I
That Irene and Kemp should embrace and kiss at the table Grace assumed to be the accepted procedure at such parties. Kissing to the accompaniment of cocktails was not without its piquancy, but the picture presented by Irene and Kemp she found unedifying. Under the stimulus of alcohol Kemp and Irene seemed to have thrown away the dignity with which they had begun the party. Grace was not without her experience of kissing, but her experiences had been boy-and-girl transactions, all the sweeter for their privacy. She wondered whether it might not be necessary for Trenton to kiss her, but instead he rebuked Kemp and Irene with mock severity for their unbecoming conduct.
“You two have no manners! We’re terribly embarrassed on this side of the table.”
“Do excuse us!” cried Kemp. “We were merely carried away by our emotions. I just happened to remember that I hadn’t kissed Irene for a week.”
“Well, you needn’t pull that cave man stuff here,” said Irene petulantly. She opened her vanity box and squinted at herself in the tiny mirror.
“Pardon, everybody, while I powder my nose.”
“Ward’s never been kissed to my knowledge, Grace,” said Kemp, apparently undisturbed by Irene’s complaint of his roughness. “The field’s open to you!”
“Oh, we’re not going to begin in public,” said Grace; “are we Ward?”
She turned smilingly toward Trenton, who met her gaze quizzically.
“I’ll say I’ve never been so tempted before,” he answered.
“Oh, you’re bound to come to it!” cried Irene. “Grace can’t pretend she’s never been kissed. She’s just a little coy, that’s all.”
“I’m not coy!” Grace protested. “But I’m all out of practice.”
“Well, we can easily fix that!” said Kemp, jumping to his feet. “I’m going to kiss you right now. My sense of hospitality demands it.”
“Not much you’re not!” cried Irene, forcing him back into his chair. “I see you kissing Grace!”
“Jealous!” cried Kemp, striking his hands together with delight. “Jealous at last! But you needn’t be scared Grace. There’s no fun kissing a girl against her will.”
“How do you know it would be against my will?” Grace demanded.
“Well, it would be against mine,” said Irene. “Ward, why don’t you keep Grace interested? I’m not going to have Tommy falling in love with her. We’ve had some girls out here who played up to Tommy and tried to take him away from me. That’s why I brought Grace. She’s an old pal of mine and my little boy’s not going to flirt with her, is you Tommy?”
“Of course I isn’t!” Kemp answered and in proof of his loyalty he kissed Irene again.
The food Jerry was serving called for praise and the Japanese grinned his appreciation of the compliments they bestowed upon his cooking. Kemp carved the turkey; he always did his own carving; it gave the home touch, he explained. Irene said she would make the salad dressing and that would be another home touch. The essentials were placed before her and she composed the dressing after a recipe Kemp had taught her. It was the inspiration of Kemp’s pet waiter in a New York club. Kemp talked for some time of waiters he knew and their genius in the composition of salads.
Grace had never before heard food discussed by an epicure. It seemed odd that a busy man should have given so much time and thought to the formulae of the kitchen. Kemp appealed to Trenton for confirmation of his appraisement of the merits of the cooking they had enjoyed together in various parts of the country, Trenton replying in a whimsical fashion, tolerant of his friend’s enthusiasm, but letting it be known that as for himself he was much less fastidious about his food. Kemp paused in his neat, skilled carving of the turkey to deliver a lecture on green turtle soup. One might have thought that the whole progress of civilization depended on settling then and there exactly where green turtle soup attained perfection. Kemp’s insistence that the New York Yacht Club was entitled to highest honors in this particular brought from Trenton the remark that he knew a place in Kansas where the mock turtle was preferable to any other liquid food he knew.
“Heathen!” cried Kemp disdainfully.
“Let’s talk of ham and eggs,—a brain food superior to the much-boasted pie,” Trenton suggested. “There’s a boarding house in a coal mining town in Southern Colorado where a woman sets out the best ham and eggs I ever ate. I ought to know; I ate ’em three times a day for two months!”
“You’re an ostrich! If you don’t swear this is the finest turkey you ever ate I’ll tell Jerry to serve you ham and eggs and I’ll make you eat ’em.”
Grace eyed her champagne glass with the same hesitancy with which she had regarded the cocktail. She had never before seen champagne. From what she had heard and read of it she knew it to be one of the essentials of the new order of life into which she was being initiated.
“That’s the very last,” said Kemp, taking the bottle from the cooler and holding it up for their admiration. “Positively the last!”
“Same old joke!” exclaimed Irene. “Tommy’s got enough liquor hid away out here to last forty years. I’ve seen the cave he built to keep it in—there’s oceans of it!”
“A rotten exaggeration,” Kemp rejoined, thrusting the bottle back into the cooler and taking up his glass. “I haven’t enough to last me twenty.”
Irene now engaged him in a lively debate as to the merits of the wine. She pretended to a critical knowledge of vintages and after demanding to see the label expressed serious doubts as to the authenticity of the contents.
Kemp challenged her assertions; apparently the two found the greatest pleasure in taunting each other.
“They’re off!” groaned Trenton; “you’d think they hated each other from the way they talk. We’ll be dignified, Grace, and keep out of their silly controversies. Between ourselves, I’ve been exposed to a great deal of champagne, but I can’t tell one brand from another.”
“It’s terribly dangerous, isn’t it?” asked Grace, peering into her glass. “I took your advice about the cocktail and I didn’t feel it at all; how much may I drink of this?”
“Well, about a quarter of that won’t do you any harm,” Trenton replied after pondering the matter with exaggerated gravity. “It seems to me you’re rubbing it in just a little by asking my opinion in that tone of voice. One might think I was your father.”
“Oh, you’re not nearly old enough for that! But would you be ashamed of me,” Grace asked, sipping the wine and holding up the glass each time that he might see that she was not exceeding her allowance.
“I shouldn’t be ashamed of you even if you were my aunt! I was just thinking how singular it is that when a man reaches forty he wants every girl he meets to think he’s only twenty-seven. Have you noticed that?”
“No; but I’ll remember it. I can see you’re terribly wise. Have I had enough of this pretty stuff?”
He inspected her glass carefully and nodded.
“Just about.”
“If I drank it all I might be more amusing,” she suggested. “I might be as lively as Irene.”
“Let me study you first without artificial stimulation. As I have every intention of keeping sober myself you’ll get some little idea of what manner of being I am. A first meeting is important—it’s either that or nothing. If we both got tipsy it would be different; but frankly I don’t like being tipsy. Oh, don’t think I’ve never been! Far, far from it. But tonight I have a feeling that it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to lose my head.”
“No-o?” she inquired, with all the mockery she dared employ.
They were interrupted by a question from Kemp, who was now discussing automobiles with Irene. Kemp invited Trenton’s support in his defense of the limousine in which they had driven to The Shack. The car was not to Irene’s liking and she warned him never to buy another of the same make. Kemp tried to explain why he had not met her wishes in the matter. The car was a product of his home town and the manufacturer was a friend and it was his policy to patronize local industries. Grace thought it ridiculous that Irene should show so much feeling about a matter which was, strictly speaking, none of her concern. The car had seemed to Grace a machine of much splendor and it had borne them speedily and comfortably to the farm. She was unable to understand why her friend was so earnestly denouncing it.
“Don’t let them bother you,” said Trenton, “they get into a row about cars every time I’m here. Their ignorance is pitiful; neither one of them knows a thing about it.”
“Who doesn’t know anything about cars?” demanded Irene testily.
“Ah! I’ve wakened the enemy’s pickets,” laughed Trenton. “You two ought to remember that just six weeks ago tonight you threshed out the whole business. You ought to know by this time, Irene, that Tommy is as obstinate as a mule. He’d be sure to buy the very car you warned him against.”
“Oh, I knew all the time that’s what he’d do. Of course I don’t have to be satisfied. But I’d rather ride in a jitney,” Irene rejoined scornfully.
“Knowing your aristocratic taste I don’t see you,” said Kemp, turning to the others. “We are not really fussing today; it’s just a little sketch we’re putting on. Irene and I never quarrel. I just lead her on for the joy of seeing how ignorant she is about the things she spouts about the loudest.”
The talk now shifted to the theatre, it appearing that Kemp in his business trips to New York found time to cultivate the acquaintance of many actors and actresses. Irene had met some of them, both in New York, where she seemed to have encountered Kemp on her buying excursions for Shipley’s, and at home, where Kemp always “threw a party” for his particular admirations among theatrical people when they visited Indianapolis. Apparently these parties had been very gay from the manner in which Irene and Kemp referred to them. They recounted with particular delight an occasion on which the star of a musical comedy had with the greatest difficulty been put into condition to resume his itinerary after a Saturday night at The Shack. Irene was moved to immoderate laughter at the recollection.
“When he gets a bun he’s ever so much funnier off the stage than he ever is on. He climbed out of a window when we were trying to get him in shape to go to his train and would you believe it!—we found him in the barnyard talking to a pig! Then he cried to take the little brown piggy with him; he said he wanted it for his understudy. He was perfectly screaming about that silly little pig, and we fooled around so long he missed the last possible train and Tommy had to drive him clear to Chicago for a Sunday night opening. He kept saying every time we told him he had missed another train that he would wait till it came back! You couldn’t beat that!”
Grace and Trenton were laughing more at Irene’s enjoyment of her own story than at the incident itself. They learned that the comedian had finally been landed at the stage door of the Chicago theatre where he was to appear barely in time to dress for his part. Kemp was enthusiastic about the drive, which had broken all records. He interrupted Irene’s story with many details of the flight which she had forgotten.
When Irene and Kemp again became absorbed in each other Grace picked up the thread of her talk with Trenton.
“We stopped just where it was growing interesting,” she remarked. “Let’s go right on where we left off. You were saying you thought it better not to lose your head tonight. Was that on my account? Am I such a young innocent that you’ve got to take care of me?”
He laughed at the eagerness with which she flung these sentences at him. If she was affected by her restricted potations there was nothing in her manner or speech to indicate the fact. Her eyes were bright, but only from the excitement of her entrance upon a new field of adventure. Once a young student at the university had addressed some verses “To Her Questing Eyes” and published them in one of the college periodicals. The poem had been instantly recognized as a tribute to Grace Durland; questing was a fitting term for a certain look that came into her eyes at times when her habitual eager gaze became crossed oddly with a far-away look of revery. Trenton was doing full justice to her eyes and was mindful of their swift changes.
“On the whole I don’t really believe you need protecting,” he answered. “Oh, just a little, perhaps; but I think I’d trust you to take care of yourself.”
“But what if I don’t want to be taken care of! What if I want to jump into the water with a big splash!”
“Um! So that’s the idea? Well, I think you’d swim out; and yet again you mightn’t. There are those who don’t,” he ended gravely.
“I’m not afraid—I’m not afraid of anything!” she said with a defiant lifting of her head.
“Dear me!” He narrowed his eyes and looked at her sharply. “Broadly speaking, it’s better not to be afraid of life; life’s got to be lived.” He pecked at his salad for a moment, then put down his fork and went on. “We’ve got to meet situations; play the game with the cards as they’re dealt. We hear a good deal these days about our grand old grandfathers and what heroic stuff they were made of. They fought with savages who didn’t have the right ammunition to fight back with; but nowadays the savages are inside of us. The wild streak in man is showing itself. It’s in all of us.”
He touched his breast lightly and smiled to minimize the seriousness of what he was saying.
“Right around here, where the corn grows tall, you might think—and probably a lot of people back yonder in the city like to think—that everything’s safe and it’s easy to be good! We’re all being tested all the time. The man who was an angel fifty years ago would probably be a perfect devil these days if he had half a chance. The world is a different place every morning; but that’s only an old habit the world has. It keeps spinning a little faster all the time. Now we’ve got right here—” with a slight movement of the head he indicated Kemp and Irene—“we’ve got a situation that wouldn’t have been possible twenty years ago—at least not in a town like this. But we may be sure something of the kind was going on only it was better hidden. Nowadays with more people and more wealth and the general craving for excitement things happen differently. We may regret such things, you and I, but we are not helping matters by denying they exist. Everybody is restless; people are living as though they expected to die tomorrow and are afraid they’re going to miss something; but I don’t believe people are wickeder than they used to be. What we used to call wicked we call naughty now, and pretend it doesn’t matter!”
He spoke half questioningly, as though not sure of her assent.
“I suppose that’s so,” she replied soberly. “I never thought of it in that way. But,” she added, “you must have lots of other responsibilities—more important ones, without troubling about me.”
“We’re not much use in the world if we haven’t a few. I think—I think I might put you on my list. How would you like that?”
“It would be wonderful if you thought me worth thinking about after we leave here!” she answered, her eyes bright.
“If I never saw you again I shouldn’t forget you. You’re a vivid person; I can honestly say that you’re the most interesting person I’ve met in a long time.”
They were interrupted by Irene and Kemp who rose suddenly from the table.
“Tommy and I are going to dance,” said Irene. “You two can have your coffee where you like. There’s a cordial if you want it—Tommy has everything, you know.” She rested her hand for a moment on Trenton’s shoulder. Her face was flushed and her voice a little strident. “You two are spooning beautifully. You may be awfully proud of yourself, Grace. I never saw Ward so interested in any girl before.”
“Run along, Irene; Grace and I are talking of serious matters,” Trenton replied.
“Listen to that, Tommy! These idiots are serious! It’ll never do to leave them here.”
Kemp caught Trenton by the arm and dragged him from his chair.
“Can’t be serious ’n my house, Ward Trenton! Always too serious for Irene and me. Just look ’t that beautiful girl I got you to play with; silly to be serious with a girl like that.”
“All right; we’ll dance then,” said Trenton, amiably.
“Thass the talk! Don’t forget this’s a party, not a funeral.”
Jerry had rolled back the rugs and pushed the furniture out of the way in the living room. Kemp and Irene were already on the floor dancing exaggeratedly to the air of one of the new records.
“I’m not up to date on the new stuff,” remarked Trenton apologetically; but Grace found that he danced well and evidently with enjoyment.
“You two not drinkin’ enough,” said Kemp in one of the pauses, planting himself waveringly before Trenton and Grace and extending a glass. “Gotta drink more; party’s no good without wine; lots o’ wine. Want everybody t’ get soused like me.”