Master of the Vineyard Part 18

"No, but I'll find it, or somebody will give me a pa.s.s. I'm too young to stay to the concert and there's more of life coming to me still. I only hope and pray that I'll manage to keep my head and not make the fatal, heart-breaking mistake of the women who go over the precipice, waving defiance at the social law that bids them stay with the herd."

[Sidenote: Mixed Metaphors]

"Your metaphors are mixed," Madame commented. "Concerts and circuses, and herds, and precipices and door-mats. I feel as though you had presented me with a jig-saw puzzle."

"So I have. Is my life anything more than that? I don't even know that all the pieces are there. If they would only print the picture on the cover of the box, or tell us how many pieces there are, and give us more than one or two at a time, and eternity to solve it in, we'd stand some chance, perhaps."

"More mixed metaphors," Madame said, rolling up the mended stockings.

A maid came into the dining-room and began to set the table for luncheon. Edith rose from her chair and came to Madame. The dark hollows under her eyes were evident now and all the youth was gone from her face and figure.

"Well," she said, in a low tone, "what am I to do?"

It was some little time before Madame answered. "I do not know. These modern times are too confused for me. The old way would have been to wait, to do the best one could, and trust G.o.d to make it right in His own good time."

[Sidenote: Invited to Stay]

Edith shook her head. "I've waited and I've done the best I could, and I've tried to trust."

"No one can solve a problem for another, but, I think, when it's time to act, one knows what to do and the way is clearly opened for one to do it. Don't you feel better for having come here and talked to me?"

"Yes, indeed," said the young woman, gratefully. "So much was right--I'm sure of that. The train had scarcely started before I felt more at peace than I had for years."

"Then, dear, won't you stay with me until you know just what to do?"

Edith looked long and earnestly into the sweet old face. "Do you mean it? It may be a long time."

"I mean it--no matter how long it is."

Quick tears sprang to the brown eyes, and Edith brushed them aside, half ashamed. "It means more trunks," she said, "and your son----"

"Will be delighted to have you with us," Madame concluded.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." Madame was not at all sure, but she told her lie prettily.

"Then," said Edith, with a smile, "I'll stay."

IX

A Spring Day

[Sidenote: Alden's Idea of a Trunk]

With the tact that seems the birthright of the gifted few, Mrs. Lee adjusted herself to the ways of the Marsh household. Some commotion had been caused by the arrival of four more trunks, of different shapes and sizes, but after they had been unpacked and stored, things went on smoothly.

Alden's idea of a trunk had hitherto been very simple. To him, it was only a substantial box, variation in size and in exterior finish being the only possible diversions from the original type. When it fell to his lot, on a Sat.u.r.day morning, to superintend the removal of Mrs. Lee's empty trunks to the attic, he discovered the existence of hat trunks, dresser trunks, and wardrobe trunks, cannily constructed with huge warts on all sides but the one the trunk was meant to stand upon.

"Why so scornful?" a sweet voice asked, at his elbow.

"I'm not scornful," he returned. "I'm merely interested."

[Sidenote: In the Hall]

"You're fortunate," she smiled, "to be so easily interested."

"We're out of the world here, you know, and unfamiliar varieties of the trunk species make me feel much as Crusoe did when he came upon a human footprint in the sand."

"I wonder," mused Mrs. Lee, "how he really did feel. It must have been dramatic beyond all words."

She sat down on the window-seat in the hall and leaned back against the cas.e.m.e.nt of the open window. The warm Spring wind, laden with the sweet scent of growing things, played caressingly about her neck and carried to Alden a subtle fragrance of another sort. Her turquoise-blue silk kimono, delicately embroidered in gold, was open at the throat and fastened at the waist with a heavy golden cord. Below, it opened over a white petticoat that was a ma.s.s of filmy lace ruffles. Her tiny feet peeped out beneath the lace, clad in pale blue silk stockings and fascinating Chinese slippers that turned up at the toes.

From above came discordant rumblings and eloquent, but smothered remarks on the general subject of trunks. Mrs. Lee laughed. "They're trying to make the wardrobe-trunk stand up on the wrong end, and it won't."

"How do you know that's it?"

"Because I've heard the same noises and the same general trend of conversation all the way from the Atlantic to the Pacific and back again. The farther west you go, the more accomplished the men are in the art of profanity."

[Sidenote: Sounds from the Attic]

"Is it an art? I thought it came naturally."

"It does, to some, but you have no idea what study and constant practice can do in developing a natural gift."

The sunlight illumined her hair into a ma.s.s of spun gold that sparkled and gleamed and shone. It made golden lights in her brown eyes, caressed the ivory softness of her skin, and deepened the scarlet of her lips.

"Listen," she said. "Isn't it awful?"

"No," returned Alden, "it isn't. In fact, I don't know of any sound I'd rather hear than your trunks being put into our attic."

A faint suggestion of a dimple appeared at the corner of her mouth, then vanished. "Well done," she said. "You have atoned n.o.bly for your dismay the night I came, when you found I'd brought a trunk."

"I wish you wouldn't," he replied, awkwardly. "It wasn't that."

"Such a small trunk," she went on, mercilessly. "Just a plain little steamer trunk that you can put under a bed. The kind you can ask a cabman to take down to the cab for you. A little trunk that a woman can almost carry herself! Only room for one gown, one hat, and a few toilet articles!"

[Sidenote: Always Too Late]

The golden lights in her eyes were dancing and her hair s.h.i.+mmered in the sun. Alden sat down at the farthest end of the window-seat and looked out upon the vineyard, faintly green, now, with the new leaves. The two men descended from the attic and went down the back stairs.

"How did Robinson Crusoe feel when he saw the footprint?" he asked, determined to get away from the unlucky subject of trunks.

"I don't know," Edith answered, "for I wasn't there. He must have been surprised and frightened and pleased all at once. How interesting it must be to have something happen to you that never happened to anybody before!"