CHAPTER LXX
ROBERT AND MAIZIE
Francisco saw his parents to the steamer in a carriage packed with luggage--shiny new bags and grips which, he reflected, would one day return much buffeted and covered with foreign labels. He had seen such bags in local households. The owners were very proud of them. Shakenly he patted his mother's arm and told her how young she was looking, whereat, for some reason, she cried. Adrian coughed and turned to look out of the window. None of the trio spoke till they reached the dock.
There Mrs. Stanley gave him many directions looking to his health and safety. And his father puffed ferociously at a cigar. They had expected Jeanne to bid them good-bye, but she no doubt was delayed, as one so often was in newspaper work.
At last it was over. Francisco stood with the bank book in his hand, a lump in his throat, waving a handkerchief. The ship was departing rapidly. He could no longer distinguish his parents among the black specks at the stern of the vessel. Finally he turned, swallowing hard and put the bank book in his pocket. What a thoughtful chap his father was! How generous! And how almost girlish his mother had looked in her new, smart travel suit! Well, they would enjoy themselves for a year or two. Some day he would travel, too, and see the world. But first there was work to do. Work was good. And Life was filled with Opportunity. He thought of Jeanne.
Suddenly he determined to test Robert's advice. Now, if ever, was the time to challenge Providence. He had in his pocket Adrian's check for $20,000. The Stanley home was vacant. But more than all else, Jeanne was being courted by a new reporter on the Chronicle--a sort of poet with the dashing ways that women liked. He had taken Jeanne to dinner several times of late.
With a decisive movement Francisco entered a telephone booth. Five minutes later he emerged smiling. Jeanne had broken an engagement with the poet chap to dine with him.
Later that evening he tipped an astonished French waiter with a gold-piece. He and Jeanne walked under a full moon until midnight.
Two months after the Stanleys' departure Francisco and Jeanne were married and took up their abode in the Stanley home. Francisco worked diligently at his novel. Now and then they had Robert and Maizie to dinner. Both Jeanne and Francisco had a warm place in their hearts for little Maizie Carter. It was perfectly plain that she loved Robert; sometimes her eyes were plainly envious when they fell on Jeanne in her gingham apron, presiding over the details of her household with, a bride's new joy in domestic tasks. But Maizie was a knowing little woman, too wise to imperil her dream of Love's completeness with a disturbing element like her mother, growing daily more helpless, querulous, dependent.