Flower of the Dusk, Page 5

  V

  Eloise

  [Sidenote: A Summer Hotel]

  The hotel was a long, low, rambling structure, with creaky floors andold-fashioned furniture. But the wide verandas commanded a glorious viewof the sea, no canned vegetables were served at the table, and there wasno orchestra. Naturally, it was crowded from June to October with peoplewho earnestly desired quiet and were willing to go far to get it.

  The inevitable row of rocking-chairs swayed back and forth on theseaward side. Most of them were empty, save, perhaps, for the ghosts oflong-dead gossips who had sat and rocked and talked and rocked from onemeal to the next. The paint on the veranda was worn in a long series ofparallel lines, slightly curved, but nobody cared.

  No phonograph broke upon the evening stillness with an ear-splittingdin, no unholy piccolo sounded above the other tortured instruments, noviolin wailed pitifully at its inhuman treatment, and the piano waslocked.

  At seasonable hours the key might be had at the office by those whocould prove themselves worthy of the trust, but otherwise quiet reigned.

  [Sidenote: Eloise Wynne]

  Miss Eloise Wynne came downstairs, with a book under her arm. She wasfresh as the morning itself and as full of exuberant vitality. She wastall and straight and strong; her copper-coloured hair shone as thoughit had been burnished, and her tanned cheeks had a tint of rose. Whenshe entered the dining-room, with a cheery "good-morning" that includedeverybody, she produced precisely the effect of a cool breeze from thesea.

  She was thirty, and cheerfully admitted it on occasion. "If I don't lookit," she said, smiling, "people will be surprised, and if I do, therewould be no use in denying it. Anyhow, I'm old enough to go aboutalone." It was her wont to settle herself for Summer or Winter in anyplace she chose, with no chaperon in sight.

  For a week she had been at Riverdale-by-the-Sea, and liked it on accountof the lack of entertainment. People who lived there called it simply"Riverdale," but the manager of the hotel, perhaps to atone for themissing orchestra and canned vegetables, added "by-the-Sea" to the namein his modest advertisements.

  Miss Wynne, fortunately, had enough money to enable her to live themuch-talked-of "simple life," which is wildly impossible to the poor.As it was not necessary for her to concern herself with the sordid andmaterial, she could occupy herself with the finer things of the soul.Just now, however, she was deeply interested in the material foundationof the finest thing in the world--a home.

  [Sidenote: A Passion for Lists]

  She had taken the bizarre paper slip which protected the even morestriking cover of a recent popular novel, and adjusted it to a bulkyvolume of very different character. In her chatelaine bag she had apencil and a note-book, for Miss Eloise was sorely afflicted with thenote-book habit, and had a passion for reducing everything to lists. Shehad lists of things she wanted and lists of things she didn't want,which circumstances or well-meaning Santa Clauses had forced upon her;little books of addresses and telephone numbers, jewels and otherpersonal belongings, and, finally, a catalogue of her libraryalphabetically arranged by author and title.

  Immediately after breakfast, she went off with a long, swinging stridewhich filled her small audience with envy and admiration. Disjointedremarks, such as "skirt a little too short, but good tailor," and"terrible amount of energy," and "wonder where she's going," followedher. These comments were audible, had she been listening, but she hadthe gift of keeping solitude in a crowd.

  Far along the beach she went, hatless, her blood singing with the joy oflife. A June morning, the sea, youth, and the consciousness of beingloved--for what more could one ask? The diamond on the third finger ofher left hand sparkled wonderfully in the sunlight. It was the only ringshe wore.

  [Sidenote: The Cook Book]

  Presently, she found a warm, soft place behind a sand dune. She rearedupon the dune a dark green parasol with a white border, and patted sandaround the curved handle until it was, as she thought, firmly placed.Then she settled her skirts comfortably and opened her book, for thefirst time.

  "It looks bad," she mused. "Wonder what a carbohydrate is. Andproteids--where do you buy 'em? Albuminoids--I've been from Maine toFlorida and have never seen any. They must be germs.

  "However," she continued, to herself, "I have a trained mind, and'keeping everlastingly at it brings success.' It would be strange ifthree hours of hard study every day, on the book the man in the storesaid was the best ever, didn't produce some sort of definite result.But, oh, how Allan would laugh at me!"

  The book fell on the sand, unheeded. The brown eyes looked out past theblue surges to some far Castle in Spain. Her thoughts refused to phrasethemselves in words, but her pulses leaped with the old, immortal joy.The sun had risen high in the shining East before she returned to herbook.

  "This isn't work," she sighed to herself; "away with the dreams."

  Before long, she got out her note-book. "A fresh fish," she wrote, "doesnot smell fishy and its eyes are bright and its gills red. A tenderchicken or turkey has a springy breast bone. If you push it down withyour finger, it springs back. A leg of lamb has to have the tough, outerparchment-like skin taken off with a sharp knife. Some of the oil of thewool is in it and makes it taste muttony and bad. A lobster shouldalways be bought when he is alive and green and boiled at home. Then youknow he is fresh. Save everything for soup."

  [Sidenote: The Air of Knowing]

  "I will go out into the kitchen," mused Eloise, "and I will have the airof knowing all about everything. I will say: 'Mary Ann, I have ordered alobster for you to boil. We will have a salad for lunch. And I trust youhave saved everything that was left last night for to-night's soup.'Mary Ann will be afraid of me, and Allan will be _so_ proud."

  "'I thought I told you,' continued Eloise, to herself, 'to save all thecrumbs. Doctor Conrad does not like to have everything salt and heprefers to make the salad dressing himself. Do not cook any cereal themornings we have oranges or grape-fruit--the starch and acid are likelyto make a disturbance inside. Four people are coming to dinner thisevening. I have ordered some pink roses and we will use the pinkcandle-shades. Or, wait--I had forgotten that my hair is red. Use thegreen candle-shades and I will change the roses to white.'"

  [Sidenote: A Frolicsome Wind]

  A frolicsome little wind, which had long been ruffling the waves ofEloise's copper-coloured hair, took the note-book out of her lap andlaid it open on the sand some little distance away. Then, after makingmerry with the green parasol, it lifted it bodily by its roots out ofthe sand dune and went gaily down the beach with it.

  Eloise started in pursuit, but the wind and the parasol out-distancedher easily. Rounding the corner of another dune, she saw the parasol,with all sails set, jauntily embarked toward Europe. Turning away,disconsolate, she collided with a big blonde giant who took her into hisarms, saying, "Never mind--I'll get you another."

  When the first raptures had somewhat subsided, Eloise led him back tothe place where the parasol had started from. "When and where from andhow did you come?" she asked, hurriedly picking up her books.

  "This morning, from yonder palatial hotel, on foot," he answered. "Ithought you'd be out here somewhere. I didn't ask for you--I wanted tohunt you up myself."

  "But I might have been upstairs," she said, reproachfully.

  "On a morning like this? Not unless you've changed in the last ten days,and you haven't, except to grow lovelier."

  "But why did you come?" she asked. "Nobody told you that you could."

  "Sweet," said Allan, softly, possessing himself of her hand, "did youthink I could stay away from you two whole weeks? Ten days is thelimit--a badly strained limit at that."

  The colour surged into her face. She was radiant, as though with someinner light. The atmosphere around her was fairly electric with life andyouth and joy.

  [Sidenote: Dr. Conrad]

  Doctor Allan Conrad was very good to look at. He had tawny hair and kindbrown eyes, a straight nose, and a good firm chin. He wore eye-g
lasses,and his face might have seemed severe had it not been discredited by hismouth. He was smooth-shaven, and knew enough to wear brown clothesinstead of grey.

  Eloise looked at him approvingly. Every detail of his attire satisfiedher fastidious sense. If he had worn a diamond ring or a conspicuoustie, he might not have occupied his present proud position. Hisunfailing good taste was a great comfort to her.

  "How long can you stay?" she inquired.

  "Nice question," he laughed, "to ask an eager lover who has just come.Sounds a good deal like 'Here's-your-hat-what's-your-hurry?' Before Iknew you, I used to go to see a girl sometimes who always said, at teno'clock: 'I'm so glad you came. When can you come again?' The first timeshe did it I told her I couldn't come again until I had gone away thistime."

  "And afterward?"

  [Sidenote: Forgetting the Clock]

  "I kept going away earlier and earlier, and finally it was so muchearlier that I went before I had come. If I can't make a girl forget theclock, I have no call to waste my valuable time on her, have I?"

  Assuming a frown with difficulty, Miss Wynne consulted her watch. "Why,it's only half-past eleven," she exclaimed; "I thought it was muchlater."

  "You darling," said the man, irrelevantly. "What are you reading?"Before she could stop him, he had picked up the book and nearly chokedin a burst of unseemly merriment.

  "Upon my word," he said, when he could speak. "A cook book! A classmateof mine used to indulge himself in floral catalogues when he wanted torest his mind with light literature, but I never heard of a cook book asamong the 'books for Summer reading' that the booksellers advertise."

  "Why not?" retorted Eloise, quickly.

  "No real reason. Lots of worse things are printed and sold by thousands,but, someway, I can't seem to reconcile you--and your gloriousvoice--with a cook-book."

  "Allan Conrad," said Miss Wynne, with affected sternness, "if you hadn'tstudied medicine, would you be practising it now?"

  "No," admitted Allan; "not with the laws as they are in this State."

  "If I had no voice and had never studied music, would I be singing atconcerts?"

  "Not twice."

  "If a girl had never seen a typewriter and didn't know the first thingabout shorthand, would she apply for a position as a stenographer?"

  "They do," said Allan, gloomily.

  [Sidenote: Preparation]

  "Don't dissemble, please. My point is simply this: If every otheroccupation in the world demands some previous preparation, why shouldn'ta girl know something about housekeeping and homemaking before sheundertakes it?"

  "But, my dear, you're not going to cook."

  "I am if I want to," announced Eloise, with authority. "And, anyhow, I'mgoing to know. Do you think I'm going to let some peripatetic, untrainedimmigrant manage my house for me? I guess not."

  "But cooking isn't theory," he ventured, picking up the note-book; "it'spractice. What good is all this going to do you when you have nostove?"

  "Don't you remember the famous painter who told inquiring visitors thathe mixed his paints with brains? I am now cooking with my mind. After mymind learns to cook, my hands will find it simple enough. And some time,when you come in at midnight and have had no dinner, and the immigranthas long since gone to sleep, you may be glad to be presented withpanned oysters, piping hot, instead of a can of salmon and acan-opener."

  "Bless your heart," answered Allan, fondly. "It's dear of you, and I hopeit'll work. I'm starving this minute--kiss me."

  "'Longing is divine compared with satiety,'" she reminded him, as sheyielded. "How could you get away? Was nobody ill?"

  "Nobody would have the heart to be ill on a Saturday in June, when adoctor's best girl was only fifty miles away. Monday, I'll go back andput some cholera or typhoid germs in the water supply, and get nice andbusy. Who's up yonder?" indicating the hotel.

  "Nobody we know, but very few of the guests have come, so far."

  [Sidenote: "Guests"]

  "In all our varied speech," commented Allan, "I know of nothing soexquisitely ironical as alluding to the people who stop at a hotel as'guests.' In Mexico, they call them 'passengers,' which is more inkeeping with the facts. Fancy the feelings of a real guest uponreceiving a bill of the usual proportions. I should consider it aviolation of hospitality if a man at my house had to pay three pricesfor his dinner and a tip besides."

  "You always had queer notions," remarked Eloise, with a sidelong glancewhich set his heart to pounding. "We'll call them inmates if you like itbetter. As yet, there are only eight inmates besides ourselves, thoughmore are coming next week. Two old couples, one widow, one _divorcee_,and two spinsters with life-works."

  "No galloping cherubs?"

  "School isn't out yet."

  [Sidenote: Life-Works]

  "I see. It wouldn't be the real thing unless there were little ones togallop through the corridors at six in the morning and weep at thedinner table. What are the life-works?"

  "One is writing a book, I understand, on _The Equality of the Sexes_.The other--oh, Allan, it's too funny."

  "Spring it," he demanded.

  "She's trying to have cornet-playing introduced into the public schools.She says that tuberculosis and pneumonia are caused by insufficient lungdevelopment, and that cornet-playing will develop the lungs of therising generation. Fancy going by a school during the cornet hour."

  "I don't know why they shouldn't put cornet-playing into the schools,"he observed, after a moment of profound thought. "Everything else isthere now. Why shouldn't they teach crime, and even make a fine art ofit?"

  "If you let her know you're a doctor," cautioned Eloise, "she'll corneryou, and I shall never see you again. She says that she 'hopes,incidentally, to enlist the sympathies of the medical profession.'"

  "She's beginning at the wrong end. Cornet manufacturers and the peoplewho keep sanitariums and private asylums are the co-workers she wants.I couldn't live through the coming Winter were it not for pneumonia. Itmeans coal, and repairs for the automobile, and furs for my wife--whenI get one."

  "Come," said Eloise, springing to her feet; "let's go up and get readyfor luncheon."

  "Have you told me all?" asked Allan, "or is there some gay youngtroubadour who serenades you in the evening and whose existence youconceal from me for reasons of your own?"

  [Sidenote: A Pathetic Little Woman]

  "Nary a troubadour," she replied. "I haven't seen another soul except apathetic little woman who came up to the hotel yesterday afternoon tosell the most exquisite things you ever saw. Think of offering hand-madelingerie, of sheer, embroidered lawn and batiste and linen, to _that_crowd! The old ladies weren't interested, the spinsters sniffed, thewidow wept, and only the _divorcee_ took any notice of it. The priceswere so ridiculous that I wouldn't let her unpack the box. I'd beashamed to pay her the price she asked. It's made by a little lame girlup the main road. I'm to go up there sometime next week."

  "Fairy godmother?" asked Allan, good-naturedly. He had known Eloise formany years.

  "Perhaps," she answered, somewhat shamefaced. "What's the use of havingmoney if you don't spend it?"

  [Sidenote: A Human Interest]

  They went into the hotel together, utterly oblivious of the eight pairsof curious eyes that were fastened upon them in a frank, open stare. Therocking-chairs scraped on the veranda as they instinctively drew closertogether. A strong human interest, imperatively demanding immediatediscussion, had come to Riverdale-by-the-Sea.