Part 44 (1/2)

Jennie smiled. It was only to her that he complained, for he could expect no sympathy from' Lester. So far as his own meager store of money was concerned, he gave the most of it to his beloved church, where he was considered to be a model of propriety, honesty, faith--in fact, the embodiment of all the virtues.

And so, for all the ill winds that were beginning to blow socially, Jennie was now leading the dream years of her existence. Lester, in spite of the doubts which a.s.sailed him at times as to the wisdom of his career, was invariably kind and considerate, and he seemed to enjoy his home life.

”Everything all right?” she would ask when he came in of an evening.

”Sure!” he would answer, and pinch her chin or cheek.

She would follow him in while Jeannette, always alert, would take his coat and hat. In the winter-time they would sit in the library before the big grate-fire. In the spring, summer, or fall Lester preferred to walk out on the porch, one corner of which commanded a sweeping view of the lawn and the distant street, and light his before-dinner cigar. Jennie would sit on the side of his chair and stroke his head. ”Your hair is not getting the least bit thin, Lester; aren't you glad?” she would say; or, ”Oh, see how your brow is wrinkled now. You mustn't do that. You didn't change your tie, mister, this morning. Why didn't you? I laid one out for you.”

”Oh, I forgot,” he would answer, or he would cause the wrinkles to disappear, or laughingly predict that he would soon be getting bald if he wasn't so now.

In the drawing-room or library, before Vesta and Gerhardt, she was not less loving, though a little more circ.u.mspect. She loved odd puzzles like pigs in clover, the spider's hole, baby billiards, and the like. Lester shared in these simple amus.e.m.e.nts. He would work by the hour, if necessary, to make a difficult puzzle come right. Jennie was clever at solving these mechanical problems. Sometimes she would have to show him the right method, and then she would be immensely pleased with herself. At other times she would stand behind him watching, her chin on his shoulder, her arms about his neck. He seemed not to mind--indeed, he was happy in the wealth of affection she bestowed. Her cleverness, her gentleness, her tact created an atmosphere which was immensely pleasing; above all her youth and beauty appealed to him. It made him feel young, and if there was one thing Lester objected to, it was the thought of drying up into an aimless old age. ”I want to keep young, or die young,” was one of his pet remarks; and Jennie came to understand. She was glad that she was so much younger now for his sake.

Another pleasant feature of the home life was Lester's steadily increasing affection for Vesta. The child would sit at the big table in the library in the evening conning her books, while Jennie would sew, and Gerhardt would read his interminable list of German Lutheran papers. It grieved the old man that Vesta should not be allowed to go to a German Lutheran parochial school, but Lester would listen to nothing of the sort. ”We'll not have any thick-headed German training in this,” he said to Jennie, when she suggested that Gerhardt had complained. ”The public schools are good enough for any child. You tell him to let her alone.”

There were really some delightful hours among the four. Lester liked to take the little seven-year-old school-girl between his knees and tease her. He liked to invert the so-called facts of life, to propound its paradoxes, and watch how the child's budding mind took them. ”What's water?” he would ask; and being informed that it was ”what we drink,” he would stare and say, ”That's so, but what is it?

Don't they teach you any better than that?”

”Well, it is what we drink, isn't it?” persisted Vesta.

”The fact that we drink it doesn't explain what it is,” he would retort. ”You ask your teacher what water is”; and then he would leave her with this irritating problem troubling her young soul.

Food, china, her dress, anything was apt to be brought back to its chemical const.i.tuents, and he would leave her to struggle with these dark suggestions of something else back of the superficial appearance of things until she was actually in awe of him. She had a way of showing him how nice she looked before she started to school in the morning, a habit that arose because of his constant criticism of her appearance. He wanted her to look smart, he insisted on a big bow of blue ribbon for her hair, he demanded that her shoes be changed from low quarter to high boots with the changing character of the seasons'

and that her clothing be carried out on a color scheme suited to her complexion and disposition.

”That child's light and gay by disposition. Don't put anything somber on her,” he once remarked.

Jennie had come to realize that he must be consulted in this, and would say, ”Run to your papa and show him how you look.”

Vesta would come and turn briskly around before him, saying, ”See.”

”Yes. You're all right. Go on”; and on she would go.

He grew so proud of her that on Sundays and some week-days when they drove he would always have her in between them. He insisted that Jennie send her to dancing-school, and Gerhardt was beside himself with rage and grief. ”Such irreligion!” he complained to Jennie. ”Such devil's fol-de-rol. Now she goes to dance. What for? To make a no-good out of her--a creature to be ashamed of?”

”Oh no, papa,” replied Jennie. ”It isn't as bad as that. This is an awful nice school. Lester says she has to go.”

”Lester, Lester; that man! A fine lot he knows about what is good for a child. A card-player, a whisky-drinker!”

”Now, hush, papa; I won't have you talk like that,” Jennie would reply warmly. ”He's a good man, and you know it.”

”Yes, yes, a good man. In some things, maybe. Not in this. No.”

He went away groaning. When Lester was near he said nothing, and Vesta could wind him around her finger.

”Oh you,” she would say, pulling at his arm or rubbing his grizzled cheek. There was no more fight in Gerhardt when Vesta did this. He lost control of himself--something welled up and choked his throat. ”Yes, I know how you do,” he would exclaim.

Vesta would tweak his ear.

”Stop now!” he would say. ”That is enough.”