"Oh, darling--I did that deliberately!" her sister answered earnestly.
"I"m going to telephone Pa, and I know he"ll be wild. And I DIDN"T want you to be in it! You"ll have enough--poor Martie!"
Already the shadow of the old house was pa.s.sing from her. With what gaiety she went about the old room, thought Martie, stopped by Mrs.
Hawkes"s affectionate arms for a kiss, stopping to kiss Grandma Kelly of her own free will. Sally had no sense of social values; she loved to be here, admired, loved, busy.
"Think of the priest giving her his mother"s own ring!" said the women over and over. "It"ll bring you big luck, Sally!"
They all sat down at the table, and Terry and John Healey came in to rejoice, and the Healey baby awoke, and Grace came in from work. When Martie left there was talk of supper; everybody was to stay for supper.
Walking home in the late spring twilight, Martie felt a certain satisfaction. Sally was happy, and they would be good to her, and she would be better off than Lydia, anyway. Joe as a husband was perfectly absurd, of course, but Joe certainly did love Sally. Monroe would buzz, but Martie had heard Monroe buzzing for a long time now, and after the first shock, had found herself unhurt. Curiously, Sally"s plunge into a new life seemed to free her own hands.
"Now I am going to get out!" said Martie, opening her own gate.
When Malcolm Monroe came home that night it was to a well-sustained hurricane of tears and protest. Mrs. Monroe and Lydia shed genuine tears, and Martie and Len added diplomatically to the hubbub. Pa must suspect no one of sympathy for the shameless Sally.
"To think, Pa, after all we"ve done for her!" sobbed Mrs. Monroe, and Lydia, wiping her nose and shaking her head, kept saying with reproachful firmness: "I can"t believe it of Sally! Why shouldn"t she tell one of us. To stand up and be married all alone!"
Her father took the news exactly as might have been expected. While there was hope of convicting Martie or Lydia of complicity, he questioned them sharply and sternly. When this was gone, he swiftly worked himself into such a pa.s.sion as his children had rarely seen before. Sally and Joe were solemnly denounced, disinherited, and abandoned. And any child of his who spoke to either should share their fate.
"Oh, Papa--don"t!" quavered Lydia, as her father strode to the Bible, and with horrible precision inked from the register the record of Sally"s birth. Mrs. Monroe looked terrified, and even Leonard was pale.
But Martie, to her own amazement, found a sudden calm scorn in her heart. What a silly thing to do, just because poor little Sally married the boy she loved. How dared Pa call himself a Christian while he regarded Sally"s downward step from a mere social level a disgrace! And how cruel he was, playing upon poor Ma"s and Lydia"s feelings just for his own satisfaction.
"You understand me, don"t you, Martie?" he asked grimly.
"I suppose so." An ugly smile curved Martie"s lips. Her lids were half lowered.
"Well--remember it. And never any one of you mention your sister"s name to me again!"
"No, Pa," said four fervent voices. Then they had dinner.
The next day the three women packed up Sally"s things; Lydia and her mother in tears, but Martie strangely content. Something had happened at all events. She put Sally"s baby sash and collar and other treasured rubbish in the package, with two scribbled lines pinned to them: "Praying for you, darling. Pa is furious. The slipper is for luck. Your M."
And then the eventless days began to wheel by again. Rose came home, and came to see Martie, and Martie dined at the Parkers". Rodney, though obviously blind to all women but his wife, was cordial and gallant to the guest and Rose took her up to her pretty, frilly bedroom, so that Martie might take off her hat and coat, and told Martie that Rod was the neatest man she had ever seen, such a fusser about his bath and his clothes. On Rose"s bureau was a big photograph of Rodney in a silver frame, and on Rodney"s high dresser a charming photograph of Rose in her wedding gown. When she was putting on her hat four hours later to be driven home by Rodney, Martie heard Rose"s wifely voice in the hall: "You are a darling to do this, Rod!" The tone was that in which a man is praised by his women for a hard duty cheerfully done. Martie was not surprised when Rose merrily confided to her that Rod wanted his wife to go along--the silly!--and accompanied them on the short drive.
She did not see much of the young Parkers after that, nor did she expect to be counted among their intimate friends. She began to drift into the public kindergarten in the mornings, to help Miss Malloy with the unruly babies. And she missed Sally more every day.
Sally and Joe had gone to Pittsville immediately after their wedding; Joe having received a dazzling offer of forty dollars a month for two summer months from the express company there.
But when Sally had been married six weeks, Martie heard her voice one day when the younger sister was pa.s.sing the Hawkes"s house. Instantly she entered the gate, her heart beating high. Sally"s dear, unforgettable voice! And Sally"s slender shoulders and soft, loose hair!
The girls were in each other"s arms, laughing and crying as they clung together. Martie thought she had never seen her sister look so well, or seem so sweet and gay. There were a thousand questions on each side to ask; Martie poured out the home news. Sally and Joe were housekeeping in three rooms, and it was more FUN! And Sally really cooked him wonderful dinners; his father and mother had come over to one, and wasn"t it good? Mrs. Hawkes enthusiastically agreed.
Of course, they had hardly ANYTHING, bubbled Sally, only two saucepans and one frying pan and the coffee pot. But it was more FUN! And in the evenings they walked around Pittsville, and went to the ten-cent theatre, or bought candy and divided it. COULDN"T Martie come some time to dinner?
"Pa," said Martie simply. Sally"s bright face clouded. She sent a kiss to Ma and darling Lyd. She and Joe would come back to Monroe in September, and then she would come see Pa and make him forgive her.
Tell him she still loved him!
Martie delivered none of these airy messages. She secretly marvelled at the happiness that could blind Sally to a memory of Pa, and Pa"s stubbornness.
"Listen, Martie," said Sally, when for a moment the sisters were alone, "it wasn"t so sudden as you think, my marrying Joe!" She stopped, interrupted by some thought, and added impulsively, "Isn"t it STRANGE, Mart, that we might have missed each other; it makes us both just SHIVER to think of it! Well"--and with a visible effort the little wife brought herself down from a roseate cloud to realities again--"if--if Lyd had married Cliff Frost," she said uncertainly, "I never should have DARED marry Joe!"
"Or if I had married Rodney Parker, Sally?" Martie added steadily.
"Well--" The colour flew to Sally"s face. "As it was," she went on a little hurriedly, "I just--couldn"t bear to go on and on, it made me desperate! And I thought Pa and Ma"s way is no good, our house never seems to have much happiness in it--and I"m going to get OUT! There never was a place like this for good times, and babies, and jokes, and company to dinner!" smiled Sally, looking about the Hawkeses" parlour triumphantly.
But then Sally was born devoid of a social sense, mused Martie, walking home. What would life be without it--she wondered. No affectations, no barriers, no pretenses--
"Flout me not, Sweet!" said some one at her side. She looked up into the beaming eyes of Wallace Bannister. "Don"t you remember me--I"m the city feller that came here breakin" all hearts awhile back!"
"You idiot!" Martie laughed, too. "I thought you were miles away!"
"Well, judging by your expression, darling, you were miles away, too,"
said the irrepressible Wallace. "How are you, Brunhilde? Ich liebe dich! Yes"m, we ought to be miles away, but to tell you the honest truth, the season is simply ROTTEN here on the coast. We"ve bust up, for the moment, but dry those tears. Here"s my contract for seven weeks in San Francisco--seven plays. Sixty bones per week; pretty neat, what?
We begin rehearsing in July, open August eighth, and if it"s a go, go on indefinitely. The Cluetts and I are in this--the rest of the company"s gone flooey. Meanwhile, I have three weeks to wait, and I"m staying with my aunt in Pittsville studying like mad."
"And what are you doing in Monroe?" Martie said contentedly, as they wandered along.
"I came here a week ago to change some shoes," said Wallace, "and I saw you. So to-day I came and made you a formal call."
"You did NOT!" Martie e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, laughing.
"Why didn"t I? I fell down eleven steps into your garden, knocked on the front door, knocked on the side door, talked to some one called "Ma," talked to some one called "Lydia," and learned that Miss Martha Brunhilde Monroe was out for a sashay. There!"
"Well--for goodness sake!" Martie was conscious of flushing. From that second she grew a little self-conscious. He was a funny creature. He would have been unusually handsome, she thought, if it were not for a certain largeness--it was not quite coa.r.s.eness--of feature. He would have been extraordinarily charming, decided Martie, but for that same quality in his manner; recklessness, carelessness. She knew he was not always telling the truth; these honours, these affairs, these fascinating escapades were not all his own. His exaggerated expressions of affection for herself were only a part of this ebullient sense of romance. But he was amusing.
"Bon soir, papillon!" he said at her gate. "How about a meet to-morrow?
Tie a pink scarf to thy cas.e.m.e.nt if thy jailer sleeps. Seriously, leave us meet, kid. Leave us go inter Bonestell"s with the crowd--watto? I"ll wait for youse outside the Library at three."
"With the accent on the WAIT," said Martie significantly. But she did not think of Rodney that evening. She thought of Sally and of Wallace Bannister.
Fortunately for her, it did not occur to her father to cross-examine her on any other event of the day except the circ.u.mstance that she had been seen walking with an unknown young man. This was food for much advice.
"I don"t like it, my daughter," said Malcolm, rubbing his shins together and polishing his gla.s.ses as he sat by the fire. "I don"t like it at all. I don"t like this tendency to permit familiarities with this young man and that young man--all very well for a while, but not the sort of thing a young man chooses in a WIFE."
Martie, looking at him respectfully, as she placed a red Queen on a black King, felt in her heart that she would like to kill him.
The next afternoon she decided to clean the chicken house, one of the tasks in which her strange nature delighted. To splash about with hose and broom, tip over the littered drinking trough, wash cobwebs from the windows with a well-directed stream of water; in these things Martie found some inexplicable satisfaction. She went upstairs after luncheon to get into old clothes, came down half an hour later with her best hat on, walked straight out of the gate and down town.
Wallace was waiting, elated at her punctuality. Martie explaining her fear that some one might report their meeting to her father, they waited openly at Ma.s.set"s corner, boarded the half-past three o"clock trolley, and went to Pittsville.
Pittsville was two miles away, but this adventure had all the charm of foreign travel to Martie. Every house interested her, the main street of the little town might have been Broadway in New York. The people looked different, she said. She and Wallace laughed their way through the Five-and-Ten-Cent Store, enjoyed a Floradora Special composed of bananas, ice cream, nuts, whipped cream, maple syrup, and cherries, and finally bought six cream puffs and carried them to Sally.
Sally"s delight was almost tearful. She led Martie rapturously over her domain: the little bedroom spotless and sunshiny in the summer afternoon; the microscopic kitchen scented with the baked apples that HAD burned a little and the cookies that would NOT brown; the living-and-dining room that was at once so bare and so rich. It was a home, Martie realized dimly, and Sally was a person at last. The younger sister peeped interestedly into spice-tins and meat safe; three eggs were in a small yellow bowl, two thin slices of bacon on a plate.
In the bread box was half a loaf of bread and one cut slice.
"Sally, it must be fun!" said Martie. "All this doll"s house for six dollars a month!"
"Oh--fun!" Sally was rapturous beyond words. She gave them pale, hot cookies; the cream puffs would delight Joe.