The Red Mouse Part 32

XII

Somewhere on the East Side, beyond Gramercy Park and Irving Place, with their beautiful old houses; beyond Stuyvesant Square, once equally famous for the princely hospitality of its residents; still further on in that section which lies toward the river, where the women and children as well as the men toil unceasingly for the bare necessities of life, where evidences of poverty and suffering are all about, and which is commonly termed "the slums"; somewhere there, we say, in one of the smaller tenement buildings, some months later, Miriam Challoner, one time wealthy and fashionable woman of society, took refuge.

Within this new-found home--a nest consisting of two rooms--everything was scrupulously neat; but except for a small gilt chair that caught the rays of the sunlight, and that seemed fully as incongruous to its surroundings as was the woman herself, there was nothing in its furnishings to remind one of former prosperity. In a far corner of the adjoining room was a stove on which a frugal meal was cooking, sending its odour throughout the small apartment--a meal that in former days she would not have thought possible even for her servants. At the window of this room,--which was bedroom and living-room combined,--upon a small table was a typewriter, before which sat Miriam Challoner, clad in a sombre dress that was almost nun-like in its severity. She was pale, and on her face was the look of a woman acquainted with grief.

She read as she wrote:--

"Now this indenture witnesseth,--comma,--that the said party of the first part,--comma,--for the better securing the payment of the said sum of money mentioned in the condition of the said bond or obligation,--comma,--with interest thereon,--comma,--according to the true intent and meaning thereof,--semicolon,--and also for and in consideration of the sum of one dollar,--comma,--to him in hand well and duly paid----"

Suddenly she halted and fingered the copy lying on the table at her right.

"Twenty more pages--I can't do them now ..." she muttered half-aloud, and crossing the room unsteadily, threw herself upon the bed--a cheap bed that groaned and creaked as if it felt her weight upon it.

"... tired--I'm so tired," she moaned, as she lay there supinely for some time. All of a sudden, she sat bolt upright in bed, for the sound of a timid knock on the door had reached her ears; but thinking, perhaps, that she had been dreaming, she waited until the knock was repeated, and only then did she cry out:--

"Well? What is it?"

There was no answer. A moment more, and she was at the door confronting a man and a woman, both gaily caparisoned. They stood hand in hand, sheepishly, smilingly, the woman looking more like some guilty child, who was being brought to task by an over-indulgent parent. For a brief second, that seemed interminably long to Mrs. Challoner waiting for them to speak, they stood thus; and it was not until they called her name that she recognised them.

"Mrs. Challoner--we thought--" they stammered in chorus.

"Why, it's Stevens," Mrs. Challoner broke in, at last, "and you too, Foster!" and the colour instantly went flying from her lips to her cheeks.

"Yes, ma'am," again came in chorus from Stevens and Foster, late butler and lady's maid to Mrs. Challoner, and still hand in hand.

"Oh, Mrs. Challoner," then spoke up Foster, "what do you think? We've gone and got married!"

"Married? Foster! Stevens! Why, yes, of course, you do look like bride and groom," said Mrs. Challoner, her heart for the moment sinking at all this happiness; and then: "Come in, and do tell me all about it."

"Mrs. Challoner," quickly put in Stevens, as they came into the room, "she pestered me 'till I had to marry her--there was no getting rid of her."

A faint smile crossed Miriam's face, and soon she found herself entering into the happiness of this couple, just as she would have done in the old days; and so well did they succeed in making her forget her present position, that she was actually trying to determine what would be a most appropriate and, at the same time, a most pleasing gift to them.

Absorbed, therefore, in her laudable perplexities, it was quite a long time before she fully realised that there were but two chairs, a fact which had not escaped the eyes of these well-trained servants, who still remained standing in the centre of the room; and when, at last, the truth dawned upon her, it was with the greatest difficulty that she kept back the tears, as half-coaxingly, half-authoritatively she prevailed upon the terribly embarra.s.sed pair to occupy them, while she seated herself on the edge of the bed.

"Yes, ma'am," resumed Foster, determined to tell all there was to tell, "there were about six men that I could have married as well as not--not like Stevens, but big, fine-looking men, every one of them. But Stevens here got in such a way about it, that I felt sorry for him, and I gave them all the go-by for him. But there's one thing certain," she concluded with a sigh, "I didn't marry for good looks, nor for money either, for that matter."

"You married for love, Foster, and that is so much better," commented Mrs. Challoner, revelling in their joy.

"I dare say," conceded Foster, "that I'll come to love him in time."

"Yes, ma'am," put in Stevens, eager to get in a word, "she bothered me until I finally succ.u.mbed, though my tastes were--well, ma'am, I must admit that I like 'em a little plumper."

To Miriam Challoner, it was indeed a treat to hear their good-natured banter. Presently she asked with interest:--

"What are you doing now, Stevens?"

"He's a _sho_fer, ma'am," spoke up Foster quickly with pride.

"A what?" inquired Mrs. Challoner.

"A show_fure_, ma'am," corrected Stevens with dignity. "She'll learn in time.... I'm working for Bernhardt, the brewer--a hundred dollars a month, ma'am."

"Indeed! So you're a chauffeur, and earning one hundred dollars a month!" exclaimed Miriam Challoner. "Why that's fine!" And a hundred dollars never seemed larger to any one's eyes.

Stevens shrugged his shoulders as he answered in an offhand manner:--

"What's a hundred----"

"A hundred dollars a month!" again sighed Mrs. Challoner; and fell to planning what that sum would do for her.

Suddenly, Stevens broke in upon her thoughts, with:--

"What a cosy little place you have, ma'am!" And turning to Foster: "I hope we can have just such a little place as this some day. It's great!"

"I'd know in a minute, ma'am, that you had arranged things," said Foster, falling in readily with her husband's enthusiasm.

For an instant Mrs. Challoner shaded her eyes with her hand. The room, she knew only too well, was the very last expression of poverty, yet these two had shown a delicacy and kindness that she had supposed to be far beyond them.

"But where's your manners, Foster?" suddenly demanded Stevens. "Surely you might put your hands to fixing up that supper on the stove! Do now, like a good girl ..."

"Indeed, she must not--and in that lovely gown, too--besides, there is really nothing to do," Miriam Challoner quickly returned, for she could not bear to have Foster see what was cooking there.

"Oh, I'll be very careful, besides, it will seem natural to be doing things for you," persisted her former maid.

"Yes, take a look at the roast baking there in the oven, anyway," said Stevens; and no sooner had his wife turned her steps toward the kitchen, than he quickly leaned over to Mrs. Challoner, and thrusting something in her hand, he said in an undertone:--

"She's treasurer, ma'am, and I have to account for every penny; but this she knows nothing about. It's for you--please take it."

In an instant Mrs. Challoner was on her feet, and putting the money back in his hand, she exclaimed:--

"Why, Stevens, I can't take this! Really, I have money ..."

For a moment Stevens's eyes wandered about the poorly furnished room, betraying his thoughts to the contrary. This was not lost on Mrs.

Challoner, who immediately went on to explain:--

"Yes, Stevens, and I earn it, too." And she pointed to the typewriter with a certain pride.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am," said her former butler contritely, returning the money quickly to his pocket. "Only, don't let her know ..."

When Foster came back into the room, they were standing over the typewriter, Mrs. Challoner explaining its mechanism.

"Oh, what a fine thing it is to have an education!" exclaimed the young wife, looking sharply at her husband; but her penetrating glance was too much for Stevens, and turning quickly on his heel, he proceeded to rearrange the chairs.

"Hey, there!" suddenly called out Foster. "Why aren't you more of a gentleman--where's your manners? Run along there, like a good fellow, and put some water in the tea-kettle!" Stevens lost no time in obeying; then drawing close to Mrs. Challoner, Foster whispered:--