Jennie Gerhardt Part 43

Among the other callers were a Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael Burke, a Mrs. Hanson Field, and a Mrs. Timothy Ballinger--all of whom left cards, or stayed to chat a few minutes. Jennie found herself taken quite seriously as a woman of importance, and she did her best to support the dignity of her position. And, indeed, she did exceptionally well. She was most hospitable and gracious. She had a kindly smile and a manner wholly natural; she succeeded in making a most favorable impression. She explained to her guests that she had been living on the North Side until recently, that her husband, Mr. Kane, had long wanted to have a home in Hyde Park, that her father and daughter were living here, and that Lester was the child's stepfather. She said she hoped to repay all these nice attentions and to be a good neighbor.

Lester heard about these calls in the evening, for he did not care to meet these people. Jennie came to enjoy it in a mild way. She liked making new friends, and she was hoping that something definite could be worked out here which would make Lester look upon her as a good wife and an ideal companion. Perhaps, some day, he might really want to marry her.

First impressions are not always permanent, as Jennie was soon to discover. The neighborhood had accepted her perhaps a little too hastily, and now rumors began to fly about. A Mrs. Sommerville, calling on Mrs. Craig, one of Jennie's near neighbors, intimated that she knew who Lester was--"oh, yes, indeed. You know, my dear,"

she went on, "his reputation is just a little--" she raised her eyebrows and her hand at the same time.

"You don't say!" commented her friend curiously. "He looks like such a staid, conservative person."

"Oh, no doubt, in a way, he is," went on Mrs. Sommerville. "His family is of the very best. There was some young woman he went with--so my husband tells me. I don't know whether this is the one or not, but she was introduced as a Miss Gorwood, or some such name as that, when they were living together as husband and wife on the North Side."

"Tst! Tst! Tst!" clicked Mrs. Craig with her tongue at this astonis.h.i.+ng news. "You don't tell me! Come to think of it, it must be the same woman. Her father's name is Gerhardt."

"Gerhardt!" exclaimed Mrs. Sommerville. "Yes, that's the name. It seems to me that there was some earlier scandal in connection with her--at least there was a child. Whether he married her afterward or not, I don't know. Anyhow, I understand his family will not have anything to do with her."

"How very interesting!" exclaimed Mrs. Craig. "And to think he should have married her afterward, if he really did. I'm sure you can't tell with whom you're coming in contact these days, can you?"

"It's so true. Life does get badly mixed at times. She appears to be a charming woman."

"Delightful!" exclaimed Mrs. Craig. "Quite naive. I was really taken with her."

"Well, it may be," went on her guest, "that this isn't the same woman after all. I may be mistaken."

"Oh, I hardly think so. Gerhardt! She told me they had been living on the North Side."

"Then I'm sure it's the same person. How curious that you should speak of her!"

"It is, indeed," went on Mrs. Craig, who was speculating as to what her att.i.tude toward Jennie should be in the future.

Other rumors came from other sources. There were people who had seen Jennie and Lester out driving on the North Side, who had been introduced to her as Miss Gerhardt, who knew what the Kane family thought. Of course her present position, the handsome house, the wealth of Lester, the beauty of Vesta--all these things helped to soften the situation. She was apparently too circ.u.mspect, too much the good wife and mother, too really nice to be angry with; but she had a past, and that had to be taken into consideration.

An opening bolt of the coming storm fell upon Jennie one day when Vesta, returning from school, suddenly asked: "Mamma, who was my papa?"

"His name was Stover, dear," replied her mother, struck at once by the thought that there might have been some criticism--that some one must have been saying something. "Why do you ask?"

"Where was I born?" continued Vesta, ignoring the last inquiry, and interested in clearing up her own ident.i.ty.

"In Columbus, Ohio, pet. Why?"

"Anita Ballinger said I didn't have any papa, and that you weren't ever married when you had me. She said I wasn't a really, truly girl at all--just a n.o.body. She made me so mad I slapped her."

Jennie's face grew rigid. She sat staring straight before her. Mrs.

Ballinger had called, and Jennie had thought her peculiarly gracious and helpful in her offer of a.s.sistance, and now her little daughter had said this to Vesta. Where did the child hear it?

"You mustn't pay any attention to her, dearie," said Jennie at last. "She doesn't know. Your papa was Mr. Stover, and you were born in Columbus. You mustn't fight other little girls. Of course they say nasty things when they fight--sometimes things they don't really mean. Just let her alone and don't go near her any more. Then she won't say anything to you."

It was a lame explanation, but it satisfied Vesta for the time being. "I'll slap her if she tries to slap me," she persisted.

"You mustn't go near her, pet, do you hear? Then she can't try to slap you," returned her mother. "Just go about your studies, and don't mind her. She can't quarrel with you if you don't let her."

Vesta went away leaving Jennie brooding over her words. The neighbors were talking. Her history was becoming common gossip. How had they found out.

It is one thing to nurse a single thrust, another to have the wound opened from time to time by additional stabs. One day Jennie, having gone to call on Mrs. Hanson Field, who was her immediate neighbor, met a Mrs. Williston Baker, who was there taking tea. Mrs. Baker knew of the Kanes, of Jennie's history on the North Side, and of the att.i.tude of the Kane family. She was a thin, vigorous, intellectual woman, somewhat on the order of Mrs. Bracebridge, and very careful of her social connections. She had always considered Mrs. Field a woman of the same rigid circ.u.mspectness of att.i.tude, and when she found Jennie calling there she was outwardly calm but inwardly irritated. "This is Mrs. Kane, Mrs. Baker," said Mrs. Field, introducing her guests with a smiling countenance. Mrs. Baker looked at Jennie ominously.

"Mrs. Lester Kane?" she inquired.

"Yes," replied Mrs. Fields.

"Indeed," she went on freezingly. "I've heard a great deal about Mrs.--" accenting the word "Mrs.--Lester Kane."

She turned to Mrs. Field, ignoring Jennie completely, and started an intimate conversation in which Jennie could have no possible share.

Jennie stood helplessly by, unable to formulate a thought which would be suitable to so trying a situation. Mrs. Baker soon announced her departure, although she had intended to stay longer. "I can't remain another minute," she said; "I promised Mrs. Neil that I would stop in to see her to-day. I'm sure I've bored you enough already as it is."

She walked to the door, not troubling to look at Jennie until she was nearly out of the room. Then she looked in her direction, and gave her a frigid nod.

"We meet such curious people now and again," she observed finally to her hostess as she swept away.

Mrs. Field did not feel able to defend Jennie, for she herself was in no notable social position, and was endeavoring, like every other middle-cla.s.s woman of means, to get along. She did not care to offend Mrs. Williston Baker, who was socially so much more important than Jennie. She came back to where Jennie was sitting, smiling apologetically, but she was a little bit fl.u.s.tered. Jennie was out of countenance, of course. Presently she excused herself and went home.

She had been cut deeply by the slight offered her, and she felt that Mrs. Field realized that she had made a mistake in ever taking her up.

There would be no additional exchange of visits there--that she knew. The old hopeless feeling came over her that her life was a failure. It couldn't be made right, or, if it could, it wouldn't be.

Lester was not inclined to marry her and put her right.

Time went on and matters remained very much as they were. To look at this large house, with its smooth lawn and well grown trees, its vines clambering about the pillars of the veranda and interlacing themselves into a transparent veil of green; to see Gerhardt pottering about the yard, Vesta coming home from school, Lester leaving in the morning in his smart trap--one would have said that here is peace and plenty, no shadow of unhappiness hangs over this charming home.

And as a matter of fact existence with Lester and Jennie did run smoothly. It is true that the neighbors did not call any more, or only a very few of them, and there was no social life to speak of; but the deprivation was hardly noticed; there was so much in the home life to please and interest. Vesta was learning to play the piano, and to play quite well. She had a good ear for music. Jennie was a charming figure in blue, lavender, and olive-green house-gowns as she went about her affairs, sewing, dusting, getting Vesta off to school, and seeing that things generally were put to rights. Gerhardt busied himself about his mult.i.tudinous duties, for he was not satisfied unless he had his hands into all the domestic economies of the household. One of his self-imposed tasks was to go about the house after Lester, or the servants, turning out the gas-jets or electric-light bulbs which might accidentally have been left burning. That was a sinful extravagance.

Again, Lester's expensive clothes, which he carelessly threw aside after a few month's use, were a source of woe to the thrifty old German. Moreover, he grieved over splendid shoes discarded because of a few wrinkles in the leather or a slightly run down heel or sole.

Gerhardt was for having them repaired, but Lester answered the old man's querulous inquiry as to what was wrong "with them shoes" by saying that they weren't comfortable any more.

"Such extravagance!" Gerhardt complained to Jennie. "Such waste! No good can come of anything like that, It will mean want one of these days."

"He can't help it, papa," Jennie excused. "That's the way he was raised."

"Ha! A fine way to be raised. These Americans, they know nothing of economy. They ought to live in Germany awhile. Then they would know what a dollar can do."

Lester heard something of this through Jennie, but he only smiled.

Gerhardt was amusing to him.

Another grievance was Lester's extravagant use of matches. He had the habit of striking a match, holding it while he talked, instead of lighting his cigar, and then throwing it away. Sometimes he would begin to light a cigar two or three minutes before he would actually do so, tossing aside match after match. There was a place out in one corner of the veranda where he liked to sit of a spring or summer evening, smoking and throwing away half-burned matches. Jennie would sit with him, and a vast number of matches would be lit and flung out on the lawn. At one time, while engaged in cutting the gra.s.s, Gerhardt found, to his horror, not a handful, but literally boxes of half-burned match-sticks lying unconsumed and decaying under the fallen blades. He was discouraged, to say the least. He gathered up this d.a.m.ning evidence in a newspaper and carried it back into the sitting-room where Jennie was sewing.

"See here, what I find!" he demanded. "Just look at that! That man, he has no more sense of economy than a--than a--" the right term failed him. "He sits and smokes, and this is the way he uses matches. Five cents a box they cost--five cents. How can a man hope to do well and carry on like that, I like to know. Look at them."

Jennie looked. She shook her head. "Lester is extravagant," she said.

Gerhardt carried them to the bas.e.m.e.nt. At least they should be burned in the furnace. He would have used them as lighters for his own pipe, sticking them in the fire to catch a blaze, only old newspapers were better, and he had stacks of these--another evidence of his lord and master's wretched, spendthrift disposition. It was a sad world to work in. Almost everything was against him. Still he fought as valiantly as he could against waste and shameless extravagance. His own economies were rigid. He would wear the same suit of black--cut down from one of Lester's expensive investments of years before--every Sunday for a couple of years. Lester's shoes, by a little stretch of the imagination, could be made to seem to fit, and these he wore. His old ties also--the black ones--they were fine. If he could have cut down Lester's s.h.i.+rts he would have done so; he did make over the underwear, with the friendly aid of the cook's needle. Lester's socks, of course, were just right. There was never any expense for Gerhardt's clothing.

The remaining stock of Lester's discarded clothing--shoes, s.h.i.+rts, collars, suits, ties, and what not--he would store away for weeks and months, and then, in a sad and gloomy frame of mind, he would call in a tailor, or an old-shoe man, or a ragman, and dispose of the lot at the best price he could. He learned that all second-hand clothes men were sharks; that there was no use in putting the least faith in the protests of any rag dealer or old-shoe man. They all lied. They all claimed to be very poor, when as a matter of fact they were actually rolling in wealth. Gerhardt had investigated these stories; he had followed them up; he had seen what they were doing with the things he sold them.

"Scoundrels!" he declared. "They offer me ten cents for a pair of shoes, and then I see them hanging out in front of their places marked two dollars. Such robbery! My G.o.d! They could afford to give me a dollar."