I Walked in Arden Part 12

Helen's shocked "Mother!" was unheeded.

"Yes, Mrs. Claybourne, I had. He was colonel of one of your northern regiments in the Civil War. His sword hangs over my desk. I shall be pleased to show it you some day at tea."

"Mother! How could you?" again from Helen, and she laid her hand, just for a second, ever so lightly, on my arm.

The effect of my statement I observed to be favourable. The "good-night"

Mrs. Claybourne gave me was less chilly than the earlier "good evenings." Helen went with me to the door.

"Do you ride?" she asked, with a change of subject that surprised me.

"Yes--or, rather, I did before coming to Deep Harbor."

"Then get a horse and be here at nine next Sunday morning. Good-night, Ted."

"Good-night, Helen. Thank you for tonight."

I left in such entranced good humour with the world that I forgot to change my clothes before reporting at the factory; and so it happened that the superintendent of the first night-s.h.i.+ft performed his duties in what my tailor had informed me were "faultless" evening clothes. The result was to make Knowlton's grin wider than usual when I appeared to relieve him.

"Ted, you've got more nerve than I gave you credit for, if you face our gang in a clawhammer. However, lots of folks have original ideas when they try suicide. If you are lynched before morning don't forget I warned you."

"You need not worry," I said with dignity. "I'm fairly good friends with most of our men."

"All right, Ted. Some get theirs shooting tigers; others falling off the Alps; still others by being just plain d.a.m.n fools. I'm thinking you'll look a little strange on your way to breakfast aboard the seven-five trolley."

At this I turned a little pale; I had not thought of the journey back by broad daylight. It was too late to back out. I went down to the machine shop with my fort.i.tude somewhat shaken, only to discover my fears groundless and Knowlton's warning unnecessary. No one but an occasional apprentice or mechanic's helper so much as bothered to look at me, much less make any comment. The office might always have worn similar regalia, as far as outward signs were concerned.

Until about one in the morning I found the factory by night a picturesque place. Every machine was running at full capacity. Overhead blinking white arc lamps, whose rays were shot through with spluttering purple, danced and hissed. At the lathes grey-headed mechanics, fine-looking shrewd-faced men most of them, bent and peered at the Medusa-like tresses of steel the tools sheered off from the castings.

Helpers leaned over them with wire-enclosed electric bulbs, lighting up the faces of the chief actors as in a theatre. Belts raced and flapped from nosy shafts along the ceiling--a steady, uninterrupted din. An occasional machine would shriek or groan in the agony of its task.

Further down the shop the compressed air chisels were beating a devil's tattoo against the rougher castings. Boys trundled trucks piled with metal parts on their way from one machine to another. Foremen, pad and pencil in hand, went about keeping a record of each machine's progress.

The place smelt of hot oil, of grimy cotton waste, and of sweaty human bodies.

As the novelty of the picture wore off I became sleepy and bored. By two o'clock it was clear that as superintendent I had a sinecure. This automaton of a factory was quite capable of running itself. No one referred any questions to me or asked my advice. I lingered hopefully here and there when I saw a machine slow down or stop for a moment, but whatever the reason of these stoppages, I was not consulted.

Upstairs to the laboratory I went, leaving word with the chief foreman where I was to be found. Work was out of the question; I was too sleepy.

I tried my hand at a few pages in the diary--to recapitulate my thoughts on the subject of grey eyes. As usual when I most wanted to write or felt that I had a topic worth writing about, no words would come. I fell asleep in my chair once, with my feet upon my desk, to wake with a horrible start when they slid off with a thump. "Six weeks of this"--I thought with a shudder--"only the other nights will not be quite so bad, because I am to do my regular work at night and sleep by day." A dreadful inversion of one's normal life, whichever way one looked at it.

It meant bringing a midnight supper for one thing--and where was the restaurant in Deep Harbor to prepare a tempting supper? Then I was annoyed at myself because my mind had seized upon such a petty factor as a question of supper to magnify into importance.

I tried to get back to grey eyes, but I was too sleepy to be sentimental. What was it we were to do Sunday? Oh, yes--go for a ride.

Where? I wondered. Heavens! I had no riding clothes! I scribbled a hasty memorandum and heard the town hall clock strike three. "Take a look around once an hour," Knowlton had said. "To make sure, punch the clock in the front office each time you pa.s.s." To punch a clock was to register one's number on a circular mechanism which also recorded the time as well. My number was seven. As I had rather resented being numbered, Knowlton allowed me to choose my own. His was one. I remember chosing seven because it was lucky. At this point I pulled myself together and started another tour.

Hour by hour the endless night went by; the dawn, turning the lake to mauve and next to gold, gave promise that soon the factory gates would open to let me pa.s.s. I was tired--too tired to think or care for anything but bed. I had still to report to Knowlton when I successfully pa.s.sed the ordeal of going down-town in evening clothes. Fortunately I was able to borrow a raincoat.

"Run home and get all the sleep you can. You are off until six this evening."

At two in the afternoon I awoke; and, try as I would, further sleep was impossible. I got up, had a shower, and telephoned Helen. Of course her mother answered. It appeared that Helen was out, nor, to judge from her mother's explanations, did there seem any likelihood Helen would ever be home again. "Something will have to be done about mama," I reflected.

What was it I must do today? Oh, yes--riding clothes. I hurried out in search of a tailor who would engage himself on his honour to make me riding clothes by Sunday morning. Two declared it could not be done by mortal man, since it was now Friday afternoon; one was doubtful. He had heard of things done in such haste, but was skeptical concerning results. I insulted him into accepting the commission. Our contract was finally settled on the basis of midnight Sat.u.r.day or no pay. "Where does one obtain horses in this town?" I pondered, strolling down State Street, which was respectable for four blocks and most ragged and disreputable top and bottom. At Frazee's famous soda-water-and-candy store whom should I see inside but Helen! After all, the coincidence was not so remarkable, I muttered. If one were out at all in Deep Harbor one was limited to State Street's four blocks of stores or to Myrtle Boulevard. The rest of the town was chiefly built up of slums and factories, except for one or two lesser streets on which people lived, but never walked. I went in to Frazee's and only needed Helen's welcoming smile to join her at the little marble-topped table.

"What on earth are you eating?" I asked, not very polite, as I pointed at a little mess in a dish before her.

"That is a chocolate nut sundae," she laughed. "Won't you try one?"

"Are they very sweet?" I inquired doubtfully.

"Of course!" and she presented a br.i.m.m.i.n.g spoon to me to taste. I was honored by the compliment, but the sickeningly sweet compound all but did for me. I had not yet eaten, for I was too tired in the morning and had forgotten about it after I got up. Helen was delighted with the face I made over it.

"I think I prefer more solid food," I apologized. "My education stopped with ice-cream sodas."

"I think it's a great lark meeting you here like this! Mother would be furious!"

"Isn't it done?" I asked in all seriousness, looking about at Frazee's unlimited display of white marble, enamel, and nickel tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs. It seemed a harmless looking place to me.

"Of course not, you silly Ted. What do you suppose Deep Harbor would say if we did this very often?"

"Is Deep Harbor loquacious?"

"Extremely."

"But the place is full of young couples--just like ourselves."

Helen laughed. "If I explain, you'll think me sn.o.bbish, Ted, and I'm not, even if mother is. Don't you see--all these boys and girls--well that's what Deep Harbor is like."

"I understand perfectly, now I think it over. I should be very careful where I took you to tea at home--and we'd have to have official sanction to go at all ... Deep Harbor is like the rest of the world."

Again she laughed, and her grey eyes danced. "Ted, you really must give up thinking we are strange aborigines. But I feel the same way you do when I come back from boarding school--until I settle down again."

"I suppose it's the old prejudice against the new and strange," I said.

"You've just said Deep Harbor is like the rest of the world, Ted."

"It is," I said, looking at her until she dropped her eyes.

"Always conceding that you know the world, Ted," she added slyly, looking up suddenly from under her lashes.

"I've seen quite a lot of it."

"Is that the same as knowing it?"

"No, but it's a start."

"Goodness me, Teddy, I ought to be home by now," she exclaimed, springing up. Women are apt to break off a conversation just as it is getting interesting.

"May I walk home with you?"

"That would never do, Teddy."

I looked so disappointed that she softened. "You may come part way. That will be enough for Myrtle Boulevard for one afternoon."

"What do you mean?"