There was something in May’s shyness, in the awe which shone in her eyes, that struck deep into Ellen’s humility. It made her feel preposterous and absurd and a little nightmarish.
“Good Heavens!” she replied. “That’s my name. Of all the people in the world, you have most right to use it.” And then. “But tell me the news. I’ve been too busy to hear any of it. It’s been ten years since I went away.”
She found herself blushing, perhaps at the sudden slip of the tongue that betrayed her into recognition of the one unpleasantness that stood between them. It was almost as if she had said, “since I ran away with Clarence.”
May, it seemed, was no more eager to mention his name. She hastened past it. “I tried to get Herman to come, but he wouldn’t go where there were so many women. He wants to see you. He said to tell you that if you would come to lunch, he’d come home from the works. You’d never know him. He’s a father now,” she made a sweeping gesture to include the restless troop that surrounded her, “and he has a mustache.”
Ellen declined, with a genuine regret. She wanted vaguely to enter the mild, ordered world out of which these four children had come.
“I can’t come because I am leaving at eight. You see, I can’t do what I like any more. I have engagements ... concerts which I must keep. But thank him. Maybe he could run over to-night.”
May thought not. They were making an inventory at the Junoform factory and Herman would be there until midnight. Harvey Seton (Lily’s arch enemy) was dead.
“He died last June. We found him cold in the morning in his bed in the spare room. You see he hadn’t slept in the same room with Ma since Jimmy was born. She says if he had, he might be alive to-day.”
So Herman was head of the factory now and he was worried. The new fashions had cut down the sale of corsets, and corsets made of rubber were putting into the discard those built upon the synthetic whalebone which old Samuel Barr had invented. Business wasn’t so good. Perhaps the fashions would change. Perhaps they would put in a rubber corset department. Ellen was fresh from Paris. Did she think there was any chance of small waists coming in again?
“Of course,” said May, with an echo of the old giggle, “women with my figure will always have to wear whalebone. Rubber is no good for me. And then just now, I have to wear my corsets loose....” She sighed. “If only I had a figure like yours.” And she swept Ellen’s straight gray clad figure with an appraising and envious glance.