Eleanor Gates

“ He knocked.
"Oh, come in!" called Clare.
Sue shut the door behind him; then she took her mother with her to the bay-window, halted her there as if she were standing one of the naughty orphans in a corner, and looked at her in sorrowful reproval.
Mrs. Milo drew away from the touch of her daughter's hand irritably. "Now, don't glare at me like that!" she ordered. "The Rectory is not a reformatory."
"Oh, let's not take that old ruined-girl attitude!" replied Sue, impatiently. "Laura Farvel doesn't need reforming. She needs kindness and love." ”

“ At sight of Balcome, Mrs. Milo remembered the wedding. "Oh!" she gasped. And turning about to Farvel in a wild appeal, "Oh, Hattie! Think of poor Hattie! Won't you forget yourself in this? Won't you help us to keep it all quiet? Oh, we mustn't ruin her life!" She returned to the rocker, her fingers to her eyes, as if she were pressing back the tears.
Balcome had come in, closing the door. He crossed to Farvel, his big, blowzy face comical in its gravity. "Mr. Farvel," he said, "whatever concerns that young man concerns my—little girl." ”

“ His look was the look of a man who sees a ghost.
Wallace, with quick foresight, had closed the hall door against Tottie. But the others had no thought except for the meeting between Farvel and Clare. Mrs. Milo, quite within the embrasure of the bay-window, looked on like a person at an entertainment. Her glance, plainly one of delight, now darted from Farvel to Clare, from Clare to Sue.
With Balcome it was curiosity mixed with hope—the hope that here was what would completely absolve Wallace, who was waiting, all bent and shaken. ”

“ Mrs. Milo crossed the room leisurely. The trio absorbed in the wedding-gown were laughing and chatting together. Mrs. Balcome had rushed heavily to the bay-window in the wake of the poodle, who, from the window-seat, was barking, black nose against the glass, at some venturesome sparrows. Quietly Mrs. Milo took paper and vestment from Sue and tucked them under an arm. "We have plenty of chairs," she said sweetly.
"Yes," assented Sue, obediently; "yes, I—I suppose we have." Her eyes fell before her mother's look. Again it was as if a small child had been surprised in naughtiness. ”

“ I envy her because she's borne a child. At least she's a woman. Nature means us to marry and have our little ones. The women who don't obey—what happens to them? The years go"—she looked away now, beyond the walls of Tottie's front-parlor, at a picture her imagining called up—"the light fades from their eyes, the gloss from their hair; they get 'peculiar.' And people laugh at them—and I don't wonder!" Then passionately, "Look at me! Mature! Unmarried! Childless! Where in Nature do I belong? Nowhere! I'm a freak!"
"No, my dear." Mrs. Milo smiled derisively. "You're a martyr." ”

“ A changed Sue was speaking now, not playfully or facetiously, or even patiently: her face was grave, her eyes were angry. "Mrs. Balcome, kindly take your place in the Close, to the left of the big door. Mr. Balcome, you will follow the choir." She waved them out, and they went, both unaccountably meek. Those who knew Sue Milo seldom saw this phase of her personality. Sue, the yielding, the loving, the childlike, could, on occasions, shed all her softer qualities and become, of a sudden, justly vengeful, full of wrath, and unbending. ”

“ Clare turned, instantly apprehensive.
"Save it, mother!" begged Sue, eager to avert whatever might be impending; "—save it till we get home. Come! Mr. and Mrs. Farvel will have things to talk over." And to the clergyman, "We'll take Mr. Balcome and go on ahead."
"Now wait!" bade Mrs. Milo, gently. "Why are you so impetuous, daughter? Why don't you listen to your mother? Why do you take it for granted that I want to make Mrs. Farvel unhappy?"—this in a chiding aside. ”

“ Sue turned to her, mild wonder in her eyes. "Oh, mother's the best mother in the world," she declared; "—and the sweetest.—And you love the boys, don't you, dear?"
Mrs. Milo was watching Hattie's lowered head through narrowed eyes. "I love them—naturally," she answered, with a note of injury.
"Of course, you do! You're a true mother. And a true mother loves anybody's baby. But—the trouble is"—this with a tender smile—"you—you don't always show them the love in your heart."
"Well," retorted her mother, "I shan't let them make you ridiculous.—Momsey!" ”

“ Before Farvel could reply, Clare lifted her head, stood suddenly, and stared Balcome from his disheveled hair to his wide, soft, well-worn shoes. "Oh, allow me, Alan!" she cried. "You know, they're just about to burst, both of 'em!"—for Mrs. Milo was peering at her over a handkerchief, the blue eyes bright with expectancy. "If they don't know the worst in five seconds, there'll be an explosion sure!" She laughed harshly. Then with mock ceremony, and impudently, "Mr. Balcome,—and dear Mrs. Milo, permit me to introduce myself. I am your charming clergyman's beloved bride." She curtsied. ”

“ For a long moment, Sue looked at her mother without speaking. "Oh, I know why you laugh," she said, finally. "I'm—I'm forty-five. But—after today, I'm going to do some laughing! I'm going to do what I please, and go where I please! I'm free! I'm free at last!" She cried it up to the chandelier. "From today, I'm free! This is the Emancipation Proclamation! This is the Declaration of Independence!"
Mrs. Milo moved away, smiling. At the door she turned. "What can you do?" she asked, teasingly; "—at your age!"
Sue buttoned her coat over the bridesmaid's dress. "What can I do?" ”

“ Bobbie lifted a finger to point. "That," said he proudly, "is Ikey now."
He motioned the choir into the bay-window, and Hattie followed.
The wails increased in volume. The door at the end of the passage swung open; and into sight, amid loud boo-hoos, pressed a squirming trio. There were two torn and dirty boys, their faces streaked with tears, their hands vainly trying to grapple. And between the two, holding to each by a handful of cassock, and by turns scolding and beseeching the quarreling pair, came Sue Milo. ”

“ I looked it up!"
"Ah, Mrs. Milo!" Dora put finger-tips together and cast mournful eyes up to Tottie's chandelier. "'The tongue is a world of iniquity.'"
Sue took her by a shoulder, shaking her a little. "Dora, I'm sending you out of town."
"Oh, Miss Susan!" All nonsense was frightened out of her. "Don't send me away! I tried to do my best—to keep her from coming here! But, oh, Deuteronomy, nine, thirteen!"
"Deuteronomy, nine, thirteen," repeated Mrs. Milo, wrinkling her brows.
Her eyes moved as she cudgeled her brain. "Deuteronomy——"
Sue gave Dora another shake. ”

“ Well, not exactly. You see, neither mother nor I know anything against Mrs. Farvel except what Mrs. Farvel has said herself. But one thing is certain: even an unmarried alliance, as you call it, is more decent than a marriage without love."
"Oh, slam!" Balcome exploded in pure joy.
"How dare you!" cried Mrs. Balcome, dividing an angry look between her husband and Sue.
"And," Sue went on serenely, "when it comes to that, I respect an unmarried woman with a child fully as much as I do a married woman with a poodle." ”

“ But Hattie was not deceived. She rustled forward. "Yes!" she retorted. "And Hattie Balcome, first chapter, and first verse, reads: 'Can a maid forget her manners?'"
Dora was suddenly all meekness. "If she forgets her duties," she answered, "she shall flee from Mrs. Milo—and the wrath to come!" Whereupon, with a bounce and a giggle, neither of which was in keeping with her spoken fears, she went out, banging the library door.
Hattie turned, and here was the choir at her back, engrossed in the beauties of her apparel. She gave the little group a friendly nod and a smile. ”

“ Let me see a smile!" Sue lifted the wet face.
Clare smiled and turned away. "I'll finish in here," she said, and went into the other room.
Farvel made as if to follow, but turned back. "Ah, Sue Milo, you are dear and good!" he faltered. Then coming to take her hand, "Your tenderness to Laura—your thought of the child! Ah, you're a woman in a million! How can I ever get on without you!" ”

“ Hattie Balcome cocked her head to one side, extended a satin-clad foot, threw out her hands with fingers extended, and struck a grotesque pose. "Turn—and behold!" she bade sepulchrally.
Mrs. Milo turned. "A-a-a-ah!" Then having given the wedding-gown a brief scrutiny, "Er—yes—hm! It's quite pretty."
"Quite pretty!" repeated Hattie. She revolved once, slowly. "What's the matter with it?"
"We-e-e-ell," began Mrs. Milo, appraising the gown at more length; "isn't it rather simple, my dear,—for a girl whose father is as wealthy as yours? Somehow I expected at least a little real lace." ”

“ But what about Wallace? Have you exacted the attention from him that you should have? Does he owe you nothing? Why shouldn't he spend what he earns in caring for his mother, instead of spending every penny as he pleases? Is there one set of rules for daughters, and another for sons? Why haven't you tied him up? Are you sure he's capable, when he reaches Peru, of supporting a wife? Or will he simply draw on Mr. Balcome—the way he's lived on me. ”

“ Mrs. Milo showed instant relief. "Oh, the soloist! Such a dear girl.
She sang here a year or so ago. Yes,—Miss Crosby."
Dora out, Mrs. Balcome turned a look of wisdom upon her hostess. "I see," she insinuated, "that we're very much interested in the new minister."
Like that of a startled deer, up came Mrs. Milo's head. "What do you mean?" she demanded.
"If he isn't engaged already, prepare for wedding Number Two."
"Wedding?"
Mrs. Balcome tipped forward bulkily. "Sue," she nodded.
Mrs. Milo got to her feet. "Sue! What're you talking about? Why, she never even speaks of marriage." ”

“ With another shake, she quieted them; whereupon, holding each at arm's length, she surveyed them by turns. "Oh, my soul, such little heathen!" she pronounced. "Now what do you think I am? A fight umpire? Do you want to damage each other for life?"
Clarence was all sniffles, and rubbed at the injured arm. But Ikey had no mind to be blamed undeservedly. He squared about upon Sue with flashing eye. "But, Momsey, he did said it!" he repeated.
Sue tightened her grip on his cassock. "And, oh, my soul, such grammar!" she mourned. ”

“ Milo further. "Ah, she knows I'm right!—You're going to lie, are you? You're going to palm yourself off on a decent man! Ha! You won't fool anybody! You're marked! Look in this glass!" She caught up the hand-mirror lying on the table and thrust it before Clare's face. "Look at yourself! It's as easy to read as paper written over with nasty things! Your paint and powder won't cover it! The badness sticks out like a scab!" Then as Clare, with a sudden twist of the body, and a sob, hid her face against Sue, Mrs. Milo tossed the mirror to the table. ”

“ Yet capable and dependable she was—as any crisis at Rectory or Orphanage had proven repeatedly. And when quick decisions were demanded, all turned as if with one accord to Sue. And she was as quick to execute. Or if that was beyond her power, she roused others to action. It was a rector of St. Giles who once applied to her a description that was singularly fitting: "She is," he said, "like a ship under full sail."
Just now she was a ship in a storm.
"Aw, you did said it!" cried the wailing Ikey, pointing at his adversary a forefinger wrapped in a handkerchief. "You did! You did! ”

“ As he caught sight of the two women, he twisted his face into a scowl.
Mrs. Milo, all smiles, and with outstretched hands, floated toward him in her most graceful manner. "Ah, Brother Balcome!" she cried warmly.
Balcome halted, seized her left hand, gave it a single shake, dropped it, and stalked across the drawing-room head in air. "Don't call me brother," he said crossly.
Dora, going libraryward, stopped to view him in mingled reproval and sorrow.
"Well, what's the matter with you?" he demanded. "Eh? Eh?" ”

“ Oh, you're not really gentle and charitable! You're cruel, mother!"
"I am just."
"The right kind of a woman today gives other women a chance for their lives—their happiness. That is real piety. She makes allowances. She's slow to condemn."
"You don't have to tell me that loose standards prevail."
Sue did not seem to hear. "All these years you've talked to me about the home—the home with a capital H. Your home—which you'd 'kept together'—the American home—wave the flag! And I've always believed that you meant what you said. But today I understand your real attitude. ”

“ Milo," she answered, intoning gravely, "the fourth verse, of the thirteenth chapter—or is it the ninth?—of Isaiah." With face raised, as if she were still cudgeling her brain, she crossed toward the vestibule.
"Isaiah—Isaiah," murmured Mrs. Milo. Then, as Dora seemed about to escape, "Dora!—I wouldn't speak in parables, my child, when there are others present." She smiled kindly.
"It is the soloist telephoning," explained Dora; then, so deliberately as almost to be impudent, "A girl." ”