One girl's way

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I A House Divided . . . . 13

II More Misunderstandings . . 27

Chapter I

‘‘ Now see here, Anise, wasn’t that Namar Harjad, I just saw, dodging out the gate, as I came in? ”

Richard Lyman slammed the front door with more than customary force, tossed a heavy sweater and a stack of books upon the hall rack, and stood regarding his cousin. Anise Decard, now halfway up the curving staircase, with a sort of paternal severity.

“ Dodging? ” She turned with an ag¬ grieved air. “ I don’t think you could call it that, Dick. He walks with unusual dignity, I think. He’s straight as a rod.”

‘‘Yeh — ” agreed Dick, scornfully. “No doubt, from carrying baskets of plaster cupids on his head, around the East Side, or rolls of carpets, or maybe jugs of water, back in Syria, when he was a kid.”

“ You’re guessing now, Dick, and — badly.”

A stain of red was appearing under each of her blue eyes, and to hide the disconcerting flush which she knew would be a new cause for a con¬ tinuance of Dick’s lecture, she seated herself on the stairs, pulling off the blue sweater that brought out all the lovely sheen of her short golden hair.

“No, I’m not guessing! Rod Drake was telling some of the fellows that he saw this Namar person last spring when they were in New York. They were taking in the East Side — slumming, you know — and this Namar was peddling rugs from a push-cart.”

“ I don’t believe it! ” she flared, “ but sup¬ pose he did? It’s honest toil, and he’s so — so — ”

“ Mysterious, I guess you mean.” Dick hung over the newel-post and looked up at her with new severity. “ You’re just the person to be attracted to that kind. Anise. You be¬ lieve in every one. You think that because you’re everything that’s all right, the whole world is the same. Its because you’ve never bucked up against any but your own sort. Liv¬ ing all your life on that Kentucky farm with Aunt Letty has given you the idea that all

A HOUSE DIVIDED IS

people are alike. You’ll find out that a col¬ lege town is full of all sorts and conditions of beings. And this hash-slinging Namar, with his velvet eyes, his pearly teeth, and his suave manners, is right where he belongs — waiting on the rest of humanity. Can’t you see he’s naturally servile? The fellow’s got absolutely no pride. He takes the jeers and the jests of the multitude without making the least attempt to punish their familiarity.”

‘‘ That’s just it, Dick! He’s above the rest of the crowd. He’s too fine to belittle him¬ self with their coarseness.”

“ Don’t fool yourself. Anise. His life is far from being an open book. It’s these people who don’t mix with the rest that will bear watching! ”

“ But how can he, when you all snub him? I think he’s to be commended rather than cen¬ sured. Just because he’s working his way through, is no reason why — He can’t help it if he hasn’t — ”

“ Now you’ve got me all wrong, Anise. There’s plenty of fellows doing the same thing. Fine fellows. You don’t suppose it’s because he’s poor, that I’m objecting to him, do you?

It’s because he’s different — foreign queer. He’s not like us. Let him make friends among his own kind.”

He stood now, his hands in his pockets, his dark brows knit closely over stern grey eyes. “ He’s got to keep away from you. Anise, or there’ll be trouble, and that’s that! ”

The red was in her cheeks again. Her full lips had tightened to a narrow line, but she showed no other sign of anger.

“ Listen, Dick, I don’t know whether or not I can make it all clear to you, but I’d like to try. It won’t take long,” she added, as he glanced hastily at his wrist watch.

“ Well, I’ve got a little grinding to do,” with a glance at the books flung so hastily on the rack. “ I can’t see why they make such a to-do over credits. You’d think they’d make a few allowances for team members. What would college be without good athletes ? ” he grumbled.

“ That’s one thing I want to mention, Dick,” she said gently. “You seem to think that the only thing important about college life is stay¬ ing on the team, belonging to the right fra¬ ternity or sorority, and mixing with the right crowd.”

“ Sure, Anise, you’ve got the idea, but I didn’t think you saw things that way.”

“ I don’t, Dick. It’s you who see college life that way — you and Lucille.”

“ Lucille? She’s in for a lecture, too. She seems to get less brains as the days go by. She’s drifting into the wrong crowd. All they think of is having a good time. They’re soft, that crowd — out to do as little hard work as possible.”

He flung out both arms, stretching them to full length, looking complacently down at the muscle that swelled beneath his striped blazer sleeve, as he drew back a heavy fist to each shoulder.

“ They’re here, just because they don’t know what to do with their money, and they think it sounds cultured to the home town to be attend¬ ing college. I’m going to put Dad wise to Lu¬ cille when he gets in. But I know just about what he’ll say. He’s too busy with his own affairs, and that’s what Aunt Dell’s here for — to look out for us. But you know how much influence Aunt Dell has on Lucille. She’s too fond of bridge parties and dancing, herself.”

“ But Aunt Dell’s so young,” said Anise in defense. “ I don’t think she realizes that Lu¬ cille — ” She stopped abruptly. She had no intention of criticizing Lucille.

“ She doesn’t — ” Dick agreed. “ And you don’t, either — about this Namar.”

“ And you don’t, either, Dick,” she inter¬ rupted. “ I was trying to tell you that it’s my opinion we all want to get something entirely different out of our college life, and we can’t see each other’s point of view, because we’re sort of blind. Do you remember that story in our reader, when we were children, about the three blind men, sitting beside the roadside when an elephant came along? Each took his turn at feeling the strange beast, and each reported a different verdict, because each had felt a dif¬ ferent part of the elephant’s anatomy.”

“ What’s that got to do with college? ” he asked, a bit impatiently, with another glance at his watch.

“ Well, college is like the elephant, Dick, and we are like the blind men. To you, college means athletics, a chance for honor in the world of sports. To Lucille, it means an opportu¬ nity for more and better fun. To me — ” She hesitated. “ I don’t know whether I can explain, or not, Dick, but it means something be¬ side just learning, though I do want that. It means a chance to know people — people who are different. It means — ”

There was the sound of quick footsteps on the veranda, the hall door was flung open, and a girl, so similar in appearance to Dick that they might have been taken for twins, came hurriedly in, uttering a little cry of satisfaction at the sight of them.

‘‘ Such luck! Was afraid I’d miss one, or both of you. I need some money. Dickey-bird, but I’m sure you haven’t enough, so no doubt Anise will make up the difference. It’s just fifteen, and Dad’ll be here in a day or so, so you won’t have to wait long.”

Dick turned a severe countenance upon his sister. “ I thought that ‘ Dickey-bird ’ stuff was out, long ago. Silly,” he said, “ but of course if you will keep it up, I’m willing to keep on with ‘ Silly,’ instead of Lucille, and I won’t confine myself to the family, either! ”

“ Sorry, big boy! It slipped out, by mis¬ take. That’s always the way, when I want to be at my best. But youthful crimes have a way of cropping out to disconcert one, at times.

You know, dearie, I wouldn’t do anything to embarrass you, especially since you’ve made the team — my big, strong hero! ” She gazed upon him in unaffected admiration. “ Now do I get that .loan? ” She turned to Anise with a coaxing smile. “ You can spare a little, I’m sure, since you don’t play bridge, or — or — ” “ Say, look here, Lucille,” Dick interposed. “ You take Anise for a good thing. And as for me, I’ve just two dollars and I need that myself.”

“ That’s what popularity does for one,” Lu¬ cille complained. “ I don’t see why you need be so generous with the fellows, Dick. They’re the ones who ought — ”

“ I haven’t time to go into that, Lucille. Got to get my work done. The fellows are coming over to-night to work on signals. Sorry I can’t accommodate you.” He scooped up his books, and hastily climbed the stairs. At the top he stopped. “I’m warning you, Lucille. I think Dad ought to know the way you’re carrying on, and I mean to tell him, when he comes.”

“Yes, do, old Spartan! Now that you’re on the team, you think we all ought to go in training, just because you are. Well, I’m going to have my f un as long as it’s possible. We’re only young once.”

Dick was no longer listening. They heard the slam of his door, and the turning of his key, which meant that he would open it to no one, until he had mastered a certain amount of the next day’s work. Dick was not a good student, but he did manage to keep his credits up enough to stay on the team, which was all that he deemed necessary. As Anise had said, to Dick, athletics was the prime attraction of col¬ lege life.

“ Another fond dream dissipated,” Lucille remarked, with a shrug. ‘‘ I suppose it’s too much to expect of you? ”

“ Why, no, Lucille, I’ve hardly touched my allowance this month. Come up to my room and I’ll give you,a check.”

“ There’s a nice cousin! What a refuge you are, in time of storm. Regular old rock of ages.”

They started up the stairs together.

“ There’s the ’phone ringing. Guess it’s for me. Be with you in a second.” Lucille snatched the telephone up from the little table on the stair landing, dismissing Anise with a nod.

In her room, Anise stood irresolutely against the closed door. Seldom did she enter with¬ out pausing to look about her. It was too per¬ fect to be real. That was her impression of it on the day of her arrival. The ivory bed, with its garlands of mauve and green flowers, and matching silk spread; the dressing-table with its array of ivory and colored-glass containers; the long divan, with its cluster of vivid silk, satin, and velvet cushions; the wide windows with their mauve silk hangings and shorter cur¬ tains of ruffled Swiss, all contributed to the im¬ pression that the room had been intended for some fragile princess, not for Anise Decard, accustomed all her life to the rigid severity of her Aunt Letty Nelson’s Kentucky farmhouse.

She had caught her breath that first day, and hurried to the window, to hide from Lucille’s curious eyes, the mist which she felt thickening among her lashes. She hated herself for her weakness, but it was something she could not control. Always the sight of beauty, did that to her — the apple orchard, when its massed blossoms hung like pink-tinged clouds just above the earth — the rolling acres of green that looked like thick velvet carpets from the attic window — the row of tall silver poplars along the roadside, that fluttered their leaves like the fans of geisha girls she had read of in tales of far-away Japan.

She would wonder then, if perhaps other people did not feel the same way. And she would watch her aunt, surreptitiously, out of the corner of her eye at times, when, the worst of the day’s work over, they would sit for a while on the wide veranda to rest before the eve¬ ning meal. But neither the vari-colored, fan¬ tastic pictures formed in the sky by the fading rays of the sun among the feathery clouds nor the grey mist creeping with stealthy eagerness over the willows along the creek, then up the pasture and across the garden, seemed to awaken in her aunt, the faintest spark of emo¬ tion.

But to-day, she was not thinking of the beauty of the room, she was wondering what her Aunt Letty would think of it all — this new life that was so soft to the senses and yet so hard in other ways. For in all her seventeen years. Anise had never been so uncertain of herself. She was encountering an entirely new set of rules of conduct, and being consistently attracted and repelled by those things she had been warned against.

Her aunt had sketched for her, rather briefly, the various members of her Uncle Sidney Lyman’s household. Sidney, Aunt Letty’s brother, was rarely at home, his varied business interests keeping him constantly on the move, even taking him at times to foreign lands.

Aunt Della Mayes, Letty and Sidney’s younger sister, had been widowed early in life, and was wealthy enough to indulge her love of travel constantly, but had sacrificed her own pleasure, somewhat, to look after Sidney’s motherless son and daughter until such time as they no longer needed her.

Of Richard and Lucille, her aunt could tell her little, except that both were rather badly spoiled, especially Lucille. She was reluctant to say anything disparaging of their dead mother, but she hinted that Sidney’s wife had been far too indulgent, Sidney’s growing wealth being no doubt a prominent factor in the matter. They had lived mostly at fashionable watering places. Letty had begged more than once to have the children for a visit, but their mother’s plans included nothing so crude as a country farmhouse. Only once had Letty seen them, and that was when, on a visit to New York, she had stopped for a short time at the hotel where they were staying. She had grieved secretly over the artificiality of their life but had seemed unable to make their mother under¬ stand.

And then, to Anise’s surprise, her aunt in¬ formed her that even Uncle Sidney’s wealth could in no way compare to the fortune which Anise’s parents had bequeathed her, though of course she was too young, as yet, to have the handling of it, or to know the details, but her aunt wanted her to keep the matter always in mind.

It was a long talk they had that night about money being a trust; the great responsibility connected with the right management of a big inheritance; the proper uses of wealth; how to acquire the ability to judge what is real and what is worthless, and the danger of becoming an easy mark for the shiftless and improvident.

It was all most bewildering to Anise. Here¬ tofore, money had had no part in her life. Her

Aunt Letty had supplied all the things neces¬ sary through her day-school and high-school life. But now that she was to live at her Uncle Sidney’s and attend college, she would have a monthly allowance, a sum so big to Anise, that she wondered what use she could possibly find for it.

She moved thoughtfully toward the little ivory desk between the windows and picked up the long mauve feather pen, then held it sus¬ pended over her check book. What would Aunt Letty think of Lucille’s growing habit of borrowing and her way of forgetting to return occasional loans? She knew Lucille’s allow¬ ance was even larger than her own. Was she encouraging her cousin, by being so willing to lend? Ought she remonstrate with Lucille? It was a distasteful thought, and she put it from her.

She heard Lucille coming along the hall, to¬ ward her room. She bent over the desk and dipped her pen into the ink. She wanted above all things to keep Lucille’s regard, especially since Lucille’s home had become her home.

Chapter II More Misunderstandings

After a hasty glance at the check Anise gave her, Lucille stuffed it casually into the pocket of her red-and-black-striped skirt.

“ I don’t see how I got along before you came, Anise, though, of course, Dick wasn’t such a tight-wad then. This getting on the team has gone to his head, I’m afraid. He’s getting decidedly snooty.”

“ Oh, surely not, Lucille. Dick’s fine. You ought to be very proud of him, I think. So many never get the chance, and it is an honor — being on the team. It takes level heads, as well as strong bodies.”

Lucille gave her a long, appraising look. “ You’ve been doing some heavy thinking. Anise. Don’t! It makes wrinkles. You’d better wander down to the music room to-night. Doris Grayson is going to show us some new steps she picked up at the Winter Garden when she was in New York last Saturday.”

“ I’m afraid I can’t, Lucille. I’ve got that thesis to write, and I’ve been having a hard time getting information. The librarian promised to find what she could, and I’ll have to go over and see if she succeeded.”

“ What’s your subject? I’ve got a pile left over from last year. If you can use any — ” She laughed. “ Don’t look so shocked. Anise. You don’t suppose all the students write their own essays, do you? They take help whereever they can find it. But of course — ” She started toward the door, with a toss of her head that intimated hurt dignity.

“You don’t understand, Lucille,” Anise pleaded. “ I chose this subject because it was so intriguing. I’ve always wanted to know more about Oriental rugs. The East is such a fascinating place, to me, and the rugs — one reads so many interesting stories built around them — I was anxious to know more.”

“ That accounts then, I presume, for your absorbing interest in that yellow Harjad.”

“ Yellow? ”

“ Yes, in more ways than mere color.”

“ Oh, Lucille, surely you are mistaken! ”

“ I’m not. It was he, I know, who reported to the Dean about our joy-ride last Tuesday night. He was selling peanuts and pop-corn on the ferry, as we went over.”

“But how could he, when he works at Rosetti’s restaurant? ”

“ Well, this was after eating-hours. Guess he does that on the side.”

“ But Lucille — you know that automobiles have been banned for the students, and besides, just because you happened to see him, that doesn’t prove it was he who told.”

“ It comes close enough.” She turned away from the door and seated herself on the edge of the divan. “We may as well have this out, right now. Anise. You’ve got to cease your interest in that Syrian, or Persian, or Greek, or whatever he is. I won’t have the girls point¬ ing out my cousin, on the campus with an East- Side rug-peddler. There was enough talk about him before Rod Drake sprang that little tale on the public. A girl with your connec¬ tions simply must learn how to choose. With the future that’s before you, you can’t afford to mix with questionable people.”

Anise had been trying without success to seize an opening in Lucille’s hurried speech.

Now, she lifted her head with a gleam of hurt pride in her blue eyes. “ I’m sorry, Lucille, if I’ve embarrassed you, but I don’t think either you or Dick ought to choose my friends for me.

‘‘ But don’t you see. Anise,” in a conciliatory voice, “ you’re only a freshman, while Dick and I are sophs. We’re both in a position to put you wise to a lot of things — things you’ll thank us for later.”

“ Yes, I know,” Anise assented, gently, “ but, how can either of you know the kind of people who interest me? ”

Lucille gave her another long, quiet look. “ Maybe I’m wrong, but I thought these queer people you’ve been seen with, had been acci¬ dents; that you’d been thrown with them, in a way, and hadn’t enough experience to know how to extricate yourself.”

“ What queer people do you mean, Lucille, beside Namar Harjad? I’ll admit that he is different from the others, but I don’t see why that need exclude him from my friendship.”

“ Why, that Dupont girl, for one. You surely know she was turned down by the Gammas? ”

“ Suppose she was? I like her just as well as I did at first.”

“ But don’t you see, Anise, that it’ll hurt your standing to be seen with her? Your name’s up now for membership, but if you keep on with the sort you’ve chosen for friends, you’ll have as much chance of making the sorority, as — ”

“ Don’t worry about that, Lucille. I told them to-day that I didn’t care to belong.”

‘‘ You — what? ” Lucille sat suddenly erect and stared wide-eyed at her cousin.

“ I don’t care,” Anise went on. “ I don’t think it’s fair, the way they do. There was Anna Saunders. They rushed her to death. Made her think she was going to be taken in, and then they turned her down. Dropped her flat. They don’t even see her when they meet her. I heard she cried and cried about it, and wanted to quit college because of it. Imagine a girl wanting to give up her college career be¬ cause a few girls had made things so impossible for her. There are other girls, too, who’ve gone through the same thing. It’s a horrid way to do.”

‘‘ Well, it’s what every one has to go through with, and if you do get in, you’re fixed.”

“ I don’t think the agony of knowing you might not make it is worth the honor of be¬ longing, Lucille.”

“ But Anise, what’ll you do? You won’t have any friends worth while. You’ll miss all the fun.”

“ I don’t think so. Professor Litton and his wife have asked me to tea Sunday, and I’m to have dinner next Tuesday with the Dean and his wife. He was telling me how fond he’d been of my father.”

“So you’re going in for the literati, are you? Next thing we know, you’ll be wearing horn¬ rimmed spectacles and writing poetry! ”

She arose with an air that said quite plainly that she washed her hands of her cousin’s af¬ fairs. “ I see there’s no use in trying to ad¬ vise you.”

“ It’s kind of you, Lucille. You know I thank you. Both you and Dick have been splendid, but — ”

“ But you think you can paddle your own canoe, is that it? Well, so long. I’m running over to Claire’s for her new records. They’re hot. Come down if you change your mind,” she added, magnanimously, from the doorway.

It was nice of Lucille to be so interested in her, Anise reflected as she turned again to her desk.

‘‘ Anise, dear! ” It was Aunt Della’s voice, calling from her room across the hall.

Anise arose hastily and hurried from the room, stopping only for a light tap before open¬ ing her aunt’s door.

“ Have you time for a little chat, dear? There’s something I must say to you.” Her Aunt Della leaned on one elbow among the cushions of a gilt and rose-brocaded chaise lounge, and regarded Anise thoughtfully.

“ Why, yes. Aunt Dell.”

A beautifully manicured hand indicated a footstool beside her.

Anise seated herself, marveling as she always did, in Aunt Della’s presence, at tlie difference in her two aunts, Della and Letty. Though sisters, there was no least trace of resemblance. Della looked far from the thirty-five years she guarded so carefully. She was tall and slender, with brown eyes that matched hair of a slightly darker hue, both hair and eyes throwing into instant relief, the soft, transparent skin and beautifully molded mouth and chin.

Anise admired her Aunt Della immensely, but it was not the kind of admiration she held for her Aunt Letty. It was a sort of surface admiration, like Aunt Della’s beauty. Her • admiration for her Aunt Letty was along quite another line. It went deeper. You didn’t think so much about it, but it was always there, a feeling that you knew nothing could change.

Her aunt’s hands were playing with the long silken tassels of one of the cushions, and she did not speak for a time. When she did, she rested two level brown eyes upon the girl before her.

“ I’m getting a bit uneasy about you. Anise,” she said. “ I’ve been hearing things — ”

Anise sighed. She suspected just what was coming.

“ What things. Aunt Della? ” she asked, re¬ turning her aunt’s level gaze.

“You seem to have struck up an acquaint¬ ance with a rather impossible person. Anise. In fact, several of them, from what I hear.”

Anise flung out both hands in a sudden ges¬ ture of impotence, and hurried to the window. Was there no one here to sympathize? Was there no one in this house who could under¬ stand? She caught her lower lip between her teeth in a sudden agony of loneliness. They wanted to make her over, make her into the pattern of themselves, because they did not like her as she was! But she would not be changed — not in the way they wished.

“ I know weTe different. Anise — different from Letty, and the farm, but you know, dear, it was your parents’ wish that Sidney and I take you when you reached college age. They knew that Letty could give you the fundamen¬ tals of life, and perhaps the physical perfection that we in the city could not. But they knew, too, that you would need to learn the finer side of life — the culture that is so necessary to one of your position.”

Anise hurried now, to her aunt’s side, and dropped upon one knee.

“ Oh, I know. Aunt Della, that you all are trying to help me, but don’t you see, I have to be myself, I have to find the people, I need. Dick’s friends are right for Dick, no doubt, and Lucille’s for her, but — ”

“ I don’t agree with you there, dear, but at any rate, they have a certain standing. Don’t think, dear, that you are the only one I’ve had to lecture. Dick’s crowd is just as harmful to him as Lucille’s is to her, but I can’t make either of them see it. I’m beginning to feel rather at a loss — ” She seemed to have for¬ gotten Anise, and was merely thinking her thoughts aloud.

The striking of the little gilt clock on the mantel aroused her.

“ I wanted to suggest. Anise, that you let me teach you bridge. I’m having a few friends in this evening. Of course they’re older, but it’s rather a wise trick to stand in with older people — a trick Lucille refuses to consider. In spite of what the new generation says, the opinion of one’s elders still counts.”

“ I’m sure you’re right. Aunt Della, but I don’t know one card from another, and I’m afraid — ”

“ It’s time you did, then. Anise, for simply every one plays. You’ll be out of everything, later, if you don’t.”

“ I don’t think I could ever care for it,” re¬ luctantly. “ You see, there are so many other things to think about, and to do. With my class work, and — and —.” She paused un¬ certainly.

“ Oh, well, you needn’t if you’d rather not.”

She arose with a sigh. “ But at least, Sidney must know I’ve done the best I could.”

She moved languidly toward the dressing-table where she regarded with sudden anxiety, a tiny spot on her chin, in the mirror before her. “You will promise. Anise, to be more careful after this, with whom you are seen? Really, my dear, a girl in your position can’t be too careful. I don’t relish being accused of neg¬ lecting my duty toward you.”

“ Oh, Aunt Della, you’re not! Anise cried. “ It’s wonderful, just being here, with you! ”

Her aunt missed entirely, the glow of admira¬ tion in her niece’s eyes, for she was still regard¬ ing critically her own image in the mirror be¬ fore her.

“ Well, run along, now. Anise. I want to rest a bit before dinner. Thank heavens, Sidney gets in soon,” she sighed. “ Really the re¬ sponsibility is too much for an inexperienced person of my years.”

Anise slipped out, softly, and returned to her own room. It was undoubtedly hard on Aunt Della, with three young people to look after, each of whom seemed to be pulling in a different direction. Well, at least, she would try harder to please. She’d begin right now, on her next day’s assignments, and if she hur¬ ried through dinner, perhaps she could finish her work in time to join Aunt Della’s friends in the drawing-room. By watching the game for a time, she’d no doubt be able to pick up a few pointers, so that when she did have time to learn, she would at least know the rudiments. And perhaps, she could wait until to-morrow to see the librarian. Then, perhaps she might stop in the music-room for a few moments with Lucille’s crowd. Lucille had been lovely to her in more ways than one. There was a very large-hearted quality about Lucille that Anise could not fail to approve of.