“My young man?” she asked lightly. “Which of my young men? I didn’t know one was looking for me.”
“He sounded rather desperate over the telephone,” Mr. Brinkley said humorously. “He must be a very naïve young man to be calling up at eleven o’clock on Mardi Gras eve and expecting to find a young lady at home. He should have realized that was the last place in the world to look for you.”
“What are you talking about?” Ethel asked. “What young man wanted whom?”
“Someone who acted as though the end of the world had come when I told him Barbara wasn’t here,” Mr. Brinkley said. “Come on in to breakfast and we’ll talk about it,” he added. “Mardi Gras is the one day in the year that you’re up early enough to eat breakfast with me.”
“Didn’t he say who he was?” Barbara asked. “I can’t imagine who was calling me last night.”
“He mumbled some name,” Mr. Brinkley said disgustedly. “Robert something-or-other... I couldn’t understand him very well.”
“Robert?” both the girls echoed in unison. They gazed at each other in dismay. Barbara’s eyes were distended.
“Do you suppose it could have been...?”
“Of course not,” Ethel said impatiently. “Probably one of Frank’s drunken friends.”
“But... but... if it was...” Barbara faltered.
“Was his last name anything like Sutler?” Ethel demanded of her father.
“Now let me see.” He wrinkled his forehead thoughtfully. “It might have been Sutler,” he acknowledged. “Though I couldn’t say positively.”
“What did he say?” Barbara asked tensely. “Did he leave any message?”
“He left no message,” Mr. Brinkley assured her. “He merely asked for you... and gasped when I told him you were out and I had no idea when you would return.”
“Oh!” Barbara bit her lip fiercely and stared at Ethel. “I... I... Excuse me,” she stammered, jumping up from the table and hurrying from the room.
“What on earth?” Mr. Brinkley began stupidly.
“Why didn’t you tell her his name wasn’t Sutler?” Ethel asked angrily. “Her whole day will be spoiled now.”
“But... how was I to know?” Mr. Brinkley said helplessly. “Who is Robert Sutler, and why should a call from him spoil her day?”
“He’s a brawny nincompoop from the farm back home that she thinks she’s in love with,” Ethel told him swiftly. “If that hick has followed her here to spoil her vacation, I’ll... I’ll shoot him,” she said savagely. “Just when she was beginning to snap out of it too,” she muttered. “You’ll have to excuse me, Dad. I’ll go up to keep her from tearing out her hair.”
Mr. Brinkley stared after Ethel in bewilderment. He shook his head sadly and muttered something between his teeth.
Ethel found Barbara sitting in her room staring out the window.
“Don’t start moping.” Ethel crossed the room quickly and laid her hand on Barbara’s shoulder.
“But suppose it was Bob?” Barbara began tragically.
“You’ll do better to suppose it wasn’t,” Ethel told her practically. “He refused to come when you begged him to, didn’t he? What makes you think he’d change his mind?”
“But if he did? And I... Oh, Ethel! What shall I do?”
“Don’t turn on the waterworks,” Ethel said impatiently. “I thought you were through with that guy. Suppose he is here? Are you going to let him ruin your fun? Going to let him be a killjoy? He did his best to keep you from coming. Going to let him pull his dog-in-the manger stuff again?”
“Oh but... but you don’t understand.”
“The devil I don’t. I understand his type all right,” Ethel told her viciously. “It gripes his soul to see anybody have a good time. But I bet he wouldn’t turn down anything if he thought he could get away with it.”
“Oh no! Not Bob!” Barbara defended him quickly. “He’s too fine and good. That’s why... last night...” She began to sob unhappily.
“Forget it.” Ethel shook her roughly. “Ten to one it wasn’t Bob. And suppose it was? You haven’t anything to be ashamed of. You’re still pure. You’ve still got your virginity, if that’s what you’re worrying about...”
“It’s no credit to me that I’m not... not ruined,” Barbara sobbed. “I just the same as gave myself to Frank last night. I tried to... and wanted to. I just... happened to... to lose consciousness before it... it happened.”
“What of it? He doesn’t need to know that,” Ethel comforted her. “You’ve still got your cherished purity to hand over to him, if you persist in marrying the yokel. So dry those tears and let’s go out to make whoopee.”
“But what about Bob?” Barbara protested. “He may call up again.”
“If it was Bob and if he wanted to find you he would have left a message for you. I’ll tell mom to get his phone number if he calls again, and we can call here any time you get impatient to see if he’s called. You can’t sit around all Mardi Gras with just the thin suspicion that it’s Bob,” she ended angrily.
“All right.” Barbara dried her eyes and essayed a smile. “Dumb of me,” she conceded. “But I’m all right now.”
“Come on then.” Ethel arose quickly. “I’ll go tell mom to be sure and check on any telephone calls that come. You get your face fixed and come on. It’s time we were getting down to where we can see the parade. An hour from now we’ll not be able to move on the streets for the crush.”
Chapter Fifteen
Mr. Brinkley drove the two girls downtown. He had arranged to drop them on St. Charles Avenue near Lee Circle, and return for Mrs. Brinkley who would go with him to view the Rex pageant from their parked automobile.
Ethel told Barbara that the reason her father and mother didn’t want to stay with them on St. Charles was because of the impossibility of driving a car through the streets for hours after the procession.
Barbara sat tensely in the automobile and was all eyes as Mr. Brinkley drove them downtown. The streets presented a thunderous spectacle which totally eclipsed the more subdued gayety of the preceding day.
Every house and every automobile was draped with flags, banners, and all manner of Carnival decorations. The hordes of people who pressed eagerly to obtain a point of vantage along the line of the parade were tremendous. Everywhere the Carnival spirit was evident.
Fully two-thirds were garbed in fantastic costume, and masked with dominoes or grotesque caricatures. All of New Orleans was at play to-day, and it seemed that every soul in the city was in the streets, dancing, capering, shouting, giving full rein to the holiday spirit of reckless merriment.
There would be street dancing after the pageant, Ethel told her. And the Druids would present their pageant and tableau after Rex had passed by. Throughout the city during the afternoon and evening there would be local gatherings for masked street dancing and reviews of masqueraders for the award of prizes.
But King Rex, the Merry Monarch of the Carnival was the focal point of interest now. After he passed the throngs would turn more to localized and group gayety.
St. Charles Avenue was a seething maelstrom of expectant humanity. Police were everywhere, directing traffic as best they could, keeping the route of the parade open good-naturedly and with laughing insistence.
Ethel and Barbara got out of the car a block away from St. Charles and plunged into massed watchers to worm their way through to a reserved point of vantage on a first story balcony overlooking the avenue. The building was owned by Mr. Brinkley, and the balcony was kept cleared each year for those of Ethel’s friends whom she invited to join her for the spectacle.
She and Barbara were breathless and disheveled when they finally gained the stairway leading to the balcony. Barbara’s face was flushed and her eyes were starry. The magnificent spectacle of which she was a part had driven all thought of Robert from her mind. She was determined to grasp the present and hug it to her heart.