CHAPTER VI.
THE GAY GNANI OF GINGALEE.
These same five years had rolled over the Mansard Roof. The StateAsylum still extended its hospitalities to the irresponsible andextra-illumined. The Vanderhook Drug Store remained as the LEADER,with additions and enlargements of stock.
Mr. and Mrs. Wm. K. Vanderhook, Jr., continued as ornaments tosociety, whose goings and comings were recorded, not only in the localClarion, but in the big Chicago pink and green Sporting Extraswhenever they attended the Horse Show or came in to root for theCubs--or entered a fancy cat or dog for the annual "Show."
To Mr. and Mrs. Vanderhook these had been years of social advancementand material success. Since his father's death, the drug business hadprospered in his son's hands. The young man had also developedinterest in politics and acquired a few ambitions in Kankakee. Our oldfriend "Bill" was now "William." He was more than this. He was knownand referred to as the Honorable Wm. K. Vanderhook; for he had enjoyedsuccessive honors as Councilman, Mayor, and was now talked of for theLegislature. It was in view of this that his friends gave him thecomplimentary prefix.
He was also Captain of the Home Guard, Chairman of the CountyCommittee, Secretary of the Y. M. C. A., and President of the ElectricLight Plant.
All this he was, and did, and still umpired at many a ball game, andjudged at all the Baby Shows.
And what of his wife, the adorable Typewriter, who had chosen the"Mansard Roof" and given notice to Slaughter & Steers on that sunnyJune morning five years ago?
She was the same charming and insouciant Imogene, the same dainty anddebonnair creature who had so swiftly captured the town and won forherself all modern conveniences and many of the luxuries.
She was a light in the first circle of Kankakee. She gave "functions."Her "At homes" were highly spoken of. Her Pink Teas and LavenderDinners, and red Touring Car and yellow Toy Dogs were the talk of thetown.
With a gentle but firm hand she ruled her husband's house, andpurse--and himself--when he was not looking.
Near-silks and close-to-Seals and Rhinestones knew her no more. It wasnow the Real Thing, and nickle-saving days were past, and the trolleycar and the matinee gallery were forgotten.
But she still remembered Alonzo Leffingwell. She occasionally wonderedif he had forgotten her.
Tonight is the fifth anniversary of their marriage, and Mr. and Mrs.Vanderhook have entertained a large company.
The best people of Kankakee and some choice friends of Chicago hadgathered under the Mansard Roof. It was a long-remembered festivity.Society called it a Swell Affair. Imogene had invited them to a"little informal," but the Honorable William privately declared it tobe a Blow-Out.
From whichever point of view it was considered it was the climax ofthe Vanderhook social successes.
It is long past midnight. Mr. and Mrs. V---- are at last alone. Thefifth anniversary has passed into history. The guests are gone. Thegreat house is empty. The doors are closed. The burglar alarm is set.
On departing, each guest had rapturously pronounced the whole thing asuccess. So did the host and hostess later on--when they had countedand compared the value of the gifts with the cost of theentertainment.
When they discovered that the presents would figure up twice over thecost of the reception, they retired to their sleeping rooms elate withthe consciousness of having discharged many social obligations, andtheir duty to themselves.
"You're a dandy, Genesy, and no mistake," ejaculated the Mayor, withadmiration. "You were dead right, but I had no idea it would pan outlike this," and her husband playfully tweaked the golden curl thatfell so prettily over the lady's brow.
"Gump!" and the lovely Imogene laughed in the same high soprano thatbelonged to the "Yards." She tossed her head, and made a little snatchat the Mayor.
Then Mr. Vanderhook himself laughed loudly as he dodged the blow, forhe was still holding the golden curl in his hand.
"You're an It," and, playfully recapturing her curl and pinning it tothe cushion, Imogene went on with the inventory of the gifts andcriticisms of their guests.
It was not so much what they said, but it was the fond and familiartone of their delicate joshing that indicated a still unbrokenconfidence between husband and wife.
But strange is the play of fate. Strange indeed, that in the suprememoments of human pride and vanity and self-satisfaction the "mills ofthe gods" begin to get in their work.
Wise the provision of nature which denies us foreknowledge oftomorrow's disasters, penalties and retributions.
Tonight had been the proudest of Bill Vanderhook's life. He had heardhimself and his possessions lauded to the skies. He had heard his wifecalled the handsomest and best dressed woman in Kankakee. He had heardhimself praised for his popularity as Mayor, for his ability asCaptain of the Guard, for his cleverness as Chairman of the Committee,his efficiency in the Y. M. C. A., his judgment in the Electric LightCompany; and besides all this had heard himself referred to as "ournext candidate for Congress." He had heard his house, his wine, hiswife, commended. He had heard himself toasted as a self-madegentleman. His cup was full.
And now he is sleeping the sleep of the just. Man-like, he had withone jerk divested himself of his habiliments and plunging into bed wasfast asleep in the twinkling of an eye.
Not so the fair Imogene. Woman-fashion, she needs must putter about,making many unnecessary preparations for retirement. She hadunbuckled, unhooked, unbuttoned, unpinned, untied and unlaced. She hadtaken off, shaken out, folded, hung up, taken down, picked up, pulledoff and straightened out all the things that a woman gets out of andgets into between an evening function and breakfast next morning.
And finally, standing before her mirror white-robed and picturesque,her yellow locks rolled into little wads, her beauty mask inreadiness, her night gloves at hand, she leans toward her ownreflection smiling softly and begins rubbing some creamy stuff intoher complexion.
She was smiling at and enjoying the reflection of the new diamondear-rings, Bill's anniversary gift. She was enjoying them as only awoman can, in her mirror, when suddenly--she started. She became awareof a Something Unusual. It was a Presence that--was not Bill. She feltvery cold all at once. She forgot whether she was massaging in thecircular or horizontal. Then she turned hastily and just in time towitness a very remarkable phenomenon.
Directly before her, clothed like a fashion plate, trim anddebonnaire, hat in hand, and bowing and smiling, stood the man she hadrejected and forgotten years ago.
Imogene Silesia Sheets-Vanderhook stood face to face with the youthfulyoga of Kankakee, the now powerful Gnani of Gingalee.
The lady's sense of the proprieties was shocked. Her blood ran hotwith anger. Then she remembered for a certainty the fast bolted doorsand the burglar alarm, and then her blood ran cold with fear.
The silver box fell from her hand. She screamed in terror. She sprangforward, wildly calling for Bill, when--the gentlemanly intruder,still smiling, still bowing, withdrew as he came--directly through thepanels of the bolted door.
"Oh, Bill! Oh, Bill! Oh, Bill!"
But Bill had heard nothing. He had schooled himself to noises. Sundaymorning sermons made him drowsy, and he often slept profoundly whenMrs. V. ragtimed on the piano.
He had not heard that scream of terror. He had not sensed the thingwhich had fallen upon his hitherto happy home. It required a vigorousshaking to arouse him.
But when once awake and listening to his wife's rehearsal of theincident, Bill Vanderhook was stirred. He was no longer drowsy. He wasnever so wide awake. The Mayor of Kankakee paled and trembled. Memorywas rife. He recalled Alonzo Leffingwell's departure and the cause.He remembered his own part in that fatal introduction. He rememberedthe mystic's claim upon Mrs. V. And worse than all, he could notforget the conditional curse pronounced upon himself.
Bill Vanderhook realized his responsibility. A cold thrill ranspineward and radiated therefrom. It is said that drowning men pass inreview a whole lifetime. So Bill Vanderh
ook in that one moment saw asin a vision his own domestic past. Though the years had butaugmented his own devotion to Imogene Silesia, he had sometimesfancied that she, since coming into the Presidency of theAdvanced-Thought-Extension Club, had at times appeared indifferent anddistrait. He now recalled with an inward chill the foreboding that shenow rarely came into the Drug Store except for a check, and that sheno longer entered joyously into the yearly replenishing of the"Stock."
He remembered further, that on one or two occasions she had spoken asif she missed something in him. She had once or twice yawned when hewas repeating some very flattering things said about himself in hisseveral capacities and offices.
A spasm of fear shook the gray matter in the druggist's head, sweptthrough the spine and circled round into the Solar Plexus--wheremasculine emotions seem to center. He felt very weak all in a minute.
"Imogene, Imogene, where is that Flask? Gimme that--I've got a chill;I might as well try it now."
The flask, an elegant silver and cut glass affair, had been among theevening's gifts. It was presented by the old Base Ball Nine. It wasfull when it took its place in line with other cards, but it waslighter when congratulations were over.
It was empty when the Mayor of Kankakee dropped it on the floor by hisbedside.
Still he was cold, very cold, and still the fatal words "REMEMBER, YOUASSUME MY RESPONSIBILITY" rang through the chambers of his memory.
"Shut that window, Genesy dear, the night air gives me a chill. Shutit tight, no--leave the switch on--I sleep better in the light, andsee here, now, my girl, I don't want to hear any more about thatmutton-head Leffingwell. You did not see him or any other Spook, and Idon't want you to let your imagination run away with you."
Saying which, that gentleman turned his face bravely to the walland--pretended to sleep.