11. Kit and Frank
Kit’s week in Washington flew by. Frank Howard was with her every free moment, and between times, she attended the lively discussions which were held in the hotel ballroom. The young students heard some of the great minds of the country speak on all phases of history, foreign and American, from the fall of the Roman Empire to the present day.
Kit could hardly believe her ears when Bernice Traxler rose to read a paper on modern Mexico. The girl, who had seemed so frivolous, rose before the assembly to deliver one of the most inspiring and factual reports of the day. Kit wondered how such a popular girl could have found the time to investigate Mexican history so thoroughly. She listened, spellbound, while Bernice told the story of politics in Mexico from the Sixteenth Century and the invasion of Cortez to the present-day Aleman government.
Helen Smith, too, contributed a paper to the meeting. She spoke, naturally enough, about the Midwestern states in this country. And as she talked, Kit began to realize the important role that the farmer plays. Helen, who had had personal experience in the Four-H Club and whose father had been an active member of the Grange, convinced them all that the problems of the American farmer were everyone’s problems.
For a week, both professors and students lectured, compared notes and discussed historical topics. Kit had no paper to read, but she was chairman of a discussion group which handled the problems of modern France. It was an interesting session and set the stage for another one about modern Germany and the four-power division of that country.
Fortunately, the conference was the last on the schedule. It went on for two days, while students and teachers alike tried to reach some conclusion as to the policies of Russia, France, England and the United States. Discussions became heated, and Kit told Frank afterward that she felt as if she had attended a United Nations conference.
“The United Nations,” Frank said, “is really our last hope, I think.” He was escorting Kit into a famous seafood restaurant on the river, and the odor of fresh fish assailed their nostrils as they climbed the steps up to the second floor.
Kit sat down and waited for Frank to order for them. She gazed wistfully down at the Potomac. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “Isn’t that the way people felt about the League of Nations after the last war?”
Frank shook his head. “Last time we weren’t even in on the deal. This time we’re one of the leaders.”
Kit smiled a little. “That sounds a little chauvinistic,” she said. “Flag waving.”
Frank grinned. “I didn’t mean it that way. I suppose you feel more confident when your own country agrees with you.”
Kit shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said wearily. “I was so encouraged to think so many students and professors wanted to get together to talk. But after these two days of endless arguments about the four-power pact and Germany, I feel that we left everything in a hopeless tangle. And if we Americans couldn’t agree about it, how do you suppose the members of the United Nations ever will agree?”
Frank covered his hand with hers. “Because, Kit,” he said seriously, “the member nations agree on the very most important thing of all. They are agreeing to talk instead of to throw bombs. Of course they disagree. And they’ll continue to disagree. But as long as they heave words around instead of exploding atoms, they are exercising their rights as human beings. And human beings who act as human beings should, don’t kill each other.”
Kit nodded. “I agree with that, all right,” she said. “For example, if Jean were here, she could back me up in this. There are huge wars which human beings must fight all the time. I’m a soldier in the front lines. Humans have natural enemies, and I’m constantly plotting and arranging the slaughter of these enemies. Jean and the doctors and the other nurses at the clinic do the same thing.”
“Man is not man’s natural enemy. He must learn this. I don’t care if he’s a German or a Russian or an Australian bushman, it’s his business to get along with his fellow man.”
“That’s fine, but he doesn’t,” Kit said. “Look at the history of this country. Young as we are, we’ve had a war almost every generation.”
“The history of this country is an excellent example of our progress,” Frank said. “Many people think that the tensions which exist between the North and the South today are as strong as those in Lincoln’s day. But no one except downright crackpots would ever suggest going through another Civil War. We talk about our grievances. We don’t shoot about them.”
“That’s right,” Kit agreed.
Frank grinned sheepishly. “I know I’m an idealist,” he said. “But I’ve a hunch that before too long man is going to wake up! Someday he’s going to realize that to ally himself with greed, bad temper and bad will towards other men is to sign a pact with our natural enemies. He might just as well suggest that we turn this world over to destructive insects, infectious diseases and man-eating beasts.”
Kit grinned back at him. “This pompano is delicious, but it’s going to taste like sawdust if we don’t stop this.”
“Okay, Kit,” Frank said.
“Now, then,” Kit continued, “are you coming home with me?”
Frank thought for a moment. “I can come now with you and stay a week or so. Or I can come later in the summer. Suppose I leave it up to you?”
Kit smiled. “Come both times,” she urged.
“You’re a forward minx,” Frank said, laughing. “You know I’d like to, but I can’t. Summertime is our busiest time, and I just can’t get away both times.”
Kit considered his answer for a minute. “Then maybe you’d better come later,” she said. “You might have more time, and I’d be settled at home ... you know, unpacked and everything. Then we would have time to do what we want to.”
Frank nodded. “That might be better.”
They ate their dinner in almost complete silence. It was Kit’s last night in Washington, and neither of them was happy about her leaving.
“What time does your train leave, Kit?” Frank asked after a while.
She shook her head dismally. “Around six in the morning.”
“Then I suppose you won’t want to stay up very late,” he sighed. “I thought we might take a drive out Chevy Chase way. The Maryland countryside is lovely at this time of year.”
“That would be fun,” Kit agreed. “And I don’t mind staying up.”
After dinner, they started their slow drive out to Chevy Chase. Kit gazed longingly at the pretty houses nestled in the rolling hills. She pointed to one colonial house which was nearly obscured from the road by a small woods. “That’s just about perfect, I think,” she sighed.
Frank glanced over at the house. “So that’s what you want for a home.”
Kit nodded. “I think I would like to live outside of Washington.”
“That’s a break for me,” Frank teased. “That means, of course, I can keep my job. In case we decide to be married someday.”
Kit laughed. “Yes, I guess it does. But do you know why I want to live here?”
Frank shook his head. “Tell me, Mr. Bones. Why have you selected Washington, of all places in the country, as the place to settle down?”
Kit grimaced at him. “Because,” she said earnestly, “you can have a farm right here....”
Frank threw one hand up in mock horror. “So you want to be a farmer!”
Kit pursed her lips. “What’s the matter with being a farmer? But that isn’t what I meant, and you know it. I mean, you can live in the country and be quiet and surrounded by the beauties of nature, and still you’re not an hour away from the heart of the nation. Imagine living right in the midst of the most exciting events in the world!”
Frank smiled wryly. “Now who’s being chauvinistic?” he asked.
“You’re being awful!” Kit cried. “I’ll bet you never even bother to go to a Senate hearing or the House ... or anything!”
Frank’s smile faded. “I’ll bet I wish I didn’t have to ... as much as I do. You seem to forget I have Senate committees to report to, to try to get money out of, to high pressure into taking some action so that we all don’t have insect plagues.”
Kit grinned and shook her head. “That was a dumb remark. I’m sorry. But anyhow I think it would be exciting.”
Frank glanced at her. She looked as young as a high school girl. “You’re so young and precious and wonderful, Kit,” he said tenderly, “I don’t know why you bother with an old fogey like me. I’ve almost forgotten how thrilled I was the first time I entered the Senate gallery.”
She laughed. “I guess you are an old fogey. But it’s too late to do anything about it now.”
When they returned from their drive, Frank took her to a small restaurant for dancing and a light snack. As they moved out on the dance floor, Kit sighed.
“Why are you always going away from people?” she asked.
Frank shrugged. “I’m not going any place,” he said, holding out his arms to her. “You are.”
Kit made a face at him as they started to dance. “That’s what I mean, silly. First I had to leave college. You know, you think you’re all set to leave and that you never want to see another classroom or textbook again. But then you do leave, and you just can’t bear it. I mean, leaving Uncle Bart and Aunt Della and Jeannette Flambeau, my roommate, and the whole gang. This time it was a little easier because I knew I was going to come here and see you. But now I have to leave you and the new friends I’ve made here. Then I’ll get home and next fall I’ll have to leave Father and Mother and the family. You’re always leaving someone behind.”
“Or being left behind,” Frank said earnestly. “I don’t want to talk about it any more. It’s not much fun being left. And if I started to tell you how I feel about it, I could easily frighten you.”
Kit hesitated. “All right, Frank,” she said. “I guess I’m terrible, worrying about myself when other people have problems, too.”
He squeezed her hand. “Yep, you’re terrible, all right,” he said. “You make me feel like a man who’s bet his whole life savings on a horse race.”
Kit stared at him. “What?” she asked.
He smiled wistfully. “I’m a grown-up man, Kit,” he said softly. “I’ve been in love ... or thought I was in love ... before. But never like this. You’re such a child, still. You should have lots of men in your life. All I can do is make my bet—that’s my whole heart—and stand by and wait till the race is over.”
Kit smiled slowly. “I hope I’ve been honest with you, Frank,” she said. “I couldn’t bear to think I’ve done anything to hurt you. But of course,” she added, “Ralph must have felt the same way about Jean. And that worked out.”
Frank thought of Jean, the calm, efficient, loyal sister who probably would be marrying Ralph MacRae soon. Then he looked down at Kit, the intense, fiery little girl who was out to reform the world. He was baffled by the comparison, but he realized that the same spark of loyalty which characterized her older sister was burning in Kit’s heart.