because he had had difficulty in getting a pass to the wharf,
and furious, finally, because he hadn't slept, Mr. Wrenn nursed
all these cumulative emotions attentively and waited for the
coming of the _Hesperida_. He was wondering if he'd want to see
Istra at all. He couldn't remember just how she looked. Would
he like her?
The great steamer swung side-to and was coaxed alongside the
wharf. Peering out between rows of crowding shoulders, Mr.
Wrenn coldly inspected the passengers lining the decks. Istra
was not in sight. Then he knew that he was wildly agitated
about her. Suppose something had happened to her!
The smallish man who had been edging into the crowd so politely
suddenly dashed to the group forming at the gang-plank and
pushed his way rudely into the front rank. His elbow dug into
the proper waistcoat of a proper plump old gentleman, but he
didn't know it. He stood grasping the rope rail of the plank,
gazing goggle-eyed while the plank was lifted to the steamer's
deck and the long line of smiling and waving passengers
disembarked. Then he saw her--tall, graceful, nonchalant,
uninterested, in a smart check suit with a lively hat of black
straw, carrying a new Gladstone bag.
He stared at her. "Gee!" he gasped. "I'm crazy about her.
I am, all right."
She saw him, and their smiles of welcome made them one.
She came from the plank and hastily kissed him.
"Really here!" she laughed.
"Well, well, well, well! I'm so glad to see you!"
"Glad to see you, Mouse dear."
"Have good tr----"
"Don't ask me about it! There was a married man _sans_ wife who
persecuted me all the way over. I'm glad _you_ aren't going to
fall in love with me."
"Why--uh----"
"Let's hustle over and get through the customs as soon as we
can. Where's N? Oh, how clever of it, it's right by M.
There's one of my trunks already. How are you, Mouse dear?"
But she didn't seem really to care so very much, and the old
bewilderment she always caused was over him.
"It is good to get back after all, and--Mouse dear, I know you
won't mind finding me a place to live the next few days, will
you?" She quite took it for granted. "We'll find a place this
morning, _n'est-ce pas?_ Not too expensive. I've got just about
enough to get back to California."
Man fashion, he saw with acute clearness the pile of work on his
desk, and, man fashion, responded, "No; be glad tuh."
"How about the place where you're living? You spoke about its
being so clean and all."
The thought of Nelly and Istra together frightened him.
"Why, I don't know as you'd like it so very much."
"Oh, it'll be all right for a few days, anyway. Is there a
room vacant."
He was sulky about it. He saw much trouble ahead.
"Why, yes, I suppose there is."
"Mouse dear!" Istra plumped down on a trunk in the confused
billows of incoming baggage, customs officials, and indignant
passengers that surged about them on the rough floor of the vast
dock-house. She stared up at him with real sorrow in her fine eyes.
"Why, Mouse! I thought yo u'd be glad to see me. I've never
rowed with you, have I? I've tried not to be temperamental with
you. That's why I wired you, when there are others I've known
for years."
"Oh, I didn't mean to seem grouchy; I didn't! I just wondered if
you'd like the house."
He could have knelt in repentance before his goddess, what time
she was but a lonely girl in the clatter of New York. He went on:
"And we've got kind of separated, and I didn't know---- But I guess
I'll always--oh--kind of worship you."
"It's all right, Mouse. It's---- Here's the customs men."
Now Istra Nash knew perfectly that the customs persons were not
ready to examine her baggage as yet. But the discussion was
ended, and they seemed to understand each other.
"Gee, there's a lot of rich Jew ladies coming back this time!"
said he.
"Yes. They had diamonds three times a day," she assented.
"Gee, this is a big place!"
"Yes." So did they testify to fixity of friendship till they
as a new guest.
Dinner began with the ceremony due Mrs. Arty. There was no lack
of the sacred old jokes. Tom Poppins did not fail to bellow
"Bring on the dish-water," nor Miss Mary Proudfoot to cheep
demurely "Don't y' knaow" in a tone which would have been
recognized as fascinatingly English anywhere on the American
stage. Then the talk stopped dead as Istra Nash stood agaze in
the doorway--pale and intolerant, her red hair twisted high on
her head, tall and slim and uncorseted in a gray tight-fitting
gown. Every head turned as on a pivot, first to Istra, then to
Mr. Wrenn. He blushed and bowed as if he had been called on for
a speech, stumblingly arose, and said: "Uh--uh--uh--you met
Mrs. Ferrard, didn't you, Istra? She'll introduce you to the rest."
He sat down, wondering why the deuce he'd stood up, and
unhappily realized that Nelly was examining Istra and himself
with cool hostility. In a flurry he glowered at Istra as she
nonchalantly sat down opposite him, beside Mrs. Arty, and
incuriously unfolded her napkin. He thought that in her
cheerful face there was an expression of devilish amusement.
He blushed. He furiously buttered his bread as Mrs. Arty
remarked to the assemblage:
"Ladies and gentlemen, I want you all to meet Miss Istra Nash.
Miss Nash--you've met Mr. Wrenn; Miss Nelly Croubel, our baby;
Tom Poppins, the great Five-Hundred player; Mrs. Ebbitt, Mr.
Ebbitt, Miss Proudfoot."
Istra Nash lifted her bowed eyes with what seemed shyness,
hesitated, said "Thank you" in a clear vo ice with a precise
pronunciation, and returned to her soup, as though her pleasant
communion with it had been unpleasantly interrupted.
The others began talking and eating very fast and rather noisily.
Miss Mary Proudfoot's thin voice pierced the clamor:
"I hear you have just come to New York, Miss Nash."
"Yes."
"Is this your first visit to----"
"No."
Miss Proudfoot rancorously took a long drink of water.
Nelly attempted, bravely:
"Do you like New York, Miss Nash?"
"Yes."
Nelly and Miss Proudfoot and Tom Poppins began discussing
shoe-stores, all at once and very rapidly, while hot and
uncomfortable Mr. Wrenn tried to think of something to say....
Good Lord, suppose Istra "queered" him at Mrs. Arty's!...
Then he was angry at himself and all of them for not
appreciating her. How exquisite she looked, with her tired
white face!
As the soup-plates were being removed by Annie, the maid, with
an elaborate confusion and a general passing of plates down the
line, Istra Nash peered at the maid petulantly. Mrs. Arty
frowned, then grew artificially pleasant and s
aid:
"Miss Nash has just come back from Paris. She's a regular
European traveler, just like Mr. Wrenn."
Mrs. Samuel Ebbitt piped: "Mr. Ebbitt was to Europe. In 1882."
"No 'twa'n't, Fannie; 'twas in 1881," complained Mr. Ebbitt.
Miss Nash waited for the end of this interruption as though it
were a noise which merely had to be endured, like the Elevated.
Twice she drew in her breath to speak, and the whole table laid
its collective knife and fork down to listen. All she said was:
"Oh, will you pardon me if I speak of it now, Mrs. Ferrard, but
would you mind letting me have my breakfast in my room
to-morrow? About nine? Just something simple--a canteloupe
and some shirred eggs and chocolate?"
"Oh no; why, yes, certainly, "mumbled Mrs. Arty, while the table
held its breaths and underneath them gasped:
"Chocolate!"
"A canteloupe!"
"Shirred eggs!"
"_In her room--at nine!_"
All this was very terrible to Mr. Wrenn. He found himself in
the position of a man scheduled to address the Brewers'
Association and the W. C. T. U. at the same hour.
Valiantly he attempted:
"Miss Nash oughta be a good person for our picnics. She's a
regular shark for outdoor tramping."
"Oh yes, Mr. Wrenn and I tramped most all night in England one
time," said Istra, innocently.
The eyes of the table asked Mr. Wrenn what he meant by it.
He tried to look at Nelly, but something hurt inside him.
"Yes," he mumbled. "Quite a long walk."
Miss Mary Proudfoot tried again:
"is it pleasant to study in Paris? Mrs. Arty said you were an artist."
"No."
Then they were all silent, and the rest of the dinner Mr. Wrenn
alternately discussed Olympia Johns with Istra and picnics with
Nelly. There was an undertone of pleading in his voice which
made Nelly glance at him and even become kind. With quiet
insistence she dragged Istra into a discussion of rue de la Paix
fashions which nearly united the shattered table and won Mr.
Wrenn's palpitating thankfulness.
After dessert Istra slowly drew a plain gold cigarette-case from
a brocade bag of silvery gray. She took out a match and a thin
Russian cigarette, which she carefully lighted. She sat smoking
in one of her best attitudes, pointed elbows on the table,
coolly contemplating a huge picture called "Hunting the Stag"
on the wall behind Mr. Wrenn.
Mrs. Arty snapped to the servant, "Annie, bring me _my_ cigarettes."
But Mrs. Arty always was penitent when she had been nasty,
and--though Istra did not at once seem to know that the
landlady _had_ been nasty--Mrs. Arty invited her up to the parlor
for after-dinner so cordially that Istra could but grant
"Perhaps I will," and she even went so far as to say, "I think
you're all to be envied, having such a happy family."
"Yes, that's so," reflected Mrs. Arty.
"Yes," added Mr. Wrenn.
And Nelly: "That's so."
The whole table nodded gravely, "Yes, that's so."
"I'm sure"--Istra smiled at Mrs. Arty--"that it's because a
woman is running things. Now think what cat-and-dog lives you'd
lead if Mr. Wrenn or Mr.--Popple, was it?--were ruling."
They applauded. They felt that she had been humorous. She was
again and publicly invited up to the parlor, and she came,
though she said, rather shortly, that she didn't play Five
Hundred, but only bumblepuppy bridge, a variety of whist which
Mr. Wrenn instantly resolved to learn. She reclined ("reclined"
is perfectly accurate) on the red- leather couch, among the
pillows, and smoked two cigarettes, relapsing into "No?"'s for
conversation.
Mr. Wrenn said to himself, almost spitefully, as she snubbed
Nelly, "Too good for us, is she?" But he couldn't keep away from
her. The realization that Istra was in the room made him forget
most of his melds at pinochle; and when Miss Proudfoot inquired
his opinion as to whether the coming picnic should be held on
Staten island or the Palisades he said, vaguely, "Yes, I guess
that would be better."
For he was wanting to sit down beside Istra Nash, just be near her;
he _had_ to be! So he ventured over and was instantly regarding
all the rest as outsiders whom his wise comrade and himself
were studying.
"Tell me, Mouse dear, why do you like the people here? The
peepul, I mean. They don't seem so very remarkable. Enlighten
poor Istra."
"Well, they're awful kind. I've always lived in a house where
the folks didn't hardly know each other at all, except Mrs.
Zapp--she was the landlady--and I didn't like her very much.
But here Tom Poppins and Mrs. Arty and--the rest--they really
like folks, and they make it just like a home.... Miss Croubel
is a very nice girl. She works for Wanamacy's--she has quite a
big job there. She is assistant buyer in the----"
He stopped in horror. He had nearly said "in the lingery
department." He changed it to "in the clothing department," and
went on, doubtfully: "Mr. Duncan is a traveling-man. He's
away on a trip."
"Which one do you play with? So Nelly likes to--well, make
b'lieve--'magine?"
"How did you----"
"Oh, I watched her looking at you. I think she's a terribly
nice pink- face. And just now you're comparing her and me."
"Gee!" he said.
She was immensely pleased with herself. "Tell me, what do these
people think about; at least, what do you talk about?"
"_Say!_"
"'S-s-s-h! Not so loud, my dear."
"Say, I know how you mean. You feel something like what I did
in England. You can't get next to what the folks are thinking,
and it makes you sort of lonely."
"Well, I----"
Just then Tom Poppins rolled jovially up to the couch. He had
carried his many and perspiring pounds over to Third Avenue
because Miss Proudfoot reflected, "I've got a regular sweet
tooth to- night." He stood before Istra and Mr. Wrenn
theatrically holding out a bag of chocolate drops in one hand
and peanut brittle in the other; and grandiloquently:
"Which shall it be, your Highness? Nobody loves a fat man, so
he has to buy candy so's they'll let him stick around. Le's
see; you take chocolates, Bill. Name your drink, Miss Nash."
She looked up at him, gravely and politely--too gravely and
politely. She didn't seem to consider him a nice person.
"Neither, thank you," sharply, as he still stood there.
He moved away, hurt, bewildered.
Istra was going on, "I haven't been here long enough to be
lonely yet, but in any case----" when Mr. Wrenn interrupted:
"You've hurt Tom's feelings by not taking any candy; and, gee,
he's awful kind!"
"Have I?" mockingly.
"Yes, you _have_. And there ain't any too many kind people in
this world."
"Oh yes, of course you' re right. I _am_ sorry, really I am."
She dived after Tom's retreat and cheerfully addressed him:
&nbs
p; "Oh, I do want some of those chocolates. Will you let me change
my mind? Please do."
"Yes _ma'am_, you sure can!" said broad Tom, all one pleased
chuckle, poking out the two bags.
Istra stopped beside the Five-Hundred table to smile in a lordly
way down at Mrs. Arty and say, quite humanly:
"I'm so sorry I can't play a decent game of cards. I'm afraid
I'm too stupid to learn. You are very lucky, I think."
Mr. Wrenn on the couch was horribly agitated.... Wasn't Istra
coming back?
She was. She detached herself from the hubbub of invitations
to learn to play Five Hundred and wandered back to the couch,
murmuring: "Was bad Istra good? Am I forgiven? Mouse dear,
I didn't mean to be rude to your friends."
As the bubbles rise through water in a cooking-pot, as the
surface writhes, and then, after the long wait, suddenly the
water is aboil, so was the emotion of Mr. Wrenn now that Istra,
the lordly, had actually done something he suggested.
"Istra----" That was all he could say, but from his eyes had
gone all reserve.
Her glance back was as frank as his--only it had more of the
mother in it; it was like a kindly pat on the head; and she was
the mother as she mused:
"So you _have_ missed me, then?"
"Missed you----"
"Did you think of me after you came here? Oh, I know--I was
forgotten; poor Istra abdicates to the pretty pink- face."
"Oh, Istra, _don't_. I--can't we just go out for a little walk
so--so we can talk?"
"Why, we can talk here."
"Oh, gee!--there's so many people around.... Golly! when I
came back to America--gee!--I couldn't hardly sleep nights----"
From across the room came the boisterous, somewhat
coarse-timbred voice of Tom, speaking to Nelly:
"Oh yes, of course you think you're the only girl that ever seen
a vodville show. _We_ ain't never seen a vodville show. Oh no!"
Nelly and Miss Proudfoot dissolved in giggles at the wit.
Mr. Wrenn gazed at them, detached; these were not his people,
and with startled pride he glanced at Istra's face, delicately
carven by thought, as he stumbled hotly on.
"----just couldn't sleep nights at all.... Then I got on the job...."
"Let's see, you're still with that same company?"
"Yes. Souvenir and Art Novelty Company. And I got awfully on
the job there, and so I managed to forget for a little while
and----"
"So you really do like me even after I was so beastly to you in