Re-Creations (7 page)

And the table did look pretty. It was set as a table should be set, with dishes and glasses and silver in the correct places and napkins neatly folded, and in the center was a small pot of pink primroses in full bloom. For it would not have been Cornelia if there had not been a bit of decoration about somewhere, and it was like Cornelia when she went out to market and thought of meat and bread and milk and butter and all the other necessities, to think also of that bit of brightness and refinement and go into a small flower shop she was passing to get this pretty primrose.

Then in panic the weary big sister brought out one loaf of gingerbread, cut several generous slices, left it on the sideboard in a welcome attitude, and fled upstairs to finish Carey’s room.

Five minutes later, as she was struggling with the bedsprings, trying to bring them into conjunction with the headboard, she heard their hurrying feet, and leaning from the window, called, “Children! Come up here a minute and help me.”

“I can’t,” shouted Harry with a frown. “I got a job afternoons, and I gotta hustle. I’m late a’ready, and I have to change my clo’es!” And he vanished inside the door.

“I have to go to the store for things for dinner!” reproved the young sister stiffly, and vanished also.

Cornelia felt suddenly in her weariness like sitting down on the floor in a fit of hysterical laughter or tears. Would they never forgive her? She dropped on the floor with her head wearily back against the window and closed her eyes. She had meant to tell them about the gingerbread, but they had been in such a hurry, and somehow the spirit seemed gone out of her surprise.

Downstairs it was very still. The children had been halted at the entrance by the appetizing odor of cooking.

“Sniff!”

“Oh, gee!” said Harry. “It smells like Mother was home.”

Louise stalked hurriedly to the dining room door.

“Harry Copley, just look here! Now, what did I tell you about college girls?”

Harry came and stood entranced.

“Oh, gee!” he murmured. “Isn’t that just great? Oh, say, Lou Copley, just gaze on that sideboard! I’ll tell the world this is some day!” And he strode to the sideboard and stopped all further speech by more than a mouthful of the fragrant gingercake.

The little housewife took swift steps to the kitchen door and sniffed. She took in the row of plump bread tins almost ready to go into the oven, the gently bubbling kettle with its fragrant steam, and the shining dresser with its neat rows of dishes that she had never been able to find, and then she whirled on her astonished brother.

“Harry Copley! You answered her real mean! You go upstairs and apologize quick! And then you beat it and change your clothes and get to work. I’ll help her. We’re going to work
together
after this, she and I.” And seizing a large slice of gingerbread in her passing, she flew up the stairs to find her sister.

Chapter 5

T
hey appeared in the doorway suddenly, after a sound like locomotives rushing up the stairs, and surrounded her where she sat, after one astonished pause at the doorway staring around the unfamiliar room. They smothered her with hugs and kisses and demanded to know how she got so much done and what she wanted of them anyway, and they smeared her with gingerbread and made her glad; and then just as suddenly, Harry disappeared with the floating explanation trailing back after him:

“Oh, gee! I gotta beat it.”

A few rustling movements in his own little closet of a room, and he was back attired in an old Boy Scout uniform and cramming down the last bite of his gingerbread.

“Anything I can do before I go? Oh, here!” as he saw his sisters about to put the bed together. “That won’t take a second! Say, you girls don’t know how to do that. Lemme.”

And, surprising to state, he pushed them aside and whacked the bed together in no time, slatted on the mattress with his sturdy young arms, and was gone down through the dining room and out into the street with another huge slice of gingerbread in his hands.

Cornelia straightened her tired shoulders and looked at the subdued bed wonderingly. How handily he had done it! How strong he was! It was amazing.

Louise stood looking about with shining eyes.

“Say, Nellie, it looks lovely here, so clean and nice. I never thought it could be done; it looked so awful! I wanted to do something, and I know Mother felt fierce about not fixing his room before she left, but I just couldn’t get time.”

“Of course you couldn’t dear!” said Cornelia, suddenly realizing how wise and brave this little sister had been. “You’ve been wonderful to do anything. Why didn’t they send for me before, Louie? Tell me, how long had you been in this house before Mother was taken sick?”

“Why, only a day. She fainted, you know, trying to carry that marble bureau top upstairs, and fell down.”

“Oh! My dear!”

The two sisters stood with their arms about each other mingling their tears for a moment, and somehow as she stood there, Cornelia felt as if the years melted away, the college years while she had been absent, and brought her back heart and soul to her home and her loved ones again.

“But Louie, dear, what has become of the best furniture? Did they have to rent the old house furnished? I can’t find Mother’s mahogany or the parlor things, anything but the piano.”

The color rolled up into the little girl’s face, and she dropped her eyes. “Oh, no, Nellie. They went long ago,” she said, “before we even moved to the State Street house.”

“The State Street house?”

“Why, yes, Father sold the Glenside house just after you went to college. You knew that, didn’t you? And then we moved to an old yellow house farther toward the city. But it was pulled down to make room for a factory; and I was glad, for it was horrid, and a long walk to school. And then we went to a brick row down near the factory, and it was convenient for Father, but—”

“Factory? Father? What do you mean, dear? Has Father gone into business for himself? He was a bookkeeper at Dudley and Warner’s when I left.”

“Oh, but he lost that a long, long time ago, after he was sick so long.”

“Father sick? Louie! And I not told?”

“Why, I didn’t know they hadn’t told you. Maybe Mother wouldn’t like it—”

“Tell me everything, dear. How long was Father sick?”

“About a year. He lost his position and then wasn’t able to do anything for ever so long; and when he got out of the hospital, he hunted and hunted, and there wasn’t anything for him. He got one good job, but they said he had to dress better, and he lost that.”

Cornelia sank down on the floor again and buried her face in her hands.

“O Louie! And I was wearing nice clothes and doing nothing to help! Oh, why didn’t Mother let me know?”

“Oh, Mother kept saying she thought she could manage, and it was Father’s dream you should get your education,” quoted the little girl with dreamy eyes and the memory of many sacrifices sweetly upon her.

“Go on, Louie, what next?”

“Oh, nothing much. Mother sold the furniture to an ‘antique’ woman that was hunting old things, and that paid for Father’s medicine, and they said they wouldn’t touch the money they had put in the bank for your college; and then Father got the place at the factory. It’s kind of hard work, I guess, but it’s good pay, and Father thought he’d manage to let you finish, only Mother gave out, and then everything went to pieces.”

The small, red lips puckered bravely, and suddenly the child threw her arms around her sister’s neck and cried out, sobbing, “Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come!” and Cornelia wrapped her close to her heart.

Into the midst of this touching scene there stole a sweetly pungent odor of meat boiling dry, and suddenly Cornelia and Louise smelled it at the same instant and flew for the stairs.

“I guess it’s not really burned yet,” said wise Louise. “It doesn’t smell that way,” she said comfortingly. “My, it makes me hungry!”

“And oh, my bread!” exclaimed Cornelia as she rounded the top of the next flight. “It ought to go into the oven. It will get too light.” They rescued the meat not at all hurt but just lusciously browned and most appetizing, and then they put the bread into the oven and turned their attention to potatoes and waffles.

“I’m going to make some maple syrup,” said Cornelia. “It’s better homemade. I bought a bottle of maple flavoring this morning. We used to make maple fudge with it, and it’s good.”

“Isn’t this great?”exclaimed the little girl, watching the bubbling sugar and water. “Won’t Father be glad?”

“But Louie, where is Carey?” asked Cornelia suddenly.

The little girl’s face grew dark.

“He’s off!” she said shortly. “I guess he didn’t come home at all last night. Father worries a lot about him, and Mother did, too, but he’s been worse since Mother was sick. He hardly ever comes in till after midnight, and then he smokes and smokes. Oh, it makes me sick! I told Harry if he grew up that way I’d never speak to him. And Harry says if he ever does, he gives me leave to turn him down. Oh, Carey acts like a nut! I don’t see how he can, when he knows how Father has to work and everything. He just won’t get a position anywhere. He wants to have a good time. He plays ball, and he rides around in a rich fellow’s car, and he has a girl! Oh, he’s the
limit.
”

Cornelia felt her heart sinking.

“What kind of a girl, Louie?”

“Oh, a girl with flour on her face, and an awful tight skirt; and when she goes out evenings, she wears her back bare way down almost to her waist. I saw her in a concert at our church, and she was dressed that way there, and folks were all looking at her and saying it wasn’t nice. She dances, too, and kicks, with lots of skirts and ruffles and things, made of chiffon; and she makes eyes at boys; and I know a girl at school that says she saw her smoking cigarettes at a restaurant once. You see it isn’t much use to fix up Carey’s room when he does things like that. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Cornelia looked aghast.

“Oh, but we must, Louie! We must all the more then. And perhaps the girl isn’t so bad if we knew her, and—and tried to help her. Some girls are awfully silly at a certain age, dear.”

“Well, you oughta see her. Harry knows, and he thinks she’s the limit. He says the boys all talk about her. She wears makeup, too, and big black earrings down on her shoulders sometimes, and she wears her hair just like the pictures of the devil!”

Cornelia had to laugh at the earnest, fierce little face, and the laugh broke the tension somewhat.

“Well, dearie, we’ll have to find a way to coax Carey back to us,” she said soothingly, even while her heart was sinking. “He’s our brother, you know, and we love him, and it would break Mother’s heart.”

“Oh yes,” said Louise, not noticing her sister’s face. “We hadn’t any side windows at all there; the houses were close up, and there were very unpleasant people all around. It wasn’t at all a good neighborhood. Carey hated it. He wouldn’t come home for days and days. He said it wasn’t fit for pigs.”

“Where did he go? Where has he gone now, do you suppose?”

“Oh, off with the boys somewhere. Sometimes to their houses. Sometimes they take trips around. One of them has a car. His father’s rich. But I don’t like him. His name’s Brand Barlock. He drives wherever he likes. They went to Washington once and were gone a week. Mother never slept a wink those nights, just sat at the front window and watched after we went to bed. I know, for I woke up and found her so several times. He might’ve gone to Baltimore now. There’s a game down that way sometime soon. I guess it was last night. Harry heard ‘em talking about it. They go with the gang of fellows that used to play on our high school team when Carey was in school.”

“School?” Cornelia caught at the word hopefully. “Perhaps it’s only fun, then, Louie. Maybe, it’s nothing really bad.”

“No. They’re pretty tough,” sighed the wise child. “Harry knows. He hears the boys talk.”

“Well, dear, we’ll have to forget it now, anyway, and get to work. We must fix Carey’s room so he can sleep there tonight if he does come back, and we must have supper ready when Father gets home.”

The child brightened. “Won’t they be surprised?” she said with a happy light in her eyes. “What do you want me to do? Shall I peel the potatoes?”

“Yes, do, and have plenty. We’ll mash them, shall we? I found the potato-masher in the bottom of a barrel in the parlor, so I don’t believe you’ve been using it lately.”

“That’s right. We had all we could do to bake them or boil them whole,” said Louise. “You bake the bread, and I’ll get things away upstairs and make Carey’s bed.”

“Are there any clean sheets? I didn’t know where to look.”

“No, there’s only one pair, and I kept them for you next week.”

“We can’t keep anything for me, duckie dear,” said Cornelia, laughing. “Carey’s got to have clean sheets this very night. I have a hunch he’s coming home, and I want that room to be ready. That’s the first step in getting him back to us, you know.”

“Oh, well, all right,” said the little sister. “They are in the lower drawer of our bureau. How good that bread smells! My, it was nice of you to make it! And how dear the dining room table looks with that little flower in the middle. Some girls’ sisters would have thought that was unnecessary. They would have made us wait for pretty things. But you didn’t, did you? I guess that’s what makes you an interior decorator, isn’t it? Father and Mother are awfully proud of you. They talked about it most every night before Carey got to going away, how you would be a great artist someday and all that. And, my! It most killed them to have to call you home.”

Louise chattered on, revealing many a household tragedy, until Cornelia was cut to the heart and wanted to drop down and cry, only she had too much at stake to give up now.

They went upstairs presently with the clean sheets and the blankets that had almost miraculously got themselves dry owing to a bright sun and a strong west wind that had arrived soon after they were put out, and they had a beautiful time making that bed. Carey wouldn’t know himself in such a bed. Then they hunted out a bureau scarf, and they went through the tousled drawers of the chiffonier and bureau and put things in order, laying out a pile of things that needed mending or washing, and making the room look cheery and bright.