CHAPTER X
"When I was only two years old, my real mamma died," Lucy commenced,"and papa's sister, who was a great deal older than papa, came to takecare of us. I had a brother five years older than I. Aunt Mabel was sokind to us, and let us do just as we pleased about everything. I don'tsee why things could not have gone on like that always, because as soonas I grew up I intended to take charge of the house and run it for papa.I am thirteen now so it wouldn't have been long before I could have doneit. But when I was ten years old, my brother died, and after that, papastayed away from the house all he could, although Auntie Mabel wasalways talking to him about his duty to me.
"Well, one day, when I was eleven years old, papa came home, and thevery minute I saw his face I knew something had happened.
"'Goodness, papa,' I said, 'you look as though you had had good news!''I have, my dear,' he said, and then somehow as I looked at him I hadsuch a funny feeling. All at once I didn't want to _know_ what made himlook so glad. So I just sat there and said nothing.
"'Don't you want to know what it is?' he said, and I said, 'I don't knowwhether I do or not.'
"Papa came over and put his head down on my shoulder the way he used towhen he called me his little comforter, and said, 'Oh, yes, Lucy, youwant to know! Please say you want to know what your daddy has to tellyou.'
"So I said, 'All right,' and Elise, he was going to get married! Oh, Ijust hated it! He told me lots about the lady. She was from Boston, andthat was why I had never seen her, and had never heard about it. She hadnever been in Louisville. He said she was beautiful, and she did looknice in the picture he had in his pocket case, and he said she was justas lovely as she could be. I just sat there and let him talk, andfinally he said, 'Well, chicken, what do you think about it?' I don'tknow what made me say what I did. Somehow it popped out before Ithought. I said, 'Are you sure she isn't marrying you for your money?'
"And papa sort of stiffened up and looked hard at me, and finally hesaid in a queer voice, 'Good Lord, how old are you?' I said, 'I ameleven,' and he said, 'Well, you sound like Mrs. Worldly Wiseman, agedfifty. I suppose you will feel better if I say that the lady has moremoney than I have, and that I will be lucky if people do not claim that_I_ have been the fortune hunter.'
"'Well, what _is_ she going to marry you for?' I asked. 'She says sheloves me,' papa said. I said, 'We don't want her here! We are gettingalong all right.' Oh, I didn't mean to be so ugly, but somehow I _hated_to have papa marry anyone, and I didn't know this lady. So papa went offawfully cross at me and the next person was Auntie Mabel. Papa had toldme first; he thought he ought to, and then he went up and told AuntMabel. She came down pretty soon. I was right there in the big chair,trying to imagine what it would be like to have a stranger in the house.
"Auntie said, 'Well, Lucy, what do you think of the news?' I said, 'Itis nothing to us; we can keep in our rooms most of the time.'
"'I can't,' said Aunt Mabel, 'because I shall leave when she comes. Notthat I have the slightest objection, but all the same off I go. I knewit would happen sooner or later, but Henry waited so long that I hopedhe was going to let well enough alone. But men are all alike!' And she_did_ go, Elise, the very day before papa brought the lady home. And I_couldn't_ go because there was no place for me to go and Auntiewouldn't take me with her because she said it would make papa angry. SoI had to stay whether I wanted to or not. It was perfectly awful!"
"Poor, poor Lucee!" murmured Elise, patting the hand she held.
"I was expecting to see a lady 'most as old as Auntie, and papa came upthe steps with somebody _young_. Why, she was _awfully_ young, and hadas much powder on her nose as anybody. I was looking through thecurtains, and when I saw them coming, I ran upstairs and hid. Papahunted and called, but I wouldn't answer, and I heard him getting angry,and then she said, 'Don't mind, Henry; it is the most natural thing inthe world. Let me find her, I know just where to look,' and papa said inthe silliest way, 'Go ahead, darling, the house is yours, and the childtoo if you will have such a bad one.'
"Well, Elise, she came up those stairs and straight to the table I wasunder, as though someone had told her! The cover went down to the floor,and she lifted it up, and said 'Coop!' but I came out crosser than ever,and we had a horrid time.
"So that is the way it went. Worse and worse all the time. Papa was notcross with me because she wouldn't let him be, and I felt pretty mean tothink a stranger had to tell my own father how to treat me. At first shetried to act so sweet to me, and used to want to play with me. I toldher I thought it was silly, but she said she had lots of brothers andsisters, and they always romped around together and had a fine time, andshe said if I would only be friends we could have such larks. I told herI hoped I was polite and all she said was to wonder where I got mydisposition.
"At first they used to make me stay down with them at night afterdinner, but by and by I was allowed to go upstairs. I said I wanted tostudy. I always kept a study book open on the table, and would go toreading it as soon as they came up. Papa used to come in once in awhile,and she was always asking me if she could help me with my lessons. Shesaid she used to help her brothers.
"After a year, one of the brothers came to visit. He was a real niceboy, and I would have liked him only he was so silly about her; used towant to be with her all the time, and put his arm around her and allthat! We had a real good time though, and I thought that I had been realnice to her before him until the day he went home. I was in the library,and he came in. I was just going to ask him to put his autograph in myalbum when he said: 'Gee, you are a disagreeable little mutt! My sisterwould half kill me for saying it, but honest, I don't see how she standsyou!'
"Of course I just walked out of the room. I knew then that she had beentelling things about me. And I knew that must be the reason why papa wasso different to me."
"But _was_ he?" asked Elise wonderingly.
"Yes, he was, and Miss Hooker says it is all my fault. I had been coldlypolite to her for a good while before that. I read about a girl who wasabused by a stepmother and the girl was too noble to abuse her inreturn. She was just 'coldly polite,' the book said, and so was I. Butafter that horrid boy went home I let myself be as mean as I could."
Elise nodded. "I saw it in your face," she said.
"And the more I thought of it, the more I was able to _act_ ugly. It isso funny, Elise, the way she makes everybody like her. Papa just getsworse all the time, and the servants _adore_ her, and she is so popularwith all the people who come to the house. She makes them all likeher--all but me."
"We will talk about that later," said Elise.
Lucy sighed. "Well, things have been getting worse and worse, but Ithink we have both tried to keep it from papa. We hate each other, butwe don't want him to know how bad things are in the house. Papa is nothappy, though. Oh, he has talked and talked to me and threatened to sendme to school, and I always tell him I wish he would. But the other daythe worst happened. Papa had gone to the office, and I was reading inthe library, and she was walking around and around, fussing and singingunder her breath and sort of acting happy. It made me so mad. Presentlyshe saw me looking at her, and she said, 'Don't you wonder why I amsinging?' and I said, 'No, I had not noticed.' She went right on: 'Ihave had some good news, wonderful news, and I wonder if you would liketo hear it, Lucy?'
"I said, 'I am not at all interested,' and went right on looking at mybook. She came over and leaned down on the table close to my face, andstared and stared at me. She said, 'Look at me, you bad, difficult,cruel child, look at me and tell me why you are bound to hate me so!' Inever saw anyone look so angry. Then her face changed and got pleasantagain, and she said, 'What have I _done_? Your own mother, if she cansee this house and its unhappy inmates, knows that I have tried to makefriends with you.'
"I remembered how furious the girl in the book was when her stepmotherspoke of her mother, and I raised my hand and slapped her."
"Oh, oh, oh!" cried Elise, covering her eyes. "The poor, poor lady!"
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Lucy went doggedly on.
"Of course I had no business to do that. She went to her room, andstayed there all day, and when papa came home he went right up. I was onmy way to my room, and I heard him say, 'I don't believe it is aheadache at all. I think Lucy must have been annoying you,' and shesaid, 'No,' and papa said, 'I shall send that child away to school.' Andshe said, 'No, give us one more chance. I am going to see Miss Hooker,her Scout Captain, and see if her influence is strong enough to makeLucy see things in the right way.' As soon as I heard that I made up mymind to see the Captain first, so I went over and that was the day I sawyou on the steps. We had had a long, long talk and she said I was allwrong and took away my trefoil. So here I am a dead Scout, and I am sounhappy that I don't know what to do and I am going to run away. I wantyou to have my pony. I am going to send it over to your house tomorrow."
"No, no, no!" cried Elise. "Everything is wrong; so wrong! Oh, let methink! That poor, poor lady! I am so, so sorry for her."
"Sorry for _her_!" cried Lucy. "There is no need to be sorry for _her_!I am the one to be sorry for. _She_ has everything."
"Why has she?" asked Elise. "She has nothing that you have not. She hasyour most dear papa; so have you. You both have a most lovely home,everything beautiful, friends, comfort. You are safe in a great land,where no enemy may come and keel all you love. You have both the samethings. You share them." She sat thinking. "Yes, she is the one to besorry for, because she is so disappoint. When she go to marry your_pere_, she have something promised that she never gets and so she isfull of mournsomeness."
"She has everything papa can get for her," said Lucy bitterly. "I wishyou could see the pearls he gave her the other day."
"Pearls!" said Elise scornfully. "What are pearls? He promised hersomething only _you_ could give her, and now she has it not, and she issad, and you are sad; everybody sad. What do you call her?"
"I don't call her anything," said Lucy stubbornly. "I wait until shelooks at me and then I say what I want to say."
"Foolish, foolish one," said Elise, "That is what no one likes. Besides,it is what you call rude not to speak the name. Most rude!" She saw afrown deepen on Lucy's brow and gently pressed her hand.
"You wanted to tell me, did you not?" she said softly. "Now I want totell you what I have not so many times told because I cannot speak of itunless my heart feels like it does bleed. I have had _such_ sorrows, andhave seen such dreadfulness; I have been so cold, and hongry, andfrightened. I have lived in the wet underground for so long time thatall this makes a differentness in me from you. Something in me feelsmost old and weary. I keep it shut up because my darling Maman Hargravewants me a happy child, and I want it for myself, but I do feel theoldness when I see others unhappy when they could so easily be full ofjoy. No, let me talk!" she added, as Lucy tried to speak.
"I must say this, I feel it on me, to save that poor lady her happiness.I shall be sorry for you some other day, but now I am most sad for her.When she marry your papa, she think all the time that she is going tohave a most sweet daughter because that is how your dear papa would tellher of you, and then what happens? You know.
"Oh, Lucee, dear, _dear_ Lucee, there is one thing you must give to her,right now today quick."
"What is that?" said Lucy, startled by Elise's vehemence.
"_LOVE!_" cried Elise, her sweet voice thrilling. "Love! So easy, sosweet! Please, my Lucee, do not turn away. I know I am right on accountof the oldness in my heart. That tells me. Think how most glad your ownmother is to have the pretty one taking such good care of your papa andof you. Does she select your clothes?"
"Yes," said Lucy.
"They are always the prettiest," said Elise. "No other girl is sochic--what you call stunning. And so modest, so quiet. And you yourselfsay everyone but you loves her. You too must love her, and the best ofall. You _must_! You are a Scout, and so you do always the right thing.Where is she now?"
"Home, I suppose. I came down to bring some of my last winter's dresses.Oh, Elise, even if I could, it is too late. I _can't_ go back to thebeginning again and start over."
"Of course not," said Elise wisely. "It is a most bad waste of time whenwe try going back to beginnings. It is better to start right from here._Anywhere_ is the best place to start. When you go home you start then!You start here by making some new sweet thoughts in your heart. DearLucee, please try! Please, for the sake of your Elise who also has totry to be always happy and not remember those blackness behind her.Won't you, please? I know I am right. Will you try to give her love?"
Lucy, the tears pouring down her cheeks, leaned her head against theshoulder near her.
"I don't see how I _can_," she said huskily. "But I will try. I am sosick of everything the way it is."
"Of course you are!" said Elise. "One is always seek of wrong. It makesa blackness over everything."
"What will I do? How will I begin?"
"I cannot tell you," said Elise. "You will know what to do. Somethingwill tell you. Something always tells. I think it is _le bon Dieu_. Justtrust and you will know what to do and to say. Come, let us go. I hearthe meeting talking itself down the stairs. Is your car waiting?"
"Yes," said Lucy dully as she allowed Elise to lead her through thestore. "Oh, Elise, I _don't_ love her, and I don't know what to do!"
"It is because of the hatefulness you put in your heart long ago thatyou do not love her," said the wise, sad little girl who had sufferedbeyond her years. She stood at the door of the limousine and smiled atthe little girl who sank back so wearily.
"Don't forget it is _now_ we make those beginnings. And you owe her whatyour dear papa promised her, your love." She stepped back with a wave ofher hand as the machine started away.
Lucy's heart throbbed violently as she approached her home. Her one hopewas that Mrs. Breen was out, so the moment might be delayed. But as shepassed the door of the library she saw Mrs. Breen lying in a lowlounging chair. How pale she looked! Lucy was quite startled to see thelook of suffering and weakness on the beautiful young face. She had beentoo blind to notice what had been worrying her father of late. Was it_her_ fault? Had _her_ actions brought her self-made enemy so low? Lucywas shocked.
She went up and put away her wraps. Still she did not know what to do orwhat to say. Twice she passed the library door. No thought came to her.She went in, not speaking, and selected a book at random from thenearest shelf. Mrs. Breen did not speak but her great blue eyes seemedto follow Lucy appealingly. Then Lucy found her courage. What she saidwas rough and crude but it came from the heart--an honest statement andappeal for tolerance and understanding. She came, clutching her book,and stood facing Mrs. Breen.
Her voice sounded so husky and shaken that she did not know it for hers.
"Mamma," she said, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. "Mamma, you knowI do not like you, but I am going to try to love you!"
And then, clasping her book with both hands, she fled.