Alice gasped: “Mama–-“
“I’ll stop him!” her mother responded, sharply; and hurried after the truant, catching him at the front door with his hat and raincoat on.
“Walter–-“
“Told you had a date downtown,” he said, gruffly, and would have opened the door, but she caught his arm and detained him.
“Walter, please come back and finish your dinner. When I take all the trouble to cook it for you, I think you might at least–-“
“Now, now!” he said. “That isn’t what you’re up to. You don’t want to make me eat; you want to make me listen.”
“Well, you MUST listen!” She retained her grasp upon his arm, and made it tighter. “Walter, please!” she entreated, her voice becoming tremulous. “PLEASE don’t make me so much trouble!”
He drew back from her as far as her hold upon him permitted, and looked at her sharply. “Look here!” he said. “I get you, all right! What’s the matter of Alice GOIN’ to that party by herself?”
“She just CAN’T!”
“Why not?”
“It makes things too MEAN for her, Walter. All the other girls have somebody to depend on after they get there.”
“Well, why doesn’t she have somebody?” he asked, testily. “Somebody besides ME, I mean! Why hasn’t somebody asked her to go? She ought to be THAT popular, anyhow, I sh’d think—she TRIES enough!”
“I don’t understand how you can be so hard,” his mother wailed, huskily. “You know why they don’t run after her the way they do the other girls she goes with, Walter. It’s because we’re poor, and she hasn’t got any background.
“‘Background?’ ” Walter repeated. “‘Background?’ What kind of talk is that?”
“You WILL go with her to-night, Walter?” his mother pleaded, not stopping to enlighten him. “You don’t understand how hard things are for her and how brave she is about them, or you COULDN’T be so selfish! It’d be more than I can bear to see her disappointed to-night! She went clear out to Belleview Park this afternoon, Walter, and spent hours and hours picking violets to wear. You WILL–-“
Walter’s heart was not iron, and the episode of the violets may have reached it. “Oh, BLUB!” he said, and flung his soft hat violently at the wall.
His mother beamed with delight. “THAT’S a good boy, darling! You’ll never be sorry you–-“
“Cut it out,” he requested. “If I take her, will you pay for a taxi?”
“Oh, Walter!” And again Mrs. Adams showed distress. “Couldn’t you?”
“No, I couldn’t; I’m not goin’ to throw away my good money like that, and you can’t tell what time o’ night it’ll be before she’s willin’ to come home. What’s the matter you payin’ for one?”
“I haven’t any money.”
“Well, father–-“
She shook her head dolefully. “I got some from him this morning, and I can’t bother him for any more; it upsets him. He’s ALWAYS been so terribly close with money–-“
“I guess he couldn’t help that,” Walter observed. “We’re liable to go to the poorhouse the way it is. Well, what’s the matter our walkin’ to this rotten party?”
“In the rain, Walter?”
“Well, it’s only a drizzle and we can take a streetcar to within a block of the house.”
Again his mother shook her head. “It wouldn’t do.”
“Well, darn the luck, all right!” he consented, explosively. “I’ll get her something to ride in. It means seventy- five cents.”
“Why, Walter!” Mrs. Adams cried, much pleased. “Do you know how to get a cab for that little? How splendid!”
“Tain’t a cab,” Walter informed her crossly. “It’s a tin Lizzie, but you don’t haf’ to tell her what it is till I get her into it, do you?”
Mrs. Adams agreed that she didn’t.
CHAPTER VI
Alice was busy with herself for two hours after dinner; but a little before nine o’clock she stood in front of her long mirror, completed, bright-eyed and solemn. Her hair, exquisitely arranged, gave all she asked of it; what artificialities in colour she had used upon her face were only bits of emphasis that made her prettiness the more distinct; and the dress, not rumpled by her mother’s careful hours of work, was a white cloud of loveliness. Finally there were two triumphant bouquets of violets, each with the stems wrapped in tin-foil shrouded by a bow of purple chiffon; and one bouquet she wore at her waist and the other she carried in her hand.
Miss Perry, called in by a rapturous mother for the free treat of a look at this radiance, insisted that Alice was a vision. “Purely and simply a vision!” she said, meaning that no other definition whatever would satisfy her. “I never saw anybody look a vision if she don’t look one to-night,” the admiring nurse declared. “Her papa’ll think the same I do about it. You see if he doesn’t say she’s purely and simply a vision.”
Adams did not fulfil the prediction quite literally when Alice paid a brief visit to his room to “show ” him and bid him good-night; but he chuckled feebly. “Well, well, well!” he said.
