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"h.e.l.lo, darling Cally! Do come in and share our lovely little snuggery.
Isn't it cunning?--don't you think we were awfully smart to find it? Oh, do you know Dr. Vivian?--Miss Heth."
"How do you do?" said Cally, without a second glance.... "_This_ is she, Mr. Canning--Miss Mattie Allen, whom you've heard so much about...."
Canning, hardly less piqued than Carlisle by the presence of strangers in his lodge, and unable to remember having heard the name Allen before in his life, of course rose gallantly.
"I hope Miss Allen won't think me impertinent," he said, most delightfully, "if I claim her as an old friend...."
Miss Allen's response acquitted him of all impertinence. It was she who then recalled an omission, and in her sweet artless way bade the two gentlemen be acquainted. Dr. Vivian (who could not exactly recollect the steps by which he had come to be duetting in his uncle's den with Miss Allen) looked as if he expected to shake hands with Miss Heth's handsome squire; but Canning, having shot him with a quick curious glance, merely bowed, in silence. Through the minds of both men (and also of Miss Carlisle Heth) had swept at the same moment a darting memory of their last meeting....
And then it was suddenly seen by all that Mr. Canning had been gathered in by his adroit old friend Miss Allen, and smartly withdrawn from the general society. And Cally was left to face alone the last man upon earth she wanted to see.
She, whose own plans had been so utterly different, had been on her guard against such a contingency as this; but Mattie's born gift for strategics had simply been too much for her. Mr. Canning had been surrounded and backed against a bookcase, as it were, before anybody realized what was happening to him....
"But oh, you're so dreadfully tall," she heard the voice of her gifted girl-friend, as from a distance. "I don't believe you can look far enough down to see poor little Me...."
All had happened at speed: the lines of division were still just forming. And Carlisle, of course, had no idea of tamely accepting such an unfair distribution of things. As to this man, Dr. Vivian, her att.i.tude toward him now, after the c.o.o.neys', was simply one of cool polished politeness. She had told him what she thought of him about the Works, and he had humbly apologized for the wrong he had done her at the Beach: that disposed of him forever, and altogether to her advantage.
Cool polished politeness; but she did not intend to talk with him any more, of course, admitting him as a social acquaintance; and she was, in fact, just moving after Mattie and Mr. Canning, really opening her mouth to join in their pleasant chat, when--
"I wonder, do you know if there are any _marrons glaces_ to-night, Miss Heth," said the voice she had first heard in the summer-house--"with the little white jackets on them?"
The girl felt a number of things. From every point of view this inquiry, so queer yet so clearly social, so almost glaringly inoffensive, came as a surprise and an annoyance. He had merely asked that on purpose to detain her. Continuing to look at her two friends, so near and yet such worlds away, she said, coldly:
"I really do not know. I've not been in the dining-room."
"Then I may still hope," he answered, with the same air of friendliness, eager in its way. And, continuing his out-of-place remarks, he said: "I promised to bring some from the party to a little girl that--that I--well, I board with her mother, in fact. She seemed to have set her heart on _marrons_, though how she knew that such things existed pa.s.ses imagination."
"I hope you'll find them, I'm sure."
"Oh, thank you," said the Severe Arraigner, quite gratefully, it seemed....
Through the open door of the pleasant little room, there floated in the continual murmur of voices and the sighing refrain of the waltz. As from a great distance, Carlisle noted that Mr. Canning found Mattie agreeably amusing. (What on earth did I he men see in her, with her baby airs and great pop-eyes?) But she was not thinking of her two special friends now. The flat brusquerie of her two remarks to the man had struck her own ear unpleasantly: they were neither polished nor courteous. Why was she so silly as to let this n.o.body, who had nothing whatever to do with her, so annoy and distract her at his pleasure? Above all, by what trick of his look had he made her feel, the moment his eyes fell upon her, that his apology had not settled the Beach episode, exactly, after all?...
The whole situation seemed to be growing intolerable; and suddenly it came over her that polished courtesy was not the note at all. Doubtless the trouble was that she could not forgive his remark in the summer-house, after all, no matter how generously she tried. What was needed now was to put the man down in such a way that he would take care not to come near her again....
Dr. Vivian, who seemed to hold fast to his one topic, was adding: "I don't want to disappoint her, of course, particularly as she's sick to-night. Just a little touch of fever, to be sure,--but she hasn't much const.i.tution, I fear...."
Miss Heth made no reply; the pause threatened to become a silence; and then he said hastily, as if to save the conversation from total wreck:
"By the way, this child--Corinne Garland, her name is--is an operative in your father's factory, Miss Heth. She's been there over two years."
Cally's head turned. For the first time she looked fully at the c.o.o.neys'
poorhouse idol. And now she remembered that she had an annihilative weapon against him.... Had he led up to this subject on purpose?
"Oh!... She works at my father's factory?"
The young man's look was plainly not controversial; no, it was as if he were pleased that at last they had tapped a vein of common interest. In one glance Carlisle's trained eye, going over him, took in his sartorial eccentricities: in particular the "shined" shoes, the large bra.s.s shirt-studs, and the "full-dress-suit" (exactly that) so obviously made for a much stouter person. She saw that the man looked absurdly out of place here, at his own uncle's. Against this background of gaiety and glitter, of music, powder and decollete gowns, he really looked quite like a stray from some other world: only the more so in that he himself appeared quite unconscious of any alienship.
Well, then, let him keep to his own world. That, in fact, was precisely what she desired of him....
"Yes, a buncher there, as they're called," he was quaintly explaining--"quite the best one in the shop, I'm told, though she's only eighteen years old. She has a record of 6,500 cheroots in one day--"
"But she has been taken sick at it, you say?"
"Undoubtedly she has a temperature to-night," said he, in an intent sort of way, desirous of giving his information accurately. "I didn't stop to take it,' as perhaps I should have done--"
"And she caught her fever at the Works, you think?"
"Oh!... Well, of course I shouldn't say that. You know--"
"But of course the Works _are_ full of terrible diseases, and everybody who works there quickly catches something and dies?"
Then the unmistakable hostility of her tone caught his engrossed ear.
Carlisle saw his expression change a little; only it did not change nearly so much as she meant it to. He gave an embarra.s.sed little laugh....
"But oh, _please_," said the voice of Mats, near by, "do go back and tell me what _terminology_ means. You don't know how _terribly stupid _I am...."
"Of course, it isn't nearly so bad as that," said he. "Factory work is hard at best, you know. And conditions in it are never very good, rarely even so good as they might be, as it seems to me. But this little friend of mine that I--I mentioned, she's--"
"Why did you mention her to me at all?"
The tall young man in the fat-man's dress-suit gazed down. He pushed back his crisp hair....
It was true that one from the outskirts could rise now and gird up his loins: the scribes actually called before the flap of his tent. True, in the most technical sense, that is.... And yet--was the pa.s.sing social moment a proper occasion to shout and preach at the unlessoned upon the grim subject of their moral opportunities in this so complex world?
Where was even the solitude be hind the rubber plants which Kern had (practically) guaranteed? Was it kind, was it even well-mannered, to spoil a young girl's pleasure at an evening party with bitter talk of fire-escapes and overstrained floors? John the Baptist, G.o.d knows, should have been a gentleman....
But if any thoughts like this played through the alien's mind, he certainly wore no air of perplexity or hesitancy. He answered without pause, in quite a gentle way:
"Well, it just seemed to come in naturally somehow. We just seemed to drift into it...."
But it was no time for gentleness now. Carlisle Heth was whipping up her anger to destroy him. And all the time, a part of her (the largest part, it seemed) knew quite well that she was whipping it up: wondered why it didn't surge more spontaneously, as she had such a perfect right to expect....
"But conditions _are_ homicidal in my father's factory, are they not?"
"Oh," said the man ... "Well, as to that--of course opinions would differ somewhat as to what consti--"
"You seem to--to have more courage in your opinions when you're writing letters," she flung at him, bright cheeked.... "Are they homicidal?"
V. Vivian's eyes had fallen before her indignant gaze. It was only too clear by now that she hadn't forgiven him--what wonder?--and probably never would.... Still, when he raised his eyes again, the girl saw in them a look quite different from what she had meant to arouse there. The man was feeling sorry for her again....
"Miss Heth, I consider them homicidal. I'm sorrier than I can say to--to worry you with all this now. Some day if you could give me--"
"You mustn't say these things to me," said Carlisle, feeling her anger to be real enough now. "I won't permit them. And--"
"You don't imagine that I say them for pleasure," the tall doctor interrupted hurriedly. "I'm compelled to speak the truth, however disagreeable--"
"Indeed? I've not noticed that you feel bound by any necessity that way."