LV
A BLITHE twenty minutes or so after Lady Violet had “flown,” Elmer and Mame decided to get a move on. For one thing Elmer’s curiosity had been tremendously piqued by the surprise that had been predicted. What could it be? Lady Violet, he supposed, was just pulling his leg. Yet he didn’t think so really; he knew she was not the kind of person to break a solemn promise. Still there was nothing to deduce from the attitude of Mame. The aider and abettor of Lady Violet was giving nothing away. The stars were very bright, the air for the time of year quite balmy, the pavements of London were dry as a bone. All the conditions, therefore, were favourable for outdoor exercise. Indeed, as Elmer said, or it may have been Mame who said it, the evening was just ideal for the purpose.
Mame put on her lovely new cloak trimmed with fur, or at least Elmer put it on for her. Then Elmer got into his overcoat and clapped on his smart gibus, which gave him such a look of distinction, that a loafer cadging for pence just beyond the courtyard of the hotel promptly addressed him as Captain.
The mutt got the coppers all right. It was not so much that Elmer was susceptible to that kind of flattery,as that just now he was not in a mood to refuse anything to anybody. He was moving about this evening in an enchanted world.
At every step they took in it now, the world through which they were moving seemed to grow more entrancing. For one thing there was a powerful magic in the stars. The strip of moon, too, as Mame remarked, seemed to be trying to put one over on them. She made this observation while they were in the act of steering each other across the perilous vortex from Northumberland Avenue to Morley’s Hotel, and nearly barging into more than one of their compatriots in the process.
However, they crossed in safety. Then they crossed again by the National Gallery and sauntered gaily along until they came to that great landmark in Mame’s adventurous life, the Carlton Hotel. She gave a long look at it as they went by. Even on this night of marvels she could not pass that consecrated spot without a sense of amazement and gratitude.
They turned up by the Haymarket, according to plan, and then slowly rounded the corner into Piccadilly Circus. And then it was in this identical moment that the goods were delivered in the most unexpected and convincing way. The surprise that had been solemnly promised Elmer appeared right before his eyes.
A flaming electric sign winked letter by letter from the starlit sky.
PRAIRIE CITYBY ELMER PELL DOBREEThe BookAll the WorldIs Reading
“Gee!” gasped Elmer. The secret had been carefully kept; he had not an inkling! A surprise indeed, a masterpiece of boosting.
Mame’s voice rose in triumph. “Say, listen, Elmer. I’ll tell the world this is where we put one over on London, England.”
Down Piccadilly they walked on air. No word passed. But to keep in touch with himself and the mundane realities Elmer took Mame’s hand. These were sublime moments. Suddenly, high above the famous street, the sign flamed out again.
“Say, listen, Mame,” began Elmer hoarsely. But even with all his genius to help him he did not know how to end, so he merely squeezed her hand.
The dear little go-getter, how slick she was! But she was also something much better than slick. She was fine and true. A minute they stood gazing at the recurring sign in all its brilliancy and then, life being too wonderful to stand still in it, they moved on hand in hand.
Sure it was destiny they should be walking thus, four thousand miles, four thousand solid miles, from the dear funny old spot in which they had walked last.If only Cowbarn, Iowa, could see that sign. The book all the world was reading; the book that had immortalised the Folks. Would they recognise themselves in all their humour and their quiddity?
When speech was possible between them, which was not until they were near the precincts of the Ritz, it was Mame who dared. “Elmer,” her voice was very soft, “I’m feeling pretty good about our book.” She said “our book.” “There’s not one word we’ll ever have to wish away. The folks aren’t saints, the folks aren’t, but there ain’t a line that’s mean. There’s nothing to make ’em sorry. Some of the stories you might have told you didn’t tell. Some of the things you might have said you didn’t say. Elmer, I’m feeling pretty good about that book.”
Elmer, too, was feeling pretty good. In fact so good was Elmer feeling, that for all he was fully launched in the realm of letters, he still couldn’t find a word. Not one word. But like all young men of force and originality he enjoyed a certain power of action. Quite suddenly, without premeditation, he put one over on Mame. In the dark shadow cast by the Ritz arcade, he kissed the little go-getter.
Mame was thrilled by the sheer audacity of the assault. But there was the authority of the book all the world was reading that the heart of woman is a queer thing; so she just didn’t mind at all. However, she did not speak again, until hand in hand they had convoyed each other past a line of pirates in the guise of taxi cabmen, whom the law allows to range themselvesin a row opposite Devonshire House. Nay, she didn’t speak until they had passed the end of Half Moon Street, the other side of the road, and on by the railings of the Green Park.
It was when they halted to gaze at the bright windows of the Ladies Imperium that Mame’s soft voice was heard.
“That’s the hen club I belong to.”
Elmer was impressed.
“It’s the Chickest hen club in London.”
Elmer guessed it was.
“Cocks are not admitted. If they was,”—Mame said was, yet she knew perfectly well it wasn’t grammar,—“I’d take you right in and buy you a cocktail.”
This was a little too much for the author ofPrairie City. Such un-American play upon words was the palpable fruit of mental stress, but in combination with the magic of the stars it was a little too much for Elmer P. Dobree.
“Now, then, Mame Durrance, can that.” And then immediately opposite those flaming windows and in the lee of the park railings which hid them well, he kissed her again with rapturous violence.
After this stimulating episode they moved slowly along by the Green Park. They still walked hand in hand; even now it didn’t seem safe to let go of each other. But when they came to the Quadriga, that symbol of victory significantly poised on the top of the park gates, which is much and justly admired, they stopped and gazed up.
They gazed up at the Quadriga by the royal light of the stars. Their hands were locked in each other’s. The eternal verities caught them suddenly. Mighty, mighty forces were flowing through and over, through and over, this brief and transient, this pitifully brief and transient, life of man.
“Elmer!” It was Mame’s voice, but hardly more than a whisper, it was so solemn and so hushed. “Imagine, Elmer, you and me—”
But Elmer said nothing. With a queer tightening of the breast he continued to gaze upwards to the symbol of victory on the top of the park gates.
THE END