She prepared herself some luncheon, eating as heartily as usual, but she was convinced that she was heartbroken. She was indeed bothered by the uncertainty and, most of all, by the fact that her daughter and husband were together.
Late in the afternoon Lucy and her father returned with a number of packages.
“Where did he get the money to buy all those things? I wonder what they are?” Nannie said to herself.
She could hear the murmur of their voices in Lucy’s room as they opened the packages and arranged the contents of the trunk and valises. When Lucy descended to the kitchen to prepare supper Nannie tiptoed to the open door of the bedroom and peered in at the still scattered belongings of her daughter. She saw a pair of new shoes and an unfamiliar hat which were a concrete affirmation of all that she had tried to deny.
“Lucy leaves in the morning on the nine fifteen,” volunteered Arthur when the three were seated at their evening meal.
Nannie was speechless. She gave him one scathing look and fled to her room.
Lucy followed her and knocked but Nannie would not open the door. She could be heard sobbing. What disturbed the girl was that the supper she carried up on a tray and left outside her mother’s door was not eaten. At bed time Nannie had not appeared. Lucy kissed her father good night, but when she lay down she could not sleep.
When Arthur and Lucy were eating breakfast the next morning an expressman came for the trunk. Nannie had not yet descended to the dining room and still refused to open her door though Lucy had been to her several times and asked for admittance. When Mrs. Merwent saw the baggage carried away, however, her tragic resolution was broken, and, after hesitating at the head of the stairs, she composed her face to what seemed an appropriate expression of her state of mind and went down.
It was a beautiful late summer morning. The lawn was visible through the half open front door. The grass was parched, and the vines on the porch were beginning to turn yellow. There was a tinge of autumn crispness in the air, but the sunshine that flooded the hall was golden.
Lucy came out of the dining room and laid her gloves, coat, and a little hand bag on the hat stand. She had on the new hat, which was very becoming, and wore a new blue serge frock. She was excited by the unusual prospect of a journey and looked exceptionally pretty.
“Lucy!” Nannie began in an ominous voice. The girl, a little startled, turned to face her mother.
Mrs. Merwent wore a soiled lace negligee. Her hair hung down her back, loose and uncombed. Her habitual precautions to ward off wrinkles and retain her good looks had been neglected. She seemed much older than on the previous day when Lucy had seen her carefully dressed, rouged and with well ordered hair.
“You wicked, selfish, cruel girl!” continued Nannie in high pitched strident tones. “You mean, hard hearted, wretched beast!” She suddenly advanced toward Lucy who retreated in frightened astonishment.
Arthur appeared in the hall doorway.
“That is enough!” he said sternly.
Nannie suddenly lost all self control.
“Get out of my house!” she screamed. “You stinking—!” and a stream of awful invectives that seemed from a brothel poured from her lips. She picked up Lucy’s belongings from the hat stand and threw them against the front door where they fell on the threshold.
“Anna!” Arthur spoke calmly, but he only succeeded in evoking another paroxysm of screams and vile words directed at himself.
“Put your things on, Lucy,” he said, and in a moment the two fairly fled into the street, leaving Nannie in a state of hysteria bordering on madness.
“I can’t go on this way, Papa!” exclaimed Lucy, looking back at the house after they had walked half a block.
“All right. Do as you wish,” he responded without emotion.
“Yes, it’s better that I should go,” she decided as if to herself, and they did not speak again until they reached the station.
As they stood waiting for the train Lucy studied Arthur’s set face furtively.
“I don’t want my going to make more trouble between you and Mamma,” she ventured at last, timidly.
Arthur’s eyes sought hers slowly.
“Don’t worry,” he replied heavily in his deep voice. “What you saw today is only a fair sample of what I’ve enjoyed for years. In the beginning I used to hold a quarter of an hour’s argument to get two minutes’ peace. Then I quit that and she tried to punish me with long periods of curdled gloom. Finally I took to staying away from the house in self defense. Long before you grew up things were as bad as they could be, so don’t blame yourself, Daughter. You have had nothing to do with it.”
Lucy was surprised by this unprecedentedly long speech.
“Don’t you think that maybe when I’m gone you and Mamma—” she did not know how to proceed.
“I wouldn’t ask her for a drink of water if I were dying,” Arthur answered. Lucy had never heard such suppressed hatred and vehemence in his tone. “There’s the train,” he added in his ordinary manner, and they moved toward the platform.
“Here are your tickets, and here is your money,” explained Arthur as they entered the Pullman. “Miss Storms will meet you. She will wear a bunch of white carnations. Here is a white carnation for you to wear. Miss Storms knows all about your plans.” He removed a flower that was in his button hole and Lucy fastened it on her jacket. They kissed. The train began to move.
“Goodbye, Daughter. Write often. I will try to get up there to see you soon,” he called.
The journey began.
It was late at night and rain was falling when Lucy arrived in Chicago. Leaving the train she was bewildered by the
