A Mother of Four.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLIV, Issue 15, 13 April 1910, Page 49

A Mother of Four.

By

JULIET W. TOMPKINS.

yOU aie fortunate to find us alone, Mrs. Merritt. With tour girls, it is simply terrible—callers underfoot wherever you stir. Yoji must know something about it, with two daughters; so you can fancy it multiplied by two. Really, sometimes I get out of all patience —I haven't a corner of my house to myself on Sundays! But I realise it is the penalty for having four lively daughters, and 1 have to put up with it.” Airs. Merritt, the visitor, had a gently worried air as she glanced from the twins, thin and big-boned, reading by the fire, to pretty, affected Amelie at the tea-table, and the apathetic Enid furtively watching the front steps from the bay window. Something in her expression seemed to imply a humble wonder as to what might constitute the elements of high popularity, since her two dear girls "Of course, mine have their friends,” she asserted; it was an admission that perhaps the door-bell was not overworked. "I enjoy young life,” she added. "Oh. yes, in moderation!” Mrs. Baldwin laughed from the depths of the complacent prosperity that irradiated her handsome white hair and active brown eyes, her pleasant rosiness, and even her compact stoutness, suggesting strength rather than weight. "But since Enid became engaged, that means Harry all the time—there’s my library gone; and with the other three filling both draw-ing-rooms and the reception-room, I have to take to the dining-room, myself! There they begin.” she added, as Enid left the window and slipped out into the hall, closing the door after her. “Now we shall have no peace until Monday morning. You know how it is! ’ Mrs. Merritt seemed depressed, and goon took her leave. » The twins, when they were left alone in the drawing-room, lifted their heads and exchanged long and solemn looks; then returned to their reading in silence. When it grew too dark by the ■fire, they carried their books to the bay window, but drew back as they saw a pale and puny youth with a retreating chin coming up the front steps. “The rush has begun,” murmured Cora. “Amelie can have him,” Dora returned. “Let’s fly.” They retreated upstairs and read peacefully until tea-time. The bell did not ring again. When they came down, Mrs. Baldwin eyed them irritably. “Why don't you ask the Carry! boys in to Sunday tea some time? They will think you have forgotten them. And Mr. White and that nice Mr. Morton who lives with him—T am afraid you have offended them in some way. They lised to be here all the time,”

“They only came twice, and those were party calls,” said Dora bluntly. “My dear, you have forgotten,” was the firm answer. “They were here constantly. I shall send them a line; I don’t like to have them think we have gone back on them.” “Oh. I—l wouldn’t,” began Cora, but was put down with decision: “When 1 need your advice, Cora, T will ask lor it. Amelie, dear, you look tired; 1 am airaid you have had too much gaiety this afternoon.” “Oh.l love it! It’s the breath of lift* to me. ' said Amelie rapturously. The twins again exchanged solemn looks and sat down to their tea in silence. Mrs. Baldwin attacked them peevishly at intervals: she was cross at Enid also, who had not kept Harry to supper, and preserved an indifferent silence under questioning. “When I was your age !” was the burden of her speech. “I must give a dance for you young people,” she decided. “You need livening up.” “Oh, lovely!” exclaimed Amelie. “We have not had one this winter—I don’t know what I have been thinking about,” Mrs. Baldwin went on with returning cheerfulness. “We won’t ask more than a hundred. You must have a new frock, Amelie. Enid, how is your blue one?” “Oh, all right,” said Enid indifferently. Mrs. Baldwin turned to the twins, and found them looking frankly dismayed. “Well, what is it now?” she exclaimed. “I am sure I try to give you as good times as any girls in town; not many mothers on my income would do half so much. And you sit looking as if you wore going to execution!” “We —we do appreciate it, mother,” urged Cora, unhappily. “But we aren’t howling successes at parlies,” Dora added. “Nonsense! You have partners to spare.” Mrs. Baldwin was plainly angry. “No child of mine was ever a wallflower, nor ever will be. Never let me hear you say such a thing again. You would have twice the attention if you weren’t always poking off by yourselves; and as it is, you have more than most girls. You frighten the men —they think you are proud. Show’ a little interest in them and sec how pleased they will be!” The twins looked dubious, and seized the first chance to escape. In their own room they confronted each other dismally. “Of course they will ask us, in our own house; wc won’t have to sit ami sit,” said Cora with a sigh. “But it’s almost worse when they ask you for that reason,” objected Dora. “1 know! T feel so sorry for them,

and so apologetic. If mother would only kt us go and teach at Mind Browne’s;

then we could show we were really good for something. We shouldn’t have to shine at parties.” “We shouldn’t have to go to them! Come on, let’s do some Latin. 1 want to forget the hateful thing.” Cora got down the books and drew their chairs up to the student lamp. “1 know’ 1 shouldn’t be such a stick if I didn’t have to wear low’ neck.” she said. “I am always thinking alu>ut those awful collar-bones, and trying to hold my shoulders so as not to make them worst*.” “Oh, don’t I know!” Dora had slipped on a soft red wrapper, and threw’ a blue one to her sister. When they were curled up in their big. cushioned chairs, they smiled appreciatively at each other. “Isn’t this nicer than any party ever invented?” they exclaimed. Dora opened her books with energy, but Cora sat musing. “I daresay that somewhere then* are parties for our kind.’’ she said, finally. “Not with silly little chinless boys or popular men who are always trying to get away, but men who study ami care about things—who go to Greece and dig ruins, for instance, or study sociology, and think more about one’s mind than one’s collar-bones.” Dora shook her head. “But they don t go to parties!” “Both Mr Morton and Mr White do, sometimes,” Cora suggested. “ I hey aren’t like the rest. I thought that tenement-house work they told uh about was most interesting. But they would call if they wanted to,” she added. The twins in wrappers, bending over their books, had a certain comeliness. There was even an austere beauty in their wide high foreheads, their tine straight dark hair, their serious grey eyes and sensitive mouths, pemsive but not without humour and sweetness. But the twins in evening dress, their unwilling hair flow er-crowned and bolstered into pompadours, their -big-boned thinness contrasted with Amelie’s plump curves, their elbows betraying the red disks of serious application, were quite another matter, and they knew it. Tho night of the dame they came downstairs with solemn, dutiful faces, ami lifted submissive eves to their mother for judgment. She was looking charmingly pretty herself, carrying her thick white hair with a humorous boldness, and her smiling brown eyes were younger than their grey ones. “Very well, t winnies! Now you look something like human girls,” she said gaily. “Run and have a beautiful time. Ah, Amelie, you little fairy! They will all be on their knees to you to-night. Where is Enid?” “Nowhere near dressed, and she won’t hurry,” Amelie explained, “Oh, lam so excited, I shall die! What if no one asks me to dance!” “■Silly!” Mrs Baldwin laughed. “1 am only afraid of your dancing yourself io death. Ah, Airs Merritt, how good of

Vftu to come with your dear girl*-! -i..n Mr Merritt—this is better than I dared hope.” The rooms filled rapidly. Enid, after one languid waltz, disappeared with Harry and was not necn again till supippr. Amelie Hew from partner to partner. pouring streams of vivacious talk into patient masculine pars. The twin, wore dutifully taken out in turn and tin fa il'ingly brought back. Both Mr White and Mr Morton came, bcriuus

young men who danced little, and looked on more as if the affair were a problem in sociology than an entertainment. There were plenty of men, for Mrs Baldwin s entertainments had a reputation in the matter of supper, music and floors. “After you’ve worked through tho family, you can have a ripping old time,” Cora heard one youth explain to another; a moment later he stood in front of her, begging the honour of a waltz. She felt no it tsept nicnt: her sympathies were all with him. She looked up with gentle seriousness. “You needn’t, you know.” she said. “Dora and I don’t re.illy exprut it we undeistand.” He looked puzzled that she added: “I overheard you just now’, about ‘working through Hie family.’” He grew distressfully red. and .stammered wildly, ( ora u.ime al once to his rescue. “Really, it’s all right. We don’t like parties, mi rise I \ cs; only it is hard on mother to have sm-h sticks of daughters, so we do our best. But wc never mind when people don't ask us. <oim*tiines we almost wish they wouldn’t.” The yoyth was (lying desperately to rollcut himself. “What do you like, then - .'” io* managed to ask. “(ih. books, and the country, ami not having to be introduced to people.” She was trying to pul him at hits case. “We, really do like diming; we do it better than you’d think, for mother made ns keep at it. If only we didn’t have to have partners and think of things to say to them!” She held out her han <l. “I'h.ink you ever so much for asking me, but I’d truly rather not.” lie wrung filer ha ml. muttered somethung about “later, then,” and lied, still red about the ears, (‘ora returned to her mother. “Well, my dear, you suemed to be having a tremendous llirtalion with that youth,” laughed Mrs Baldwin. “Such a hand-clasp at parting! Don’t dance too hard, child.” She turtle.l to the halfdozen parents supporting her. “These crazy girls of mine will dance themselves to death it 1 don’t keep an eye on them,” she explained. “Amelie says ‘Mother, how can 1 help splitting my dames, when they beg me to?’ 1 am always relieved when the dame it-' over and they are safe in bed then I know they aren't killing themselves. Tho men have no mercy- they m v< r let them rest an instant.” “I don't see Miss Enid about.” suggested Mr Merritt. “I suppose she and her Harry !” “Oh, I suppose so!” Mrs Baldwin r-hook her head resigne lly. “The had child insists on being married in the spring, but 1 simply cannot face the idea. What can I do to prevent it, Mrs Merritt ?” “I am afraid you can't.” smiled Mrs Merritt. “We mothers all have to face lh.it.” “Ah, but not so soon! It is dreadful to have one's girl taken away. I watch the others like a hawk: the instant a man looks too serious- pouf! 1 whitsk him away!” Cora stood looking down, with set lijns: a Hush had risen in her usually pale checks. Dora, setting free an impatient partner, joined her. and they drew aside. “It does make me so ashamed!” said (‘ora, impulsively. “I think mother really makes henself Lelievt* it,” said Dora, with inst »nt understa tiding. They watched Amelie Hutter up to tjieir mother to have a bow retied, and stand radiant under the raillery, though she made a decent pretence of pouting. Her partner vanished, and Mrs Baldwin insisted on her resting “for one minute,” which ended when another partner apjwaif.l. “Amelie is asked much more than wo an*, always,” Cora suggested. Dora nodded at the implication. “I know. I wonder why it never seems quite real. Peril. i|K becaiis<‘ the devoted ones an* such silly little men.” consciciit iously. “Don’t, yon wish vvrt “Or -rem to us so,” (’ora amended might creep upstairs? ( >h. ■me. hero eoinc- i man, just hating it! Which do von Mlpposo he will Oh. thank you. with pleasure. Mr Dorr!” Cora was led away, and Dora slipped into the next room, that her mother might not be vexed .it her partnerliKs state. Mis Baldwin -aw to it that tJie twins b id partners for siipjwr, and seated them at a table with half a dozen lively spirit-**, where they ate in submissive silenccj while the talk tlowed over and about (hem. No one seemed tn remember that they were there. \<t they felt big am! awkward, ronspiciiniis with neglect, thoroughly’ forlorn. When they rose, the

others moved off in a group, leaving them stranded. Mth Baldwin beckoned them to her table with her fan. “Well, twinnies, yours was the noisiest table in the room,*’ she laughed. “I was quite ashamed of you! When these quiet girls get going !” she added expressively to her group. The twins flushed, standing with shamed eyes averted. In the rooms above, the music ihad started, and the bright procession moved up the stairs with laughter and the shine of lights on white shoulders: they all seemed to belong together, to be glad of one another. “Well, run along

®nd dance your little feet off,” said Mrs Baldwin gaily. They hurried away, and without a word mounted by the back stairs to their own room. When their eyes met, a flash of anger kindled, grew to a blaze. “Oh, I won’t stand it. 1 won’t!” exclaimed Dora, jerking the wreath of for-get-mc-nots out of her hair and throwing it on the dressing-table. “We have been humiliated long enough. Cora, we’re twenty-four; it is time we had our own way.” <'ora w;a«s breathing hard. “Dora, I will never go to another party as long «s I live,” she said. “Nor I,” declared Dora. 'They sat down side by side on the couch to discuss way's and means. A weight seemed to be lifted off their lives. In the midst of their eager planning the door opened, and Mrs Baldwin looked in at them with a displeased tfromi. “Girls, what does this mean?” she exclaimed. “Come down at once. Wliat are you thinking of. to leave your guests like’this!” The twins felt that the moment had come, and instinctively clasped hands as they rose to meet it. “Mother.” said Dora firmly, “we havo done with parlies forever and ever. No one likes us nor wants to dance with us, and we can't stand it any more. ’ “Miss Browne still wants us to come then 1 and teach.” Cora added, her voice husky but her eyes bright. “So we can J>e self-supporting, if—if you don t approve. We are twenty-four. and we hav? to live our own lives.” 'They stood bravely for annihilation. Mrs Baldwin laughed. “You foolish 1 winnies! I know—some one has been hurting your feelings. T»elieve me my dears, even I did not a I wav'* get just the partner my heart was set on! Ami 1 cried over if in secret, just like anv other little girl. That is life, you know—we can’t give up before it. Now smooth yourselves ami come down, for sonic of them arc leaving.” She blew them a ki-s and went off Riniling. After a dejected silence Dori took up the forget-me not wreath and replaced it. “I suppose we might as well finish out this evening.” she said “But the revo--lul ion has begun. (’ora ! ” “The revolution has begun.’' Cor.i echoed. h the drawingroom they found Mrs. I'.ild in talking with Mr. Morton amt Mr. White. They were evidently trying to say good night, but she wa- holding them as imxorabh ns if she had laid hands on their routs; or so it seemed to til' troubled twill”. She ”llllllliol|e<i her daughters with her blight, ainus»c<l glance.

“My dears,” she said, “these two good friends were going to run away just because they do not dance bhe cotillidn. We can't allow that. Suppose you ta,ke them to the library and make them wholly comfortable. Indeed, they have danced enough, Mr. White; I am thankful to have them stop. 1 will take the blame if their partners are angry.” She nodded a smiling dismissal. Disconcerted, wholly ill at ease, the four went obediently to the library, deserted now that the cotillion was beginning. The two men struggled valiantly with the conversation, but the twins sat

stricken to shamed dumbness: no topic could thrive in the face of their mute rigidity. Silences stalked the failing efforts. Mr. White’s eyes elung to the clock while his throat dilated with secret yawns; Mr. Morton twisted restlessly and finally let a nervous sigh escape. Dora suddenly clasped her hands tightly together. “We hate it just as much as you do,” she said distinctly. ' |,|| j They turned startled faces toward her. Cora paled, but Hew to her sister’s aid. “We knew you didn’t want to come,” she added with tremulous frankness. “We would have let you off if we could. If you want t'o go now, we won’t be—hurt.” They rose, and so did the 'bewildered visitors. “I am afraid you have—misunderstood,” began Mr. White. “No; we have always understood everybody,” said Dora, “hut we pretended, not to, because mother But now we have done with society. It is a revolution, and this is our last party. Good-night." She held out her hand. “Good-night,” repeated Cora, offering hers. The guests took them with the air of culprits; relief was evidently drowned in astonishment. “Well, good-night—if we must,” they Baid awkwardly. Mrs. Baldwin, looking into the library half an hour later, found the twins sitting there alone. “Where are your cavaliers?” she demanded. “They left long ago,” Dora explained,

sleepily. “Mayn’t we go to bed?” “Oh, for pity’s sake—go!” was tha exasperated answer.

In the morning the twins appeared braced for revolution. When a reception for that afternoon was mentioned, they announced firmly that they were not going. “I t'hink you are wise,” said Mrs. Baldwin, amiably. “You both look tired.”

They were conscious of disappointment as well as relief; it was the establishment of a principle they wanted, not coddling. Three weeks went by in the same debilitating peace. The twins were smiled on and left worldly free. They had almost come to believe in a bloodless victory, when Mrs. Baldwin struck—a masterly attack where they were weakest. Her weapon was—not welcome temper, but restrained pathos.

“A mere fourteen at dinner and a few coming in to dance afterward, and I do want you twiunies to be there. Now, I have not asked one thing of you for three weeks; don’t you think you owe Mother some little return?” “But I” began the twins, with a rush of the well-known arguments. Mrs. Baldwin would not combat.

“I ask it as a favour, dear girls,” she said, gentiy. They clung to their refusal, but were obviously weakening when she rose to her climax: “Mr. White and Mr. Morton have accepted!” She left them with that, confident and humming to herself.

The twins stared at each other in open misery. Reappear now, after the solemn declaration they had made to those two! Their cheeks burned at the thought'. They mounted to their room to formulate their resistance, and found two exquisite new gowns, suitable for fairy princesses, spread out like snares. “To please Mother” seemed to be written on every artful fold. And Mrs. Baldwin was not a rich woman, for her way of life; such gowns meant self-denial somewhere. The twins had tears in their eves.

“But if we give in now, we're lost!” they cried.

Nothing more was said about the dinner, Mrs. Baldwin gaily assuming success, but avoiding the. topic. The twins wore a depressed and furtive air. On the fatal day they had a long interview with Miss Browne, of tile Browne School, and came away solemn with excitement, to shut themselves in their room for the rest of the afternoon. A few minutes before the dinner-hour, Mrs. Baldwin, triumphant in satin and lace, paused at their door. “Ready, t winnies?” she began, then stared as though disbelieving her eyes. In the glow of the student-lamp sat tlie twins, books in their hands and piled high on the table beside them; their smooth, dark hair was unpompadoured, their shoulders were lost in the dark blouses of every day.

“What does this mean?” Mrs. Baldwin asked shortly, fire in her eyes. “Mother, we told you we could not go to any more parties, and why,” Cora answered, a note of pleading in her voice.

“We begin teaching on Monday in Miss Browne’s school,” added Dora, more stoutly. “We have tried your way for years and years, mother. Now we want to try ours.”

Mrs. Baldwin’s lace bertha rose and fell sharply.

“Indeed. I am sorry to disappoint you, but so long as you live under my

roof, you will have to conform to tho ways of my household.”

“Then, mother, we cannot stay under your roof.” “As you please! I leave the choice entirely to you.” She swept out, leaving them breathless but resolute.

“I am glad of it!” said Dora with trembling lips. In explaining their absence at dinner, Mrs. Baldwin was slightly humorous about the twins’ devotion; one could not weather a headache without the other. Mr. White and Mr. Morton exchanged glances, and showed interest in the topic, as if they were on the track of some new sociological fact. Later in the evening the twins, their spirits restored, stole to the top of the stairs and peered down at the whirling couples, exultant not to be among them. Mr. White was standing just below, and he glanced up, as if he might have been listening. His face brightened.

“ May I come up?” he signalled, and. mounted two steps at a time, keen interest in his thin, intellectual face. “Is it really headache, or is it revolution?” lie asked without preface. “ Morton and I have been longing to know all the evening”

“Revolution,” said the twins. “ How very interesting! Do you know, we came to-night just to see if you would be there. You —you staggered us, the other evening. We were glad when you didn't appear —if you won’t understand. It is so unexpected, in this environment. I shall be curious to see how far you can carry it out.” He was leaning against the banister, looking at them as if they were abstract propositions rather. than young girls, and they felt unwontedly at ease. “To the very end,” Dora asserted. “We begin teaching Monday, and—and we have to find a place to board.” Her colour rose a little, but she smiled. “ That is pluck,” he commented. “We can help you there; I know a number of places. When do you want to move?” “ To-morrow,” they answered in unison. He consulted an engagement -book, reflected a few moments, then made a note. “Morton or 1 will call for you to-mor-row at three.” he answered with busi-ness-like brevity. “ I think I know just the place, but we will give you a choice. If you really wish to move in at once, you could have y-oqr things packed, ready to be sent for.” “Oh, we do!” said Cora. He glanced meditatively at their fine and glowing faces.

“Of course you won’t be comfortable, luxurious as you are here,” he warned them, with a nod toward the great pannelled hall. Mrs. Baldwin passed tha drawing-room door below with the stately tread of a reviewing officer. “Oh, we don’t care!” they exclaimed, eagerly.

The next day their mother treated the twins as if they were not. She spoke no word to them and did not seem to hear their husky little efforts at reconciliation. They found it hard to remember persistently that they were revolutionists rather than children ill disgrace. She was unapproachable in her own room when Mr. White and Mr. Morton came for them.

“ Well, we. can’t help it,” they said, sadly, as they locked their two trunks and went down the stairs. Three hours later the twins had en tered a new world and were rapturously

making an omelet in a kitchen tliat had begun life as a closet, while Mr. Morton put up shelves and hooks and Mr. White tacked green burlap over gloomy wallpaper. Groceries and kitchen utensils and amusing make-shift furniture kept arriving in exciting profusion. -They had not dreamed that there was such happiness in the world.

“If only mother will forgive, it will be simply perfect!” they told each other when they settled down for the night in their hard little cots. They said that many times in the days that followed. The utter joy of work and freedom and simplicity had no other blemish. For five weeks Mrs. Baldwin remained obdurate. Then, one Sunday afternoon, she appeared, cold, critical, resentful still; lifted her eyebrows at the devices of their light housekeeping; looking disgusted when they pointed out from the window the little cafe where they sometimes dined; and offered to consent to their social retirement if they would give up the teaching and come home. The twins were troubled and apologetic, but inflexible. They had found the life they were meant for; they could not give it up. If she knew how’ happy they were! “How, with your bringing up, you can enjoy this!” she marvelled. “It isn’t respectable—eating in nasty little holes alone at night!” “But it is a nice, clean place, and Mr White and Mr Morton are nearly always with us,” Dora began, then broke off at an expression of pleased enlightenment that Hashed across her mother's face. “They are just very good friends,” she explained gravely; “they don’t take us as girls at all—that is why we have such nice times with them. We are simply comrades, and interested in the same books and problems.” “And they bother about us chiefly idealise we are a sort of sociological demonstration to them,” Cora added. “They like experiments of every kind.” “Ah, yes. I understand,” assented Mrs Baldwin. “Well, you certainly are fixed up very nicely here. If you want anything from home, let mo know. After ah, ?t is a piquant little adventure. If you are happy in it, 1 suppose I ought

not to complain.” She was all complacence and compliment the rest of her visit. V\ hen she went away the girls glanced uneasily at each other.

“She took a wrong idea in her head,” said Dora. “I do hope we undeceived her. It would be hard for her to understand how wholly mental and impersonal our friendship is with those two.’ “Well, she will see in time, when nothing comes of it,” said Cora confidently. “That's their ring now. Oh, Dora, isn’t

our life nice!” Airs Baldwin, passing down the shabby front steps, might have seen the two men approaching, one with an armful of books and the other with a potted plant; but she apparently did not recognise them, for she stepped into her carriage without a sign. The visit seemed to have left a pleasant memory with her. however; her bland serenity, as she drove awav. was not unlike that of the cat which has just swallowed the canary.