CHAPTER X
Wallacetown, the railroad centre which lay five miles south of Hamsteadacross the Connecticut River, was generally regarded by the agriculturalcommunity in its vicinity as a den of iniquity. This opinion was notdeserved. Wallacetown was progressive and prosperous; its high schoolranked with the best in the State, its shops were excellent, itsbuildings, both public and private, neat and attractive. There wereseveral reasons, however, for the "slams" which its neighbors gave it.Its population, instead of being composed largely of farmers, the sons,grandsons, and great-grandsons of the "old families" who had firstsettled the valley, was made up of railway employees and officials, andof merchants who had come there at a later date. Close team-work betweenthem and the dwellers in Hamstead, White Water, and other villages nearat hand, would have worked out for the advantage of both. Butunfortunately they did not realize this. Wallacetown was also the onlytown in the vicinity where a man "could raise a thirst" as Austin put it,Vermont being "dry," and New Hampshire, at this time, "local option."Probably, from the earliest era, young men have been thirsty, and theirparents have bemoaned the fact. It is not hard to imagine Eve wringingher hands over Cain and Abel when they first sampled generously thebeverage they had made from the purple grapes which grew so plentifullynear the Garden of Eden. Wallacetown also offered "balls," notoccasionally, but two or three times a week. The Elks Hall, the OperaHouse, and even the Parish House were constantly being thrown open, and alocal orchestra flourished. These "balls" were usually quite as innocentas those that took place in larger cities, under more elegant andexclusive surroundings; but the stricter Methodists andCongregationalists of the countryside did not believe in dancing at all,especially when there might be a "ginger-ale high-ball" or a glass of aleconnected with it. Besides, there were two poolrooms and a wide streetpaved with asphalt, and brilliantly lighted down both sides. Trainsran--and stopped--by night as well as by day, and Sundays as well asweek-days. In short, Wallacetown was up-to-date. That alone, in the eyesof Hamstead, was enough to condemn it. And when an enterprising citizenopened a Moving-Picture Palace, and promptly made an enormous success ofit, Mrs. Elliott could no longer restrain herself.
"It's something scandalous," she declared, "to see the boys an' girls whowould be goin' to Christian Endeavor or Epworth League if they'd benbrought up right, crowdin' 'round the entrance doors lookin' at theposters, an' payin' out good money that ought to go into the missionaryboxes for the heathen in the Sandwich Islands, to go an' see filums ofwimmen without half enough clothes on. We read in the _Wallacetown Bugle_that there was goin' to be a picture called 'The Serpent of the Nile' an'Joe an' I thought we could risk that, it sounded kinder geographical an'instructive. Of course we went mostly to see the new buildin' an' whoelse would be there, anyway. But land! the serpent was a girl dressed inthe main in beads an' a pleasant smile. She loafed around on hard-lookin'sofas that was set right out in the open air, an' seemed to have morebeaux than wimmen-friends. I'm always suspicious of that kind of a woman.I wanted to leave right away, as soon as I see what it was goin' to belike, but Joe wouldn't. He wanted to set right there until it was over.He seemed to feel afraid some one might see us comin' out, an' that maybewe better stay until the very end, so's we wouldn't be noticed, slippin'out with the crowd.--Have you took cold, Sylvia? You seem to have a realbad cough."
Sylvia, who had been sewing peacefully beside the sunny kitchen windowfilled with geraniums, rose hastily, and left Mrs. Gray alone with herfriend. Having gained the hall in safety, she sank down on the stairs,and laughed until the tears rolled down her cheeks. And here Austin,coming in a moment later, found her.
"What on earth--?" he began, and then, without even pursuing hisquestion, sat down beside her and joined in her laugh. "What would youdo?" he said at last, when some semblance of order had been restored,"without Mrs. Elliott? Considering the quiet life you lead, you must besimply pining for amusement."
"I am," said Sylvia. "Austin--let's go to the movies in Wallacetownto-morrow night."
Austin, suddenly grave, shook his head. "Shows" in Wallacetown wereassociated in his mind with a period in his life when he had very nearlybroken his mother's heart, and which he had now put definitely behindhim. The idea of connecting Sylvia, even in the most remote way, withthat period, was abhorrent to him.
"Why not?" she asked defiantly.
"Well, for one thing, the roads are awful. This combination in March ofmelting snow and mud is worse than anything I know of--ruts and holes andslush. It would take us over an hour to get there."
"And three to get back, I suppose," said Sylvia pertly; "we could go inmy motor."
"I haven't taken out the new license for this year yet. Besides, though Ibelieve the movies are very good for a place the size of Wallacetown, ofcourse, they can't be equal to what you'll be seeing in New York prettysoon. Wait and go there."
"I won't!" said Sylvia, springing up. "I'll get Thomas to take me. Youalways have some excuse when I want you to do anything. Why don't you sayright out that you don't care to go?"
Sylvia expected denials and protestations. She was disappointed. Thomashad arrived home for his long spring vacation a few days before, and hadpromptly begun to follow Sylvia about like a shadow. Austin, who neversought her out except for his French lessons, had endeavored toremonstrate with his younger brother. The boy flared up, with suchunusual and unreasonable anger, that Austin had decided it was wiser notto try to spare him any longer, but to let "him make a fool of himselfand have it over with." When Sylvia made her tart speech, it suddenlyflashed through his mind that a ten-mile ride, without possibility ofinterruption, was an excellent opportunity for this. He therefore grinnedso cheerfully that Sylvia was more puzzled and piqued than ever.
"I'm sure Thomas would be tickled to death to take you," he saidenthusiastically; "I'll get the car registered the first thing in themorning, and he can spend the afternoon washing and oiling it. It reallyneeds a pretty thorough going-over. It'll do my heart good to see him inhis old clothes for once. He seems to have entirely overlooked the factthat he was to spend this vacation being pretty useful on the farm, andnot sighing at your heels dressed in the height of fashion as heunderstands it. He's wearing out the mat in front of the bureau, hestands there so much, and I've hardly had a chance for a shave or a tubsince he got here. He locks himself in the bathroom and spends hoursmanicuring his nails and putting bay-rum on his hair. He--All right, Iwon't if you say so! But, Sylvia, you ought to make a real spree of this,and go in to the drug-store for an ice-cream soda after the show."
"Is that the usual thing?"
"It's the most usual thing that I should recommend to you. Of course,there are others--
"Austin, you are really getting to be the limit. Go tell Thomas Iwant him."
"With pleasure. I haven't," murmured Austin, "had a chance to tell himthat so far. He's never been far enough off--except when he wasgetting ready to come. That's probably what he's doing now. I'll goupstairs and see."
Austin had guessed right. Thomas stood in front of the mirror, shiningwith cleanliness, knotting a red silk tie. He had reached that stage in ayoung man's life when clothes were temporarily of supreme importance.Gone was the shy and shabby ploughboy of a year before. Thisself-assertive young gentleman was clad in a checked suit in which greenwas a predominating color, a black-and-white striped shirt, andchocolate-colored shoes. His hair, still dripping with moisture, wasbrushed straight back from his forehead and the smell of perfumed soaphung heavy about him.
"Hullo," he said, eyeing his brother's intrusion with disfavor, "howdirty you are!"
Austin, whose khaki and corduroy garments made him look more than everlike a splendid bronze statue, nodded cheerfully.
"I know. But some one's got to work. We can't have two lilies of thefield on the same farm.--Sylvia wants to speak to you."
"Do you know why?" asked Thomas, promptly displaying more dispatch.
"I think she intends to suggest that you should take her to the
moving-pictures in Wallacetown to-morrow night. She doesn't get muchamusement here, and now that she's feeling so much stronger again, Ithink she rather craves it."
"Of course she does," said Thomas, "and if you weren't the most selfish,pig-headed, blind bat that ever flew, you'd have seen that she got it,long before this. Where is she?"
It seemed to the impatient Thomas that the next evening would neverarrive. All night, and all the next day, he planned for it exultantly. Hewas to have the chance which the ungrateful Austin had seen fit to castaway. He would show Sylvia how much he appreciated it. Through the longafternoon, suddenly grown unseasonably warm, he toiled on the motor untilit was spick and span from top to bottom and from end to end. He wascareful to start his labors early enough to allow a full hour to dressbefore supper, cautioned his mother a dozen times to be sure there wasenough hot water left in the boiler for a deep bath, and laid out freshand gorgeous garments on the bed before he began his ablutions. He wasamazed to find, when he came downstairs, that Sylvia, who had trampedover to the brick cottage that afternoon, was still in the short muddyskirt and woolly sweater that she had worn then, poking around in theyard testing the earth for possibilities of early gardening.
"The frost has come out a good deal to-day," she said, wiping grimylittle hands on an equally grimy handkerchief; "I expect the mud will beawful these next few weeks, but I can get in sweet peas and ever-bearingstrawberries pretty soon now."
"We'll have to start right after supper," said Thomas, by way of adelicate hint. He did not feel that it was proper for him to suggest toSylvia that her present costume was scarcely suitable to wear if shewere to accompany him to a "show."
"Start?" Sylvia looked puzzled. Then she remembered that in a moment ofpique with Austin she had arranged to go to Wallacetown with Thomas. Asshe thought it over, it appealed to her less and less. "You mean toWallacetown? I'm afraid I'd forgotten all about it, I've been so busyto-day. I wonder if we'd better try it? The warmth to-day won't haveimproved the roads any, and they were pretty bad before."
Thomas felt as if he should choke. That she should treat so casually theevening towards which he had been counting the moments for twenty-fourhours seemed almost unbearable. He strove, however, to maintain hisdignified composure.
"Just as you say, of course," he replied with hurt coolness.
Sylvia glanced at him covertly, and the corners of her mouth twitched.
"I suppose we may as well try it," she said. "Do you suppose some of theothers would like to come with us? There's plenty of room for everybody."
Again Thomas choked. This was the last thing that he desired. How was heto disclose to Sylvia the wonderful secret that he adored her with thewhole family sitting on the back seat?
"I don't believe they could get ready now," he said; "they didn't knowyou expected them to go, you see, and there's really awfully littletime." He took out his watch.
Sylvia fled. Twenty minutes later she appeared at the supper-table, cladin a soft black lace dress, slightly low in the neck, her arms onlypartially concealed by transparent, flowing sleeves, her waving haircoiled about her head like a crown. She had on no jewels--only the littlestar that Austin had given her--and the gown was the sort ofdemi-toilette which two years before she would have considered hardlyelaborate enough for dinner alone in her own house. To the Grays,however, her costume represented the zenith of elegance, and Thomas beganvaguely to feel that there was something the matter with his ownappearance.
"Ought I to have put on my dress-suit?" he asked Austin in astage-whisper, as Sylvia left the room to get her wraps.
The mere thought of a dress-suit at the Wallacetown "movies" was comic tothe last degree, but the merciless Austin jumped at the suggestion.
"Why don't you? You won't be very late if you change quickly. You won'tneed to take another bath, will you? I'll bring round the car."
He showed himself, indeed, all that was helpful and amiable. He not onlybrought around the car, he went up and helped Thomas with stubborn studsand a refractory tie. He stood respectfully aside to let his brother wrapSylvia's coat around her, and held open the door of the car.
"Have a good time!" he shouted after them, as they plunged out of sight,somewhat jerkily, for Thomas, who had not driven a great deal, was not amaster of gear-shifting. His mother looked at him anxiously.
"I can't help feelin' you're up to some deviltry, Austin," she saiduneasily, "though I don't know just what 'tis. I'm kinder nervous aboutthis plan of them goin' off to Wallacetown."
"I'm not," said Austin with a wicked grin, and took out his Frenchdictionary.
The first part of the evening, however, seemed to indicate that Mrs.Gray's fears were groundless. Sylvia and Thomas reached theMoving-Picture Palace without mishap, though they had left the Homesteadso late owing to the latter's change of attire and the slow rate at whichthe mud and his lack of skill had obliged them to ride, that the audiencewas already assembled, and "The Terror of the Plains," a stirring tale ofan imaginary West, was in full progress before they were seated. Thomas'sdress-suit did not fail to attract immediate attention and equallyimmediate remarks, and Sylvia, who hated to be conspicuous, felt hercheeks beginning to burn. But--more sincerely than Mr. Elliott--shedecided that it was better to wait until the entertainment was over thanto attract further notice by going out at once. Thomas, less sensitivethan she, enjoyed himself thoroughly.
"We have splendid pictures in Burlington," he announced, "but this isgood for a place of this size, isn't it, Sylvia?"
"Yes. Don't talk so loudly."
"I can't talk any softer and have you hear unless I put my head upcloser. Can I?"
"Of course, you may not. Don't be so silly."
"I didn't mean to be fresh. You're not cross, are you, Sylvia?"
It seemed to her as if the "show" would never end. Chagrin and resentmentovercame her. What had possessed her to come to this hot, stuffy placewith Thomas, instead of reading French in her peaceful, pleasantsitting-room with Austin? Why didn't Austin show more eagerness to bewith her, anyway? She liked to be with him--ever and ever so much--didn'tsee half so much of him as she wanted to. There was no use beating aboutthe bush. It was perfectly true. She was growing fonder of him, and moredependent on him, every day. And every other man she had ever known hadbeen grateful for her least favor, while he--Her hurt pride seemed tostifle her. She was very close to tears. She was jerked back to composureby the happy voice of Thomas.
"My, but that was a thriller! Come on over to the drug-store, Sylvia, andhave an ice-cream cone."
"I'm not hungry," said Sylvia, rising, "and it must be getting awfullylate. I'd rather go straight home."
Thomas, though disappointed, saw no choice. But once off the brilliantlylighted "Main Street," and lumbering down the road towards Hamstead, hedecided not to put off the great moment, for which he had been waiting,any longer. Wondering why his stomach seemed to be caving in so, hetactfully began.
"Did you know I was going to be twenty-one next month, Sylvia?" he asked.
"No," said Sylvia absently; "that is, I had forgotten. You seem more likeeighteen to me."
This was a somewhat crushing beginning. But Thomas was not daunted.
"I suppose that is because I was older than most when I went to college,"he said cheerfully, "but though you're a little bit older, I'm neareryour age than any of the others--much nearer than Austin. Had you everthought of that?"
"No," said Sylvia again, still more absently. "Why should I? I feel abouta thousand."
"Well, you _look_ about sixteen! Honest, Sylvia, no one would guessyou're a day over that, you're so pretty. Has any one ever told you howpretty you are?"
"Well, it has been mentioned," said Sylvia dryly, "but I have alwaysthought that it was one of those things that was greatly overestimated."
"Why, it couldn't be! You're perfectly lovely! There isn't a girl inBurlington that can hold a candle to you. I've been going out, socially,a lot all winter, and I know. I've been to hops a
nd whist-parties andchurch-suppers. The girls over there have made quite a little of me,Sylvia, but I've never--"
There was a deafening report. Thomas, cursing inwardly, interruptedhimself.
"We must have had a blow-out," he said, bringing the car to a noisy stop."Wait a second, while I get out and see."
It was all too true. A large nail had passed straight through one of thefront tires. He stripped off his ulster, and the coat of his dress-suit,and turned up his immaculate trousers.
"You'll have to get up for a minute, while I get the tools from under theseat, Sylvia. I'm awfully sorry.--It's pretty dark, isn't it?--I neverchanged a tire but once before. Austin's always done that."
"Austin's always done almost everything," snapped Sylvia. Then, peeringaround to the back of the car, "Why don't _you do_ something? What _is_the matter now?"
"The lock on the extra wheel's rusted--you see it hasn't been undone allwinter. I can't get it off."
"Well, _smash_ it, then! We can't stay here all night."
"I haven't got anything to smash it _with_. I must have forgotten to putpart of the tools back when I cleaned the car."
"Oh, Thomas, you are the most _inefficient_ boy about everything exceptfarming that I ever saw! Let me see if I can't help."
She jumped out, her feet, clad in silk stockings and satin slippers,sinking into the mud as she did so. Together for fifteen minutes, rapidlygrowing hot and angry, they wrestled with the refractory lock. At the endof that time they were no nearer success than they had been in thebeginning.
"We'll have to crawl home on a flat tire," she said at last disgustedly;"I hope we'll get there for breakfast."
Thomas had never seen her temper ruffled before. Her imperiousness wasalways sweet, and it was Heaven to be dictated to by her. The fact thathe believed her to be comparing him in her mind to Austin did not helpmatters. Austin, as he knew very well, would have managed some way to getthat tire changed. For some time they rode along in silence, the mudchurning up on either side of the guards with every rod that theyadvanced. At last, realizing that his precious moments were slippingrapidly away, and that though, in Sylvia's present mood, it was hardly afavorable time to go on with his declaration, the morrow would be evenless so, Thomas summoned up his courage once more.
"Is your back tired?" he asked. "It's awfully jolty, going over theseruts. I could steer all right with one hand, if you would let me put myother arm around you."
"You're not steering any too well as it is," remarked Sylvia tartly."_Thomas_! What are you thinking of? Don't you touch me!--There, nowyou've done it!"
Thomas certainly had "done it." Sylvia, at his first movement, hadslapped him in the face with no gentle tap. And Thomas, with only onehand on the wheel, and too amazed to keep his wits about him, had allowedthe car to slide down the side of the road into the deep, muddy gutter,straight in front of the Elliotts' house.
Late as it was, a light was snapped on in the entrance without delay.Electricity had been installed here before any other place in the villagehad been blessed with it, for the owners never missed a chance of seeinganything, and Mrs. Elliott seemed to sleep with one eye and one ear open.She appeared now in the doorway, dressed in a long, gray flannel"wrapper," her hair securely fastened in metal clasps all about her head,against the "crimps" for the next day.
"Who is it?" she cried sharply--"and what do you want?"
Of all persons in the world, this was the last one whom either Sylvia orThomas desired to see. Neither answered. Nothing dismayed, Mrs. Elliottadvanced down the walk. Her carpet-slippers flapped as she came.
"Come on, Joe," she called over her shoulder to her less intrepid spouse."Are you goin' to leave me alone to face these desperate drunkards,lurchin' around in the dead of night, an' makin' the road unsafe fordoctors who might be out on some errand of mercy--they're the only_respectable_ people who wouldn't be abed at this hour of the night. Youbetter get right to the telephone, an' notify Jack Weston. He ain't muchof a police officer, to be sure, but I guess he can deal with bums likethese--too stewed to answer me, even!" Then, as she drew nearer, she gavea shriek that might well have been heard almost as far off asWallacetown, "Land of mercy! It's Sylvia an' Thomas!"
Thomas cowered. No other word could express it. But Sylvia got out,slamming the door behind her.
"We've been to Wallacetown to a moving-picture show," she said with adignity which she was very far from feeling, "and we've been unfortunatein having tire-trouble on the way home. And now we seem to be stuck inthe mud. I had no idea the roads were in such a condition, or of course Ishouldn't have gone. We can't possibly pry the motor up in this darkness,so I think we may as well leave it where it is, first as last untilmorning, and walk the rest of the way home. Come on, Thomas."
"I wouldn't ha' b'lieved," said Mrs. Elliott severely, "that you wouldha' done such a thing. Prayer-meetin' night, too! Well, it's fortunate noone seen you but me an' Joe. If I was gossipy, like some, it would be allover town in no time, but you know I never open my lips. But, land sakes!here comes a _team_. Who can this be?"
Eagerly she peered out through the darkness. Then she turned again to theunfortunate pair.
"It's Austin in the carryall," she cried excitedly; "now, ain't that apiece of luck? You won't have to walk home, after all. Though what _he's_out for, either, at this hour--"
Austin reined in his horse. "Because I knew Sylvia and Thomas must havegot into some difficulty," he said quietly. Considering the pitch atwhich it had been uttered, it had not been hard to overhear Mrs.Elliott's speech. "Pretty bad travelling, wasn't it? I'm sorry. Tires,too? Well, that was hard luck. But we'll be home in no time now, and ofcourse the show was worth it. You didn't hurt your dress-suit any, didyou, Thomas? I worried a little about that. You drive--I'll get in on theback seat with Sylvia, and make sure the robe's tucked around her allright. It seems to be coming off cold again, doesn't it? Good-night, Mrs.Elliott--thank you for your sympathy."
Conversation languished. Austin, unseen by the miserable Thomas on thefront seat, and unreproved by the weary and chilly Sylvia, "tucked therobe around her" and then, apparently, forgot to take his arm away.Moreover, he searched in the darkness for her small, cold fingers, andgathered them into his free hand, which was warm and big and strong. Asthey neared the house, he spoke to her.
"The next time you want to go to 'a show' I guess I'd better take youmyself, after all," he whispered. "You'll find a hot-water bag in yourbed, and hot lemonade in the thermos bottle on the little table besideit. I put a small 'stick' in it--oh, just a twig! And I've kept thekitchen fire up. The water in the tank's almost boiling, if you happen tofeel like a good tub--"
He helped her out, and held open the front door for her gravely. Then,closing it behind her, he turned to Thomas.
"You'd better run along, too," he said, with a slight drawl; "I'll putthe horse up."
"Oh, go to hell!" sobbed Thomas.