His Second Wife | Page 5

to the only
other room in the apartment, down at the end of the narrow hall. The
door had been closed. She had stolen to it and listened, but at first she
had not heard a sound. Then she had given a slight start, had knocked
softly and asked, "May I come in?" A woman's voice with a hostile
note had replied, "Yes, ma'am." She had entered. And a moment later,
down on her knees before a grave little girl of two who sat at a tiny
table soberly having her supper, Ethel had cried:
"Oh, you adorable baby!"
For a time she had tried to make friends with the child, but the voice of
the nurse had soon cut in. And in the motherly Scotch face Ethel had
detected again a feeling of hostility. "What for?" she had asked. And
the answer had flashed into her mind. "She's angry because Amy hasn't
been in to see Susette." And Ethel had frowned. "It's funny. If I had
been away three days--"
She had gone back to her own room and began slowly to take off her
things. And a few minutes after that, she had heard a gruff kindly voice,
a man's heavy tread and a glad little cry from Amy's room.
"Joe has come home," she had told herself. "I wonder how he and I will
get on."
And she had met him a little later with no slight uneasiness. But this
had been at once dispelled. Rather tall and full of figure, with thick
curling hair and close-cut moustache, Joe Lanier at thirty-five still gave
to his young sister-in-law the impression of kindly friendliness she had
had from him some years before. There was nothing to be afraid of in
Joe. But she had noticed the change in his face, the slightly tightened

harassed expression. And she had thought:
"You poor man. How hard you have been working."
And yet she could not say he looked tired, for at dinner his talk had
been almost boyish in its welcoming good humour. Later he had drawn
her aside and had said with a touch of awkwardness:
"No use in talking about it, of course. I just want you to know I'm so
glad you're here." She had clutched his hand:
"That's nice of you, Joe." And then she had turned from him, and with a
sudden quiver inside she had added quite inaudibly: "Oh, Dad, dearest!
I'm so homesick! Just this minute--if I could be back!"
But she had liked Joe that evening.
She remembered the hungry light in his eyes. He and Amy had soon
gone to their room. And as Ethel thought about them now, lying here
alone in the dark she felt again that vague delight and confused
expectancy.
"How much of all this is coming to me? . . Everything, I guess, but
sleep!"
A wisp of her hair fell on her nose, and she blew it back with a vicious,
"Pfew!"
CHAPTER III
Her first month in town was a season of shopping and of warm
anticipations--and then came a sudden crash. Afterward it was hard to
remember. For tragedy entered into these rooms, and it was not easy to
look back and see them clearly as they had been. That first month
became confused, the memories uneven; in some spots clear and vivid,
in others hazy and unreal.
"I want you to be gay, my dear," Amy told her at the start. "You've

been through such a lonely time. And what earthly good will it do poor
Dad to have you go about in black? You're here now and you've got to
make friends and a place for yourself. If he were alive I know he'd
agree. He'd want you to have every chance."
So they started in to shop. And though Ethel had her memories, her
moods of homesick longing for the old soldier who was gone, these
soon became less frequent. There was little time to be lonely or sad.
Amy herself felt new youth these days. Relieved of the first uneasiness
with which she had gone to Ohio to bring her young sister to New York,
surprised and delighted at finding how the awkward girl she had known
had developed since the last time they had met, Amy now took Ethel
about to get her "clothes fit to be seen in." And as with intent little
glances she kept studying "Ethel's type" in order to set off her charms,
the slightly bored expression, the look of disillusionment left Amy's
pretty countenance. For Ethel's freshness had given to Amy new zest
and belief in her own life, in its purpose and importance. To get Ethel
clothes, to show her about, to find her friends, to give her a gay winter
in town and