Volume VIII Part 7 (1/2)
”Yes, and have all his family say that I've ruined his prospects--you can imagine how pleasant _that_ would be! Everyone says that if a poor artist is hampered at the beginning he has no career at all. _I_ enjoy things as they are, anyway, and if Kersley doesn't it's his own lookout.
He's a perfect baby, great, big, blue-eyed, ridiculous, unpractical thing! What do you suppose he did when he was in Chester last month, just after I'd left there? Walked all the way into town and back, twenty miles--he hadn't enough money for his car fare--to buy me a little trumpery pin I wanted, when they had the identical thing on sale at the little shop by the station! Wasn't that like him? And with all his artistic talent, I have to tell him what kind of a necktie to get.
Imagine him, with _his_ hair, in a scarlet one, when he looks so adorable in dull blue. Let's change the subject. Is this your best centerpiece, with the color all washed out?”
”Yes.”
”Then I'll finish that lace one I'm making and put yellow under it.
Yellow is to be the color scheme, Kitty. I'm going to present you with some of those lovely gla.s.ses I saw at Ketterer's, with gilt flowers on them. I want you to let me pay for the chrysanthemums and all the extras--a few palms can be hired; they add so much to the effect. You know I got the money for those ill.u.s.trations yesterday, and I don't care whether I have any clothes or not. I just want to do my prettiest for a Thanksgiving for Mrs. Devereaux.”
”Very well, dear,” said Kitty.
”I should think that woman wouldn't want such a time made over her,”
said Mr. Fosd.y.k.e to his wife, disgustedly, in private. There are married men who may on occasion be mistaken for bachelors, but Mr. Fosd.y.k.e was not of that ilk; the respectable bondage of one wedded to family claims was stamped upon him as with a die, in spite of a humorous tendency that was sometimes trying to his wife. ”What's the sense? With all her millions she must be used to everything. I should think she'd like something plain and homelike for a change, instead of all this fuss and feathers. I'm worn out with it already. There seems to be a perfect upheaval downstairs, with all Marcia's decorations and color schemes and 'artistic effects.' My arm's broken lugging loving cups home from the bank--they weigh a ton. Why can't Mrs. Devereaux take us as we are?”
”Now, Frank, I've told you how Marcia feels about it,” said his wife, reprovingly. ”You know how intense she is--it gives her positive satisfaction to show her grat.i.tude by working her fingers off and spending all the money she's got. She wants to make it a special occasion.”
”Well, she's doing it,” said Frank Fosd.y.k.e, with, however, a relenting smile; he was fond of whole-souled little Marcia. ”I say, though, Kitty, what's Kersley doing here all the time? I thought he was living in New York. I can't go anywhere that I don't see that big smile of his and the gray suit. I'm always running across him with Marcia. It makes me feel like a fool. Am I to treat them as if they were engaged, or not?”
Mrs. Fosd.y.k.e shook her head. ”Not yet.”
”Can't he stop her s.h.i.+llyshallying?”
”Frank, I said 'Not yet.'”
”All right,” said Frank, resignedly, moving around the darkened room, as he disrobed, with the catlike step of one whose ever haunting fear is that he may wake the baby.
Marcia had decreed against the old-fas.h.i.+oned, middle-of-the-day Thanksgiving dinner; half-past seven was early enough. ”And it ought to be eight,” she added, ruefully. ”At any rate, the babies will be asleep, and Mrs. Fogarty is going to let her Maggie come and sit upstairs with them. Thank goodness, Ellen can cook the dinner, with my help, and wait on the table afterward. She's as nice and interested as she can be, and I'll keep her in good humor. I've promised to buy her a lovely new cap and ap.r.o.n. We've just decided what to have for the nine courses.”
”_Nine courses!_”
”Now, Kitty, it's no more trouble to have nine courses than two, if you manage properly. I'll make a number of the dishes the day before, and Ellen can see to the turkey herself; I'll show you my bill of fare afterward. I'm going to have the loveliest little menu cards, with golden pumpkins in wheat sheaves painted on them--so nice and Thanksgivingy! You've seen the yellow paper cases I've made for the ice pudding, and the candle shades--the color scheme, you know, is yellow.
I'm going to ornament the dishes for the almonds and raisins and olives and the candied ginger and other things in the same way. Now, please don't worry about anything, Kitty! If people only make the arrangements beforehand, it's no trouble at all. It's all in the way one plans, and having a system about things.”
”I hope so,” said Mrs. Fosd.y.k.e; for she had her misgivings. In housekeeping it is only too often that two and two fail to make four.
Kersley Battersby, tall and handsome, coming in gayly at four o'clock on Thanksgiving afternoon, during a brief interval of the festivities at his brother's house, stopped short at the sight of Marcia's face.
”What's up?” he asked, reaching out his arms with the unconsciousness of habit, while Marcia, in her blue gingham gown, as mechanically retreated. Her tone was tragic.
”Ellen says she won't wait on the table; she says there's work for ten in the kitchen, and no lady would ask it of her. And I had it all arranged so beautifully. I don't know what we're to do. Kitty and I have been busy every minute, and Frank has had to take care of the babies all day. I didn't mean to make everyone so uncomfortable. He's gone out now, and she's upstairs with a headache.”
”Well, you know you've always got me to fall back on,” said Kersley, firmly. ”My word, but the dining-room looks fine, though! I wouldn't know it for the same place.” His gaze rested on the pretty scene with genuine admiration.
Loving cups in the corner of the room held the tall, yellow chrysanthemums against the florist's palms; yellow chrysanthemums waved from the vine-draped mantel and drooped from the prettiest loving cup of all over the yellow-lined lace centerpiece set on the satin-smooth ”best” tablecloth. The silver was polished to perfection. The new goblets with their gilt flowers shone like bubbles, and on the sideboard a golden pumpkin hollowed into a dish among trailing vines was heaped high with yellow oranges and crimson apples and pearly hothouse grapes.
”Oh, yes, this is all right,” sighed Marcia, ”and the cooking is, and Frank has had his dress suit pressed and Kitty's gown is dear. But, Kersley, the _dinner_!” Her swimming eyes looked at him helplessly as she pushed back her disheveled hair. ”You can't have nine courses with no one to serve them. Ellen even refuses to bring anything in. _We_ can't get up and keep running around the table! It makes the whole thing a failure--worse than that, ridiculous. I didn't mind how hard I worked for dear Mrs. Devereaux, but I did want it all to be right.”
”Poor girl!” said Kersley, tenderly, moving sympathetically very, very near her, with a repet.i.tion of the arm movement. ”You're tired.”