Part 20

"No, I didn't! If I'd known before we was married what I know now, things might be different. How was I to know that you was goin' to be changed from matinee work to all-night shows? How was I to know you was goin' to make me put up with a life like this? When I see other girls that's married out of the department, and me, I jest wanna die! Look at Sally Lee and Jimmy--they go to vaudyville every week and to Coney Saturdays. You even kick if I wanna go over to Loo's to spend a evening!"

"I don't kick, Lil; I jest don't like to have you running round with that live wire. She ain't your style."

"That's right--run down my friends that I worked next to in the gloves fer four years! She was good enough fer me then. Me and her is old friends, and jest 'cause I'm married don't make me better'n her."

"I'm sorry I kicked up about it, honey. Maybe I was wrong."

"She can tell you that I had swell times when I was in the gloves--even when I was in the notions, too. There wasn't a night I didn't have a bid for some dance or something."

"Well, if this ain't a darn sight better'n pushing gloves at six per I'll--I'll--"

"I'll give you to understand, Charley Harkins, that I was making eight dollars when I married you, and everybody said that I'd 'a' been promoted to the jewelry in another year."

She rose, gathered a pyramid of dishes, and clattered them into the dish-pan as he talked. He followed after her.

"Aw, quit your foolin', Lil, can't you? Don't treat a feller like this when he comes home at night. I'll get Shorty to take the piano next Saturday, and we'll do Coney from one end to the other. We only live once, anyway. Come on, Lil; be nice and see what I got fer you, too."

"Don't treat me like I was a kid! When I was in the gloves I didn't think nothin' of goin' to Coney every other night, and you know it, all right."

The red surged back into his face.

"Yes, you had a swell time shooting gloves! You used to tell me yourself you was ready to drop at night."

"Ain't I ready to drop here?" she flashed back at him. "Am I any better off here doin' my work in the hottest flat on Third Avenue?"

"Things'll come out all right, honey. Come on and kiss me before I go."

She submitted to his embrace passively enough, and at his request retied his necktie round a fresh collar for him.

"Good night, pussy! I'll come in soft so as not to wake you--there ain't goin' to be no more of this two-o'clock business. I'm goin' to cut out the cafe. Put a glass of milk out fer me, honey. I'm near dead when I get in."

He struggled into his coat before the little dressing-table mirror of their bedroom and with a sly smile slipped the blue-corded box into a top drawer.

"I got a surprise fer you, Lil--only you ain't in no mood fer it right now."

"I ain't in no humor for nothin'," she said.

"It's going to be a scorcher. You take it easy and get rid of these blues you been gettin' here lately. You ain't got no better friend than your old man or any one who wants to do more of the right thing by you."

"I'll take a car-ride over to Loo's to cool off," she said, apathetically.

He opened his lips to speak; instead he nodded and kissed her twice. Then he hurried out.

After he left her she sank down on the little divan of highly magnetized red plush and stared into space. Face to face with her weeks-old resolve, her courage fainted, and a shudder like ague passed over her. She could hear herself wheeze in her throat; and her petal-like skin, unrelieved by moisture, was alternately hot and cold.

The low-ceiled room, dark except for a reflected slant of yellow gas-light coming in from the kitchen, closed down like an inverted bowl. She went to the window.

On the fire-escape opposite, the child still slept, one little ghost of a bare foot extending over the rail. As she watched, a woman's voice from within the apartment cried out sharply--a panicky cry filled with terror; then a silence--more pregnant than the call itself. Lily knew, with a dull tugging at her heartstrings, that the babe had died. Only a week before she and Charley had seen a little life snuffed out in the apartment above, and she knew the mother-cry. Charley had dressed the child and cried hot, unashamed tears; then, as now, her own eyes were dry, but her throat ached.

East Side tradition has it that every tenth year exacts the largest share of human toil--this might have been Death's Oberammergau!

Trembling, Lilly turned and groped her way into the little bedroom; drawers slid open and slammed shut, tissue-paper rattled, the hasps of a trunk snapped; then came the harsh sing of water pouring from a faucet. Presently she reappeared in the doorway in a fresh white blouse and a dark-blue skirt; there were pink cotton rosebuds on her hat and a long pair of white silk gloves dangling from one hand. In the other she carried a light wicker hand-satchel.

By the shaft of light she reread the small square of yellow paper and impaled it carefully, face up, on the pincushion of their little dressing-table. It poised like a conspicuous butterfly. Then she went out into the kitchen, poured a glass of milk, placed it beside a small cake of ice in a correspondingly small refrigerator, turned off the gas-light, and went out of the apartment without once glancing behind her.

* * * * *

Miss Lulu Tracy lived in a lower West Side rooming-house. Lily had once dwelt in that same dingy-fronted building, in a room which, like her friend's, was reduced to its lowest terms. The familiar cryptic atmosphere met her as she crossed the threshold. Loo greeted her effusively.

"Lordy, Lil, I was afraid you was gettin' cold feet! Sit right down there on the trunk till I get some of this cold-cream off. I'm ready to drop in my tracks, I am. Three of the lace-girls fainted to-day and had to be took home. Ain't this room awful?"

Lilly sank in a little heap on the trunk.

"It _is_ hot," she admitted.

"Hot? You look like a cucumber. Wait'll I get this cold-cream off, and tell me all about it. I'm here to tell you that you're all right, you are. Give me a game one every time! But wait till I tell you what's up."

Miss Tracy laved her face with layers of cold-cream, which she presently removed with a towel.

"Don't I wish I had your skin, Lil!"

Lilly brightened.

"Quit your kiddin', Loo," she said. "I ain't used to jollying no more."

"You know yourself you was the best looker we ever had at the counter. Skinny calls you The Lily to this day."

"I ain't got the looks I once had, Loo." But her fair face flushed.

"Wait till you get round a little--you'll look five years younger." Lilly giggled. "On the real, Lil, there wasn't a girl in the department didn't expect you to marry some swell instead of Charley Harkins. If I'd 'a' had your looks I wouldn't been satisfied with nothin' but the real thing. Look at Tootsie grabbin' old man Rickman! She can't hold a candle to you."

"Just the samey, she'd 'a' rather had Charley if she could 'a' got him. I know a thing or two about that."

Cold-cream removed, Miss Tracy enveloped her friend in an embrace.

"So you're goin' to bunk with me to-night! Seems like old times, don't it?"

"Just like old times," said Lilly.

"Now tell me how you got away. He didn't get wise, did he?"

"No; I just left the note, Loo."

"That'll hold him for a while. You're the real thing, you are! Not that I want to make any trouble, but a blind man could see that you're a fool to spend your time that way. Huh! Sellin' gloves ain't no cinch, but if it ain't got being buried alive beat by a long shot I'll eat my hat!"

Impressed by her friend's gastronomic heroism, Lilly acquiesced. "You're right. I'll try to get my job back to-morrow. Maybe it won't be so easy."

"Easy?" cried Loo. "Why, the easiest thing you ever tried! The gloves haven't forgot you."

"I hope not," sighed Lilly.

"You're game, all right! I like to see a girl stand up for her rights--there ain't no man livin' could boss me! I'd like to see the King of Germany hisself coop me up seven nights in the week an' me stand for it. Not muchy! I got as much fight in me as any man. That's the kind of a hair-pin I am!"

"I'm like you, Loo. I got to thinking over what you told me the other day, and you're right: there ain't no girl would stand for it. Girls gotta have life."

"Of course they do! And you're going to have some to-night--that's what I got up my sleeve. Mr. Polly, in the laces, is comin' to take me to the Shippin' Clerks' dance up at the One Hundred and Fifteenth Street Hall--and you're coming right along with us."

Lilly lowered her eyes like a debutante.

"Oh, Loo, I--I can't go to no dances. I--Charley--I didn't mean--"

"I'd like to know what harm there is goin' to a dance with me and my gentleman friend? Didn't Aggie go with us all the time Bill was doin' night-work? Before she got her divorce there wasn't a week she wasn't somewhere with us. Besides, Polly is a perfect gentleman."

"But I ain't got nothin' to wear, Loo."

"Didn't you bring what I told you?"

"Yes; but--"

"Well, then, you're goin'. If Charley Harkins don't like it he should have taken you to dances hisself."

"I ain't been to a dance since the Ladies' Mask me and Charley went to when he was still playing matinees. I've almost forgot how."

Her eyes were like stars.

"Swell dancers like you used to be don't forget so easy."

"My dress is old, but it is low-neck."

"It's all right; and you can wear my forget-me-not wreath in your hair--it'll just match your dress."

They took the frock from the wicker bag and held it up.

"That's just fine, Lil; and you can carry my old fan--I got a new one from a gentleman friend for Christmas."

"Loo!"

Lulu piled her hair into an impressive coiffure.

"Oh, Loo, you look just like that picture that's on cigar-boxes!"

"You got the littlest waist I ever seen," reciprocated Lulu, regarding Lilly's sylphid figure with admiring eyes.

"You ought to have seen me the first year I was working, Loo. I ain't got such a little waist any more, but I did have some figure then."

They dressed in relays, taking turns about before the splotched mirror.

"Here, Lil, let me pin up them sleeves a little. Mame says all the swell waists up in the ready-to-wears have short sleeves."

"I've had my eye on a swell silver bracelet in Shank's window, Loo, for a long time; they are so pretty with elbow-sleeves."

They pecked at each other like preening birds. At seven Lulu's suitor arrived. They took final dabs at themselves.

"He ain't such a nifty looker, Lil, but he sure knows how to treat a girl swell. He ain't none of your piker kind that runs past a drug store like the soda-fountain was after him. Why, I've known him to treat to as many as three sodas in an evenin'! And say, kid, he is some classy dresser--latest jewelry and black-and-white initials worked on his shirt-sleeves. I met him at a mask, and he give me his card."

"Does he know you work?"

"Yes; but he said he'd rather have a girl tell him she's workin' like I did than to have her stuff him."

"That's what I used to say; they find out, anyway."

"Sure they do; the only time I told a guy I didn't work was that time with you."

"That time you told Mr. Evans you was goin' to school?"

"Yes; and he up and said: 'Yes; you go to school! You wrestle with pots, you do, sis.'"

They laughed reminiscently.

"We sure used to have swell times together, Lulu."

"Swell times--well, I guess yes! I never did have the same good times with no chum of the department since you left."

They descended to meet Mr. Polly in the lower hall. That gentleman rose from the hat-tree. Four fingers of a tan glove protruded with studied intent from the breast-pocket of his coat; his trousers and sleeves were creased as definitely as paper. Mr. Polly's features were strictly utilitarian--it was his boast that by a peculiar muscular contraction he could waggle his ears with fidelity to asinine effect.

His mouth was of such proportions that the slightest smile revealed his teeth back to the molars. He smiled as he rose from the hat-tree.

"Howdy-do, Mr. Polly? Is it warm enough for you? I want to make you acquainted with my friend, Lilly Harkins."

"Pleased to meet you," said Mr. Polly.

"I didn't think you'd mind my bringin' a lady friend along to-night. I thought maybe you could find her a friend up at the hall, Mr. Polly."

He bowed with alacrity.

"Always ready to do the ladies a favor," he said, extending both arms akimbo and stepping between them.

Lilly hung back with becoming reticence.

"I'm afraid I'm butting in--two's company an' three's a crowd."

They hastened to reassure her.

"You just make yourself right at home. I'm always ready to do the ladies a favor, Miss Harkins."

A startled expression flashed across Lilly's face. Her friend sprang into the breach like a life-saver off a pier.

"_Miss_ Harkins ain't the kind of a girl to sponge on nobody. Mr. Polly knows if she's my friend she's all right."

"That's the idea," agreed Mr. Polly. "I like to see girls good friends." The trio swung down the street.

"That's what I always say. Why, before Lil was mar--Why, me and Lil never are stingy with our gentlemen friends. I was always the first one to introduce you--wasn't I, Lil?"

"Yes; and me the same way," amended Lilly. "I think it's the right way to be."

"I got a friend comin' up to the dance to-night, just about your style of a fellow, Miss Harkins. One nice chap--he's been in the stock-room at Tracy's for years; some little sport, too."

"Ain't that grand!" beamed Lulu. "Two couple of us!"

Lilly hummed a little air as they walked along, both girls receiving the slightest of Mr. Polly's sallies with effusion.

"Oh, dear; it's just like going to a show to be with you, Mr. Polly," gasped Lulu, after the gentleman had waggled his ears beneath his hat until it rose from his head with magician's skill. "How can you be so comical! You ought to be on the stage."

"That ain't nothin'. You ought to see me keep all the girls in the laces laughin'! I believe in laughin', not cryin'. By the way," he said, elated with success, "guess this riddle: Why is a doughnut like a life-preserver?"

Both puckered their brows and sought in vain for a similarity between those widely diversified objects. After breathless volunteers the girls owned themselves outwitted; then Mr. Polly relieved the situation.

"A doughnut is like a life-preserver," he explained, "because they're both sinkers."

The two gasped with laughter, Lulu placing a helpful hand on her left hip.

"Oh, Mr. Polly," she panted, "you're simply killin'!"

"Sim-ply kill-in'!" echoed Lilly.

They turned into the dance-hall. Lilly's nostrils widened; the pink flew into her cheeks.

"Oh, say!" she cried; "I'd rather dance than eat."

Mr. Polly excused himself and hastened away to find his friend. He returned with a dark young man, whose sartorial perfection left nothing to be desired. He had been dancing, and wiped about the edge of his tall collar with a purple-bordered silk handkerchief.

"Ladies," announced Mr. Polly, "I want to introduce you to the swellest dancer on the floor to-night--you may think I'm kiddin', but I'm not. Miss Tracy and Miss Harkins, this is my friend, Mr. George Sippy."

Mr. Sippy pirouetted on one tan oxford and cast his eyes upward. "I'm all fussed," he said; "but pleased to meet you, ladies."

The girls laughed again. Then they strolled toward the dance-hall, where the gentleman bought tickets. Dancing at the One Hundred and Fifteenth Street Hall was five cents the selection.

The music struck up. Lulu crossed both hands upon her chest, Mr. Polly clasped her round the waist, and they moved off with that sinew tension peculiar to dance-halls. Mr. Sippy turned to Lilly.

"Will you go round, Miss Harkins?"

They melted into the embrace of the dance and moved off. When Mr. Sippy danced every faculty was pressed into service--his head was thrown back and his feet glided like well-trained automatons.

"Wasn't that just grand!" breathed Lilly, when the music ceased. She was softly radiant.

"Swell!" agreed Mr. Sippy, applauding for an encore. "Swell!" He regarded her with new interest. "You're some dancer, kid," he said.

"Oh, Mr. Sippy, who could help dancin' good with you?"

They glided away again. After the waltz they sought the side-lines, where soft drinks were served. A waiter dabbed at the table-top; Lilly fanned herself and ordered sarsaparilla.

"You don't look hot--you look cool," said Mr. Sippy, admiringly.

She took a dainty draught through her straw.

"I'm just happy--that's all," she replied.

The misery, the monotony, the wail of the mother, her own desperation--were away back in the experience of another self. Life had turned on its axis and swung her out of darkness into light. Girls in lacy waists and with swagger hips laughed into her eyes; men looked at her with frank admiration. George Sippy leaned toward her and looked intimately into her face.

"Say," he said, "Polly must have known I like blondes."

"Oh, and I'm always wishin' to be a brunette!"

"You're my style, all right."

"I'll bet you say that to every girl."

"Nix I do. You can ask Polly if I ain't hard to suit. I know just what style of girl I like."

"There's a lot in knowin' just what you like," she said, archly.

"That's some yellow hair you got," he observed, irrelevantly. "My sister used to have hair like that."

She felt of her coiffure.

"Do you like 'em? You ought to see 'em just after they been washed."

Mr. Sippy expressed a polite desire to observe the phenomenon. They danced again. Once in the maze of couples, they caught sight of Lulu and Mr. Polly, and they changed partners; but after a while they drifted together again.

"Gee!" said Mr. Sippy. "I'd rather dance with you."

"Ain't that funny?" said Lilly. "That's just what I was thinkin'."

They looked into each other's eyes.

"I ain't the kind of a fellow that takes up with every girl," explained Mr. Sippy, in self-elucidation.

"That's just what I like," said Lilly; "that's just the way with me. It ain't everybody I take a likin' to; but when I do like a person I like 'em."

"Now just look at me," went on Mr. Sippy. "If I wanted to I could bring a girl down here every night; but I don't, just because it ain't often I take a fancy to a girl."

"I like for a gentleman not to be so common-like."

"I like a person or I don't like them, that's all." He looked at her ringless hands. "You ain't keepin' no steady company, are you?"

She colored clear up into her hair.

"No," she replied, in a breathy voice.

"Can I have the pleasure of escorting you to Coney to-morrow night?"

"I'll be pleased to accept your company," she said.

They danced again, and her hair brushed his cheek.

"You're some girl, all right!" he said, holding her close.

She giggled on his shoulder.

"Gee, but I love to dance!"

"Say," he said, looking down at her suspiciously, "is it my dancing you like or me?"

"Silly!" she whispered. "I like you and your dancing."

"You're all right, little one!" he assured her.

When they finally left the hall the lights were beginning to dim. The four of them went out into the quiet streets together. The street-cars had ceased to rattle except at long intervals. They walked in twos, arms interlaced, talking in subdued tones. A cool breeze had sprung up.

At a corner drug store they partook of foamy soda-water and scooped, with long-handled spoons, refreshing mouthfuls of ice-cream from their glasses. Perched on high stools before an onyx fountain, they regarded themselves in the mirror and smiled at each other in the reflection.

At Lulu's rooming-house they lingered again, talking in subdued tones on the brownstone stoop.

"I'll call for you early to-morrow night, Miss Harkins; and, since we decided to make a party of it, me and Polly'll call for you and Miss Tracy together."

"That'll be nice," she said.

"I'm glad you have no other fellow--I don't like no partnership stuff."

"I love Coney," she said.

At last they separated, and the two girls tiptoed up to the terrific heat of their box.

"Phew!" gasped Lilly. "Ain't this just awful?"

Lulu lighted the gas and turned ecstatic eyes upon her friend.

"Lil, I always did say you brought me luck when it came to fellers--I think I got him to-night, all right."

"Oh, Loo, ain't I glad!"

"Just feel my hand, Lil--how excited I am!"

"I'm sure glad for you, dearie."

"Glad! Girl, you don't know what I'd give to own a corner of my own, where I'd never have to see a glove no more!"

She curled up on the bed, forgetful of everything but her own potential happiness.

"He sure did everything but pop to-night. Come over here and kiss me, kid."

They kissed.

"My red kimono's on the top shelf--you undress first; just help yourself." She slumped deeper in bed. "I guess you didn't make some hit yourself to-night, _Miss_ Harkins--and I guess I didn't make some hit myself!"

Lulu laughed immoderately. Lilly fingered the lace at her throat.

"What's the matter? You ain't sore at the joke, are you, _Miss_ Harkins?"

"No," replied Lilly; she spoke through a mental and physical nausea--a reaction which laid violent hold of and sickened her. Lulu loomed to her like a grotesque figure. The imprint of Mr. Sippy's farewell hand-shake was still moist in her own hand.

"What time is it, Loo?"

"Well, what do you know about that? It's ten after one! Gee! don't I wish to-morrow was Sunday? You gotta climb out early with me if you're goin' to that job."

"One o'clock!" Lilly's voice caught in terror. "One o'clock! I can't beat Charley home no more now."

"Whatta you mean? Ain't you goin' to stay here with me? You ain't quittin' now, are you--after all the trouble I went to to interdooce you to my gentlemen friends?"

Lilly nodded.

"You been awfully good, Loo; but I ain't got the nerve. I gotta go back to Charley."

Lulu jerked to a sitting posture, her feet dangling over the edge of the bed.

"Well, ain't this a fine come-off! What'll my friends think of me? I always say you never get no thanks for tryin' to help other people; that's what I get for tryin' to do the right thing by you."

"It ain't you, Loo--I had a fine and dandy time."

"Come on, Lil--come to bed, and you'll be all right in the mornin'. Gee! Won't the girls be glad to see the beauty back? Come on to bed--it's too late for you to go back to-night, anyhow; there's time to talk 'bout things in the mornin'. I wouldn't let any man know I couldn't get along without him! Come on, Lil, and tell me what the guy to-night was like."

Lilly was pinning on her hat in an agony of haste.

"I left the note on the pincushion. If he goes in the kitchen for his milk first, like he does on hot nights, maybe I can beat him! He may be--"

Her voice trailed down the hall. She fumbled a little at the street door, hot flushes darting over her body.

In the street-car Lilly dug her nails through the silk palms of her gloves and sat on the edge of the seat, her pulse pounding in her ear. Her voiceless prayer beat against her brain. She did not see or think beyond the possibility of reaching their bedroom before her husband.

Charley was due home now--as she was lumbering across town in a lethargic street-car. Her whole destiny hung on the frail thread of possibility--the possibility that her husband would follow his wont of warm nights and browse round the kitchen larder before entering their room. She drew in a suffocating breath at the thought of Charley's wrath--she had once seen him on the verge of anger.

To reach home and the note first! That hope beat against her temples; it flooded her face with color; it turned her cold and clammy. She left the car a corner too soon and ran the block, thinking to gain time over the jogging street-car; it passed her midblock, and she sobbed in her throat.