Part 18 (1/2)
”No, but I'll find it, or somebody will give me a pa.s.s. I'm too young to stay to the concert and there's more of life coming to me still. I only hope and pray that I'll manage to keep my head and not make the fatal, heart-breaking mistake of the women who go over the precipice, waving defiance at the social law that bids them stay with the herd.”
[Sidenote: Mixed Metaphors]
”Your metaphors are mixed,” Madame commented. ”Concerts and circuses, and herds, and precipices and door-mats. I feel as though you had presented me with a jig-saw puzzle.”
”So I have. Is my life anything more than that? I don't even know that all the pieces are there. If they would only print the picture on the cover of the box, or tell us how many pieces there are, and give us more than one or two at a time, and eternity to solve it in, we'd stand some chance, perhaps.”
”More mixed metaphors,” Madame said, rolling up the mended stockings.
A maid came into the dining-room and began to set the table for luncheon. Edith rose from her chair and came to Madame. The dark hollows under her eyes were evident now and all the youth was gone from her face and figure.
”Well,” she said, in a low tone, ”what am I to do?”
It was some little time before Madame answered. ”I do not know. These modern times are too confused for me. The old way would have been to wait, to do the best one could, and trust G.o.d to make it right in His own good time.”
[Sidenote: Invited to Stay]
Edith shook her head. ”I've waited and I've done the best I could, and I've tried to trust.”
”No one can solve a problem for another, but, I think, when it's time to act, one knows what to do and the way is clearly opened for one to do it. Don't you feel better for having come here and talked to me?”
”Yes, indeed,” said the young woman, gratefully. ”So much was right--I'm sure of that. The train had scarcely started before I felt more at peace than I had for years.”
”Then, dear, won't you stay with me until you know just what to do?”
Edith looked long and earnestly into the sweet old face. ”Do you mean it? It may be a long time.”
”I mean it--no matter how long it is.”
Quick tears sprang to the brown eyes, and Edith brushed them aside, half ashamed. ”It means more trunks,” she said, ”and your son----”
”Will be delighted to have you with us,” Madame concluded.
”Are you sure?”
”Absolutely.” Madame was not at all sure, but she told her lie prettily.
”Then,” said Edith, with a smile, ”I'll stay.”
IX
A Spring Day
[Sidenote: Alden's Idea of a Trunk]
With the tact that seems the birthright of the gifted few, Mrs. Lee adjusted herself to the ways of the Marsh household. Some commotion had been caused by the arrival of four more trunks, of different shapes and sizes, but after they had been unpacked and stored, things went on smoothly.
Alden's idea of a trunk had hitherto been very simple. To him, it was only a substantial box, variation in size and in exterior finish being the only possible diversions from the original type. When it fell to his lot, on a Sat.u.r.day morning, to superintend the removal of Mrs. Lee's empty trunks to the attic, he discovered the existence of hat trunks, dresser trunks, and wardrobe trunks, cannily constructed with huge warts on all sides but the one the trunk was meant to stand upon.