Sister Sue/Chapter 18
CHAPTER XVIII
THE LURE OF A GOLDEN CURL
Mrs. Martin Kent's baby came early in October. It was a little girl. May named her "Martia." She said it was the nearest she could come to "Martin." They had wanted a boy. They had planned to call him after his father, and she was disappointed to have it turn out to be a girl, after all their plans.
May was really quite fretful about it. But that was nothing new. May had been fretful all summer. She had been sick and nervous and very difficult to please ever since she came, as Sister Sue found out. She had wanted all of Sister Sue's attention, but she had known that the pupils must come first. She did, however, grudge the attention Sister Sue bestowed upon their father. She said she did n't see why Sister Sue did it, either. She could have her father all the time, while she could have her, her only sister, and a poor, sick, ailing sister, at that, only these few short months this summer.
As for May's sharing any attention with her father, that was quite out of the question. She told Sister Sue that her father made her as nervous as a witch, and as for trying to be with him now she could n't, and she should n't. Not one of the least of Sister Sue's problems that summer, therefore, was to pay all of her spare attention to her father, and all of her spare attention to May, and at the same time always to keep the two separate and apart from one another.
It was not strange, then, perhaps, that it was a good big breath of relief that Sister Sue drew when, in November, Martin Kent came and took his wife and young daughter back to Boston.
Gordon had not come home at all from his Canadian motor trip, but had gone directly to college. He had needed money, of course, and Sister Sue had sent him a goodly sum. He had written her that she was a peach. Yes, she was! And he declared that he was going to make them all proud of him. He had said, too, that this year he was sure—he was very sure—that he could find that table-waiting to do—or something.
Sister Sue had answered back that it would help—a lot—of course, if he could find something of the sort to do, but that the main thing, after all, was that he should do well in his studies, graduate with honors, and then make something really worth while of his life; make them, indeed, proud of him. She said then something else, something that, if Gordon could have known, or if he had had the vision to understand, covered a big heartache between the lines.
"I do want you to succeed, dearie," she wrote. "Even May has given up her story-writing now, and you know what Sister Sue has come to."
This was in September.
In December, when Sister Sue and her father were again alone in the old house, came the unexpected from Gordon. Sister Sue had to read the letter twice before she got its full meaning. Then from the incoherent, rhapsodic tangle of blue eyes, golden hair, moonlight, darlings, and sweethearts, she unraveled this information:
He was going to leave college. He had fallen in love. The dearest girl in all the world had promised to be his wife. She was the most beautiful creature Sister Sue had ever seen, with blue eyes and golden hair, and a voice that was like the voice of an angel—liquid purity and melted moonlight were rasping noises beside it. Her name was Miss Mabel Billings.
And now, as he had said in the first place, he should give up college. He would have to, of course. He would have to go to work to support his wife, of course. And already he had found a job, a splendid opening. Mabel's father was going to take him into the store (he kept a grocery-store—a big one right there in town). He was to have fifteen dollars a week at the start, with the promise of rapid advancement and a place in the firm later, all owing, of course, to the fact that he was to be the son-in-law of "the old man." Not every one in the store, of course, could have such a chance.
Twice Sister Sue read this letter; then, in the terror and dismay of the realization of its meaning, she sat down at once and answered it without planning in the least what to say. As a result the terror and dismay and absolute horror in her heart were all on the written sheets that were dispatched by return mail to the lovesick youth who had but a short twenty-four hours before poured out his heart to her.
Sister Sue had received his letter, but, oh, did he understand what he was doing? Did he realize what it might mean to be tied all his life to a Billings who kept a grocery-store? And to be in the grocery-store, too! Was he sure he would like that? When he had had such dreams? And was he sure that the young woman would make him happy? Golden hair and melted moonlight were all very well, of course. But hair turned gray and moons did n't always shine. And, oh, was he sure, sure, sure that this Mabel person was going to satisfy all his deeper feelings? Why! He was nothing but a boy! Not yet twenty-one. And to give up college now! And all his hopes and ambitions! Oh, he did not, she was sure he did not, realize in the least what he was doing.
By return mail, then, to Sister Sue came back his answer. And this letter she needed to read but once before getting its meaning—and realizing her mistake. It was short, cold, and not at all incoherent. It was also plainly grieved, and hurt, and angry.
Gordon had received her letter. He was sorry, he was sure, if he had displeased his sister Sue. But a man must marry to suit himself. She must realize that. He was aware, of course, that he was not yet twenty-one, but he had hoped to have her consent to his marriage. He proposed to earn his own living from now on, anyway. A grocery business might not suit persons with snobbish tastes, but it was eminently respectable, and suited him perfectly. As for Miss Billings and her satisfying his deeper feelings, his only doubt in regard to that matter was lest he be unworthy of her. And he begged to inform his sister Sue that he did emphatically understand and realize what he was doing. She need not fear. He would see that they never annoyed her with their presence. If she would kindly send him, then, what few belongings he had in the house.
And he signed himself, "Very truly yours, Gordon Halstead Gilmore."
Sister Sue hastened to set aright her mistake. As if she were going to let anything come between her and Gordon! He might marry all the Billingses and grocery-stores in Christendom—he was still her brother and she guessed she was not going to send him "his belongings." Not trouble her with their presence! Indeed! As if she were going to let that boy marry a girl she did not know! She should have her up at once, of course, and get acquainted with her. And if Gordon still insisted on marrying her and she proved to be making him unhappy, surely then he would need his sister Sue! As if she were going to do anything to estrange that boy now!
And Sister Sue sat down and wrote her letter.
She said, nonsense, and that it was absurd, and that he took her altogether wrongly. It was her desire to have him make sure that he cared very much for Miss Billings before he took the irremediable step of marrying her. And she said that as long as he was so sure he did care for her very much, it was all right, and he had her congratulations and her best wishes. And, of course, she wanted to see and know her future sister-in-law, so would he not please bring her up to the old home for a real country Christmas and please stay a few days? If he would himself give her Miss Billings's address she would write to the young lady herself.
And she signed herself, "Your affectionate Sister Sue."
But she shivered a little as she sealed the letter after reading it over twice to make sure there was nothing more she could add, and she did not breathe really freely till his reply was in her hands. She took a long breath then, for Gordon was very glad he had been mistaken in the tone of his sister Sue's other letter and he should be pleased to bring Miss Billings up for a real country Christmas, thank you, and he enclosed her address therewith.
In due time from Miss Billings herself came a violet-scented pink note, written with obvious care in forming each letter, saying that she would be pleased to accept Miss Gilmore's kind invitation to Christmas, and she was "Yours very respectfully, Miss Mabel Billings."
Sister Sue was somewhat prepared, therefore, to find her brother's fiancée just what she did find her to be, an exceedingly pretty, pleasant young girl, a little timid, anxious to please, but obviously quite unused to the sort of society Gordon had been accustomed to.
That evening, after the guest had retired to her room, Gordon told his sister Sue that she would find Mabel a child of nature and quite unspoiled by the world.
And Sister Sue said yes, she did appear to be that.
The Christmas visit was not so hopeless, after all. As the first shyness wore off, Miss Mabel was not so awkward nor so distressed over her efforts to do things just properly. And she became more natural. Her really good qualities displayed themselves. She was sweet-tempered, kind-hearted, and sincerely anxious to be of service. And she was not coarse. Sister Sue, noting all this, told herself that, after all, time and good associations might soften the girl's defects, and certainly her virtues were of the sort that made for smoothness in running the machinery of daily living. That she was not inherently coarse would certainly make it easier for her to acquire the little niceties and refinements that Sister Sue feared Gordon would miss some day—if she did not acquire them. One thing was surely certain, they were very much in love with each other, and the fact that Gordon was willing to work, and work hard, in order to marry, might be not without a salutary effect, so far as character-building was concerned.
It was with an easier mind, therefore, than she had had when she greeted them, that Sister Sue said good-bye to the pair, though after they were gone and she was alone again with her father, her heart misgave her a little, and she drew a long sigh of regret for the high aspirations and ambitions for Gordon which she now knew she could no longer cherish, and all because of the lure of a golden curl and a sparkling eye. For whatever else the visit of Miss Mabel Billings had taught her, it had certainly convinced her that Gordon not only understood very well what he was doing, but was determined to do it. He had told Sister Sue the wedding would be in June.