“More so than your own mother,” accused John.
A noise was heard. John stepped to the foot of the stairs and saw Nannie disappear in the upper hallway.
“I wonder if she heard,” he mused, frowning.
Lucy’s face grew hard. She turned and mounted the stairs.
“Dinner is ready, Mother,” she called, knocking at Mrs. Merwent’s door.
There was no answer. Lucy repeated the knock several times, always with the same result. John had followed her.
“I’ll talk to Nannie,” he announced pugnaciously.
Lucy turned away.
He tapped at the door. “Don’t you want some dinner?” he called in a voice that he tried to make careless.
Mrs. Merwent did not reply, but he could hear the sound of soft sobbing within. He tapped again.
“Please try to eat some dinner, Nannie,” he called once more pleadingly. “You’ll make yourself sick.”
“No thank you, dear John. I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t swallow food. I o-oh,” and the sobbing was redoubled.
When John returned to the dining room Lucy was at the table. He seated himself in silence.
“She won’t come,” he announced gloomily after a few moments. “Now you see what you’ve done. Nannie is heartbroken.”
“I don’t see that I’ve done it,” retorted Lucy quickly. “I couldn’t help their coming to Chicago, and I didn’t tell her about it.”
“Well, if you had refused to go,” argued John, “and told Miss Storms you didn’t care to see the woman your father had deserted your mother for—”
“That would have been a good way to keep it from Mamma, who was listening to every word I said!” Lucy gazed at John defiantly.
“At any rate, if you had refused without any explanation Nannie would have needed to know nothing.”
“If she had not listened to what wasn’t intended for her ears she would have needed to know nothing.”
“How could she help hearing when we were talking in the hall?”
Lucy did not reply.
“I think you ought to take your stand, Lucy, without vacillating.”
“What do you mean by taking my stand, John?”
“Well, you are either on Nannie’s side, or you are on your father’s side. You can’t be on both.”
“I don’t see why not. That is just the stand I’ve taken. I’m not to blame for the divorce and I have a right to see my father whenever I wish.”
“Not after the way he has treated Nannie!” John answered hotly.
“I see her after the way she has treated him!” Lucy returned with equal heat.
“Lucy, do you mean to say that you have taken your father’s side against Nannie?” John interrogated incredulously.
“I’ve just said that I’ve taken neither side.”
“But if you took sides, it would be for him,” persisted John.
“Yes,” admitted Lucy.
Dimmie came in through the kitchen doorway and halted by the table. Lucy drew her to him, and he leaned against her chair. John took no notice of him.
“Lucy, I am surprised. How a woman can turn against her own mother—”
“What about her own father?” Lucy interrupted angrily.
“You are unjust, cruel and ungrateful,” continued John, paying no attention to her question.
Lucy was white.
“It is entirely my own affair,” she said coldly. “Suppose we don’t discuss it further.”
“It’s not your own affair,” contradicted John, “and I don’t propose to see you insult and humiliate your mother in any such way.”
“You have no right to dictate to me in this matter or any other.” Lucy rose from the table, her eyes blazing.
John sprang up and went out through the hall, slamming the front door after him.
“What is Papa mad about?” Dimmie asked of his mother.
Lucy sat down again and buried her face in her arms on the table.
As Lucy had not taken any dinner to her the previous evening, Mrs. Merwent appeared at the breakfast table at an unwonted hour, shortly after John’s departure for the office. She was almost without rouge and wore the negligee of the previous Sunday, a creation of grey and rose.
“I’m not hungry,” she explained as she seated herself and began to eat. “Every bite I take chokes me. But I am so empty and weak that I must take some nourishment or I’ll be sick.”
Lucy sat down wearily, saying nothing.
“I never saw such coarseness before in my whole life,” resumed Nannie. “The idea of that woman calling you up to go and see your father and that creature while I was actually in your house! I suppose that is fine feeling here in the North.”
Katy had gone to market, so it was Lucy who went into the kitchen when Nannie was ready for hot waffles.
“I suppose you saw her,” continued Mrs. Merwent, when Lucy returned.
“Have another cup of coffee, Mother.”
“I think I had better. I feel faint and dizzy.”
Lucy poured the coffee and pushed the bacon and eggs nearer her mother’s plate.
“You saw her, didn’t you?” repeated Nannie, helping herself to waffles and taking more bacon and eggs.
“Saw whom?” asked Lucy.
“You know whom I mean, Lucy. There’s no use trying to get out of it.”
“I’m not trying to get out of anything, Mother. I saw Miss Storms and Papa and—Papa’s wife.” Lucy hesitated a little over the last two words.
“I hope she dresses better than she used to in Russellville,” remarked Nannie.
Lucy was silent.
“Did she say anything about me?” Nannie took another waffle.
“No, Mother. No one mentioned you.”
“I see. Nobody even thought of me. Did that woman seem very fond of your father?”
“Who? Miss Storms?” interrogated Lucy, in a lame attempt at pleasantry.
“You know whom I mean, Lucy. It’s not funny to me if it is to you.”
“Let’s not discuss Papa’s wife.” Lucy showed that she anticipated an outburst.
“Why not?” insisted Nannie virtuously.
“Because—” Lucy looked out the window.
“Because what?” demanded her mother.
“Why, don’t you think it’s in—well, bad taste, Mother?”
The explosion came.
“You’re a nice one to try to teach me good taste and propriety!” Nannie’s voice was suddenly raised to its highest pitch. “I may be divorced but I was never talked about while I was living with your father.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Lucy regarded her mother steadily.
“No, of course
