The Flower Brides (4 page)

Then for the first time she turned her glance downward, a hundred feet or more below her, and was frozen with horror at the dizzying height. How had she ever started out on this perilous way? Why had she come? What had been her aim? She could not tell. But here she was, and her coming there seemed somehow connected with Laurie.

And there Laurie was down below her, cheerfully walking along and talking with someone else.

She cried out to him, and her voice sounded small and inadequate. She glued her palms to the smooth wall to keep her balance. She called several times before Laurie looked up, and then he only laughed and waved and walked on.

What was the matter? Didn’t he realize where she was standing? Didn’t he know her peril? She cried again desperately to him, and he turned, laughing over his shoulder and waving again. “How do you like it up there?” he called and walked on, disappearing through the arches into an adjoining room. Had he gone for help, and was he trying to be cheerful to give her courage until he could bring a ladder?

But the thought of going down a ladder all that terrible distance made her head swim, and she had to turn her face to the wall again to keep from dropping down into space.

And then she tried to turn the other way, edging her feet around. She had come out there, somehow; she ought to be able to go back the same way, she thought. But the ledge was too narrow to turn her feet, and when she tried to edge them backward, she suddenly realized that the way she had come was narrower, too, since she had passed over it. She must hurry before it vanished entirely, yet she could only creep! What awful situation was she in, and how was it she had gotten there? She was paralyzed. She could not move, and any instant she might fall down into that awful space below her. Clinging to the wall with desperate hands outspread, she tried to scream but could make no sound. Struggling with all her might to call out, suddenly something seemed to snap and send her dizzily through a dim, foggy place back to herself and life again. But she found her hands and feet drenched with cold perspiration, and horror still filled her being.

At first she could not get away from the thought of her awful situation just past and had to imagine herself back on that height, edging along toward safety. She tried to think how she got there, and why, and to plan a possible way that she might have been saved if the situation had been real.

At last she sprang from the bed and dashed cold water on her face, trying to forget the fear that had possessed her. But thoughts of it lingered with her as she dressed, and back in her mind the sting of it all seemed to be that Laurie, her Laurie, had done nothing to save her. He had just walked off with a wave of his hand and a mocking call! Laurie would never have done that!

She reminded herself how careful he had been of her last night on the ice, how gentle and thoughtful he always was for her. She tried to thrill again as she had then over the tone of his voice, the touch of his hand as he led her out to skate, and the joy of motion as they swayed together around the arena. But she had been too shocked by her dream to shake off her terror yet. Was this whole thing a symbol of what her friendship with Laurie was going to be?

Nonsense. Laurie was the soul of honor. He would never leave her in dire straits. He would plan some instant relief for her. He would—and she tried to think what he would have done if it had been reality.

Meantime Maggie had thought a lot about the conversation she had overheard at the Trescott house. Lying awake on her none-too-comfortable bed, which she shared with her cousin, sometime in the night she arrived at a conclusion.

“Dat child ain’t gonna enjoy no party where folks feels dataway towards her. I guess I have ta warn her!”

It wasn’t her day to clean at the Brookes’ apartment, but on her way to her day’s work, she stopped there a little early and barged into the kitchen just as Marigold was getting her mother a cup of tea for the headache that had gripped her during the night.

“’Scuse my buttin’ in, Miss Marigold,” said Maggie, looking half frightened in what she was going to do, “but is you-all goin’ to dat swell party they’s givin’ up at Trescotts’ house?”

Marigold gave her a surprised look.

“Why, I’m invited,” she said with a bit of pride in her voice. “Why?”

“Well, Miss Marigold, if I was you-all I wouldn’t go! I really wouldn’t. ’Scuse me for buttin’ in. It ain’t none of my business, but I just wouldn’t go!”

Marigold laughed out, her clear ringing laugh. “Why, Maggie, what funny advice! Why do you say that?”

“Well, I ain’t no business ta say it, but I’s just warnin’ you; you-all just better not go. I always think a lot of you-all’s mama, and I just thought I’d stop by and tell you. I hope you-all don’t get mad, Miss Marigold, but I had ta tell you.”

“Why of course not, Maggie. Thank you for your interest. But I can’t see what difference it could possibly make to you whether I go or not.”

“Well, I likes you-all a lot, Miss Marigold, and it ain’t no fittin’ place for such as you-all. I hated ta tell you, but I had ta. Mornin’! See you next Friday!” And Maggie was gone.

Marigold stood staring blankly at the back door for a minute.

“Well, of all things!” she said at last and then dropped down into a chair and laughed.

Marigold told herself that she wouldn’t let the words of an old woman affect her, and she hadn’t the slightest intention of staying away from the party. What would Laurie think? What would he say?

But the truth of the matter was she was not happy about it herself. Why, she did not know. When she sifted her thoughts down to the truth she found she kept seeing her mother’s eyes when she had renounced all idea of going to her only sister on her birthday. But what had that to do with the party, and why should that trouble her conscience? She couldn’t help it that her mother didn’t have the money, could she? Of course, it did seem terrible that Mother couldn’t afford to go to her sister when her daughter had been able to pay one hundred and fifty dollars for a single dress. But Mother would never have accepted any part of that money for herself. She was sure of that. It was Aunt Carolyn’s gift, and she knew her mother. Aunt Carolyn had always been a little lofty about Mother. Mother would never use a penny of money Aunt Carolyn had given. Aunt Carolyn was Father’s rich sister, and Mother liked to be independent. No, Mother wouldn’t have heard of it that even a part of that precious two hundred should be spent on her.

So she tried her best to put away such thoughts, just as she had tried all night to get rid of that uneasy feeling about that expensive dress she had bought.

But she had her hands full, what with getting her mother to stay in bed until she had had some breakfast and swallowing a few bites herself before she got away to school. She knew her mother would go to her duties in the library despite all she could say, if she could possibly drag one foot after the other, so all she could do was to see that she had something hot to drink before she went and a hot water bag at her feet for a little while before she left.

It was just as she was going out the door that her mother called her back.

“Dear,” she said weakly, “won’t you please stop at the telegraph office and send a wire to your aunt Marian? I meant to go a little early and do it, but I guess you’ll have more time than I will.”

Marigold cast a furtive glance at the clock. She had meant to do a bit of shopping herself on the way to school—shoes and gloves and a few little accessories—but the telegram must go, of course.

“What do you want me to say, Mother?”

“Just tell her it is impossible for us to come just now; perhaps we can come later. Say I am writing.”

Marigold kissed her mother and hurried away. If she took a taxi instead of the trolley, she might get in her shopping and the telegram, too.

But there were no taxis in sight, and Marigold was too excited to wait, so she walked. After all, she could walk almost as fast as a taxi in traffic.

But as she went down the familiar way, trying to word that telegram in just ten words that would say all that was necessary, somehow her thoughts got tangled up with the look in her mother’s eyes when she asked her to send the telegram. Such a shame she didn’t feel she could go now.

But after all, why shouldn’t she go? Couldn’t it be managed somehow? What nonsense that Mother should let anything keep her away from her sister when she so much wanted to go! Why she, Marigold, had seventy-five dollars in her savings account, besides the two hundred Aunt Carolyn had given her. If Mother was fussy about taking Aunt Carolyn’s gift, she would give her that. Of course, she had been half planning to put that with the rest of the two hundred and get that perfectly gorgeous evening wrap of black velvet with the ermine collar, but she didn’t really have to have that. A cheaper one would do. And the seventy-five would pay Mother’s fare and get her some new clothes, too. Mother never bought expensive things.

Suddenly she stopped short and the color flew hotly up into her cheeks, as it all came over her how she was planning to do things in a cheap way for her mother and splurge for herself in grand style, salving her conscience by getting her mother a couple of bargain dresses and maybe a five-dollar hat. She, going to a grand party where she had no right to be, in a dress that cost a hundred and fifty dollars!

Suddenly she despised herself and then more slowly, very thoughtfully began on her way again.

It was odd how things looked at from a new angle took on an entirely different appearance. It suddenly became extremely important that Mother should go to see her sister, right now, when she had been invited and when Elinor and her husband were away and Mother could have Aunt Marian all to herself. That might not happen again in a long time. Of course, Cousin Elinor and her husband were very pleasant and would be most hospitable, but it wouldn’t be quite like having her sister all to herself. And then, if she waited until she felt she could afford it, Aunt Marian might die. She was very frail! Or—Mother might die!

Marigold stared into the future with new panic in her eyes. She had never thought that Mother might die! And if Mother died and she had it to remember that she went to that grand party wearing the price that might have given her Mother the vacation and the companionship of her only sister, how would she ever stand it afterward, no matter how much good fortune came to herself?

Her eyes blurred with sudden tears so that she failed to see a traffic light and almost walked into a car that was coming. As she stepped back, just in time, she realized that she was standing in front of François’s, where she had bought her wonderful party dress, and she fairly hated the sight of it. She gave a little shiver and turned away again, but the light was still red, and she could not go on. Her eyes went back to the window where her lovely dress hung only yesterday, and now in its place a street dress was on display, the single offering in a cream-colored plate glass front.

It was a lovely suit, quiet and distinguished-looking, of a rich dark brown with a touch of sable on collar and pockets, just the kind of thing she would like to wear—well, anywhere. But, of course, it would be expensive, too, probably. She sighed as she remembered her mother had said she never could afford to complete a wardrobe that would go with the white evening gown. And here she was, her eyes still filled with tears for the thought of her mother, her heart still sore with compunction over having bought the white dress, and now turning her eyes toward more of the world’s gorgeous goods put on display.

Oh, this window of François’s had been her undoing! She wished she never had passed here, never had seen the white dress, never had bought it! If she was going to buy anything here in this ultrafashionable place she would be so much wiser to choose this dark suit, which she could go on wearing for months, even years. And this brown would be most attractive, too. What a fool she had been! If she could only undo it all and begin over again, how differently she would do! It was ridiculous, as Mother had said, for a poor girl who was earning her own living to buy a dress that a girl with millions would wear. It was true they could make beautiful enough things at home. And that would have taken very little of her two hundred dollars. The rest could have been used for things Mother needed! How silly that she shouldn’t enjoy it, too! Aunt Carolyn had said she was to get what she really wanted. And what could she ever want more than to have Mother have some of the lovely things of life? Why, of course, that was what she wanted more than anything else. To have Mother have nice things. Mother who had planned and scrimped all her life to get her nice things, Mother who had seldom had anything nice, really lovely-nice.

Her heart suddenly beat high, and a new thought came to her. Perhaps, if she bought something else in place of it, for her mother, François’s would be willing to exchange the white dress.

She turned swiftly and went into the shop, before her courage should fail her, a sharp pang of relinquishment hitting her in the heart as she entered.

The one who waited on her yesterday came swiftly toward her, and Marigold felt a throb in her throat. Now that she was here and face-to-face with making such a request her courage almost vanished. Also, it suddenly overwhelmed her to give up the dress. But she had to say something, and she lifted her head and smiled. “I’ve come to ask if it would be possible for me to return the dress I bought yesterday, exchange it perhaps for something else. You see, my Mother isn’t quite pleased with it, and I thought I could get something she would like better.”