Part 18 (1/2)

At the door, Katie, who evidently had heard the taxicab, stood smiling broadly.

”This is Katie, mother,” d.i.c.ky said kindly. ”She will help take care of you.”

”How do you do, Katie?” The words were the same, but the tones were much kinder than her greeting to me.

d.i.c.ky a.s.sisted her into the living room. She sank into the armchair, and d.i.c.ky took off her hat and loosened her cloak. She leaned her head against the back of the chair, and her face looked so drawn and white that I felt alarmed.

”Katie, prepare a cup of strong tea immediately,” I directed, and Katie vanished. ”Is there nothing I can do for you, Mrs. Graham?” I approached her chair.

”Nothing, thank you. You may save the maid the trouble of preparing that tea if you will. I could not possibly drink it. I always carry my own tea with me, and prepare it myself. If it is not too much trouble, d.i.c.ky, will you get me a pot of hot water and some cream? I have everything else here.”

I really felt sorry for d.i.c.ky. He caught the tension in the atmosphere, and looked from his mother to me with a helpless caught-between-two-fires-expression. With masculine obtuseness he put his foot in it in his endeavor to remedy matters.

”Why do you call my mother Mrs. Graham, Madge?” he said querulously.

”She is your mother now as well as mine, you know.”

”I am nothing of the kind.” His mother spoke sharply. ”Of all the idiotic a.s.sumptions, that is the worst, that marriage makes close relatives, and friends of total strangers. Your wife and I may learn to love each other. Then there will be plenty of time for her to call me mother. As it is, I am very glad she evidently feels as I do about it. Now, d.i.c.ky, if you will kindly get me that hot water.”

”I will attend to it,” I said decidedly ”d.i.c.ky, take your mother to her room and a.s.sist her with her things. I will have the hot water and cream for her almost at once.”

In the shelter of the dining room, where neither d.i.c.ky nor his mother nor Katie could see or hear me, I clenched my hands and spoke aloud.

”Call _her_ mother! Give that ill-tempered, tyrannical old woman the sacred name that means so much to me. _Never_ as long as I live!”

d.i.c.ky met me at the door of the dining room and took the tray I carried. It held my prettiest teapot filled with boiling water, a tiny plate of salted crackers, together with cup, saucer, spoon and napkin.

”Say, sweetheart,” he whispered, ”I want to tell you something. My mother isn't always like this. She can be very sweet when she wants to. But when things don't go to suit her she takes these awful icy 'dignity' tantrums, and you can't touch her with a ten-foot pole until she gets over them. She was tired, from the journey, and the fact that you kept her waiting in the taxicab made her furious. But she'll get over it. Just be patient, won't you, darling?”

If the average husband only realized how he could play upon his wife's heart-strings with a few loving words I believe there would be less marital unhappiness in the world. A few minutes before I had been fiercely resentful against d.i.c.ky's mother. And my anger had reached to d.i.c.ky, for I felt in some vague way that he must be responsible for his mother's rudeness.

But the knowledge that he, too, was used to her injustice and that he resented it when directed against me made all the difference in the world. I reached up my hand and patted his cheek.

”Dear boy, nothing in the world matters, if _you_ aren't cross and displeased.”

XIV

A QUARREL AND A CRISIS

”Can you give me a few minutes' time, d.i.c.ky? I have something to tell you.”

d.i.c.ky put down the magazine with a bored air. ”What is it?” he asked shortly.

Involuntarily my thoughts flew back to the exquisite courtesy which had always been d.i.c.ky's in the days before we were married. There had been such a delicate reverence in his every tone and action. I wondered if marriage changed all men as it had changed my husband.

I went to my room and brought the letter back to d.i.c.ky. He read it through, and I saw his face grow blacker with each word. When he came to the signature, he turned back to the beginning and read the epistle through again. Then he crumpled it into a ball and threw it violently across the room.

”See here, my lady,” he exploded. ”I think it's about time we came to a show-down over this business. When I found that first letter from this lad, I asked you if he were a relative, and you said 'No.' Then you hand me this touching screed with its 'nearest of kin' twaddle, and speaking of leaving you a fortune. Now what's the answer?”

”Oh, hardly a fortune, d.i.c.ky,” I returned quietly. ”Jack has only a few thousand at the outside.”