CHAPTER XII
ELIZABETH'S DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE
Mrs. Brady was at the wash-tub again when her most uncommon and unexpectedgrandchild burst into the room.
She wiped her hands on her apron, and sat down with her usual exclamation,"Fer the land sakes! What's happened? Bessie, tell me quick. Is anythingthe matter with Lizzie? Where is she?"
But Elizabeth was on the floor at her feet in tears. She was shaking withsobs, and could scarcely manage to stammer out that Lizzie was all right.Mrs. Brady settled back with a relieved sigh. Lizzie was the firstgrandchild, and therefore the idol of her heart. If Lizzie was all right,she could afford to be patient and find out by degrees.
"It's that awful man, grandmother!" Elizabeth sobbed out.
"What man? That feller in Montana you run away from?" The grandmother satup with snapping eyes. She was not afraid of a man, even if he did shootpeople. She would call in the police and protect her own flesh and blood.Let him come. Mrs. Brady was ready for him.
"No, no, grandmother, the man--man--manager at the ten-cent store," sobbedthe girl; "he kissed me! Oh!" and she shuddered as if the memory was themost terrible thing that ever came to her.
"Fer the land sakes! Is that all?" said the woman with much relief and adegree of satisfaction. "Why, that's nothing. You ought to be proud. Manya girl would go boasting round about that. What are you crying for? Hedidn't hurt you, did he? Why, Lizzie seems to think he's fine. I tell youLizzie wouldn't cry if he was to kiss her, I'm sure. She'd just laugh, andask him fer a holiday. Here, sit up, child, and wash your face, and goback to your work. You've evidently struck the manager on the right side,and you're bound to get a rise in your wages. Every girl he takes a notionto gets up and does well. Perhaps you'll get money enough to go to school.Goodness knows what you want to go for. I s'pose it's in the blood, thoughBess used to say your pa wa'n't any great at study. But, if you've struckthe manager the right way, no telling what he might do. He might even wantto marry you."
"Grandmother!"
Mrs. Brady was favored with the flashing of the Bailey eyes. She viewed itin astonishment not unmixed with admiration.
"Well, you certainly have got spirit," she ejaculated. "I don't wonder heliked you. I didn't know you was so pretty, Bessie; you look like yourmother when she was eighteen; you really do. I never saw the resemblancebefore. I believe you'll get on all right. Don't you be afraid. I wish youhad your chance if you're so anxious to go to school. I shouldn't wonderef you'd turn out to be something and marry rich. Well, I must be gettingback to me tub. Land sakes, but you did give me a turn. I thought Lizziehad been run over. I couldn't think what else'd make you run off way herewithout your coat. Come, get up, child, and go back to your work. It'stoo bad you don't like to be kissed, but don't let that worry you. You'llhave lots worse than that to come up against. When you've lived as long asI have and worked as hard, you'll be pleased to have some one admire you.You better wash your face, and eat a bite of lunch, and hustle back. Youneedn't be afraid. If he's fond of you, he won't bother about your runningaway a little. He'll excuse you ef 'tis busy times, and not dock your payneither."
"Grandmother!" said Elizabeth. "Don't! I can never go back to that awfulplace and that man. I would rather go back to Montana. I would rather bedead."
"Hoity-toity!" said the easy-going grandmother, sitting down to her task,for she perceived some wholesome discipline was necessary. "You can't talkthat way, Bess. You got to go to your work. We ain't got money to keep youin idleness, and land knows where you'd get another place as good's thisone. Ef you stay home all day, you might make him awful mad; and then itwould be no use goin' back, and you might lose Lizzie her place too."
But, though the grandmother talked and argued and soothed by turns,Elizabeth was firm. She would not go back. She would never go back. Shewould go to Montana if her grandmother said any more about it.
With a sigh at last Mrs. Brady gave up. She had given up once beforenearly twenty years ago. Bessie, her oldest daughter, had a will likethat, and tastes far above her station. Mrs. Brady wondered where she gotthem.
"You're fer all the world like yer ma," she said as she thumped theclothes in the wash-tub. "She was jest that way, when she would marry yourpa. She could 'a' had Jim Stokes, the groceryman, or Lodge, the milkman,or her choice of three railroad men, all of 'em doing well, and ready tolet her walk over 'em; but she would have your pa, the drunken,good-for-nothing, slippery dude. The only thing I'm surprised at was thathe ever married her. I never expected it. I s'posed they'd run off, andhe'd leave her when he got tired of her; but it seems he stuck to her.It's the only good thing he ever done, and I'm not sure but she'd 'a' beenbetter off ef he hadn't 'a' done that."
"Grandmother!" Elizabeth's face blazed.
"Yes, _gran_'mother!" snapped Mrs. Brady. "It's all true, and you might'swell face it. He met her in church. She used to go reg'lar. Some boys usedto come and set in the back seat behind the girls, and then go home withthem. They was all nice enough boys 'cept him. I never had a bit a use ferhim. He belonged to the swells and the stuck-ups; and he knowed it, andpresumed upon it. He jest thought he could wind Bessie round his finger,and he did. If he said, 'Go,' she went, no matter what I'd do. So, whenhis ma found it out, she was hoppin' mad. She jest came driving round hereto me house, and presumed to talk to me. She said Bessie was a designingsnip, and a bad girl, and a whole lot of things. Said she was leading herson astray, and would come to no good end, and a whole lot of stuff; andtold me to look after her. It wasn't so. Bess got John Bailey to quitsmoking fer a whole week at a time, and he said if she'd marry him he'dquit drinking too. His ma couldn't 'a' got him to promise that. Shewouldn't even believe he got drunk. I told her a few things about herprecious son, but she curled her fine, aristocratic lip up, and said,'Gentlemen never get drunk.' Humph! Gentlemen! That's all she knowed aboutit. He got drunk all right, and stayed drunk, too. So after that, when Itried to keep Bess at home, she slipped away one night; said she was goingto church; and she did too; went to the minister's study in a strangechurch, and got married, her and John; and then they up and off West.John, he'd sold his watch and his fine diamond stud his ma had give him;and he borrowed some money from some friends of his father's, and he offwith three hundred dollars and Bess; and that's all I ever saw more of meBessie."
The poor woman sat down in her chair, and wept into her apron regardlessfor once of the soap-suds that rolled down her red, wet arms.
"Is my grandmother living yet?" asked Elizabeth. She was sorry for thisgrandmother, but did not know what to say. She was afraid to comfort herlest she take it for yielding.
"Yes, they say she is," said Mrs. Brady, sitting up with a show ofinterest. She was always ready for a bit of gossip. "Her husband's dead,and her other son's dead, and she's all alone. She lives in a big house onRittenhouse Square. If she was any 'count, she'd ought to provide fer you.I never thought about it. But I don't suppose it would be any use to try.You might ask her. Perhaps she'd help you go to school. You've got a claimon her. She ought to give you her son's share of his father's property,though I've heard she disowned him when he married our Bess. You might fixup in some of Lizzie's best things, and go up there and try. She mightgive you some money."
"I don't want her money," said Elizabeth stiffly. "I guess there's worksomewhere in the world I can do without begging even of grandmothers. ButI think I ought to go and see her. She might want to know about father."
Mrs. Brady looked at her granddaughter wonderingly. This was a view ofthings she had never taken.
"Well," said she resignedly, "go your own gait. I don't know where you'llcome up at. All I say is, ef you're going through the world with such highand mighty fine notions, you'll have a hard time. You can't pick out rosesand cream and a bed of down every day. You have to put up with life as youfind it."
Elizabeth went to her room, the room she shared with Lizzie. She wanted toget away from her grandmother's disapproval. It lay on her heart likelead
. Was there no refuge in the world? If grandmothers were not refuges,where should one flee? The old lady in Chicago had understood; why had notGrandmother Brady?
Then came the sweet old words, "Let not your heart be troubled." "In thetime of trouble he shall hide me in his pavilion in the secret of histabernacle shall he hide me." She knelt down by the bed and said "OurFather." She was beginning to add some words of her own now. She had heardthem pray so in Christian Endeavor in the sentence prayers. She wished sheknew more about God, and His Book. She had had so little time to ask orthink about it. Life seemed all one rush for clothes and position.
At supper-time Lizzie came home much excited. She had been in hot waterall the afternoon. The girls had said at lunch-time that the manager wasangry with Bessie, and had discharged her. She found her coat and hat, andhad brought them home. The pocketbook was missing. There was only fifteencents in it; but Lizzie was much disturbed, and so was the grandmother.They had a quiet consultation in the kitchen; and, when the aunt came,there was another whispered conversation among the three.
Elizabeth felt disapproval in the air. Aunt Nan came, and sat down besideher, and talked very coldly about expenses and being dependent upon one'srelatives, and let her understand thoroughly that she could not sit aroundand do nothing; but Elizabeth answered by telling her how the manager hadbeen treating her. The aunt then gave her a dose of worldly wisdom, whichmade the girl shrink into herself. It needed only Lizzie's loud-voicedexhortations to add to her misery and make her feel ready to do anything.Supper was a most unpleasant meal. At last the grandmother spoke up.
"Well, Bessie," she said firmly, "we've decided, all of us, that, if youare going to be stubborn about this, something will have to be done; and Ithink the best thing is for you to go to Mrs. Bailey and see what she'lldo for you. It's her business, anyway."
Elizabeth's cheeks were very red. She said nothing. She let them go onwith the arrangements. Lizzie went and got her best hat, and tried it onElizabeth to see how she would look, and produced a silk waist from herstore of garments, and a spring jacket. It wasn't very warm, it is true;but Lizzie explained that the occasion demanded strenuous measures, andthe jacket was undoubtedly stylish, which was the main thing to beconsidered. One could afford to be cold if one was stylish.
Lizzie was up early the next morning. She had agreed to put Elizabeth inbattle-array for her visit to Rittenhouse Square. Elizabeth submittedmeekly to her borrowed adornings. Her hair was brushed over her face, andcurled on a hot iron, and brushed backward in a perfect mat, and thenpuffed out in a bigger pompadour than usual. The silk waist was put onwith Lizzie's best skirt, and she was adjured not to let that drag. Thenthe best hat with the cheap pink plumes was set atop the elaboratecoiffure; the jacket was put on and a pair of Lizzie's long silk gloveswere struggled into. They were a trite large when on, but to the handsunaccustomed to gloves they were like being run into a mould.
Elizabeth stood it all until she was pronounced complete. Then she cameand stood in front of the cheap little glass, and surveyed herself. Therewere blisters in the glass that twisted her head into a grotesque shape.The hairpins stuck into her head. Lizzie had tied a spotted veil tightover her nose and eyes. The collar of the silk waist was frayed, and cuther neck. The skirt-band was too tight, and the gloves were torture.Elizabeth turned slowly, and went down-stairs, past the admiring aunt andgrandmother, who exclaimed at the girl's beauty, now that she was attiredto their mind, and encouraged her by saying they were sure her grandmotherwould want to do something for so pretty a girl.
Lizzie called out to her not to worry, as she flew for her car. She saidshe had heard there was a variety show in town where they wanted a girlwho could shoot. If she didn't succeed with her grandmother, they wouldtry and get her in at the show. The girls at the store knew a man who hadcharge of it. They said he liked pretty girls, and they thought would beglad to get her. Indeed, Mary James had promised to speak to him lastnight, and would let her know to-day about it. It would likely be a jobmore suited to her cousin's liking.
Elizabeth shuddered. Another man! Would he be like all the rest?--all therest save one!
She walked a few steps in the direction she had been told to go, and thenturned resolutely around, and came back. The watching grandmother felt herheart sink. What was this headstrong girl going to do next? Rebel again?
"What's the matter, Bessie?" she asked, meeting her anxiously at the door."It's bad luck to turn back when you've started."
"I can't go this way," said the girl excitedly. "It's all a cheat. I'm notlike this. It isn't mine, and I'm not going in it. I must have my ownclothes and be myself when I go to see her. If she doesn't like me andwant me, then I can take Robin and go back." And like another Davidburdened with Saul's armor she came back to get her little sling andstones.
She tore off the veil, and the sticky gloves from her cold hands, and allthe finery of silk waist and belt, and donned her old plain blue coat andskirt in which she had arrived in Philadelphia. They had been frugallybrushed and sponged, and made neat for a working dress. Elizabeth feltthat they belonged to her. Under the jacket, which fortunately was longenough to hide her waist, she buckled her belt with the two pistols. Thenshe took the battered old felt hat from the closet, and tried to fasten iton but the pompadour interfered. Relentlessly she pulled down the work ofart that Lizzie had created, and brushed and combed her long, thick hairinto subjection again, and put it in its long braid down her back. Hergrandmother should see her just as she was. She should know what kind of agirl belonged to her. Then, if she chose to be a real grandmother, welland good.
Mrs. Brady was much disturbed in mind when Elizabeth came down-stairs. Sheexclaimed in horror, and tried to force the girl to go back, telling herit was a shame and disgrace to go in such garments into the sacredprecincts of Rittenhouse Square; but the girl was not to be turned back.She would not even wait till her aunt and Lizzie came home. She would gonow, at once.
Mrs. Brady sat down in her rocking-chair in despair for full five minutesafter she had watched the reprehensible girl go down the street. She hadnot been so completely beaten since the day when her own Bessie left thehouse and went away to a wild West to die in her own time and way. Thegrandmother shed a few tears. This girl was like her own Bessie, and shecould not help loving her, though there was a streak of something elseabout her that made her seem above them all; and that was hard to bear. Itmust be the Bailey streak, of course. Mrs. Brady did not admire theBaileys, but she was obliged to reverence them.
If she had watched or followed Elizabeth, she would have been still morehorrified. The girl went straight to the corner grocery, and demanded herown horse, handing back to the man the dollar he had paid her lastSaturday night, and saying she had need of the horse at once. After someparley, in which she showed her ability to stand her own ground, the boyunhitched the horse from the wagon, and got her own old saddle for herfrom the stable. Then Elizabeth mounted her horse and rode away toRittenhouse Square.