Marjorie Benton Cooke

“ Phœbe, what does thee think about this situation?”
[Pg 141]
“I think thee is right in saying that this is a very serious matter. I agree with Isabelle, that she should be punished, if only to remind her that such misuse of a talent is a very ugly thing.”
“I have been punished by the way the girls have treated me! I am punished when Mr. Benjamin says I have told a lie! But I want you to do something to hurt me! I wish Mr. Benjamin would beat me, or put me on bread and water. I hate myself. I’m just a common, mean liar! Whatever you decide to do to me is all right, and I deserve it!” ”

“ We’ll see you later,” she added, and they rode off, leaving him smiling after them, bare-headed in the sunlight.
“Most charming man I ever met!” exclaimed Miss Watts.
“Umm-m,” said Isabelle.
It was like a miracle to step out on to the terrace of the hotel, after dinner that night. To have left New York on a cold, raw fall day, and in two days to find oneself in this warm, odorous night air. The band played, and white-clad figures walked, danced, sat in groups over coffee. Everywhere relaxed, happy, laughing people. ”

“ She had no plan beyond that, but she knew that she must never let Wally go back to that school. She looked at his little wizened face, muffled up in his coat collar, and his little pinched hands on the wheel. No; only over her dead body should the girls see Wally!
She set herself to his entertainment, and got him into a good humour in no time. He roared at her stories, her comments on the girls. He noted her fine colour.
“You’re getting handsome, Isabelle.”
“Beauty is but skin deep. I rely on my line of talk,” she replied, and joined in his laughter. ”

“ Benjamin and Isabelle was so precious to the little girl that she abandoned her banner of revolt once for all, and gave herself up to the congenial atmosphere of Hill Top. It was the only home she had ever known, since home is a matter of love and people rather than bricks and stones. ”

“ Benjamin. Oh, why does Max always interfere with me? I hate her!” she cried, passionately.
Mr. Benjamin laid a steadying hand on her shoulder, and walked beside her.
“I understand what a blow this is to thee, and how unhappy it makes thee. But one of the things that we want our girls to learn is to honour and respect their parents,” he said gently.
“But how can I respect Max, Mr. Benjamin? She never respects me.” ”

“ It was Isabelle’s first view of the hindside of the mysteries. It was a hot day, and rehearsal was in progress. A group of people sat listlessly about the stage, on kitchen chairs, while a man in a négligé shirt and no coat urged them to get a little “pep” into the scene “for the love of God!” Cartel’s arrival caused a ripple. All the actors sat up, as if electrified. The stage manager advanced at once to speak with him. He glanced at Isabelle, but Cartel made no move to introduce them. ”

“ The terrace was almost crowded when finally, after much delay, and trips to and from the house, Teddy Horton rushed into view, announcing through a megaphone that the doors of the Isabelle Theatre were open. Everybody strolled toward the garage and soon all the “stalls” were full.
Isabelle appeared before the sheets which served as curtain. She was pale, composed, and in deadly earnest.
“Fathers and mothers, and ladies and gentlemen,” she began, “we are going to give a play called ‘A Tale of Two Cities,’ by Charles Dickens and me.”
She was undisturbed by their laughter and applause. ”

“ Every article made you hear the uncontrollable laughter of the audience.
Isabelle agonized over each one. She raged at the opinion of one dramatic critic who said that no doubt Cartel would release Miss Bryce on the morrow, but that a dozen managers would step forward to capture a young woman of such marked personality, and such a talent for publicity.
Max was right; they were all ruined. She had made the whole family ridiculous. She wasn’t surprised that Max hated her for it. She deserved anything from them now. ”

“ This is Sunday, and all the girls write home, so I write you, dear, dear, regular parents. I think of you a great deal. Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin are just like you, that is why I love them so dearly. I am glad we are poor and have only each other, aren’t you? I know some people named Max and Wally, who are rich. They have so much golf, and parties that they can’t ever bother with their child, except to scold her. But you care about me, don’t you? And you like to hear what I do at school. ”

“ Even Peggy, the faithful, had gone over to the enemy. The nervous strain of the day told on her, and when she made a bad mistake in a recitation the class tittered.
“Why, girls,” said Mr. Benjamin in surprise, “it is not courteous to laugh at a mistake.”
Evening brought Isabelle to a state of complete despair. The heavens had not opened to save her this time. She was to expiate in full. . . . Then she rose to new heights. She determined to make full confession and demand a public sentence. She would make herself suffer to the full extent. ”

“ Talk about gratitude! You turn and ruin me!”
“But I didn’t know——”
“Don’t pull that baby stuff!” he shrieked. “You did know. You intended to do it all the time. You’re so crazy about yourself, that you’d murder your own mother to get the spotlight! Get out of here! Don’t you ever let me see your face again! Don’t you ever step in this theatre, you dirty spy! Take her away! Take her away!” he raved, now entirely beside himself.
Isabelle for once was dumb. Poor, terrified Miss Watts seized her by the arm, and dragged her out the stage door, and down the alley. ”

“ The other girl stared.
“Are there many girls here?”
“You make ten. The rest are raking for a bonfire. Sillies!”
“Didn’t they invite you?”
“I can’t do rough things like that. I’m delicate.”
Isabelle heard shouts of laughter, and hurried to the window. Down below in the twilight a crowd of laughing girls was burying a prostrate victim under the leaves. They shrieked and cavorted about her. A yellow moon hung low over the hills. All at once, clear and high, a bugle call arose, and echoed far and near. It was a scene and impression she was never to forget.
“What is that?” she demanded of Peggy. ”

“ He is outrageously superior about himself as parent. He has found the perfect governess, he discovers that our offspring has a brain; you should hear him go on.”
“I have,” protested Mrs. Page. “He used to make love to me, but now he tells me his domestic problems.”
“He has the entire house upset now, because she has run off, but when he finds her, he won’t have backbone enough to spank her,” laughed Mrs. Wally.
“It always amuses me how parents agonize over the lost child, and spank it when it’s found,” said Martin Christiansen, the guest of honour at the tea. ”

“ From the moment Herbert Hunter came to her rescue in the affair of Tommy Page, he was exalted to the highest pedestal in her temple of worship. Boys knew what loyalty meant. Her hero had forced all the witnesses on that occasion to keep absolute silence about it—with police, arrest, and prison terms as alternatives. That he, “an older boy,” should condescend to champion her cause was a triumph for our heroine.
She scorned girls, she endured only the society of males from this time on. She could scarcely be forced into any costume but her riding clothes. ”

“ We don’t all of us have the maternal instinct, not by a long shot.”
“Don’t talk like that, Max; it’s not nice.”
“There you go. It’s all right for you not to want a child, but it’s indecent in me. That’s a man-made idea, and it won’t work any more. Lots of us don’t find motherhood either satisfying or interesting, and we’re getting courage enough to say so.”
“The less you say about it, the better,” counselled Wally.
“To get back to Isabelle, she’s here, and she’s just as much your responsibility as she is mine.”
“Being here isn’t her fault, poor kid. ”

“ Isabelle gets herself up smartly, Max,” commented Wally, soon after their arrival at the inn. Their daughter walked toward them, with every eye on the long piazza following in her wake.
“It is too outrée, but it is effective. She knows everybody looks at her, she intends they shall, but look how the monkey carries it off,” laughed Max, struck into a sort of admiration. ”

“ Benjamin.
“I admire big, handsome men . . .”
One of the girls sniffed. This sound let loose the flow of Isabelle’s histrionic remorse.
“Oh, you must listen to me,” she cried, “you cannot condemn me until I have told it all.”
“That is fair,” said the calm voice of Mrs. Benjamin.
“It was always a disappointment to me that my father was so little and queer.”
“But, Isabelle,” interrupted Mrs. Benjamin, quickly.
“Please, I have to say what I think or it isn’t a true story. Wally is much the nicest person in our family, but somehow he never seemed to count with anybody.” ”

“ They were like one person, moved by one will. Encore followed encore. Only once was a word exchanged between them; and then, as they waited for the music to begin again, she lifted shining eyes to his, and he leaned toward her quickly:
“Ye little moonbeam!” he said, softly.
Then they went on again. Time and space were not, for Isabelle. She was a part of elemental Nature—a part of sea and sky and deep bosomed tropical night. Even as Larry O’Leary had said, she was a child of the lady moon, a beam of her silver light. ”

“ Bryce said to the governess.
A maid appeared at the door to announce the first arrivals.
“Now, you see, your guests are coming, and you aren’t even dressed.”
“I won’t go,” reiterated the child, sullenly.
“If we ask Patsy, will you go?” asked Mrs. Bryce desperately.
“No—o; yes.”
“Put on her clothes, Miss Wilder, and telephone the Lodge that Isabelle wants Patsy for her party.”
“But, Mrs. Bryce, do you think we ought to humour her? Will not the children’s mothers object to Patsy?”
“Well, if you want her to go to this party, you’d better make a bargain with her. I know her.” ”

“ But Isabelle had seen a way. She asked Wally for some money to buy a souvenir. The treasure she bought was a ticket to New York on the night train. When she was ordered to bed because she was too young for hotel hops, she bade Jerry farewell, and went off without protest. From that moment on, she worked fast. She pinned a note to Max’s pincushion, in the most approved fashion. She packed a bag, took a cab to the station, went to bed, and what is more, to sleep, in the calm satisfaction, that the story was to have a happy ending! ”

“ Isabelle realized that a crisis was at hand.
“Sometimes I’m nice, aren’t I, Wally?” she appealed.
Miss Barnes could not have told why, but for the first time this abnormal, prissy child, with her self-assurance, and her impertinence, caught at her sympathies. Wally saw that she wavered.
“Suppose that we call it an experiment for a month. I’ll pay a hundred dollars a month. Come out with us this afternoon and try it. She’s the limit of a kid, but she’s got a lot of sense for her age, and maybe she’d be all right if somebody just gave her mind to her.” ”

“ Art is everything,” was her unassailable reply.
So upon the wings of romance Isabelle floated through the spring term. She was to spend the summer at an inn in the mountains, as The Beeches was not to be opened. Her parents and teachers, encouraged by three months of good behaviour, believed that a permanent change of heart had taken place in the girl. On the day of her departure, Miss Vantine congratulated her upon her improvement, and alluded to the coming year as the crown of her achievements. ”

“ The doctor had a talk with Isabelle, told her to cheer up, gave her a tonic, agreed with Wally that she needed a change, and went on his way.
Martin Christiansen asked Max about Isabelle and was informed that she had the sulks. He asked permission to see her, and he was the first visitor admitted to her room. He was shocked at the change in her. She was thin, and haggard, and old. Her eyes hurt him. She was sitting up, in a big chair, wearing a bizarre Chinese coat, all orange and black and gold. She looked any age, an exotic little creature. The hand she offered was thin as a bird’s claw. ”

“ Isabelle’s début as dramatist and actress was much discussed and laughed over in the colony. Her pranks had long been a favourite topic, but this last one marked her as a real personality.
“Isabelle,” Martin Christiansen said to her, a day or so after the performance, “you gave me so much pleasure with your interpretation of Mr. Dickens’s work, that I want to do something for your pleasure.”
“Do you?” said Isabelle, enthusiastically.
“Theatrical stars are so temperamental, I scarcely know what to suggest. What does a leading lady and producer like to do in her moments of idle ease?” ”

“ She pieced the bits together until she had the whole picture of this odd, unnatural, hothouse child—antagonistic to her parents, to her school, yet full of feeling, and coming into the age when the emotions play such havoc. No wonder she had settled her youthful affections upon Jerry. He was so preëminently the type one loves at sixteen, Jane smiled to herself.
“Do you think he will marry me?”
[Pg 171]
“I doubt it.”
“Don’t you think he loves me?”
“Lots of other women are in love with Mr. Paxton, too,” said Jane.
“You just say that to scare me!” cried Isabelle. ”

“ The French doors leading on to the terrace were open wide, and in the softly lighted room she saw the house-party guests assembling. They straggled in, one by one. Isabelle’s eyes brightened at Christiansen’s big boom of laughter, and she admired his broad shoulders, as he leaned on the mantelpiece at the far end.
[Pg 76]
She flew to the stables, crept in at the back, led out the Peruvian horse, saddled, mounted him, and kicked him gently in the flanks. Up and onto the terrace she guided him, just as indoors, Matthews arrived with the cocktails. ”

“ Mrs. Bryce’s temper flared.
“You will walk aboard and you will behave like a decent individual while we are on this cruise, or there will be the most serious consequences you have ever met yet. Nobody wants you on this party, you understand, and the less conspicuous you make yourself, the better.”
Isabelle beamed upon them.
“Thank you so much for your charming invitation, my dear, doting parents. I accept with pleasure, and I think I can promise you that your little outing will be a complete success, so far as I am concerned.” ”

“ To Isabelle it was unbelievable. Everything they did during the day interested her. Her old passion for leadership spurred her on, but now it was a spur to excel in legitimate things. Her sense of rebellion was laid away, because she liked nearly everything she had to do, and her days were so busy that there was no excess vitality to work itself off in pranks. ”