The Wayfarers Part 7

"Coom back, Reginald, coom back!" There was the noise of a scuffle as Dosia, with her escort, laughingly ascended the stairs, to elicit a shriek of terror and a rear view of the mercurial Reginald in full flight for the nursery door, which banged after him, and behind which he still raised his voice, to the shrill accompaniment of the nurse.

"_I'll_ go in and keep him quiet," said Zaidee rea.s.suringly, in answer to her mother's look of appeal, and she also disappeared beyond the prison bars, after a whisk of her short crisp pink skirt, and a smile at Dosia in which her little white teeth gleamed in an infantile glee that only accentuated her air of preternatural capability.

Her cousin's kindly hands helped Dosia to remove the traces of travel, when she had definitely refused the offer pressed upon her to be undressed and go to bed and have her dinner brought up to her. It was sweet to be in feminine care once more, and be pitied for the terrors she had undergone, and feel the bond of relationship a.s.sert itself in spite of the fact that the cousins had not seen each other since Dosia's early childhood. She did not want to be alone up-stairs, and sat instead in Justin's place at the table, clad in a soft silken tea-gown of Lois'

that was in itself restful, trying to eat and drink and keep up her part in the conversation about her journey and the absent members of the family. Changes had crowded so upon poor Dosia that she felt as if she were living in a kaleidoscope that rattled her every minute or two into a new position; the glittering table and her cousin's form would presently dissolve, and leave her perhaps out in the crowded, unknown streets, with wild-eyed faces pressing near her.

After all, she only changed to an arm-chair in the little drawing-room, with her head against a cushion and her feet on a foot-stool, and her cousin still beside her, pulling back the window-curtains once in a while to take a peep outside for her missing husband; in spite of the real kindness of her welcome, Dosia felt a certain preoccupation in it.

Her coming was only accessory to the real importance of his, when she herself should have been the event; the warmth of heart which she had expected to feel toward her cousin somehow seemed to fail of expression in this att.i.tude. At the same time, Lois was also conscious of a lack of response, a dullness, in Theodosia. Perhaps the likeness of relationship was answerable for a certain reserve of manner, a formality which neither knew how to break then or at a later time, and which was to last until the barriers were swept away by a mighty flood; but the real cause of the lack of sympathy lay in something much deeper. The strong thought of self is inevitably insulating-it is as restrictive of human contact as a live wire. Dosia, whose young life had all been spent in unselfishness, was experiencing unexpectedly the other swing of the pendulum in an intense and absorbing desire to have everything now as she wanted it. She was tired of thinking of other people; the scene should be set now for _her_. This desire was a huge mushroom growth, sprung up in a night; it had no real root in her nature, and would vanish as suddenly as it had come, but the shadow of it distorted her.

The house was very much smaller than Dosia had imagined, and her eyes roved over the little drawing-room in some perplexity, trying to make it come up to her antic.i.p.ation. All dwellers in small country places, where economy is Heaven's first law, expect to be dazzled by the grandeur and elegance of "the city." People in Balderville never dreamed of buying new furniture from towns twenty or thirty miles away; as chair-legs broke off, or rockers split, or tables came to pieces, all sorts of domestic devices were resorted to by all but shiftless householders who tamely submitted to ruin, in coaxing the article into seeming wholeness and keeping it still in active use. The best families were learned in all the little ways and capabilities of string and wire, and wooden cleats and old hinges and tacks, and pieces of tin cut from tomato-cans, and in the glueing on of piano-keys, black-walnut excrescences, ornaments, and sofa-arms.

Mended furniture has, however, a deprecating expression of its own, not to be concealed by any art. Dosia recognized the absence of it in these trim chairs that stood nattily on their slender curved legs, in the little shining tables which did not require to be hidden by a hanging cloth, and in the china and bric-a-brac placed boldly where they could be seen on all sides. She wondered a little at the low wicker arm-chair in which she was sitting, for they had wicker furnishings in the Balderville hotel, but the blue-skyed water-color sketches on the walls caught her fancy, and the vista of a blue-and-white dining-room, seen through half-closed reddish portieres, was charming. For all the shine and polish and multiplicity of small ornaments in the tiny apartment, it seemed to lack a kind of comfort to which she was used, and of which she had caught a glimpse in the sitting-room as she pa.s.sed it. She gave an exclamation of delight as her eyes fell on a stand in one corner of the room on which was a long gla.s.s filled with pink roses.

"How beautiful these are! I haven't seen any finer ones in Balderville, and you know we are famed for our roses there."

"Oh," said Lois, "to think that you have been in the house for over an hour and I never told you about them! Justin's not coming upset everything. They were sent to you this afternoon."

"Sent to _me_?"

"Yes-by Mr. Sutton. Didn't you say you met him with Justin on the boat?-a short, stout man with sandy hair."

"Yes, Justin introduced him, but he hardly spoke to me."

"That doesn't make any difference, he sent them before he saw you at all. I told him you were coming, and these arrived this afternoon. You needn't feel particularly flattered; he sends them to everybody."

"Sends them to everybody!" Dosia looked amazed.

"Oh, yes; he's rich, and devoted to girls. They laugh at him, but I notice that they are quite ready to accept his flowers and candy and tickets for the opera. I believe that he wants to get married; but he really is sensible and quite nice underneath it all."

"Oh!" said Dosia, indefinably revolted. "And-and is Mr. Barr like that, too?"

"Who, Lawson? Oh, dear, no; he can't even support himself, let alone sending presents."

"He said such queer things," ventured Dosia, with a shy desire to talk about him. "I did not know what to make of it at first."

"Oh, n.o.body pays any attention to what Lawson says," said Lois indifferently.

Dosia longed to ask why, with an instant wave of resentment at this way of speaking; a cloud seemed suddenly to have descended upon the glittering possibilities of her future. She fixed her eyes on her cousin, who sat in a high, slender chair, one arm gowned in yellow silk thrown over the back of it, and her cheek upon her arm-her rich coloring, the grace of her att.i.tude, the sweep of her long black skirt, made a deep impression on the mind of the little country girl, who seemed slight and meager and insignificant to herself. And this other woman had been loved-she had pa.s.sed through all the experiences to which Dosia looked forward. Was it that which gave her this charm thrown over her like a gauzy veil?

"What a beautiful waist you have on!" she exclaimed impulsively. "Yellow is such a lovely color."

"Do you think so?" said Lois. "This is an old thing that I mended to wear because Justin always likes it. I do wish he'd come." She rose and walked restlessly to the window. "I'm worried about him."

"Yes," said Dosia, still looking, and pleased that the remark bore out her fancy. But she wondered; married women in Balderville looked different-the hot Southern sun had burned the color out of their cheeks, and the gowns they mended were of cotton, not of yellow silk; this fresh youthfulness and self-sufficiency both attracted and repelled, it seemed so beyond her. Her heart bounded at the thought that Aunt Theodosia had sent money for her clothes as well as for her music lessons.

She did not resist the second attempt to send her to bed, although Justin was still absent. Lois had brought her all the things she needed in the absence of her wrecked luggage, and kissed her good night with tenderness, saying, "I hope you'll be very happy here, Dosia," and she answered, "Thank you so much for having me."

In spite of her helpless fatigue, she lay awake for a long time in her tiny room. The bra.s.s bed, the polished floor with the crimson rug on it, the dainty dressing-table, had all seemed charmingly luxurious and like a book, but now that she was in darkness, she only saw vividly a pair of sparkling eyes looking into hers, and caught the sound of a kind, half-mocking voice. Every word of the conversation repeated itself again to her excited mind; it was delightful to remember, because she had acquitted herself so well; if she had replied stupidly she would have died of vexation now. How clever he had been, and how really considerate!-for she was glad to think that he had said foolish things to her to keep her from breaking down.

"Do I look like a person of whom you would approve?"

"I haven't considered the subject." She flashed the answer back again, and laughed, with her cheek glowing on the pillow. Why had Lois spoken of him so strangely? She vainly strove to fathom the significance of the words, which she resented, although they had coincided with an instinctive feeling she had that he was not at all the kind of man she would ever want to marry. She had already taken that provisionary leap into a mythical future which is one of the perfunctory att.i.tudes of maidenhood.

But who wanted to think of marrying now, anyway? That was something so far off that it seemed like the end of all things to Dosia, who at present only innocently desired plenty of emotions to live upon-costlier living than she knew, poor child! The very instinct that warned her against it added a heightened charm to the perilous pleasure.

And the other man-Mr. Sutton-had already sent her flowers! Oh, this was life, life-the life she had read of and longed for, where dark eyes looked at you and made you feel how interesting you were; where you could have pretty clothes, and look like other people, and be brilliant and witty and sought after. She blushed with pleasure and excitement.

Then she said a little prayer, with palm pressed to palm under the covers, and the glamour faded away as a sweet and pure feeling welled up from the clear depths of her heart. Her hand was once more held in safety. In her drowsiness, it was as if she had lifted her soft cheek to be kissed.

To the eager inquiries of Lois, Justin answered that he had had his dinner long before and wanted nothing.

He asked if she and the children were all right,-his usual question,-and she waited until he had dropped down in the arm-chair in the sitting-room up-stairs, after changing his shoes for slippers, before questioning him. Then she sat down by him and asked:

"Well, how was it?"

She spoke with eagerness, holding one of his hands in hers tenderly, although it hung limp after the first strong, responsive clasp.

"The fire was out before I got there."

"Do they know how it started?"

"Not yet."

"Was the place burned much?"

"No, not much."

"Did it do any damage to the machinery?"

"Some."

Lois looked at him in despair.

"Aren't you going to tell me _anything_?"

"There really isn't anything to tell, dear." He strove to speak with attention. "You know just about as much of it all as I do."

"Oh, but I'm so sorry for you! Will it put you back any?"

"I suppose so."

"Oh, _dear_!" she moaned helplessly. "Isn't it too bad! If only you had not been obliged to take that journey! Do you suppose it would have happened if you had stayed at home?"

"I really can't tell. The fire might have been discovered earlier; it started at noon, when most of the clerks were out at lunch."

"I see. But no one can hold you responsible."

"I am responsible for everything. If you do not mind, Lois, I'll go to bed. I'm tired; I didn't get any sleep last night."

"Yes, of course." She smoothed his hair with her fingers in remorseful tenderness, leaning against him, with her laces touching his cheek.