Olive Higgins Prouty

“ She held her umbrella close to her like a shield, with her head ducked down into its shelter. From one arm dangled her shopping bag, and with the other elbow she clutched a small mink muff and a paper-covered package to her side. As she attempted to cross the street her skirt swathed itself about her as if it had been chiffon, and half-way over, the freakish gale shifted suddenly, and before Lucretia could whirl about to face its new position, it had got a grip on the inside of her umbrella and ripped the poor weak cotton thing inside out. ”

“ The sidewalk seemed alive with kumquats rolling away in every direction. Lucretia glanced at the empty box in her hands an instant; then she grimly proceeded to pick up her treasures. A friendly cabby and a newsboy helped her.
When the box was nearly full again she thanked them, and for the first time glanced about her. Passers-by were smiling. Her gaze sought the low windows of the hotel on the corner. Little red-shaded lights shone out at her through lace curtains. At the window just above a man and a girl were sitting at one of the small tables. ”

“ Come on over here to this mirror, and let's see what else the blotter has got to say."
"I'd like to know this girl," Thomas Hornby exclaimed, as they puzzled the lines out together. "Just listen here to her idea of heaven." He read Lucretia's words out loud, almost tenderly. "'Twould be great fun doing things for her, eh, Mother?" he exclaimed boyishly. "Most women are so everlastingly used to luxury; most of the women I've met since I came home, that is. American girls seem to expect so confoundedly much when they marry. ”

“ I know you don't go to big dinners, and I never make you, I'm sure; but this time I simply must have your help. I'm going to give you queer old Professor Blake, who thought you were so interesting last year. He told Henry so."
"Beatrice," burst out Lucretia, "I can't go to any dinner party to-night! I draw the line there. I've been traveling since yesterday at ten o'clock, didn't sleep a wink on the train last night, walked way down to Faneuil Hall Market, stopping at every fruit stand on the way for those silly kumquats, and am sopping wet." ”

“ Lucretia looked about the warm, luxurious hall. The drawing-room at the left, usually closed, was open now and aglow in artistic lamplight.
"Where am I to go, Bee?" she asked when Beatrice fluttered back again. "My skirt is making a puddle here."
"The sewing-room, Lu dear. I've been so rushed to-day, I'm afraid the children's dresses are all laid out on the bed up there. But I told Martha to start the gas stove. The heat doesn't seem to get up into the sewing-room through the register. You can keep warm there though, if you don't mind the smell of a little gas. Come on up. ”

“ But, as I explained when you called up, I simply had to tear around all day in the car myself to get an extra accommodating waitress, and of course I would have sent the car to meet you at the station out here, but Henry is due from Chicago at six in town, and if he's met he'll have just time to dress. Dinner is at eight. I'm having fourteen, and am just about crazy! . . . Dear me, Martha didn't light that stove after all! She's growing more careless every day!"
They were in the sewing-room now. Lucretia lifted her suit-case onto the only empty chair, and began unbuckling the straps. ”

“ Lucretia walked in and sat down at the one empty desk in the corner. She drew a sheet of paper toward her, dipped the stub pen intɔ the ink, and proceeded to write furiously.
"Dearest Tom," she began, "I'd like to cover about eight pages of notepaper with all the various forms of 'darn' that exist in this world, add a few dozen stars, twenty exclamation points, and several big, black, splotchy blots of ink the size of five-cent pieces! Then perhaps you'd get a little idea of my feelings! I'm tired of being a poor relation. I hate and despise being a charity-boarder. ”

“ Don't get all worked up as late as this."
"There won't be a soul you know except old Blake. The Hazelwoods, the Carters, and the McRays from town are coming. You see how important it is! I'm giving the dinner for Thomas Hornby. He was a classmate of Henry's, and since he has made such a name for himself down there in South America—and such a fortune, too—everybody's crazy to meet him. He's a great drawing-card. Probably you've heard of him."
Lucretia nodded. "Yes," she replied—the papers had been full of Thomas Hornby—"I've heard of him." ”

“ My brothers' and sisters' lives are full and overflowing. There's been little room for me. Of course they've been as kind as they knew how, but I've dreaded the approach of many an evening because I've known that I was interfering with quiet, homey, tête-à-tête dinners, and intimate talks. I've tried to make myself small and keep out of the way, but it's been difficult. ”

“ Beatrice ran on. "I don't know what I should have done if you hadn't telephoned just when you did. Wait till I take them to the cook. She simply insisted on kumquats to garnish the salad. Take off your things, dear. ”

“ It must be a joy, thought Lucretia, to be able to lean so conspicuously against a piano like that, confident of the faultless lines of figure, coiffure, gown, and falling scarf.
Even as she thought this she saw the men coming in at the farther door, and she leaned to make sure that the scarf she carried concealed the street boots which she was wearing. Somebody began to play a fox-trot, and Lucretia saw Henry approach Miss Larrabee and ask her to dance. Gradually the other men followed his example, and Lucretia flushed when she saw Mr. ”