I Walked in Arden

by Jack Randall Crawford

At six on the appointed day I reported at the Claybourne residence on Myrtle Boulevard in full regalia, but withal a curious dryness in my throat. Knowlton had dropped in to grin at me while I dressed, and he had completed my nervousness. "To speak your own language," he had said, as I made ready to leave, "what price Deep Harbor, now, old thing?" Knowlton was coming to the dance; Miss Hershey had crossed his name off the dinner list.

"Go to hell, Knowlton," I replied, slamming the door. I could feel his grin following me through the panels all the way downstairs.

At the Claybournes' I found Mrs. Claybourne collapsed in tears upon the sofa, now that she was to face the casting of the die, and Mr. Claybourne bending over her trying to coax her to drink a cocktail which he held in one hand. Still protesting that alcohol always gave her a sick headache, she finally drank it with what I thought rather practised skill. Meanwhile Mr. Claybourne made violent signs at me to efface myself, which I did by retreating to the back of the passage until Helen should come down. Miss Hershey was out at the country club putting the finishing touches to the table.

Helen appeared at last, in a really grown-up evening gown, a bunch of Parma violets pinned to her bodice. My eyes swam a bit as I went forward to meet her, and my legs were most unsteady.

"Lady Grey Eyes," I stammered, and clung to her hand. She was much more composed than I. Save for the bright light that danced and sparkled in her eyes, she might have gone through a hundred such affairs.

"Look, Ted," she whispered. Behind her came Leonidas, new washed and with a small bunch of violets tied by a blue ribbon to his collar. Leonidas sat down and tried to remove the violets with his paws. We both laughed.

"Is he going?" I asked.

"Of course not, you dear idiot," Helen replied. "But I had to dress him up for the occasion."

At that moment a carriage arrived containing Miss Hemphill and her escort, and into this Mr. Claybourne bundled Helen and me. He would follow with Mrs. Claybourne later. The ride out to the country club was cold and long. The roads were partly frozen and partly covered with snow. We bumped in and out of ruts and the horses steamed. Inside, however, we were all giggles and laughter. Miss Hemphill and her young man, a clerk in the Deep Harbor Smelting Company, teased us, until we reached the club, with well meant but rather elephantine wit.

Soon after we got there the whole dinner party arrived, and we sat down in a deafening uproar of shrill conversation and laughter. The crowd was composed entirely, with the exception of Mr. and Mrs. Claybourne, of young friends of Helen's. I was the only non-Deep Harborite present. It seemed a little queer, and once or twice I thought of my father and wondered what he was thinking. Was I really doing the thing he would approve? Then I would look at Helen, and reassurance would return. No one could possibly disapprove of her. The family would be thankful I had been so lucky. Indeed, my luck was a constant source of wonder to me. How on earth was it possible that Helen should love me? It was beyond reasoning out. And as I pondered this miracle, I could feel Helen's hand steal under the tablecloth and give mine a gentle touch. It was true, then. Once we were caught at this, by the young man on the other side of Helen, and a great to-do of laughter and teasing followed. I was horribly embarrassed that I had put Helen in such a predicament, and a little angry, but she didn't seem to mind the noise at all. How they could talk, those young people! The girls seemed to be screaming, so sharp and shrill were their voices; my ears ached. Every one spoke at once, at the topmost pitch, and no one listened for a reply. I have no idea what it was all about, for I was in such a daze I could neither eat nor make out what was being said. Once or twice Helen said: "Steady, Ted. Try to look cheerful," and I would pull myself together with a smile at her and venture a remark.