Brentwood (29 page)

“All right!” said Marjorie with a sigh, “but there won’t be any harm in getting some of the cleaning done and having the plumbing and heating gone over and things like that. Then when we are ready to move, it won’t take long.”

Betty giggled.

“It wouldn’t take long anyway,” she said. “Have you considered how little we really have to move? One truckload! You’d better think twice, Marjorie. It will be quite a come-down to go into a big house and see our few sticks rattling around in those big rooms after the luxurious home you’ve always had. When you get back to Chicago, you’ll see the difference right away from this little old dump.”

Marjorie smiled.

“I’ll see the difference, all right. I wish I could take you all with me, but I know you wouldn’t like that, any of you.”

“Dear, you’re going to mind giving up that lovely house, aren’t you? But it doesn’t just seem right for us to go there, if we decide to be together. Mrs. Wetherill’s friends would criticize,” said the mother.

“No, of course not!” said Marjorie briskly. “But anyway, I like Brentwood better.”

They talked of other things before they went to bed and had a happy time together, although they were all quiet and thoughtful. The shadow of the testing time that was coming had already fallen upon them.

The next morning after the breakfast work was done, Marjorie wrote to the servants. She would be at home two days after New Year’s. Then she had a talk with Betty.

“You and I should go shopping,” she said. “I want to watch you buy some pretty things for yourself, and there are things the children ought to have.”

Betty, nothing loath, consented.

“We can go tomorrow,” she said. “Father says his work on those books will be finished then, and he can stay home. Anyway, Mother feels so much better now, that she will be all right with the children. If only it weren’t for Bud. He’ll drag in a goat or a rabbit or something from the street and wash it in the dishpan again, I suppose. He does think of the most impossible things to do.”

“We’ll talk to Bud and put him on his honor. I’ll promise him a crossing light for his train if he cares for them all beautifully.”

“You mustn’t begin by giving him everything he wants, or he’ll be utterly spoiled,” warned Betty.

“No, I won’t, but this is a special time, holidays, and Mother not well, you know.”

“Mother won’t be really well till this thing is settled,” said Betty with pursed lips.

“No, I suppose not,” said Marjorie with a sigh, “but I don’t know what to do. They would have it this way.”

“I know,” said Betty. “I guess it’s right, too. You oughtn’t to be tied down by us.”

“You don’t suppose I feel that way about it, do you?”

“Well, maybe you don’t now, but you might sometime.”

Marjorie smiled.

“You’ll see!”

So they went shopping.

They had a lovely time and bought a lot of fascinating things. Betty said it was Christmas all over again.

She looked very pretty as she waited for Marjorie, who had gone to another part of the store to get Bud’s signal light. She watched the throng of shoppers, well-dressed and happy, moving by. She was conscious of looking just as well as any of them. Fur coat and chic little hat, new gloves and trim shoes. She had never been so handsomely dressed in her life. She glowed all over with comfort and satisfaction, and her cheeks had a pretty pink that was very becoming.

Just then a long, lank, sallow youth with a daredevil in his eye and a loose, handsome mouth came up to Betty and gave her a long, admiring stare.

“Well, some baby-doll!” he exclaimed. “Am I seeing right? Is this my on-time co-laborer in Old Jamison’s office, or is it some millionaire’s daughter?”

I
t was Ellery Aiken, who had been in the office where Betty worked before her mother was taken sick. It was he to whom Ted had referred as a “poor sap.”

He grasped her hand in a long, lingering clasp that expressed as much as the languishing look in his bold eyes.

Betty was delighted. Here was a chance to show off her fur coat where it would be appreciated. Here was a chance to impress the young man who hadn’t taken the trouble to come and see her after she moved. She had never been quite sure that Ted had not had something to do with that.

But now here he was and taking in her changed appearance!

She lifted her chin proudly and smiled, and he let his eyes linger on her pretty face, with that intimate glance that all the girls usually fell for. A kind of triumph filled Betty’s heart. She hadn’t lost her power over him yet.

“Well, beautiful, you’re lovelier than ever. Where did you get the glad rags? Strike oil or something?” His eyes roved boldly over her garments as if he had a right.

“How about a date, baby?” he asked. “Got anything doing tonight or tomorrow night? How’d you like to do the round with me? Little supper, dance, and go the rounds of the nightclubs? Like to show you something real.”

Betty flushed proudly, and her eyes sparkled. Ellery had never asked her out before. She suspected that it was because her clothes were plain and worn. But now he wanted her, did he? Well, he would have to ask humbly. With a coat and hat like this, she could afford to be the least bit haughty.

“Thanks, that’s kind of you,” she answered, trying to feign an indifference she did not feel. It was going to her head to have attention. Two young men in one week, even if one had taken her to church!

Of the two dates, she preferred the nightclubs.

Of course, the doctor was much higher class than Ellery, who was only a subordinate with a very small salary, but she had always secretly yearned to see a real nightclub, and she had heard Ellery boast of his intimate acquaintance with them. “I don’t just know what free time I shall have the next few days,” she said casually. “My twin sister is visiting us. I wouldn’t feel like leaving her.”

“Twin sister!” said the young man, deeply impressed. “Lead me to her! Is she as pretty as you are, baby?”

“People say we are alike,” said Betty, with a toss of her head.

“All right, bring her along,” said the cad graciously. “Be delighted to entertain you both. Just phone me at the office and name the night, and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Well, I’ll talk to my sister,” said Betty, flattered as she could be. Poor Betty had been bitter that she could not have nice things and go out like other girls.

Marjorie was longer being waited on than she had expected, and young Ellery’s lunch hour was over, so he left a minute or two before Marjorie arrived, but Betty’s cheeks were still blazing proudly and her eyes shining.

“You just missed meeting an old friend of mine,” said Betty.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Who was it?”

“Oh, just a fellow that worked in the same office with me on my last job. Maybe you wouldn’t have thought much of him, but he’s awfully good looking. He’s asked us to go out with him some evening this week. I told him you were here, and he’s crazy to meet you. Would you like to go? His name’s Ellery Aiken.”

Marjorie had a sudden memory of Ted saying, “He’s a poor sap from the office where she used to work.” Could this be the same one?

“Why, that’s very kind of him,” she faltered. What should she do? Not antagonize Betty if she could help it, of course. Maybe she ought to go along and find out what kind of a person he was. Ted might be prejudiced, of course. Boys were, sometimes. “Where is he going to take us?”

“Why, he’ll take us somewhere to supper and then the round of the nightclubs,” said Betty enthusiastically. “He knows them all. I’ve heard him talk about them at the office. He’s awfully good looking, and very popular”—Betty’s knowledge of Ellery’s popularity was mainly gleaned from his own words—“and he know the ropes all around places. We’ll really see things!”

“Nightclubs!” said Marjorie in dismay she could not keep out of her voice. “Oh, my dear! Do you go to nightclubs?”

“I’ve never been, but I’ve always been crazy to see one. Why? Don’t you like them?” She almost glared at Marjorie. Was Marjorie going to high-hat her now when she had been so pleased that she had a social advantage to offer her?

“I’ve never been to a nightclub, of course, but I don’t think I would care to go,” she said gently.

“But if you’ve never been, how do you know you don’t like them?”

“Why, I shouldn’t care to go among people who are drinking,” said Marjorie, with a troubled look at her pretty sister.

“Drinking! Why, for pity’s sake, you wouldn’t have to drink if you didn’t want to, would you? And anyway, everybody drinks in society today. It isn’t courteous not to drink, I’ve heard.”

“
Every
body doesn’t drink, Betty, not in the society I know, and we were well acquainted with some of the nicest people in Chicago. None of them drank. Of course, Mrs. Wetherill was particular about the people she was intimate with. She just didn’t go with that kind of people.”

“For pity’s sake! Why not? Was she very religious?”

“No, I wouldn’t call her religious. She went to church, of course, but she did not say much about religious things. I wish she had said more. I grew up without much idea of such things, except that it was respectable to go to church. But the churches she picked out were rather cold and uninteresting. Lovely services and excellent music, of course, and nice people there, but—no, I wouldn’t say she was religious. She just didn’t like to be with people who drank. She didn’t think it was nice. She didn’t like fast society. We were rather quiet people, you know!”

“For pity’s sake, and I’ve been envying you all the chances you’ve had to see life.”

“But I don’t believe that’s life, Betty,” said Marjorie thoughtfully. “The people I’ve seen who go in for that sort of thing look to me more as if they’d been seeing death than life. It always fills me full of horror to see people under the influence of liquor.”

“Oh, I don’t mean really drunk,” said Betty glibly. “People don’t need to drink too much.”

“Don’t they? I wonder why so many of them do, then!”

“Oh, you don’t see so many drunk! They’re only a little loose. They say a little drink or two makes you bright and interesting.”

“It makes people utterly silly,” said Marjorie, “and entirely disgusting. I’ve seen girls coming home from parties, sometimes in the public railroad station, acting like fools. If they could once have a picture of how they looked and see it when they were sober, I shouldn’t think they’d ever be able to hold up their heads again!”

“Then you won’t go?” said Betty vexedly.

“No, Betty, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t feel at home in a nightclub.”

“I didn’t know you were straitlaced.”

“Is that straitlaced? I thought it was only a kind of refinement. Just plain decency.”

“Well, I’m sure most young people do those things today. All except fanatical people. Religious cranks, you know.”

“I guess many do,” said Marjorie, “but I don’t like such things. I’ve never been religious or fanatical that I know of. But I just don’t like a letting go of the fine things of life. It seems to me that people who do things like that are just letting go of everything worthwhile.”

“Oh, heavens! You sound just for all the world like Ted!” said Betty almost angrily. “Here I thought I had something nice, to show you a good time, and you’ve spoiled it all.”

“I’m sorry, Betty, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t go to places like that. I just wouldn’t belong. I wouldn’t feel it was the right thing.”

Betty sulked almost all the way home, with stormy eyes averted, looking out the other side of the taxi. At last, as they were nearing home, Marjorie said sadly, “Well, now I suppose you won’t want me to come back and live with you, since you’ve found out I don’t agree with you on the way to have a good time.”

“Oh, forget it!” said Betty unhappily. “I suppose I’ve been terribly disagreeable to you again, and you won’t want to come back. But I can’t help it; I’ve always wanted to have a good time, and I’ve always wanted to go to a nightclub.”

Marjorie looked at her earnestly.

“I don’t believe you’d really like such things, Betty. I think you’d be disappointed.”

“How do you know if you’ve never been there?”

“I know the kind of people who go to such places. In fact, I know personally a few—that is, they are not my
friends
, but they are acquaintances—and, well, they are not like you, Betty. I think you really like fine, lovely things, not wild, hard-boiled places and people who are just out to do some new, crazy thing and find a new thrill, no matter how dangerous or unconventional it is. Oh, Betty, dear, I don’t know how to talk about such things, but I just feel they are not the thing for you and me to do. They are not things that our mother and father would approve, at least it seems that way to me.”

“They belong to another generation,” pouted Betty.

“What difference does that make? The world is the same in any generation, and human life is the same. Good and bad are the same. Kicking over pleasant, helpful rules and running wild doesn’t change results.”

Then they reached home, and Betty, with a sigh, went in and took off her beautiful finery. That night before they went to sleep she had the grace to apologize to Marjorie for being disagreeable after Marjorie had gotten her so many lovely things.

But Marjorie lay wakeful through several hours, and in her heart began to pray for her sister, the first prayer she had ever made for anybody else.

It troubled her, too, that they had found a point of disagreement. What if they came to live together and found more and more that their ways differed! Would it make life unhappy for them all? Was this one of the things that her father and mother wished her to consider before deciding whether or not to cast in her lot with her family?

But then, other families must differ. What did they do? They didn’t go off and live away from home because they differed, at least not many of them, not nice people. They learned to adjust their differences and to help one another find the right values and make a happy home for all. Wasn’t that what God had meant people should do? How she would like to talk it over with Gideon Reaver!