The Flower Brides (18 page)

“Where is Laurie now? Why didn’t you tell him it wasn’t true? Why didn’t you show him the notes from Marigold and make him understand that it wasn’t your fault?”

“Oh, I did. I tried to, but he wouldn’t listen. He just went on drinking and drinking, and dancing with that one awful girl.”

“Well, you’ve Robena to thank for that. She started him drinking. Every time I saw them together the first part of the evening she was either handing him another glass or he was handing her one. And if you ask me, I think
she
was the disgrace of the whole party, the way she carried on with that Russian-looking man that came in late. She was drunk herself! She’s the one I would have been ashamed of if
I
had been in
your
place.”

“Really, Irene, I don’t think you are very kind. You’ve just taken a dislike to Robena because you know I like her. And the idea that that other girl should presume to buy a dress like that! It’s absurd! It’s not suitable for her position, a little schoolteacher!”

“All right, Adele! Talk that way if you want to, but if Marigold Brooke had been here wearing that sumptuous white dress with the crimson velvet sash, you would have seen something worth describing in the society columns, and you wouldn’t have seen her lolling around with any foreign counts and acting crazy, either. It’s my opinion that she wouldn’t have remained here long if she had come. She isn’t used to a drunken crowd. I thought it was disgusting the way that Robena acted. You needn’t be surprised at anything your precious Laurie does if he stays around that girl long. She’s enough to be the downfall of a saint, and I don’t mean maybe. But if Marigold had been here, I suppose you would have somehow blamed it on her. Though you couldn’t if you’d once see her face. Really, she’s lovely, Adele, and if you had any sense at all about managing Laurie, you’d cultivate that girl and get her to use her influence with him to keep him away from drink. He can’t stand it, and that’s the truth! Where is he now, did you say?”

“I didn’t say,” said Mrs. Trescott severely. “But he’s probably asleep. I’m sure I hope he is. And when he comes to himself, he probably won’t know what it’s all about. But I feel disgraced forever, having him bring in that awful, frumpy girl. Why, my dear, did you notice? I’m sure her evening gown was made of
rayon
, and her makeup was appalling.”

“Well,” said Irene thoughtfully, “she was pretty awful, but I don’t know as you deserve any sympathy. You deliberately asked for it. I’ve heard Laurie myself asking you more than once to be nice to Marigold, and she really is a nice girl, even if she hasn’t much money. She doesn’t use any makeup at all. She doesn’t need to. She has plenty of her own color, and charming taste in dress, even when she has no money and has to make her own clothes. However, as I told you, if she had been here at the party, she would have worn the white and crimson, and your precious Robena would have had to seek further for something royal enough to wear.”

“I really can’t credit that, Irene. A little nobody wouldn’t know enough to buy a gown like that white one and wouldn’t have had even a hundred and fifty dollars to say nothing of two hundred to spend on one dress. It’s just some cock-and-bull story that some of those salespeople have put over on you.”

“Suit yourself, Adele. I’m sorry I mentioned it. But someday you’ll find out. Go down and ask Madame, if you don’t believe me. She’d have to own up. I’m sick of the whole story, though I do feel sorry for you after all the trouble and time and money you spent on that party. But I must say you brought it on yourself. When you could have had a perfectly good girl for Laurie that doesn’t ever drink and you
chose
to bring Robena here who drinks like a fish, I don’t see that you can ask pity of anyone. Marigold
never
drinks.”

“But that’s not respectable either, Irene. A girl
has
to drink to a certain extent today when everybody expects it. The difference is she ought to be trained not to drink
too much
. Not to get beyond the respectable limit.”

“You don’t seem to have succeeded very well in training your son,” said Irene coldly.

“There you go again, Irene. You’ve no human kindness at all. When you see how sick and nervous I am about having that awful little street girl in here. He just
picked her up
! Somebody he
never heard of
before! And
introduced
her in
my parlor
! I am ready to
drop with shame
!”

“At that he didn’t pick so badly,” said Irene contemptuously. “And she
wasn
’
t
a stranger to him. He told me so.”

“What do you mean!” demanded the irate mother. “He told me he was going out to pick up the first girl he met in the street just to get it back on me. He told me that right in front of everybody before he went out!” She began to weep again.

“Yes, but he didn’t. He went outside and saw a girl he used to know in grammar school, Lily Trevor. She used to be a cute, smart little thing. And when he went outside and saw her coming by with somebody else to the movies, he made her come in, just to make good his word. But he knew her. She wasn’t a stranger.”

“What difference does it make?” sneered the outraged mother. “Everybody saw she was just a cheap little thing, beside herself with conceit because Laurie had brought her in.”

“Well, if you ask me, I thought she behaved as well as the rest of them,” said Irene dryly. “I think myself the gem of the whole evening was the fact that your precious Robena appeared in the dress that had been turned down by the girl you scorned. Wasn’t that something you’d call ‘the irony of fate’? I haven’t been able to stop laughing since I heard it.”

“Well, I
don’t believe it
! I don’t believe a
word of it
!” said the irate mother, flashing her swollen eyes as well as they would flash. “I wish you would go away and leave me to my misery.
Every
thing has gone wrong since that awful Brooke girl came into the picture, and I believe in my soul
you
had something to do with my Laurie meeting her! Anyway, if you didn’t introduce them, I’m sure you
encouraged
the relationship. You with your outrageous bourgeois tastes and your strange whims and fancies!
Gold
hair, you say. Probably
bleached
! There isn’t any real gold hair today. An intriguing little fortune-seeker! And I have to have all my plans and ambitions and hard work for nothing just because Laurie has an infatuation for her. Now, if he becomes a drunkard, I shall have
you
to thank for it.” And she plunged into her damp handkerchief again in new self-pity.

Irene cast a withering glance at her.

“Someday,” she said cuttingly, “you’ll see that girl, and then you’ll know what a fool you’ve made of yourself, turning her down, and then you’ll have to eat your words! But you’re mistaken about me! I never had anything to do with Laurie meeting her. I wish I had. She’s quite the decentest girl I know and would have done Laurie a world of good. But I’m sure if she knew what
he
was, she would never have anything to do with him again.”

“What do you mean, Irene? What is the matter with my Laurie? Why should a little upstart nobody turn down Lawrence Trescott?”

“I mean just what you’ve been telling me. He drinks too much and does horrible things like bringing in strangers when he gets beside himself.
Drunk
, you said he was! But you’ve always given him too much money and let him have his own way. What can you expect?”

“Yes, you who have brought up so many children! Of course, you know all about it,” sneered the mother.

“Well, all right. You can sneer, but you try it awhile. Take Laurie’s money away and don’t have so many cocktails around, and see if Laurie doesn’t turn out to be something worthwhile after all—unless perhaps it’s too late. Good-bye. I’m going home till you are in a pleasanter mood.” Irene took off angrily, a secret gleam of triumph in her eyes to think that she had been able to find out about the white dress with the scarlet sash that everybody had raved so much about. What a pity Marigold Brooke hadn’t stuck by her first acceptance and come in the dress instead of Robena! It certainly would have opened Laurie’s mother’s eyes to a few things. Marigold Brooke in that gorgeous array would have been a winner! Irene gave a wistful sigh. She would like to see her favorite nephew paired off with a girl like Marigold instead of a vapid creature like Robena. But, of course, Robena had money, and that was everything in the eyes of Laurie’s mother. Poor Laurie!

Then she went home, and that night she sat in front of her mirror for a long time, reflecting on her own face, which was beginning to age. Not that she was old yet by any means, but she could see the flesh beginning to sag. She noted the dullness of her eyes and the threads of silver that had slipped in among her well-dyed locks. It wouldn’t be long before she would look as old as poor Adele, though never quite so fat, she hoped. And life! What was it worth? What was the use of living, anyway? Just clamor and conceit and ambition, each trying to get ahead of the other, weary contests, and what did it all amount to? Why did anyone want to live? And yet there was nothing attractive in the thought of dying. One must go on with the race, the losing race, unsatisfied soul struggling with unsatisfied soul and never getting anywhere!

Marigold didn’t look as if she felt that way. She was young yet. Life hadn’t disappointed her and left her a piece of flotsam cast up on the edge of the stream. But it likely would. Probably Laurie would disappoint her. Someday she would find out he got drunk whenever he liked and made a fool of himself. And then where would her bright looks be? Her flame of hair would turn white, the firm pink flesh and the rounded cheek would grow fragile, and even a Marigold would begin to fade. Or would she? Irene had seen her that day, and there had been such a look about her of fadelessness and peace, as if she had a source of endless life within her that would never let the sparkle go from her lovely eyes, the prettiness from her sweet face. What was it that made Marigold so entirely content? She wished she knew the secret.

And about that time, Marigold was kneeling beside her bed giving herself utterly to her Lord, that she might know the joy of a resurrection life lived by faith in Christ, in the strength of His resurrection power.

She was not even thinking of Laurie at all.

Ethan Bevan had taken her straight home to the apartment, carrying her baggage up and turning on the lights, exactly as if he belonged there. He cast one glance around him and said with satisfaction, “This is nice. It looks like home!” And there was wistfulness in his eyes. Then he threw his hat and coat on a chair and went to work.

He brought in the milk that was left outside the door, according to the note left in the milk bottle, and the loaf of bread that lay beside it.

Marigold hurried into the kitchen and started some coffee, got out a can of baked beans, a glass jar of tongue, and another of luscious peaches.

“It isn’t a very grand meal,” she said, with a deprecatory look at the can opener she was holding, “but it will only take a jiffy to have it ready.”

“It looks like a swell meal to me,” he said happily, putting his hand around hers and gently but firmly possessing himself of the can opener. “I’ll do that. That’s my job,” he said, and then he attacked the cans capably.

Marigold laughed happily and surrendered the cans to his ministrations. There was butter in the refrigerator and there were tins of cookies. Marigold prepared the beans with butter, molasses, salt, and pepper and a brisk bit of cooking, and they sent out a savory odor. She whisked a clean tablecloth onto the little table in the kitchenette, set the table invitingly with her mother’s lovely sprigged china and silver, then she scrambled some eggs. It was all ready in no time and they were sitting down together, just the two of them, with such a pleasant sense of coziness upon them that a sudden shyness came upon Marigold. As she bowed her head while Ethan asked the blessing, she felt as if peace were descending into her heart, as if the presence of God was there with them. How wonderful to have a cheery, strong, reverent friend like this! How nice that he had been willing to stay and eat this simple meal with her.

All too soon the minutes flew away, and he looked at his watch.

“Well, time’s up!” he said, with a wistful smile. “I’m glad we had this brief hour together. It’s been a wonderful meal, and we’ve pretty well cleared the cloth and licked the platter clean, haven’t we? I wish I could stay to help wash the dishes, but I guess I must go, for that fellow said the shop closed at six, and I must be there to get my package.”

Then he was into his overcoat, hat in hand, and standing by the door about to leave when there came a tap on the door.

Marigold looked up in annoyance. Why did it have to come just then? Somehow that last minute seemed important. She didn’t like to be interrupted. But, of course, that was silly.

She opened the door and Mrs. Waterman stood there, looking her slatternliest, her hair in crimpers and a soiled, torn dress on.

“I forgot to give you this letter,” she said apologetically. “Your young man was here about noon wanting you. I told him you’d likely be here tonight, and he wrote this letter. He said he’d be back. You must excuse my looks; I’m getting ready to go out this evening.”

The color flamed into Marigold’s cheeks, and she stared at the woman, annoyed.

“
My
young man?” she laughed, embarrassed. “Who is
he
?”

“Why, the fellow with that swell car that comes here to take you out so much.”

Marigold took the letter, her cheeks still glowing, and closed the door after the retiring neighbor. She looked down at the letter with troubled eyes. Then she looked up and saw the expression on Ethan’s face. She didn’t stop to analyze it. She wasn’t just sure what it meant, but there was tenderness in it, she was sure of that. Suddenly she spoke from the impulse of her own need, looking down at the unopened letter, which bore her name in Laurie’s large, bold handwriting.