Tomorrow About This Time (35 page)

She was wearing a crêpe de chine dress of soft gray the right tint to bring out the pink in her cheeks and the gold in her hair and lashes. It was simple of line and girded with a sash, itself heavily fringed and knotted at one side hanging a little below the deep hem of her skirt. She wore no jewelry and the elbow sleeves and round neck were without decoration. It was scarcely a dinner gown for a formal affair, yet she could not have changed if she wished since the invasion of her room, and she would not if she could. There were more important things at hand.

Her sister’s attitude plainly dismissed her, but she rose and deliberately turned her conversation to one of the boys nearest her, ignoring the look, and finally Athalie spoke, as one speaks to an inferior: “You don’t need to eat with us, Alice Jarvis. It will make an uneven number. We have just men enough to go around.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Silver with a careless smile, “Father’ll be here pretty soon, you know” and went on talking to the admiring boy, although her heart was beating wildly, and she wished herself far away from this scene of dissension and frivolity.

“Oh, very well. Suit yourself!” said Athalie with her haughtiest voice and began to devote herself to the entire group and attract them all from Silver.

Silver slipped out of the room and went back upstairs. If she could keep the bunches of girls and boys apart till dinner was ready it might help. She went from room to room offering help. Had they all the towels they needed? Could she help them with their dresses, or play ladies’ maid in any way? Would they like ice water? Her insistent, pleasant service met with no response except silence. They whispered behind her back and exchanged glances. She saw that the way ahead was to be most unpleasant, but she went steadily on ignoring the meaning of their attitude. She was the pleasant elder sister waiting on her younger sister’s guests.

But she had committed what was to them an unpardonable sin. She had taken their devoted admirers away from them and interested them herself. That could never be forgiven.

Silver was very tired when at last the scene changed to the dinner table. She had placed herself at the head and was there as they came into the room, acting the part of hostess. Athalie stopped and looked furiously at her but finally decided to get her revenge some other way and, leaving the other end seat unoccupied, proceeded to seat her guests to suit her own purposes. The chairs were all filled but one.

“Marcy! Where are you? You sit at the corner next to Dad’s seat. Hurry. I’m starved.”

Marcella Mason, who had just ripped downstairs and was entering from the hall, paused a moment lifting up a monocle on a long silk cord.

“Good evening, gents and women!” she saluted elegantly. “So glad you all could come!”

Every eye turned toward the doorway, and then a shout arose, gradually growing into a roar.

“Marcy! Marcy! Look at Marcy!”

For Marcella Mason was attired in Patterson Greeves’s full dress suit—broad white shirtfront, patent leather shoes, and all—and looked the very personification of impudence and daring.

Silver and Anne Truesdale had agreed before dinner was served that whatever happened they would keep their composure and not look shocked nor horrified. Poor Anne Truesdale scuttled hurriedly into the pantry. This was too much for her. Silver struggled with her irritation and mastered a grave little smile. It was rude of course, impudent, but only a prank, after all. It was not for her to deal with a thing like this. Her father would be here pretty soon. Oh, that he might arrive at once!

From the start the hilarity was uproarious. Several times bits of bread went whizzing back and forth across the table that had for years seen gathered around it grave and dignified and honored men and women. Anne trembled for the delicate long-stemmed glasses in which the delicious fruit nectar was served.

The dinner progressed through a rich cream soup, roast chicken with vegetables, homemade ice cream with crushed strawberries, and great plates of delectable cake.

The little cups of black coffee were being served when Athalie reached under her chair and brought out a lacquered box, which she passed around. Cigarettes! Strange Silver had not thought that might happen! And the guests were all taking them, girls, too, and lighting them. Little curls of smoke rose delicately in the stately dining room, and six little flappers pursed their painted lips and blew six more wreaths of smoke into the air.

Silver took her coffee cup and toyed with it thoughtfully. What would her father say to this? She was not quite sure whether the time had come for her to take a stand or not. But when at a signal from Athalie one of the boys rose and stepping out of the room brought back two tall bottles of dark liquid, then she knew her time had come. He had pulled out the cork and was filling an empty glass by one of the girl’s plates. The fumes of the liquor rose hotly to her sensitive nostrils. What chance had she against so many? Her face was white and stern like a spirit as she rose from her chair and faced them. “Stop!” she commanded to the astonished boy who held the bottle. “Joe, will you remove these bottles at once? And Anne, will you kindly take that tray and gather up the cigarettes and throw them out? My father does not allow such things to go on in his house nor around his table!” she said, addressing the company in a clear ringing voice. “If you want to smoke and drink you must go elsewhere!”

Then Athalie rose suddenly with her glass of water in her hand and flung its contents at her sister.

“Shut up!” she said roughly. “It’s none of your business what we do. This is my party, and I’m the
daughter
in this house.”

“Athalie!
What does all this mean?”

Patterson Greeves was standing in the doorway, his hat still on his head, his hands still cluttered with packages of books as he had come in, his face stern with anger.

Chapter 26

T
he entire company turned in startled surprise and Anne and Joe scuttled furtively over to stand by him. They had been plainly frightened by a situation that they knew they could not control.

“Oh, Dad, is that you? I didn’t hear you come in. I’m glad you’ve arrived. It was naughty of you to be late the first night of my house party,” broke forth Athalie nonchalantly. “Come and let me introduce you to my guests.”

Patterson Greeves made no move to go forward. He handed his packages to the attendant Joe, and took off his hat and gloves, still standing where he had first appeared, still looking the company over, person by person, his eyes growing sterner, his mouth more displeased.

“I do not understand,” he said, coming forward inquiringly, giving a searching glance into each impudent face, guest by guest.

“Let me have that bottle, please!” He took the big bottle from the unresisting hand of the once-arrogant youth and lifted it near to his nose.

“Where did you get this liquor, may I ask? I’m afraid somebody has been breaking the laws of the land. I shall have to put you all under arrest until we investigate. Joe, will you kindly call up the chief of police?” The entire company of would-be revelers rose in consternation and looked to right and left for a place of exit, but Anne Truesdale, her cheeks flaming an angry crimson, her eyes like two sword points, barred the way of the pantry, and the angry householder and his ancient servant stood in the wide doorway leading to the hall. They began to steal furtively behind one another and sidle toward the pantry, fancying Anne less formidable than their inhospitable host.

“Why, Dad! I thing you’re horrid!” broke forth Athalie, her lips trembling. “Why,
Dad
!”

“Be still, Athalie! You may go to your room! You have broken all three of your promises. I have nothing more to say to you at present. You know what the consequence was to be.”

“But, Dad—”

“Leave the room!”

And Athalie actually left it.

The moment was awful. Even Silver felt sorry for them.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, while we are waiting for the officer, let me get your names and addresses,” said Patterson Greeves, his classroom tone upon him as he brought out pencils and notebook. “Your name, sir?” He turned to the first white-faced boy, the one who had held the bottle as he entered.

The boy lifted a face from which the fun had fled and tried to brazen it out.

“Oh cert, my name’s Brett Hanwood. Hamilton Prep pitcher, you know.”

Straight around the table he went writing down carefully the addresses, asking a searching question now and again. When he reached Marcella Mason he eyed her curiously for an instant, felt the sleeve of her coat, a flicker of amusement passing over his otherwise grave face and said: “And this—ah—gentleman?”

Marcella winced.

“This completes the list, I think.”

Patterson Greeves lifted his pencil and counted, “Four ladies and seven—” his eye was on Marcella—”men! The ladies of course we will not hold accountable. And now as it is not convenient for me to entertain guests tonight they will be returned to their homes or their schools as the case may be. The men—” again he glanced at Marcella—”will await the officer’s verdict. Doubtless they will be held till the trial, or possibly let out on bail if they can furnish sufficient evidence. The state is laying stress on this matter of prohibition just now, and—”

“Oh!” gasped Marcella and collapsed in sobs.

“Now,” said Greeves, “if you four young ladies will just go into the library I will call up your school and arrange for your return.”

“Oh—h–h–h!” murmured the girls in a panic.

Just then the officer was brought in by Joe, and Greeves explained to him in a low tone. Then he turned back to his frightened victims. “You four girls may come into the library now.”

The girls huddled in a mass and followed him. The sound of hasty feet scuttling after, and Marcella arrived red and teary.

“I—I—I’m a girl, too!”

“Oh,” said Greeves surveying her through his glasses, “curious specimen, I must say. Man and girl! Well, well! Which school do you attend?”

Marcella bore the sarcasm meekly and tried to hide her borrowed plumage behind the other girls. They made a curious group in their wild young flapper frocks with their plump, bare shoulders shivering in the shadows of the big old room while they waited for Patterson Greeves to get long distance. They glanced mutely into one another’s eyes and thought of the school records already against them.

“Is this Briardale School for Girls? Is this the principal? Let me speak to the principal, please. I have five young ladies here in my house who claim to belong to your school. They have been attempting to have a hooch party during my absence. Can you tell me where they are supposed to be tonight? Shall I return them to you? Their names are—”

He consulted his paper and read off the names. The girls stood and shivered as if he were striking them.

“I beg your pardon. Did you say Miss Mason was at home at the bedside of her sick mother? Yes? And this Violet? Her sister is being married? Oh! I see!” His eyes dwelt mercilessly on the trembling Violet. “Having her eyes examined? I see. And the other one? Oh, she was taken sick and was sent home? I see. Then you would you prefer that I return these young ladies to their various homes—”

“Oh, no, no!” broke in Marcella. “My father would half kill me! I’d rather go back to school.”

“Mine would take my next month’s allowance away, and it’s spent already,” wept Violet then hushed to hear what was being said on the telephone.

“You say this Violet lives in our neighboring city? And Miss Mason in a suburb? Where? Oh, Hazelbrook. Yes, I know it quite well. I’m not sure, but her father is an old friend of mine. Walter Mason? That’s the one. Very well, then. I quite agree with you that these two should go to their homes. I will personally escort them there at once. The other two you would prefer to have return to the school tonight? Just how far is that from the Junction? I see. No, there is no train out of here until ten o’clock. That would miss connection. I think it would be better to get an automobile. Yes, I have a reliable man and his wife, old trusted servants. I can send them in their care.

Oh, that’s all right. I’m only glad to get it all so easily arranged. They will be there tonight. It may be late. I may be delayed in finding a car, but they will arrive, don’t worry. Thank you! Good night!”

The girls were trembling and furious, but looking in his determined face they saw they had no way of escape. Especially did Marcella quail as she looked down at her borrowed garments and thought of her father’s face when he should hear the report of his old friend.

Patterson Greeves hung up the receiver, rang for Anne Truesdale, and said: “Now, young ladies, you will go upstairs in charge of Mrs. Truesdale and find your belongings. We shall be ready to start in twenty minutes.”

He herded them to the stairs and went into the dining room to consult with the chief of police, who had the bottle of liquor in his hand and was asking keen questions with eyes that were used to reading human countenances and penetrating human masks.

After a brief consultation between the two men, the uncomfortable boys were called into the library and subjected to a telephone conversation much like that which the girls had passed through, except that it was decided by the headmaster of the school that the boys should be returned in a body under police escort and that their fathers should be at once summoned from their various homes. The boys looked even more hunted than the girls had done. They perhaps had more reason to fear both parental and scholastic discipline.

The boys were marched out of the house at once with hastily packed suitcases and sober looks on their faces. A grocery truck was requisitioned. The boys piled in, and six men, two of them regular police aides, the other four pressed into service from the firehouse with hastily improvised uniforms, climbed in after them, a man to a boy. There was no escape.

The guards hugely enjoyed the occasion. They were getting a night’s excitement and a long ride free. It would be something to talk about at the firehouse for many a day. Uri Weldon had been the first one to volunteer. He had no time even to telephone to Lizette before leaving. But then Lizette was not one to worry about him.