“Oh, thank you!” she cried. “I know this naughty boy must have been terribly hard to find. Mildred’ll NEVER forgive me! I’ve put you to so much–-“
“Not at all,” he said, amiably, and went away, leaving the brother and sister together.
“Walter, let’s dance just once more,” Alice said, touching his arm placatively. “I thought—well, perhaps we might go home then.”
But Walter’s expression was that of a person upon whom an outrage has just been perpetrated. “No,” he said. “We’ve stayed THIS long, I’m goin’ to wait and see what they got to eat. And you look here!” He turned upon her angrily. “Don’t you ever do that again!”
“Do what?”
“Send somebody after me that pokes his nose into every corner of the house till he finds me! ‘Are you Mr. Walter Adams?’ he says. I guess he must asked everybody in the place if they were Mr. Walter Adams! Well, I’ll bet a few iron men you wouldn’t send anybody to hunt for me again if you knew where he found me!”
“Where was it?”
Walter decided that her fit punishment was to know. “I was shootin’ dice with those coons in the cloak-room.”
“And he saw you?”
“Unless he was blind!” said Walter. “Come on, I’ll dance this one more dance with you. Supper comes after that, and THEN we’ll go home.”
Mrs. Adams heard Alice’s key turning in the front door and hurried down the stairs to meet her.
“Did you get wet coming in, darling?” she asked. “Did you have a good time?”
“Just lovely!” Alice said, cheerily, and after she had arranged the latch for Walter, who had gone to return the little car, she followed her mother upstairs and hummed a dance-tune on the way.
“Oh, I’m so glad you had a nice time,” Mrs. Adams said, as they reached the door of her daughter’s room together. “You DESERVED to, and it’s lovely to think–-“
But at this, without warning, Alice threw herself into her mother’s arms, sobbing so loudly that in his room, close by, her father, half drowsing through the night, started to full wakefulness.
CHAPTER IX
On a morning, a week after this collapse of festal hopes, Mrs. Adams and her daughter were concluding a three-days’ disturbance, the “Spring house-cleaning”— postponed until now by Adams’s long illness—and Alice, on her knees before a chest of drawers, in her mother’s room, paused thoughtfully after dusting a packet of letters wrapped in worn muslin. She called to her mother, who was scrubbing the floor of the hallway just beyond the open door,
“These old letters you had in the bottom drawer, weren’t they some papa wrote you before you were married?”
Mrs. Adams laughed and said, “Yes. Just put ‘em back where they were—or else up in the attic— anywhere you want to.”
“Do you mind if I read one, mama?”
Mrs. Adams laughed again. “Oh, I guess you can if you want to. I expect they’re pretty funny!”
Alice laughed in response, and chose the topmost letter of the packet. “My dear, beautiful girl,” it began; and she stared at these singular words. They gave her a shock like that caused by overhearing some bewildering impropriety; and, having read them over to herself several times, she went on to experience other shocks.
MY DEAR, BEAUTIFUL GIRL:
This time yesterday I had a mighty bad case of blues because I had not had a word from you in two whole long days and when I do not hear from you every day things look mighty down in the mouth to me. Now it is all so different because your letter has arrived and besides I have got a piece of news I believe you will think as fine as I do. Darling, you will be surprised, so get ready to hear about a big effect on our future. It is this way. I had sort of a suspicion the head of the firm kind of took a fancy to me from the first when I went in there, and liked the way I attended to my work and so when he took me on this business trip with him I felt pretty sure of it and now it turns out I was about right. In return I guess I have got about the best boss in this world and I believe you will think so too. Yes, sweetheart, after the talk I have just had with him if J. A. Lamb asked me to cut my hand off for him I guess I would come pretty near doing it because what he says means the end of our waiting to be together. From New Years on he is going to put me in entire charge of the sundries dept. and what do you think is going to be my salary? Eleven hundred cool dollars a year ($1,100.00). That’s all! Just only a cool eleven hundred per annum! Well, I guess that will show your mother whether I can take care of you or not. And oh how I would like to see your dear, beautiful, loving face when you get this news.
I would like to go out on the public streets and just dance and shout and it is all I can do to help doing it, especially when I know we will be talking it all over together this time next week, and oh my darling, now that your folks have no excuse for putting it off any longer we might be in our own little home before Xmas.
Would you be glad?
Well, darling, this settles everything and makes our future just about as smooth for us as anybody could ask. I can hardly realize after all this waiting life’s troubles are over for you and me and we have nothing to do but to enjoy the happiness granted us by this wonderful, beautiful thing we call life. I know I am not any poet and the one I tried to write about you the day of the picnic was fearful but the way I THINK about you is a poem.
Write me what you think of the news. I know but write me anyhow.
I’ll get it before we start home and I can be reading it over all the time on the tram.
Your always loving
VIRGIL.
The sound of her mother’s diligent scrubbing in the hall came back slowly to Alice’s hearing, as she restored the letter to the packet, wrapped the packet in its muslin covering, and returned it to the drawer. She had remained upon her knees while she read the letter; now she sank backward, sitting upon the floor with her hands behind her, an unconscious relaxing for better ease to think. Upon her face there had fallen a look of wonder.
For the first time she was vaguely perceiving that life is everlasting movement. Youth really believes what is running water to be a permanent crystallization and sees time fixed to a point: some people have dark hair, some people have blond hair, some people have gray hair. Until this moment, Alice had no conviction that there was a universe before she came into it. She had always thought of it as the background of herself: the moon was something to make her prettier on a summer night.
But this old letter, through which she saw still flickering an ancient starlight of young love, astounded her. Faintly before her it revealed the whole lives of her father and mother, who had been young, after all—they REALLY had—and their youth was now so utterly passed from them that the picture of it, in the letter, was like a burlesque of them. And so she, herself, must pass to such changes, too, and all that now seemed vital to her would be nothing.
When her work was finished, that afternoon, she went into her father’s room. His recovery had progressed well enough to permit the departure of Miss Perry; and Adams, wearing one of Mrs. Adams’s wrappers over his nightgown, sat in a high-backed chair by a closed window. The weather was warm, but the closed window and the flannel wrapper had not sufficed him: round his shoulders he had an old crocheted scarf of Alice’s; his legs were wrapped in a heavy comfort; and, with these swathings about him, and his eyes closed, his thin and grizzled head making but a slight indentation in the pillow supporting it, he looked old and little and queer.