Malicious tongues are set wagging by the undeniable fact that young Stanwood Emery’s car is seen standing every night outside the Knickerbocker Theatre and never does it leave they say, without a certain charming young actress whose career is fast approaching stellar magnitude. This same young gentleman, whose father is the head of one of the city’s most respected lawfirms, who recently left Harvard under slightly unfortunate circumstances, has been astonishing the natives for some time with his exploits which we are sure are merely the result of the ebullience of boyish spirits. A word to the wise.
Malicious tongues are set wagging by the undeniable fact that young Stanwood Emery’s car is seen standing every night outside the Knickerbocker Theatre and never does it leave they say, without a certain charming young actress whose career is fast approaching stellar magnitude. This same young gentleman, whose father is the head of one of the city’s most respected lawfirms, who recently left Harvard under slightly unfortunate circumstances, has been astonishing the natives for some time with his exploits which we are sure are merely the result of the ebullience of boyish spirits. A word to the wise.
The bell rang three times. Ed Thatcher dropped his papers and hurried quaking to the door. “Ellie you’re so late. I was afraid you weren’t coming.”
“Daddy dont I always come when I say I will?”
“Of course you do deary.”
“How are you getting on? How’s everything at the office?”
“Mr. Elbert’s on his vacation.... I guess I’ll go when he comes back. I wish you’d come down to Spring Lake with me for a few days. It’d do you good.”
“But daddy I cant.” ... She pulled off her hat anddropped it on the davenport. “Look I brought you some roses, daddy.”
“Think of it; they’re red roses like your mother used to like. That was very thoughtful of you I must say.... But I dont like going all alone on my vacation.”
“Oh you’ll meet lots of cronies daddy, sure you will.”
“Why couldnt you come just for a week?”
“In the first place I’ve got to look for a job ... show’s going on the road and I’m not going just at present. Harry Goldweiser’s awfully sore about it.” Thatcher sat down in the bay window again and began piling up the Sunday papers on a chair. “Why daddy what on earth are you doing with that copy ofTown Topics?”
“Oh nothing. I’d never read it; I just bought it to see what it was like.” He flushed and compressed his lips as he shoved it in among theTimes.
“It’s just a blackmail sheet.” Ellen was walking about the room. She had put the roses in a vase. A spiced coolness was spreading from them through the dustheavy air. “Daddy, there’s something I want to tell you about ... Jojo and I are going to get divorced.” Ed Thatcher sat with his hands on his knees nodding with tight lips, saying nothing. His face was gray and dark, almost the speckled gray of his pongee suit. “It’s nothing to take on about. We’ve just decided we cant get along together. It’s all going through quietly in the most approved style ... George Baldwin, who’s a friend of mine, is going to run it through.”
“He with Emery and Emery?”
“Yes.”
“Hum.”
They were silent. Ellen leaned over to breathe deep of the roses. She watched a little green measuring worm cross a bronzed leaf.
“Honestly I’m terribly fond of Jojo, but it drives me wild to live with him.... I owe him a whole lot, I know that.”
“I wish you’d never set eyes on him.”
Thatcher cleared his throat and turned his face awayfrom her to look out the window at the two endless bands of automobiles that passed along the road in front of the station. Dust rose from them and angular glitter of glass enamel and nickel. Tires made a swish on the oily macadam. Ellen dropped onto the davenport and let her eyes wander among the faded red roses of the carpet.
The bell rang. “I’ll go daddy.... How do you do Mrs. Culveteer?”
A redfaced broad woman in a black and white chiffon dress came into the room puffing. “Oh you must forgive my butting in, I’m just dropping by for a second.... How are you Mr. Thatcher?... You know my dear your poor father has really been very poorly.”
“Nonsense; all I had was a little backache.”
“Lumbago my dear.”
“Why daddy you ought to have let me know.”
“The sermon today was most inspiring, Mr. Thatcher.... Mr. Lourton was at his very best.”
“I guess I ought to rout out and go to church now and then, but you see I like to lay round the house Sundays.”
“Of course Mr. Thatcher it’s the only day you have. My husband was just like that.... But I think it’s different with Mr. Lourton than with most clergymen. He has such an uptodate commonsense view of things. It’s really more like attending an intensely interesting lecture than going to church.... You understand what I mean.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do Mrs. Culveteer, next Sunday if it’s not too hot I’ll go.... I guess I’m getting too set in my ways.”
“Oh a little change does us all good.... Mrs. Oglethorpe you have no idea how closely we follow your career, in the Sunday papers and all.... I think it’s simply wonderful.... As I was telling Mr. Thatcher only yesterday it must take a lot of strength of character and deep Christian living to withstand the temptations of stage life nowadays. It’s inspiring to think of a young girl and wife coming so sweet and unspoiled through all that.”
Ellen kept looking at the floor so as not to catch herfather’s eye. He was tapping with two fingers on the arm of his morrischair. Mrs. Culveteer beamed from the middle of the davenport. She got to her feet. “Well I just must run along. We have a green girl in the kitchen and I’m sure dinner’s all ruined.... Wont you drop in this afternoon...? quite informally. I made some cookies and we’ll have some gingerale out just in case somebody turns up.”
“I’m sure we’d be delighted Mrs. Culveteer,” said Thatcher getting stiffly to his feet. Mrs. Culveteer in her bunchy dress waddled out the door.
“Well Ellie suppose we go eat.... She’s a very nice kindhearted woman. She’s always bringing me pots of jam and marmalade. She lives upstairs with her sister’s family. She’s the widow of a traveling man.”
“That was quite a line about the temptations of stage life,” said Ellen with a little laugh in her throat. “Come along or the place’ll be crowded. Avoid the rush is my motto.”
Said Thatcher in a peevish crackling voice, “Let’s not dawdle around.”
Ellen spread out her sunshade as they stepped out of the door flanked on either side by bells and letterboxes. A blast of gray heat beat in their faces. They passed the stationery store, the red A. and P., the corner drugstore from which a stale coolness of sodawater and icecream freezers drifted out under the green awning, crossed the street, where their feet sank into the sticky melting asphalt, and stopped at the Sagamore Cafeteria. It was twelve exactly by the clock in the window that had round its face in old English lettering,Time to Eat. Under it was a large rusty fern and a card announcing Chicken Dinner $1.25. Ellen lingered in the doorway looking up the quivering street. “Look daddy we’ll probably have a thunderstorm.” A cumulus soared in unbelievable snowy contours in the slate sky. “Isnt that a fine cloud? Wouldnt it be fine if we had a riproaring thunderstorm?”
Ed Thatcher looked up, shook his head and went in through the swinging screen door. Ellen followed him. Insideit smelled of varnish and waitresses. They sat down at a table near the door under a droning electric fan.
“How do you do Mr. Thatcher? How you been all the week sir? How do you do miss?” The bonyfaced peroxidehaired waitress hung over them amicably. “What’ll it be today sir, roast Long Island duckling or roast Philadelphia milkfed capon?”