone upset me considerably, to who so few kind Words had come recently. I am compeled to confess that I wept, although I had not expected to, and indeed shed few tears, although bitter ones. How could I posibly know that the chaste Salute of Eddie Perkins and my head on Carter Brooks' shoulder were both plainly visable against the rising moon? But this was the Case, especialy from the house next door. But I digress. Suddenly Carter held me off and shook me somewhat. "Sit up here and tell me about it," he said. "I'm geting more scared every minute. You are such an impulsive little Beast, and you turn the fellows' heads so--look here, is Jane Raleigh lying, or did you run away and get married to somone?" I am aware that I should have said, then and there, No. But it seemed a shame to spoil Things just as they were geting interesting. So I said, through my tears: "Nobody understands me. Nobody. And I'm so lonely." "And of course you haven't run away with anyone, have you?" "Not--exactly." "Bless you, Bab!" he said. And I might as well say that he kissed me, because he did, although unexpectedly. Sombody just then moved a Chair on the porch next door and coughed rather loudly, so Carter drew a long breath and got up. "There's somthing about you lately, Bab, that I don't understand," he said. "You--you're mysterious. That's the word. In a couple of Years you'll be the real thing." "Come and see me then," I said in a demure manner. And he went away. So I sat on my Bench and looked at the sea and dreamed. It seemed to me that Centuries must have passed since I was a light-hearted girl, running up and down that beech, paddling, and so forth, with no thought of the future farther away than my next meal. Once I lived to eat. Now I merely ate to live, and hardly that. The fires of Genius must be fed, but no more. Sitting there, I suddenly made a discovery. The boat house was near me, and I realize that upstairs, above the Bath-houses, et cetera, there must be a room or two. The very thought intriged me (a new word for interest, but coming into use, and sounding well). Solatude--how I craved it for my work. And here it was, or would be when I had got the Place fixed up. True, the next door boat-house was close, but a boat-house is a quiet place, generaly, and I knew that nowhere, aside from the dessert, is there perfect Silence. I investagated at once, but found the place locked and the boatman gone. However, there was a latice, and I climbed up that and got in. I had a Fright there, as it seemed to be full of people, but I soon saw it was only the Familey bathing suits hung up to dry. Aside from the odor of drying things it was a fine study, and I decided to take a small table there, and the various tools of my Profession. Climbing down, however, I had a surprise. For a man was just below, and I nearly put my foot on his shoulder in the darkness. "Hello!" he said. "So it's YOU." I was quite speachless. It was Mr. Beecher himself, in his dinner clothes and bareheaded. Oh flutering Heart, be still. Oh Pen, move steadily. OH TEMPORA O MORES! "Let me down," I said. I was still hanging to the latice. "In a moment," he said. "I have an idea that the instant I do you'll vanish. And I have somthing to tell you." I could hardly beleive my ears. "You see," he went on, "I think you must move that Bench." "Bench?" "You seem to be so very popular," he said. "And of course I'm only a transient and don't matter. But some evening one of the admirers may be on the Patten's porch, while another is with you on the bench. And--the Moon rises beyond it." I was silent with horor. So that was what he thought of me. Like all the others, he, to, did not understand. He considered me a Flirt, when my only Thoughts were serious ones, of imortality and so on. "You'd better come down now," he said. "I was afraid to warn you until I saw you climbing the latice. Then I knew you were still young enough to take a friendly word of Advise." I got down then and stood before him. He was magnifacent. Is there anything more beautiful than a tall man with a gleaming expance of dress shirt? I think not. But he was staring at me. "Look here," he said. "I'm afraid I've made a mistake after all. I thought you were a little girl." "That needn't worry you. Everybody does," I replied. "I'm seventeen, but I shall be a mere Child until I come out." "Oh!" he said. "One day I am a Child in the nursery," I said. "And the next I'm grown up and ready to be sold to the highest Bider." "I beg your pardon, I----" "But I am as grown up now as I will ever be," I said. "And indeed more so. I think a great deal now, because I have plenty of Time. But my sister never thinks at all. She is to busy." "Suppose we sit on the Bench. The moon is to high to be a menace, and besides, I am not dangerous. Now, what do you think about?" "About Life, mostly. But of course there is Death, which is beautiful but cold. And--one always thinks of Love, doesn't one?" "Does one?" he asked. I could see he was much interested. As for me, I dared not consider whom it was who sat beside me, almost touching. That way lay madness. "Don't you ever," he said, "reflect on just ordinary things, like Clothes and so forth?" I shruged my shoulders. "I don't get enough new clothes to worry about. Mostly I think of my Work." "Work?" "I am a writer" I said in a low, ernest tone. "No! How--how amazing. What do you write?" "I'm on a play now." "A Comedy?" "No. A Tradgedy. How can I write a Comedy when a play must always end in a catastrofe? The book says all plays end in Crisis, Denouement and Catastrofe." "I can't beleive it," he said. "But, to tell you a Secret, I never read any books about Plays." "We are not all gifted from berth, as you are," I observed, not to merely please him, but because I considered it the simple Truth. He pulled out his watch and looked at it in the moonlight. "All this reminds me," he said, "that I have promised to go to work tonight. But this is so--er--thrilling that I guess the work can wait. Well--now go on." Oh, the Joy of that night! How can I describe it? To be at last in the company of one who understood, who--as he himself had said in "Her Soul"--spoke my own languidge! Except for the occasional mosquitoe, there was no sound save the turgescent sea and his Voice. Often since that time I have sat and listened to conversation. How flat it sounds to listen to father prozing about Gold, or Sis about Clothes, or even to the young men who come to call, and always talk about themselves. We were at last interupted in a strange manner. Mr. Patten came down their walk and crossed to us, walking very fast. He stopped right in front of us and said: "Look here, Reg, this is about all I can stand." "Oh, go away, and sing, or do somthing," said Mr. Beecher sharply. "You gave me your word of Honor" said the Patten man. "I can only remind you of that. Also of the expence I'm incuring, and all the rest of it. I've shown all sorts of patience, but this is the limit." He turned on his Heal, but came back for a last word or two. "Now see here," he said, "we have everything fixed the way you said You wanted it. And I'll give you ten minutes. That's all." He stocked away, and Mr. Beecher looked at me. "Ten minutes of Heaven," he said, "and then perdetion with that bunch. Look here," he said, "I--I'm awfully interested in what you are telling me. Let's cut off up the beech and talk." Oh night of Nights! Oh moon of Moons! Our talk was strictly business. He asked me my Plot, and although I had been warned not to do so, even to David Belasco, I gave it to him fully. And even now, when all is over, I am not sorry. Let him use it if he will. I can think of plenty of Plots. The real tradgedy is that we met father. He had been ordered to give up smoking, and I considered had done so, mother feeling that I should be encouraged in leaving off cigarettes. So when I saw the cigar I was sure it was not father. It proved to be, however, and although he passed with nothing worse than a Glare, I knew I was in more trouble. At last we reached the Bench again, and I said good night. Our relations continued business-like to the last. He said: "Good night, little authoress, and let's have some more talks." "I'm afraid I've board you," I said. "Board me!" he said. "I haven't spent such an evening for years!" The Familey acted perfectly absurd about it. Seeing that they were going to make a fuss, I refused to say with whom I had been walking. You'd have thought I had committed a crime. "It has come to this, Barbara," mother said, pacing the floor. "You cannot be trusted out of our sight. Where do you meet all these men? If this is how things are now, what will it be when given your Liberty?" Well, it is to painful to record. I was told not to leave the place for three days, although allowed the boat-house. And of course Sis had to chime in that she'd heard a roomer I had run away and got married, and although of course she knew it wasn't true, owing to no time to do so, still where there was Smoke there was Fire. But I felt that their confidence in me was going, and that night, after all were in the Land of Dreams, I took that wreched suit of clothes and so on to the boathouse, and hid them in the rafters upstairs. I come now to the strange Event of the next day, and its sequel. The Patten place and ours are close together, and no other house near. Mother had been very cool about the Pattens, owing to nobody knowing them that we knew. Although I must say they had the most interesting people all the time, and Sis was crazy to call and meet some of them. Jane came that day to visit her aunt, and she ran down to see me first thing. "Come and have a ride," she said. "I've got the Runabout, and after that we'll bathe and have a real time." But I shook my head. "I'm a prisoner, Jane," I said. "Honestly! Is it the Play, or somthing else?" "Somthing else, Jane," I said. "I can tell you nothing more. I am simply in trouble, as usual." "But why make you a prisoner, unless----" She stopped suddenly and stared at me. "He has claimed you!" she said. "He is here, somwhere about this Place, and now, having had time to think it over, you do not Want to go to him. Don't deny it. I see it in your face. Oh, Bab, my heart aches for you." It sounded so like a play that I kept it up. Alas, with what results! "What else can I do, Jane?" I said. "You can refuse, if you do not love him. Oh Bab, I did not say it before, thinking you loved him. But no man who wears clothes like those could ever win my heart. At least, not permanently." Well, she did most of the talking. She had finished the bath towle, which was a large size, after all, and monogramed, and she made me promise never to let my husband use it. When she went away she left it with me, and I carried it out and put it on the rafters, with the other things--I seemed to be getting more to hide every day. Things went all wrong the next day. Sis was in a bad temper, and as much as said I was flirting with Carter Brooks, although she never intends to marry him herself, owing to his not having money and never having asked her. I spent the morning in fixing up a Studio in the boat-house, and felt better by noon. I took two boards on trestles and made a desk, and brought a Dictionery and some pens and ink out. I use a Dictionery because now and then I am uncertain how to spell a word. Events now moved swiftly and terrably. I did not do much work, being exhausted by my efforts to fix up the studio, and besides, feeling that nothing much was worth while when one's Familey did not and never would understand. At eleven o'clock Sis and Carter and Jane and some others went in bathing from our dock. Jane called up to me, but I pretended not to hear. They had a good time judging by the noise, although I should think Jane would cover her arms and neck in the water, being very thin. Legs one can do nothing with, although I should think stripes going around would help. But arms can have sleaves. However--the people next door went in to, and I thrilled to the core when Mr. Beecher left the bath-house and went down to the beech. What a physic! What shoulders, all brown and muscular! And to think that, strong as they were, they wrote the tender Love seens of his plays. Strong and tender--what descriptive words they are! It was then that I saw he had been vacinated twice. To resume. All the Pattens went in, and a new girl with them, in a One-peace Suit. I do not deny that she was pretty. I only say that she was not modest, and that the way she stood on the Patten's dock and pozed for Mr. Beecher's benafit was unecessary and well, not respectable. She was nothing to me, nor I to her. But I watched her closely. I confess that I was interested in Mr. Beecher. Why not? He was a Public Character, and entitled to respect. Nay, even to love. But I maintain and will to my dying day, that such love is diferent from that ordinaraly born to the Other Sex, and a thing to be proud of. Well, I was seeing a drama and did not even know it. After the rest had gone, Mr. Patten came to the door into Mr. Beecher's room in the bath-house--they are all in a row, with doors opening on the sand--and he had a box in his hand. He looked around, and no one was looking except me, and he did not see me. He looked very Feirce and Glum, and shortly after he carried in a chair and a folding card table. I thought this was very strange, but imagine how I felt when he came out carrying Mr. Beecher's clothes! He brought them all, going on his tiptoes and watching every minute. I felt like screaming. However, I considered that it was a practicle Joke, and I am no spoil sport. So I sat still and waited. They staid in the water a long time, and the girl with the Figure was always crawling out on the dock and then diving in to show off. Leila and the rest got sick of her actions and came in to Lunch. They called up to me, but I said I was not hungry. "I don't know what's come over Bab," I heard Sis say to Carter Brooks. "She's crazy, I think." "She's seventeen," he said. "That's all. They get over it mostly, but she has it hard." I lothed him. Pretty soon the other crowd came up, and I could see every one knew the joke but Mr. Beecher. They all scuttled into their doorways, and Mr. Patten waited till Mr. Beecher was inside and had thrown out the shirt of his bathing Suit. Then he locked the door from the outside. There was a silence for a minute. Then Mr. Beecher said in a terrable voice. "So that's the Game, is it?" "Now listen, Reg," Mr. Patten said, in a soothing voice. "I've tried everything but Force, and now I'm driven to that. I've got to have that third Act. The company's got the first two acts well under way, and I'm getting wires about every hour. I've got to have that script." "You go to Hell!" said Mr. Beecher. You could hear him plainly through the window, high up in the wall. And although I do not approve of an oath, there are times when it eases the tortured Soul. "Now be reasonable, Reg," Mr. Patten pleaded. "I've put a fortune in this thing, and you're lying down on the job. You could do it in four hours if you'd put your mind to it." There was no anser to this. And he went on: "I'll send out food or anything. But nothing to drink. There's Champane on the ice for you when you've finished, however. And you'll find pens and ink and paper on the table." The anser to this was Mr. Beecher's full weight against the door. But it held, even against the full force of his fine physic. "Even if you do break it open," Mr. Patten said, "you can't go very far the way you are. Now be a good fellow, and let's get this thing done. It's for your good as well as mine. You'll make a Fortune out of it." Then he went into his own door, and soon came out, looking like a gentleman, unless one knew, as I did, that he was a Whited Sepulcher. How long I sat there, paralized with emotion, I do not know. Hannah came out and roused me from my Trance of grief. She is a kindly soul, although to afraid of mother to be helpful. "Come in like a good girl, Miss Bab," she said. "There's that fruit salad that cook prides herself on, and I'll ask her to brown a bit of sweetbread for you." "Hannah," I said in a low voice, "there is a Crime being committed in this neighborhood, and you talk to me of food." "Good gracious, Miss Bab!" "I cannot tell you any more than that, Hannah," I said gently, "because it is only being done now, and I cannot make up my Mind about it. But of course I do not want any food." As I say, I was perfectly gentle with her, and I do not understand why she burst into tears and went away. I sat and thought it all over. I could not leave, under the circumstances. But yet, what was I to do? It was hardly a Police matter, being between friends, as one may say, and yet I simply could not bare to leave my Ideal there in that damp bath-house without either food or, as one may say, raiment. About the middle of the afternoon it occurred to me to try to find a key for the lock of the bath-house. I therfore left my Studio and proceded to the house. I passed close by the fatal building, but there was no sound from it. I found a number of trunk-keys in a drawer in the library, and was about to escape with them, when father came in. He gave me a long look, and said: "Bee still buzzing?" I had hoped for some understanding from him, but my Spirits fell at this speach. "I am still working, father," I said, in a firm if nervous tone. "I am not doing as good work as I would if things were diferent, but--I am at least content, if not happy." He stared at me, and then came over to me. "Put out your tongue," he said. Even against this crowning infamey I was silent. "That's all right," he said. "Now see here, Chicken, get into your riding togs and we'll order the horses. I don't intend to let this play-acting upset your health." But I refused. "Unless, of course, you insist," I finished. He only shook his head, however, and left the room. I felt that I had lost my Last Friend. I did not try the keys myself, but instead stood off a short distance and through them through the window. I learned later that they struck Mr. Beecher on the head. Not knowing, of course, that I had flung them, and that my reason was pure Friendliness and Idealizm, he through them out again with a violent exclamation. They fell at my feet, and lay there, useless, regected, tradgic. At last I summoned courage to speak. "Can't I do somthing to help?" I said, in a quaking voice, to the window. There was no anser, but I could hear a pen scraching on paper. "I do so want to help you," I said, in a louder tone. "Go, away" said his voice, rather abstracted than angry. "May I try the keys?" I asked. Be still, my Heart! For the scraching had ceased. "Who's that?" asked the beloved voice. I say 'beloved' because an Ideal is always beloved. The voice was beloved, but sharp. "It's me." I heard him mutter somthing, and I think he came to the Door. "Look here," he said. "Go away. Do you understand? I want to work. And don't come near here again until seven o'clock." "Very well," I said faintly. "And then come without fail," he said. "Yes, Mr. Beecher," I replied. How commanding he was! Strong but tender! "And if anyone comes around making a noise, before that, you shoot them for me, will you?" "SHOOT them?" "Drive them off, or use a Bean-shooter. Anything. But don't yell at them. It distracts me." It was a Sacred trust. I, and only I, stood between him and his MAGNUM OPUM. I sat down on the steps of our bath-house, and took up my vigel. It was about five o'clock when I heard Jane approaching. I knew it was Jane, because she always wears tight shoes, and limps when unobserved. Although having the reputation of the smallest foot of any girl in our set in the city, I prefer Comfort and Ease, unhampered by heals--French or otherwise. No man will ever marry a girl because she wears a small shoe, and catches her heals in holes in the Boardwalk, and has to soak her feet at night before she can sleep. However---- Jane came on, and found me croutched on the doorstep, in a lowly attatude, and holding my finger to my lips. She stopped and stared at me. "Hello," she said. "What do you think you are? A Statue?" "Hush, Jane," I said, in a low tone. "I can only ask you to be quiet and speak in Whispers. I cannot give the reason." "Good heavens!" she whispered. "What has happened, Bab?" "It is happening now, but I cannot explain." "WHAT is happening?" "Jane," I whispered, ernestly, "you have known me a long time and I have always been Trustworthy, have I not?" She nodded. She is never exactly pretty, and now she had opened her mouth and forgot to close it. "Then ask No Questions. Trust me, as I am trusting you." It seemed to me that Mr. Beecher through his pen at the door, and began to pace the bath-house. Owing of course to his being in his bare feet, I was not certain. Jane heard somthing, to, for she clutched my arm. "Bab," she said, in intence tones, "if you don't explain I shall lose my mind. I feel now that I am going to shreik." She looked at me searchingly. "Sombody is a Prisoner. That's all." It was the truth, was it not? And was there any reasons for Jane Raleigh to jump to conclusions as she did, and even to repeat later in Public that I had told her that my lover had come for me, and that father had locked him up to prevent my running away with him, imuring him in the Patten's bath-house? Certainly not. Just then I saw the boatman coming who looks after our motor boat, and I tiptoed to him and asked him to go away, and not to come back unless he had quieter boats and would not whistel. He acted very ugly about it, I must say, but he went. When I came back, Jane was sitting thinking, with her forhead all puckered. "What I don't understand, Bab," she said, "is, why no noise?" "Because he is writing," I explained. "Although his clothing has been taken away, he is writing. I don't think I told you, Jane, but that is his business. He is a Writer. And if I tell you his name you will faint with surprise." She looked at me searchingly. "Locked up--and writing, and his clothing gone! What's he writing, Bab? His Will?" "He is doing his duty to the end, Jane," I said softly. "He is writing the last Act of a Play. The Company is rehearsing the first two Acts, and he has to get this one ready, though the Heavens fall." But to my surprise, she got up and said to me, in a firm voice: "Either you are crazy, Barbara Archibald, or you think I am. You've been stuffing me for about a week, and I don't beleive a Word of it. And you'll apologize to me or I'll never speak to you again." She said this loudly, and then went away, And Mr. Beecher said, through the door. "What the Devil's the row about?" Perhaps my nerves were going, or possably it was no luncheon and probably no dinner. But I said, just as if he had been an ordinary person: "Go on and write and get through. I can't stew on these steps all day." "I thought you were an amiable Child." "I'm not amiable and I'm not a Child." "Don't spoil your pretty face with frowns." "It's MY face. And you can't see it anyhow," I replied, venting in femanine fashion, my anger at Jane on the nearest object. "Look here," he said, through the door, "you've been my good Angel. I'm doing more work than I've done in two months, although it was a dirty, low-down way to make me do it. You're not going back on me now, are you?" Well, I was mollafied, as who would not be? So I said: "Well?" "What did Patten do with my clothes?" "He took them with him." He was silent, except for a muttered word. "You might throw those Keys back again," he said. "Let me know first, however. You're the most acurate Thrower I've ever seen." So I through them through the window and I beleive hit the ink bottle. But no matter. And he tried them, but none availed. So he gave up, and went back to Work, having saved enough ink to finish with. But a few minutes later he called to me again, and I moved to the Doorstep, where I sat listening, while aparently admiring the sea. He explained that having been thus forced, he had almost finished the last Act, and it was a corker. And he said if he had his clothes and some money, and a key to get out, he'd go right back to Town with it and put it in rehearsle. And at the same time he would give the Pattens something to worry about over night. Because, play or no play, it was a Rotten thing to lock a man in a bath-house and take his clothes away. "But of course I can't get my clothes," he said. "They'll take cussed good care of that. And there's the Key too. We're up against it, Little Sister." Although excited by his calling me thus, I retained my faculties, and said: "I have a suit of Clothes you can have." "Thanks awfully," he said. "But from the slight acquaintance we have had, I don't beleive they would fit me." "Gentleman's Clothes," I said fridgidly. "You have?" "In my Studio," I said. "I can bring them, if you like. They look quite good, although Creased." "You know" he said, after a moment's silence, "I can't quite beleive this is realy happening to me! Go and bring the suit of clothes, and--you don't happen to have a cigar, I suppose?" "I have a large box of Cigarettes." "It is true," I heard him say through the door. "It is all true. I am here, locked in. The Play is almost done. And a very young lady on the doorstep is offering me a suit of Clothes and Tobaco. I pinch myself. I am awake." Alas! Mingled with my joy at serving my Ideal there was also greif. My idle had feet of clay. He was a slave, like the rest of us, to his body. He required clothes and tobaco. I felt that, before long, he might even ask for an apple, or something to stay the pangs of hunger. This I felt I could not bare. Perhaps I would better pass over quickly the events of the next hour. I got the suit and the cigarettes, and even Jane's bath towle, and through them in to him. Also I beleive he took a shower, as I heard the water running, At about seven o'clock he said he had finished the play. He put on the Clothes which he observed almost fitted him, although gayer than he usually wore, and said that if I would give him a hair pin he thought he could pick the Lock. But he did not succeed. Being now dressed, however, he drew a chair to the window and we talked together. It seemed like a dream that I should be there, on such intimate terms with a great Playwright, who had just, even if under compulsion, finished a last Act, I bared my very soul to him, such as about resembling Julia Marlowe, and no one understanding my craveing to acheive a Place in the World of Art. We were once interupted by Hannah looking for me for dinner. But I hid in a bath-house, and she went away. What was Food to me compared with such a Conversation? When Hannah had disappeared, he said suddenly: "It's rather unusual, isn't it, your having a suit of clothes and everything in your--er--studio?" But I did not explain fully, merely saving that it was a painful story. At half past seven I saw mother on the veranda looking for me, and I ducked out of sight, I was by this time very hungry, although I did not like to mention the fact, But Mr. Beecher made a suggestion, which was this: that the Pattens were evadently going to let him starve until he got through work, and that he would see them in perdetion before he would be the Butt for their funny remarks when they freed him. He therfore tried to escape out the window, but stuck fast, and finaly gave it up. At last he said: "Look here, you're a curious child, but a nervy one. How'd you like to see if you can get the Key? If you do we'll go to a hotel and have a real meal, and we can talk about your Career." Although quivering with Terror, I consented. How could I do otherwise, with such a prospect? For now I began to see that all other Emotions previously felt were as nothing to this one. I confess, without shame, that I felt the stiring of the Tender Passion in my breast. Ah me, that it should have died ere it had hardly lived! "Where is the key?" I asked, in a wrapt but anxious tone. He thought a while. "Generaly," he said, "it hangs on a nail at the back entry. But the chances are that Patten took it up to his room this time, for safety, You'd know it if you saw it. It has some buttons off sombody's batheing suit tied to it." Here it was necessary to hide again, as father came stocking out, calling me in an angry tone. But shortly afterwards I was on my way to the Patten's house, on shaking Knees. It was by now twilight, that beautiful period of Romanse, although the dinner hour also. Through the dusk I sped, toward what? I knew not. The Pattens and the one-peace lady were at dinner, and having a very good time, in spite of having locked a Guest in the bath-house. Being used to servants and prowling around, since at one time when younger I had a habit of taking things from the pantrey, I was quickly able to see that the Key was not in the entry. I therfore went around to the front Door and went in, being prepared, if discovered, to say that somone was in their bath-house and they ought to know it. But I was not heard among their sounds of revelry, and was able to proceed upstairs, which I did. But not having asked which was Mr. Patten's room, I was at a loss and almost discovered by a maid who was turning down the beds--much to early, also, and not allowed in the best houses until nine-thirty, since otherwise the rooms look undressed and informle. I had but Time to duck into another chamber, and from there to a closet. I REMAINED IN THAT CLOSET ALL NIGHT. I will explain. No sooner had the maid gone than a Woman came into the room and closed the door. I heard her moving around and I suddenly felt that she was going to bed, and might get her ROBE DE NUIT out of the closet. I was petrafied. But it seems, while she really WAS undressing at that early hour, the maid had laid her night clothes out, and I was saved. Very soon a knock came to the door, and somhody came in, like Mrs. Patten's voice and said: "You're not going to bed, surely!" "I'm going to pretend to have a sick headache," said the other Person, and I knew it was the One-peace Lady. "He's going to come back in a frenzey, and he'll take it out on me, unless I'm prepared." "Poor Reggie!" said Mrs. Patten, "To think of him locked in there alone, and no Clothes or anything. It's too funny for words." "You're not married to him." My heart stopped beating. Was SHE married to him? She was indeed. My dream was over. And the worst part of it was that for a married man I had done without Food or exercise and now stood in a hot closet in danger of a terrable fuss. "No, thank Heaven!" said Mrs. Patten. "But it was the only way to make him work. He is a lazy dog. But don't worry. We'll feed him before he sees you. He's always rather tractible after he's fed." Were ALL my dreams to go? Would they leave nothing to my shattered ilusions? Alas, no. "Jolly him a little, to," said----can I write it?--Mrs. Beecher. "Tell him he's the greatest thing in the World. That will help some. He's vain, you know, awfully vain. I expect he's written a lot of piffle." Had they listened they would have heard a low, dry sob, wrung from my tortured heart. But Mrs. Beecher had started a vibrater, and my anguished cry was lost. "Well," said Mrs. Patten, "Will has gone down to let him out, I expect he'll attack him. He's got a vile Temper. I'll sit with you till he comes back, if you don't mind. I'm feeling nervous." It was indeed painful to recall the next half hour. I must tell the truth however. They discussed us, especialy mother, who had not called. They said that we thought we were the whole summer Colony, although every one was afraid of mother's tongue, and nobody would marry Leila, except Carter Brooks, and he was poor and no prospects. And that I was an incorrigable, and carried on somthing gastly, and was going to be put in a convent. I became justly furious and was about to step out and tell them a few plain Facts, when sombody hammered at the door and then came in. It was Mr. Patten. "He's gone!" he said. "Well, he won't go far, in bathing trunks," said Mrs. Beecher. "That's just it. His bathing trunks are there." "Well, he won't go far WITHOUT them!" "He's gone so far I can't locate him." I heard Mrs. Beecher get up. "Are you in ernest, Will?" she said. "Do you mean that he has gone without a Stich of clothes, and can't be found?" Mrs. Patten gave a sort of screach. "You don't think--oh Will, he's so tempermental. You don't think he's drowned himself?" "No such luck," said Mrs. Beecher, in a cold tone. I hated her for it. True, he had decieved me. He was not as I had thought him. In our to conversations he had not mentioned his wife, leaveing me to beleive him free to love "where he listed," as the poet says. "There are a few clues," said Mr. Patten. "He got out by means of a wire hairpin, for one thing. And he took the manuscript with him, which he'd hardly have done if he meant to drown himself. Or even if, as we fear, he had no Pockets. He has smoked a lot of cigarettes out of a candy box, which I did not supply him, and he left behind a bath towle that does not, I think, belong to us." "I should think he would have worn it," said Mrs. Beecher, in a scornfull tone. "Here's the bath towle," Mr. Patten went on. "You may recognize the initials. I don't." "B. P. A.," said Mrs. Beecher. "Look here, don't they call that--that fliberty-gibbet next door 'Barbara'?" "The little devil!" said Mr. Patten, in a raging tone. "She let him out, and of course he's done no work on the Play or anything. I'd like to choke her." Nobody spoke then, and my heart beat fast and hard. I leave it to anybody, how they'd like to be shut in a closet and threatened with a violent Death from without. Would or would they not ever be the same person afterwards? "I'll tell you what I'd do," said the Beecher woman. "I'd climb up the back of father, next door, and tell him what his little Daughter has done, Because I know she's mixed up in it, towle or no towle. Reg is always sappy when they're seventeen. And she's been looking moon-eyed at him for days." Well, the Pattens went away, and Mrs. Beecher manacured her Nails,--I could hear her fileing them--and sang around and was not much concerned, although for all she knew he was in the briney deep, a corpse. How true it is that "the paths of glory lead but to the grave." I got very tired and much hoter, and I sat down on the floor. After what seemed like hours, Mrs. Patten came back, all breathless, and she said: "The girl's gone to, Clare." "What girl?" "Next door. If you want Excitement, they've got it. The mother is in hysterics and there's a party searching the beech for her body, The truth is, of course, if that towle means anything." "That Reg has run away with her, of course," said Mrs. Beecher, in a resined tone. "I wish he would grow up and learn somthing. He's becoming a nusance. And when there are so many Interesting People to run away with, to choose that chit!" Yes, she said that, And in my retreat I could but sit and listen, and of course perspire, which I did freely. Mrs. Patten went away, after talking about the "scandle" for some time. And I sat and thought of the beech being searched for my Body, a thought which filled my Eyes with tears of pity for what might have been, I still hoped Mrs. Beecher would go to bed, but she did not. Through the key hole I could see her with a Book, reading, and not caring at all that Mr. Beecher's body, and mine to, might be washing about in the cruel Sea, or have eloped to New York. I lothed her. At last I must have slept, for a bell rang, and there I was still in the closet, and she was ansering it. "Arrested?" she said, "Well, I should think he'd better be, If what you say about clothing is true.... Well, then--what's he arrested for?... Oh, kidnaping! Well, if I'm any judge, they ought to arrest the Archibald girl for kidnaping HIM. No, don't bother me with it tonight. I'll try to read myself to sleep." So this was Marriage! Did she flee to her unjustly acused husband's side and comfort him? Not she. She went to bed. At daylight, being about smotherd, I opened the closet door and drew a breath of fresh air. Also I looked at her, and she was asleep, with her hair in patent wavers. Ye gods! The wife of Reginald Beecher thus to distort her looks at night! I could not bare it. I averted my eyes, and on my tiptoes made for the Window. My sufferings were over. In a short time I had slid down and was making my way through the dewey morn toward my home. Before the sun was up, or more than starting, I had climbed to my casement by means of a wire trellis, and put on my ROBE DE NUIT. But before I settled to sleep I went to the pantrey and there satisfied the pangs of nothing since Breakfast the day before. All the lights seemed to be on, on the lower floor, which I considered wastful of Tanney, the butler. But being sleepy, gave it no further thought. And so to bed, as the great English dairy-keeper, Pepys, had said in his dairy. It seemed but a few moments later that I heard a scream, and opening my eyes, saw Leila in the doorway. She screamed again, and mother came and stood beside her. Although very drowsy, I saw that they still wore their dinner clothes. They stared as if transfixed, and then mother gave a low moan, and said to Sis: "That unfortunate man has been in Jail all night." And Sis said: "Jane Raleigh is crazy. That's all." Then they looked at me, and mother burst into tears. But Sis said: "You little imp! Don't tell me you've been in that bed all night. I KNOW BETTER." I closed my eyes. They were not of the understanding sort, and never would be. "If that's the way you feel I shall tell you nothing," I said wearily. "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" mother said, in a slow and dreadful voice. Well, I saw then that a part of the Truth must be disclosed, especialy since she has for some time considered sending me to a convent, although without cause, and has not done so for fear of my taking the veil. So I told her this. I said: "I spent the night shut in a clothes closet, but where is not my secret. I cannot tell you." "Barbara! You MUST tell me." "It is not my secret alone, mother." She caught at the foot of the bed. "Who was shut with you in that closet?" she demanded in a shaking voice. "Barbara, there is another wreched Man in all this. It could not have been Mr. Beecher, because he has been in the Station House all night." I sat up, leaning on one elbow, and looked at her ernestly. "Mother" I said, "you have done enough damage, interfering with Careers--not only mine, but another's imperiled now by not haveing a last Act. I can tell you no More, except"--here my voice took on a deep and intence fiber--"that I have done nothing to be ashamed of, although unconventional." Mother put her hands to her Face, and emited a low, despairing cry. "Come," Leila said to her, as to a troubled child. "Come, and Hannah can use the vibrater on your spine." So she went, but before she left she said: "Barbara, if you will only promise to be a good girl, and give us a chance to live this Scandle down, I will give you anything you ask for." "Mother!" Sis said, in an angry tone. "What can I do, Leila?" mother said. "The girl is atractive, and probably men will always be following her and making trouble. Think of last Winter. I know it is Bribery, but it is better than Scandle." "I want nothing, mother," I said, in a low, heartstricken tone, "save to be allowed to live my own life and to have a Career." "My Heavens," mother said, "if I hear that word again, I'll go crazy." So she went away, and Sis came over and looked down at me. "Well!" she said. "What's happened anyhow? Of course you've been up to some Mischeif, but I don't suppose anybody will ever know the Truth of it. I was hopeing you'd make it this time and get married, and stop worrying us." "Go away, please, and let me Sleep," I said. "As to getting married, under no circumstances did I expect to marry him. He has a Wife already. Personally, I think she's a totle loss. She wears patent wavers at night, and sleeps with her Mouth open. But who am I to interfere with the marriage bond? I never have and never will." But Sis only gave me a wild look and went away.
Sometimes I sit and think things over, my fingers wandering "over the ivory keys" of the typewriter they gave me to promise not to elope with anybody--although such a thing is far from my mind--and the World seems a cruel and unjust place, especialy to those with ambition. For Reginald Beecher is no longer my ideal, my Night of the pen. I will tell about that in a few words. Jane Raleigh and I went to a matinee late in September before returning to our institutions of learning. Jane cluched my arm as we looked at our programs and pointed to something. How my heart beat! For whatever had come between us, I was still loyal to him. This was a new play by him! "Ah," my heart seemed to say, "now again you will hear his dear words, although spoken by alien mouths. "The love seens----" I could not finish. Although married and forever beyond me, I could still hear his manly tones as issueing from the door of the Bath-house. I thrilled with excitement. As the curtain rose I closed my eyes in ecstacy. "Bab!" Jane said, in a quavering tone. I looked. What did I see? The bath-house itself, the very one. And as I stared I saw a girl, wearing her hair as I wear mine, cross the stage with a Bunch of Keys in her hand, and say to the bath-house door. "Can't I do somthing to help? I do so want to help you." MY VERY WORDS. And a voice from beyond the bath-house door said: "Who's that?" HIS WORDS. I could bare no more. Heedless of Jane's Protests and Anguish, I got up and went out, into the light of day. My body was bent with misry. Because at last I knew that, like mother and all the rest, HE TO DID NOT UNDERSTAND ME, AND NEVER WOULD. To him I was but material, the stuff that plays are made of!
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