CHAPTER XII
THE TWO KEREN-HAPPUCHS
MISS KEREN said that she "did not know how to be ill." It was owing tothis ignorance--which some people might have called pluck--that she didnot succumb to the effect of the shock she had undergone.
As it was, she was able to get up every day and sit in the warmestcorner of the Patty-Pans parlor, trying not to be any trouble to Happie.
For Happie found her hands full in the month that followed Aunt Keren'sarrival. The tea-room saw her no more. If she had allowed herself tothink about it she would have been sorry for this. She enjoyed whatBob called for short "The Six Maidens," more and more, got on betterwith all sorts and conditions of women than Margery did, and had thecheerful conviction that she was, of all the girls, the one mostessential to the tea-room's success. But she did not allow herself torecognize her uneasiness in being so long away, for Aunt Keren wantedher, and there was little enough that any of the Scollards could do toshow their sense of loving gratitude to Aunt Keren.
Happie was established as housekeeper and attendant, also as amanuensisto their guest, and there were not many minutes in the short Februarydays in which she found time to regret anything. Every morning shesaw depart her mother and Bob, together as always, and later Margery,Gretta and Laura, sometimes with one, sometimes with both of theyounger children. Then, left alone, Happie flew from one task toanother till nightfall brought back the family to an orderly andprepared Patty-Pans and a tired Happie who tried to keep the latteritem out of sight.
Aunt Keren began to have visitors when people found out where she hadtaken refuge, elderly and impressive ladies who toiled up the threeflights that led to the Patty-Pans, their furs hanging, their breathshort, to present themselves at the door, pantingly reproachful intheir tone as they asked for Miss Bradbury. Miss Bradbury's lawyercame, the insurance adjuster came, several times, and Aunt Keren hadsuch heavy mails that Happie daily sat down to the task of replying toher letters with dismay. Most of these letters were appeals for help;for money for every imaginable charity, individual and collective,and for the weight of Miss Bradbury's name on boards and committeesand lists of "patronesses." Happie began to realize that Aunt Keren,for all her eccentricities of plain garments, must be known widely asa fountain of beneficence. As Happie drew checks, under Aunt Keren'sinstruction, for her to sign, she began to see that Miss Keren couldnot be an elderly lady of straightened means, in which light the youngScollards had always looked on her, for her donations in this monthalone were mounting up amazingly.
One afternoon the two Keren-happuchs were at work on the elder'scorrespondence by two o'clock, lunch having been over and out of theway early because it was the day for Polly and Penny to go to dancingschool, to which Laura had taken them, remaining at home that morningfor the purpose.
Miss Keren watched Happie's absorbed face as she sealed the note inwhich she had gently refused the request of a young woman for help togo abroad and cultivate her genius for art, and drew up Miss Keren'scheck book to make out a check of ten dollars for coal and groceries toa family which was, it seemed, among her constant dependents.
"Happie," said Miss Keren, so suddenly out of a silence of severalminutes that the end of Happie's figure nine, as she wrote the yeardate, went far below the line in the jump she gave, "Happie, if you hadan income, what would you do?"
Happie looked at her adopted aunt unseeingly, as she considered. Thenshe dimpled and laughed. "I should live on it, Aunt Keren," she said.
"Live _within_ it, if you wanted to be happy in reality, and not inname only," said Miss Keren. "What do you think you would do first ifmoney, a fairly large income, fell into your hands?"
"First of all I should give motherums warning that she had to stopforeign corresponding for that firm down in town. Then I should huntup a house and set her in it, and not let her do one thing but be dearand sweet and idle for an endless time. Then I should buy Margery lotsof lovely things--she is so pretty! Maybe I wouldn't, though, for I cansee that she looks altogether too pretty in Robert Gaston's eyes now!But maybe I would, and then take her abroad where he couldn't see her.Then I'd begin Laura's musical education--that really is important. Andget a splendid, life-size doll for Penny, and lots of things for goodlittle Polly, and send them to a fine school--and for my dearest oldBob--oh, I don't know! Buy him a partnership in a great business, orsomething. Why, Aunt Keren?"
Miss Keren had listened to Happie's list of benefactions with a smilein her eyes. "For no reason, Keren-happuch, my dear, except that yourdoing these things for me made me wonder how you would use money if youhad it," she said. "And nothing for Happie?"
"Oh, I suppose I should buy her lots of things between times; everytime I went out, probably. And I know I should buy her cases and casesof books," said Happie, resuming her task. "But I'm sure I shall alwayshave to grub along, because I don't mind doing it as much as mostgirls. I believe I've a contented mind, Aunt Keren."
"There is no doubt of that, my namesake, and you have no idea whata blessing it is. Cultivate it all your life. It can be cultivatedor lost, Happie. Dear me, the bell! Just when we were so comfortablysettled for a long afternoon! It is some one for me, almost certainly.I must fly, Happie, and you will ask the visitor to wait for me a fewmoments." Aunt Keren went through to her room, which had been Bob'sbefore her coming, and Happie opened the door after she had hastilygathered up the scattered papers on which she had been at work. But shedropped Aunt Keren's check book in her hurry, and it lay in long blackevidence on the lightest figure of the rug.
Two ladies confronted Happie as she obeyed the summons of the upperbell. They were handsomely clad, and there was something familiar inboth faces, which, nevertheless, Happie was sure that she had not seenbefore. With this haunting familiarity there was a certain hardnessin the visitors' expression which was repellent. They were about thesame age--well into their thirties--and carried their years with thejauntiness of intentional youth.
Happie ushered them into the small parlor, which they seemed to fillin every corner, and asked whom she should say had come to see MissBradbury.
"Say her nieces, Miss Helen and Miss Irene Bradbury," said one of thetwo. "Wait a moment, what is your name?"
"I am one of the daughters of Miss Bradbury's friend, Mrs. Scollard;the second one, Happie," said Happie. Something antagonistic in thisvery different Miss Bradbury's manner kept her from saying that shewas Keren-happuch, named after the strangers' aunt.
"Happie! Then you are the one whom they called after Aunt Keren? IsHappie your abbreviation of Keren-happuch?" asked Miss Irene Bradbury.
"Yes," said Happie. "Shall I call Miss Bradbury?"
"Wait one moment," said Miss Irene Bradbury very low. "I see that youare very young, but you are not a child, and there is something thatI wish to say to you. Miss Bradbury's family are greatly annoyed byher taking refuge in this little Harlem flat, after having alreadycarried your entire family with her into the country for a summer thatstretched out into half the year. It is extraordinary, the fancy thata woman of her usual sense and strength of mind has taken to people ofthis sort----"
"What sort, Miss Bradbury?" Happie quietly interrupted her. "Mygrandmother was Miss Bradbury's dearest friend."
"People who are not her kindred," said Miss Irene Bradbury, somewhatconfused. "We understand your part of it--perhaps not your part sinceyou are so young--but your mother's. We wish you to know, and to repeatto your mother, that we shall not allow her plans to succeed. If AuntKeren should will away her fortune to you, to any of your family, weshall break the will, and we shall leave no means untried to preventher continuing under your mother's influence. That is all. Repeatwhat I have said to your mother, but you will not gain anything byrepeating it to Miss Bradbury."
Happie had turned white under these remarks, but she looked Miss IreneBradbury over from head to foot with a scorn she richly deserved.
"I shall certainly spare Aunt Keren the annoyance
of knowing that oneof her own nieces could insult her namesake in the home she has chosento come to in her trouble," said Happie. Her naturally quick temper didnot flare up, but in its stead burned a righteous indignation that madeher young eyes rather awful, and Miss Bradbury quailed before them. "Mymother--well, you do not know my mother, so there may be some excusefor you, though I can't imagine any. We have all thought Miss Bradburypoor, until now." Happie's eye fell upon the check book, and MissHelen's following it, she started to pick it up, but Happie forestalledher. "Pardon me, that is not for any one to see," she said. "There isnothing for me to reply to the insults you have heaped upon my motherand upon us all. If you have anything more to say, you will please tellyour aunt your plan is to prevent her doing as she likes. And I don'tenvy you if you do tell her. I will send her in to see you, since youare here, and I don't want her to guess how badly you have behaved. Sheis not at all well. But while she is visiting us you will please notcome here again to see her. If you come I shall not let you in."
Happie walked out of the little room, head up, and with an air thatwas little less than regal. Inwardly she was in a tumult. It wasinconceivable that these two women could have stayed her in her ownPatty-Pans parlor to subject her to such treatment! That they did notknow her beautiful mother, to whom they imputed such baseness, hardlybettered it. What right had they so to suspect the daughter of MissBradbury's dearest friend?
"Aunt Keren, it is your two nieces, Miss Helen and Miss Irene Bradbury.If you don't need my help I won't wait; I am in a wee hurry." Happiesteadied her voice to say this at Miss Keren's door, and scuttled away.She dared not risk letting Miss Keren see her tell-tale face, nor hearher voice in one avoidable word.
As soon as she heard Miss Keren go through the hall to the parlorHappie flew to her own room and threw herself face downward on thebed. She pulled the pillows down over her head and burrowed further inunder them. The tears that she had been holding back burst forth in atropical tempest; wounded affection, pride, a cruel sense of injusticeagainst which she was helpless, righteous wrath that her mother couldbe so misjudged, so outraged, combined to make the tears the bitterestthat sunny Happie had ever shed. She cried and cried, and, becauseshe was suffocating herself to keep the sound of her crying down, shekicked her feet and dove further under the pillows till the chance ofsweet sleep that night in that particular bed seemed very slender.
Miss Bradbury's nieces did not make a long call. If Happie had not beenin such violent contradiction to her nickname she might have discoveredfrom the tones carried out through the little flat by its telescopicconstruction, that the call was not a particularly pleasant one. Asthe rustle of skirts and the fall of feet announced the fact that AuntKeren was conducting her guests to the door, Happie restrained her sobsand lay still, under the fear of being heard, in spite of her upheavalof the pillows.
"You have known me quite long enough, Irene Bradbury," Aunt Keren wassaying in her clear-cut accent, and with a vigor of which she had notseemed capable since coming to the Patty-Pans, "to know that if youhad set about defeating your own ends you could not have taken a surermethod than the one you have employed this afternoon."
"I hope, Aunt Keren," retorted her niece with unmistakable temper,"that your physician is competent. A shock such as you have hadrequires more than ordinary skill. I should be glad to have him consultwith my physician."
"I think mine is quite competent to pronounce on the effect of theshock," said Miss Keren. "It will be made perfectly clear to every oneinterested that I have sustained no real harm; I will see to that.Don't trouble to come to see me again, Irene. When I need you, Iwill send for you."
"SHE JUMPED UP, STRAIGHTENED HER TWISTED GARMENTS...."]
Happie triumphed as she heard this valedictory, and, throwing off herpillows, she sat up feeling better. Then, as the door shut, and sheheard Aunt Keren turn, she suddenly realized that she would be obligedto appear with the marks of her recent tempest upon her, and that AuntKeren would ask an explanation of her unmistakable tears.
She jumped up, straightened her twisted garments with rapid pulls down,and shrugs up, wrenched her collar around from under her ear, crossedto the bowl, turned on the hot water and was wildly bathing her eyeswhen Miss Keren came to the door, and called: "Happie, Happie, child,what are you doing? I am ready to resume our pleasant duet, and, if youwill, I should be glad to have you bring me a glass of hot milk, for Iam tired."
"Yes, Auntie Keren. Go and sit down in the most restful place youcan find, and the milk and I will be there in a few minutes," calledHappie, catching at anything that prolonged her time.
She could not delay longer than it took to heat the milk to the pointwhen it was just ready to boil, and as she handed it to Miss Kerenshe saw that her keen eyes espied other cause than the gas range forHappie's crimson cheeks and inflamed eyelids.
"Sit down, Keren-happuch," said the elder of that name, motioning tothe footstool at her feet. Happie obeyed, rather dreading what mightbe coming. Miss Bradbury touched her eyelids lightly, and tipped up herchin with her fingers.
"What did they say to you, my Unhappie?" she asked without an echo ofher usual brisk and brusque manner. Then, as Happie hesitated for ananswer at once truthful and not unpleasant, she added: "Don't fence,my dear, and don't try to spare me. This is by no means the firsttime that I have encountered the unlovable qualities of my brother'sdaughters. Did they suggest to you their doubt of singleness of motivein your mother's love for me?"
"They said horrible things!" declared Happie, throwing away all reservein letting herself speak. "Horrible, brutal, false things, Aunt Keren!At first I was stunned, then I was furious, sort of deadly, still,white furious, Aunt Keren! And I told them--I don't know WHATI told them. Only I know I told them not to come here to see you again,because I shouldn't let them in. I hope you don't mind! I suppose Ishould let them in if you wanted them."
"I certainly do not mind; you did quite right. It would be undignifiedto allow people under your roof who spoke ill of your mother," saidAunt Keren quietly. "Happie----"
"Aunt Keren!" Happie interrupted her passionately. "We never knew youhad any money. As far as we thought about it at all, we thought youwere rather poor. We have been setting aside part of the tea roommoney to pay our own rent, because we thought you ought not to havegiven us that rent at Christmas. You were just Aunt Keren to us; no oneever thinks about money, whether people that belong to them have it ornot. But they said----"
"Yes, my dear," Aunt Keren interrupted in her turn. "On the whole,don't tell me what they said. You are not quite right in saying that_no one_ thinks of money in connection with his affections, but itis a pitiable creature that does. And those two nieces of mine aredecidedly pitiable creatures. They had a sordid, vulgar mother, Happie.My brother married most unfortunately. Those two daughters of his havemade an open onslaught upon my possessions, and they are wildly afraidthat I shall will all that I have elsewhere. They have good reason fortheir fears. They would never use money kindly, wisely, properly. Theyhave quite enough now for all purposes, which frees me from scruplesas to my justice in doing what I please with what is my own, but theirgreed for more would never be satisfied while anything was beyond theirreach. These are hideous truths, dear Happie, but you will have tolearn that there are people in the world different from your mother,and that plenty of unfortunate beings make for themselves an atmospherethat is far from the unworldly, simple and loving atmosphere of yourlittle Harlem Patty-Pans. You must be unceasingly thankful that whenyour mother was left almost destitute at your father's death, she hadfor you children something far more valuable than money could havegiven."
"Ah, yes, we know that!" cried Happie. "But as well as we know it now,Margery and I often say we shall appreciate it better when we are olderand see more of the unpleasant side of life, at which we only peepwhile we are young."
"Truer than you guess!" agreed Miss Keren briefly. "Now, Happie,listen to a story, a true story about one Keren-happuch, with a secondKeren-happuch
coming into the tale at the end. I am going to tell itto you because of what happened this afternoon. It will satisfy youforever as to my reasons for doing what I intend to do. Don't interruptme. For the first time in my life it tires me to talk, and it spoilsa story to interrupt it. Nearly fifty years ago the first of the twoKeren-happuchs was young, a girl of definite opinions, considerablewill, of few and strong attachments; the kind of girl that can besuperlatively happy or altogether miserable, and who is likely to makea bad matter of her life if things go contrary with her. This girl hada friend, the most beautiful, best girl that the sun ever shone upon,with every grace of mind and character, and with the crowning graceof all,--entire unselfishness and unconsciousness of self. Her namewas Elizabeth Vaughan, and she was your grandmother. One hears a gooddeal said of men's friendships and how no women are capable of equallove for each other, but I am certain David and Jonathan were notmore truly devoted than were these two girls of a half century ago.Keren-happuch worshiped Elizabeth, and the tie was peculiarly tender onboth sides. There came into Keren-happuch's life a new interest after awhile. It was when Elizabeth was away, and there was nothing to divertthis girl of natural strength of feeling from going with all her mightwith the tide that seemed to her the flood-tide of happiness. Of courseyou can guess what the new interest was, for the girls were not quitetwenty, and romance loves the second decade. It looked as though thisfoolish Keren-happuch were going to sail into the port of bliss, butElizabeth came home. And then--why, no one could remember Keren-happuchwhen Elizabeth was about, and Keren awoke from her dream to find it nothers, but Elizabeth's. It is good to know that Keren-happuch loved herfriend no less that the love she had hoped was her own had turned toElizabeth. Keren-happuch had common sense, I am glad to say, and shesaw that only a blind man could have preferred herself. So she wept herlittle tear in private, as she hoped, but Elizabeth saw its stain, andshe tried to turn back to Keren-happuch the love she had innocentlydiverted. That part of the story does not matter. Each girl tried tobring about the happiness of the other, but Elizabeth could not giveto another what belonged to herself and she married Roland Spencer.Keren-happuch rejoiced in their happiness, because she loved them bothbest of all the world, yet--well, one can rejoice through a heartache,Happie, and it is a matter for gratitude when heartache takes the formwhich allows such rejoicing. The best of this story is that therewas no break in the triangle of an affection beyond ordinary humanattachment. No change came to it through the marriage of Elizabethand the man she loved and who loved her, and whom Keren-happuchloved but who did not love Keren-happuch, not in that sense of theword love. To the end Elizabeth Spencer and her husband were thesolitary Keren-happuch's loyal friends. But Keren-happuch knew at thebeginning as well as she knows to-day that she was to be the solitaryKeren-happuch all her life. She never cared for life in just the same,glad, youthful way again, and she saw clearly that her happiness mustbe found in peace, and in conferring happiness, if she were able. Soshe grew into the crotchety, eccentric maiden lady whom you know, andit has been her whim to live much within her means in order to affordthe luxury of giving what, after all, she did not need. By and byElizabeth and her husband both died. Keren-happuch likes to believethat they know how faithfully she loves them still, and that in theirdaughter Charlotte and their grandchildren, the little Scollards, sherecognizes her nearest of kin--indeed her only kin, for she has neverbeen kin to her kindred. So you see, Happie, why you are more thanmerely my namesake. You are the legacy to me of my more than sister,and the man I loved, and whom she married. I am a rich woman, my dear.By and by, when I cannot use my money any longer I shall give it toyou to use it for me, feeling sure that you will do with it as I wouldhave done. For you are my heir; my child by the tie of my lifelongloneliness and by your blood. I have told you this to prove to you howridiculous it is for my nieces to fancy that anything could divert mefrom my intention in regard to you, and to satisfy you that whatever Ido for you, or for your mother or the other children, is done as if youwere my own children.
"I have a plan to propose to you soon, but not now. And that is theend of my story! Jump up, Happie, and run away, for I'm tired of yourchatter! What makes you such a little magpie? Don't you know that aninvalid should be kept quiet? Yet you talk and talk! Isn't it time to'put the potatoes over,' as they say in our Crestville?"
Happie arose, understanding that her Aunt Keren wanted no comment fromher on what she had just heard.
"I think it must be, Auntie Keren, dearest," she said. "You can restwhile I take their jackets off. Here is Jeunesse Doree. He will keepyou company and not talk as fast as I have done."
She lifted the yellow bit of purring affection into Miss Keren's lap,kissed her hard on the cheek and went quietly away. There was much tothink of in the story she had just heard, much to move her as a younggirl is always moved by an unhappy love story, but there was nothingto say to the revelation of the reason why the Scollard family was thenearest of kin to this strong-hearted woman, nor any words in which tothank her for the intentions she had announced.