A Rebellious Heroine

by John Kendrick Bangs

The Willards, who were by this time comfortably settled at “The Needles,” their cottage on the cliff, it is hardly necessary to state, were among those invited, and with their cards was included one for Marguerite. Added to the card was a personal note from Mrs. Howlett to Miss Andrews, expressing the especial hope that she would not fail them, all of which was very gratifying to the young girl.

“See what I’ve got,” she cried, gleefully, running into Mrs. Willard’s “den” at the head of the beautiful oaken stairs.

(Note.—At this point in Harley’s manuscript there is evidence of indecision on the author’s part. His heroine had begun to bother him a trifle. He had written a half-dozen lines descriptive of Miss Andrews’s emotions at receiving a special note of invitation, subsequently erasing them. The word “gleefully” had been scratched out, and then restored in place of “scornfully,” which had at first been substituted for it. It was plain that Harley was not quite certain as to how much a woman of Miss Andrews’s type would care for a special attention of this nature, even if she cared for it at all. As a matter of fact, the word chosen should have been “dubiously,” and neither “gleefully” nor “scornfully”; for the real truth was that there was no reason why Mrs. Howlett should so honor Marguerite, and the girl at once began to wonder if it were not an extra precaution of Harley’s to assure her presence at the ball for the benefit of himself and his publishers. The author finally wrote it as I have given it above, however, and Miss Andrews received her special invitation “gleefully”—according to Harley. He perceives her doubt, however, without comprehending it; for after describing Mrs. Willard’s reading of the note, he goes on.)

“That is very nice of Mrs. Howlett,” said Mrs. Willard, handing Marguerite back her note. “It is a special honor, my dear, by which you should feel highly flattered. She doesn’t often do things like that.”

“I should think not,” said Marguerite. “I am a perfect stranger to her, and that she should do it at all strikes me as being most extraordinary. It doesn’t seem sincere, and I can’t help thinking that some extraneous circumstance has been brought to bear upon her to force her to do it.”

(Note.—Stuart Harley has commented upon this as follows: “As I read this over I must admit that Miss Andrews was right. Why I had Mrs. Howlett do such a thing I don’t know, unless it was that my own admiration for my heroine led me to believe that some more than usual attention was her due. In my own behalf I will say that I should in all probability have eliminated or corrected this false note when I came to the revision of my proofs.” The chapter then proceeds.)

“What shall we wear?” mused Mrs. Willard, as Marguerite folded Mrs. Howlett’s note and replaced it in its envelope.

“I must positively decline to discuss that question. It is of no public interest,” snapped Marguerite, her face flushing angrily. “My clothing is my own business, and no one’s else.” She paused a moment, and then, in an apologetic tone, she added, “I’d be perfectly willing to talk with you about it generally, my dear Dorothy, but not now.”

Mrs. Willard looked at the girl in surprise.

(Note.—Stuart Harley has written this in the margin: “Here you have one of the situations which finally compelled me to relinquish this story. You know yourself how hard it is to make 30,000 words out of a slight situation, and at the same time stick to probability. I had an idea, in mapping out this chapter, that I could make three or four interesting pages—interesting to the girls, mind you—out of a discussion of what they should wear at the Howlett dance. It was a perfectly natural subject for discussion at the time and under the circumstances. It would have been a good thing in the book, too, for it might have conveyed a few wholesome hints in the line of good taste in dress which would have made my story of some value. Women are always writing to the papers, asking, ‘What shall I wear here?’ and ‘What shall I wear there?’ The ideas of two women like Mrs. Willard and Marguerite Andrews would have been certain to be interesting, elevating, and exceedingly useful to such people, but the moment I attempted to involve them in that discussion Miss Andrews declined utterly to speak, and I was cut out of some six or seven hundred quite important words. I had supposed all women alike in that matter, but I find I was mistaken; one, at least, won’t discuss clothes—but I don’t wonder that Mrs. Willard looked up in surprise. I put that in just to please myself, for of course the whole incident would have had to be cut out when the manuscript went to the type-setter.” The chapter takes a new lead here, as follows:)