She lifted Rebecca"s starched petticoat from the bed to give Mother a seat, when Mother came rather wearily in to watch them.
"Sweet girl to take them, Mark," said Mother, appreciatively. "I was going to ask Brucie. But he"s gone to bed, poor fellow; he"s worn out to-night."
"He had a letter from Ned Gunther this morning," said Rebecca, cheerfully,--powdering the tip of her pretty nose, her eyes almost crossed with concentration,--"and I think it made him blue all day."
"Ned Gunther?" said Margaret.
"Chum at college," Rebecca elucidated; "a lot of them are going to Honolulu, just for this month, and of course they wanted Bruce. Mark, does that show?"
Margaret"s heart ached for the beloved brother"s disappointment. There it was again, all wrong! Before she left the house with the rioting youngsters, she ran upstairs to his room. Bruce, surrounded by scientific magazines, a drop-light with a vivid green shade over his shoulder, looked up with a welcoming smile.
"Sit down and talk, Mark," said he.
Margaret explained her hurry.
"Bruce,--this isn"t much fun!" she said, looking about the room with its shabby dresser and worn carpet. "Why aren"t you going to the concert?"
"Is there a concert?" he asked, surprised.
"Why, didn"t you hear us talking at dinner? The Elks, you know."
"Well--sure! I meant to go to that. I forgot it was to-night," he said, with his lazy smile. "I came home all in, forgot everything."
"Oh, come!" Margaret urged, as eagerly as Rebecca ever did.
"It"s early, Bruce, come on! You don"t have to shave! We"ll hold a seat,--come on!"
"Sure, I will!" he said, suddenly roused. The magazines rapped on the floor, and Margaret had barely shut the door behind her when she heard his bare feet follow them.
It was like old times to sit next to him through the hot merry evening, while Rebecca glowed like a little rose among her friends, and the smaller boys tickled her ear with their whispered comments.
Margaret had sent a telegram to Professor Tenison, and felt relieved that at least that strain was spared her. She even danced with Bruce after the concert, and with one or two old friends.
Afterwards, they strolled back slowly through the inky summer dark, finding the house hot and close when they came in. Margaret went upstairs, hearing her mother"s apologetic, "Oh, Dad, why didn"t I give you back your club?" as she pa.s.sed the dining-room door. She knew Mother hated whist, and wondered rather irritably why she played it.
The Paget family was slow to settle down. Robert became tearful and whining before he was finally b.u.mped protesting into bed. Theodore and Duncan prolonged their ablutions until the noise of shouting, splashing, and thumping in the bathroom brought Mother to the foot of the stairs. Rebecca was conversational. She lay with her slender arms locked behind her head on the pillow, and talked, as Julie had talked on that memorable night five years ago. Margaret, restless in the hot darkness, wondering whether the maddening little shaft of light from the hall gas was annoying enough to warrant the effort of getting up and extinguishing it, listened and listened.
Rebecca wanted to join the Stage Club, but Mother wouldn"t let her unless Bruce did. Rebecca belonged to the Progressive Diners. Did Mark suppose Mother"d think she was crazy if she asked the family not to be in evidence when the crowd came to the house for the salad course? And Rebecca wanted to write to Bruce"s chum, not regularly, you know, Mark, but just now and then, he was so nice! And Mother didn"t like the idea. Margaret was obviously supposed to lend a hand with these interesting tangles.
"...and I said, "Certainly not! I won"t unmask at all, if it comes to that!"... And imagine that elegant fellow carrying my old books and my skates! So I wrote, and Maudie and I decided... And Mark, if it wasn"t a perfectly gorgeous box of roses!... That old, old dimity, but Mother pressed and freshened it up.... Not that I want to marry him, or any one..."
Margaret wakened from uneasy drowsing with a start. The hall was dark now, the room cooler. Rebecca was asleep. Hands, hands she knew well, were drawing a light covering over her shoulders. She opened her eyes to see her mother.
"I"ve been wondering if you"re disappointed about your friend not coming to-morrow, Mark?" said the tender voice.
"Oh, no-o!" said Margaret, hardily. "Mother--why are you up so late?"
"Just going to bed," said the other, soothingly. "Blanche forgot to put the oatmeal into the cooker, and I went downstairs again. I"ll say my prayers in here."
Margaret went off to sleep again, as she had so many hundred times before, with her mother kneeling beside her.
CHAPTER VII
It seemed but a few moments before the blazing Sunday was precipitated upon them, and everybody was late for everything.
The kitchen was filled with the smoke from hot griddles blue in the sunshine, when Margaret went downstairs; and in the dining-room the same merciless light fell upon the sticky syrup pitcher, and upon the stains on the tablecloth. Cream had been brought in in the bottle, the bread tray was heaped with orange skins, and the rolls piled on the tablecloth. Bruce, who had already been to church with Mother, and was off for a day"s sail, was dividing his attention between Robert and his watch. Rebecca, daintily busy with the special cup and plate that were one of her little affectations, was all ready for the day, except as to dress, wearing a thin little kimono over her blue ribbons and starched embroideries. Mother was putting up a little lunch for Bruce.
Confusion reigned. The younger boys were urged to hurry, if they wanted to make the "nine." Rebecca was going to wait for the "half past ten," because the "kids sang at nine, and it was fierce." Mr.
Paget and his sons departed together, and the girls went upstairs for a hot, tiring tussle with beds and dusting before starting for church.
They left their mother busy with the cream freezer in the kitchen. It was very hot even then.
But it was still hotter, walking home in the burning midday stillness.
A group of young people waited lazily for letters, under the trees outside the post-office door. Otherwise the main street was deserted.
A languid little breeze brought the far echoes of pianos and phonographs from this direction and that.
"Who"s that on the porch?" said Rebecca, suddenly, as they neared home, instantly finding the stranger among her father and the boys.
Margaret, glancing up sharply, saw, almost with a sensation of sickness, the big, ungainly figure, the beaming smile, and the shock of dark hair that belonged to n.o.body else in the world but John Tenison, A stony chill settled about her heart as she went up the steps and gave him her hand.
Oh, if he only couldn"t stay to dinner, she prayed. Oh, if only he could spare them time for no more than a flying visit! With a sinking heart she smiled her greetings.
"Doctor Tenison,--this is very nice of you!" Margaret said. "Have you met my father--my small brothers?"
"We have been having a great talk," said John Tenison, genially, "and this young man--" he indicated Robert, "has been showing me the colored supplement of the paper. I didn"t have any word from you, Miss Paget," he went on, "so I took the chance of finding you. And your mother has a.s.sured me that I will not put her out by staying to have luncheon with you."
"Oh, that"s nice!" Margaret said mechanically, trying to dislodge Robert from the most comfortable chair by a significant touch of her fingers on his small shoulder. Robert perfectly understood that she wanted the chair, but continued in absorbed study of the comic supplement, merely wriggling resentfully at Margaret"s touch.
Margaret, at the moment, would have been glad to use violence on the stubborn, serene little figure. When he was finally dislodged, she sat down, still flushed from her walk and the nervousness Doctor Tenison"s arrival caused her, and tried to bring the conversation into a normal channel. But an interruption occurred in the arrival of Harry and Julie in the runabout; the little boys swarmed down to examine it.
Julie, very pretty, with a perceptible little new air of dignity, went upstairs to freshen hair and gown, and Harry, pushing his straw hat back the better to mop his forehead, immediately engaged Doctor Tenison"s attention with the details of what sounded to Margaret like a particularly uninteresting operation, which he had witnessed the day before.
Utterly discouraged, and acutely wretched, Margaret presently slipped away, and went into the kitchen, to lend a hand with the dinner reparations if help was needed. The room presented a scene if possible a little more confused than that of the day before, and was certainly hotter. Her mother, flushed and hurried, in a fresh but rather unbecoming gingham, was putting up a cold supper for the younger boys, who, having duly attended to their religious duties, were to take a long afternoon tramp, with a possible interval of fishing. She b.u.t.tered each slice of the great loaf before she cut it, and lifted it carefully on the knife before beginning the next slice. An opened pot of jam stood at her elbow. A tin cup and the boys" fishing-gear lay on a chair. Theodore and Duncan themselves hung over these preparations; never apparently helping themselves to food, yet never with empty mouths. Blanche, moaning "The Palms" with the insistence of one who wishes to show her entire familiarity with a melody, was at the range.
Roast veal, instead of the smothered chickens her mother had so often, and cooked so deliciously, a mountain of mashed potato--corn on the cob, and an enormous heavy salad mantled with mayonnaise--Margaret could have wept over the hopelessly plebeian dinner!
"Mother, mayn"t I get down the finger-bowls," she asked; "and mayn"t we have black coffee in the silver pot, afterwards?"
Mrs. Paget looked absently at her for a dubious second. "I don"t like to ask Blanche to wash all that extra gla.s.s," she said, in an undertone, adding briskly to Theodore, "No, no, Ted! You can"t have all that cake. Half that!" and to Blanche herself, "Don"t leave the door open when you go in, Blanche; I just drove all the flies out of the dining-room." Then she returned to Margaret with a cordial: "Why, certainly, dear! Any one who wants coffee, after tea, can have it! Dad always wants his cup of tea."
"n.o.body but us ever serves tea with dinner!" Margaret muttered; but her mother did not hear it. She buckled the strap of the lunch-box, straightened her back with an air of relief, and pushed down her rolled-up sleeves.
"Don"t lose that napkin, Ted," said she, and receiving the boy"s grateful kiss haphazard between her hair and forehead, she added affectionately: "You"re more than welcome, dear! We"re all ready, Mark,--go and tell them, dear! All right, Blanche."
Ruffled and angry, Margaret went to summon the others to dinner.
Maudie had joined them on the porch now, and had been urged to stay, and was already trying her youthful wiles on the professor.
"Well, he"ll have to leave on the five o"clock!" Margaret reflected, steeled to bitter endurance until that time. For everything went wrong, and dinner was one long nightmare for her. Professor Tenison"s napkin turned out to be a traycloth. Blanche, asked for another, disappeared for several minutes, and returned without it, to whisper in Mrs. Paget"s ear. Mrs. Paget immediately sent her own fresh napkin to the guest. The incident, or something in their murmured conversation, gave Rebecca and Maudie "the giggles." There seemed an exhausting amount of pa.s.sing and repa.s.sing of plates. The room was hot, the supply of ice insufficient. Mr. Paget dwelt on his favorite grievance--"the old man isn"t needed, these days. They"re getting all young fellows into the bank. They put young college fellows in there who are getting pretty near the money I am--after twenty-five years!"
In any pause, Mrs. Paget could be heard, patiently dissuading little Robert from his fixed intention of accompanying the older boys on their walk, whether invited or uninvited.
John Tenison behaved charmingly, eating his dinner with enjoyment, looking interestedly from one face to the other, sympathetic, alert, and amused. But Margaret writhed in spirit at what he must be thinking.
Finally the ice cream, in a melting condition, and the chocolate cake, very sticky, made their appearance; and although these were regular Sunday treats, the boys felt called upon to cheer. Julie asked her mother in an audible undertone if she "ought" to eat cake. Doctor Tenison produced an enormous box of chocolates, and Margaret was disgusted with the frantic scramble her brothers made to secure them.
"If you"re going for a walk, dear," her mother said, when the meal was over, "you"d better go. It"s almost three now."