Our Mr. Wrenn: The Romantic Adventures of a Gentle Man Part 47

"I'm sure"--Istra smiled at Mrs. Arty--"that it's because a woman is running things. Now think what cat-and-dog lives you'd lead if Mr. Wrenn or Mr.--Popple, was it?--were ruling."

They applauded. They felt that she had been humorous. She was again and publicly invited up to the parlor, and she came, though she said, rather shortly, that she didn't play Five Hundred, but only b.u.mblepuppy bridge, a variety of whist which Mr. Wrenn instantly resolved to learn. She reclined ("reclined"

is perfectly accurate) on the red-leather couch, among the pillows, and smoked two cigarettes, relapsing into "No?"'s for conversation.

Mr. Wrenn said to himself, almost spitefully, as she snubbed Nelly, "Too good for us, is she?" But he couldn't keep away from her. The realization that Istra was in the room made him forget most of his melds at pinochle; and when Miss Proudfoot inquired his opinion as to whether the coming picnic should be held on Staten island or the Palisades he said, vaguely, "Yes, I guess that would be better."

For he was wanting to sit down beside Istra Nash, just be near her; he _had_ to be! So he ventured over and was instantly regarding all the rest as outsiders whom his wise comrade and himself were studying.

"Tell me, Mouse dear, why do you like the people here? The peepul, I mean. They don't seem so very remarkable. Enlighten poor Istra."

"Well, they're awful kind. I've always lived in a house where the folks didn't hardly know each other at all, except Mrs.

Zapp--she was the landlady--and I didn't like her very much.

But here Tom Poppins and Mrs. Arty and--the rest--they really like folks, and they make it just like a home.... Miss Croubel is a very nice girl. She works for Wanamacy's--she has quite a big job there. She is a.s.sistant buyer in the--"

He stopped in horror. He had nearly said "in the lingery department." He changed it to "in the clothing department," and went on, doubtfully: "Mr. Duncan is a traveling-man. He's away on a trip."

"Which one do you play with? So Nelly likes to--well, make b'lieve--'magine?"

"How did you--"

"Oh, I watched her looking at you. I think she's a terribly nice pink-face. And just now you're comparing her and me."

"Gee!" he said.

She was immensely pleased with herself. "Tell me, what do these people think about; at least, what do you talk about?"

"_Say!_"

"'S-s-s-h! Not so loud, my dear."

"Say, I know how you mean. You feel something like what I did in England. You can't get next to what the folks are thinking, and it makes you sort of lonely."

"Well, I--"

Just then Tom Poppins rolled jovially up to the couch. He had carried his many and perspiring pounds over to Third Avenue because Miss Proudfoot reflected, "I've got a regular sweet tooth to-night." He stood before Istra and Mr. Wrenn theatrically holding out a bag of chocolate drops in one hand and peanut brittle in the other; and grandiloquently:

"Which shall it be, your Highness? n.o.body loves a fat man, so he has to buy candy so's they'll let him stick around. Le's see; you take chocolates, Bill. Name your drink, Miss Nash."

She looked up at him, gravely and politely--too gravely and politely. She didn't seem to consider him a nice person.

"Neither, thank you," sharply, as he still stood there.

He moved away, hurt, bewildered.

Istra was going on, "I haven't been here long enough to be lonely yet, but in any case--" when Mr. Wrenn interrupted:

"You've hurt Tom's feelings by not taking any candy; and, gee, he's awful kind!"

"Have I?" mockingly.

"Yes, you _have_. And there ain't any too many kind people in this world."

"Oh yes, of course you' re right. I _am_ sorry, really I am."

She dived after Tom's retreat and cheerfully addressed him:

"Oh, I do want some of those chocolates. Will you let me change my mind? Please do."

"Yes _ma'am_, you sure can!" said broad Tom, all one pleased chuckle, poking out the two bags.

Istra stopped beside the Five-Hundred table to smile in a lordly way down at Mrs. Arty and say, quite humanly:

"I'm so sorry I can't play a decent game of cards. I'm afraid I'm too stupid to learn. You are very lucky, I think."

Mr. Wrenn on the couch was horribly agitated.... Wasn't Istra coming back?

She was. She detached herself from the hubbub of invitations to learn to play Five Hundred and wandered back to the couch, murmuring: "Was bad Istra good? Am I forgiven? Mouse dear, I didn't mean to be rude to your friends."

As the bubbles rise through water in a cooking-pot, as the surface writhes, and then, after the long wait, suddenly the water is aboil, so was the emotion of Mr. Wrenn now that Istra, the lordly, had actually done something he suggested.

"Istra--" That was all he could say, but from his eyes had gone all reserve.

Her glance back was as frank as his--only it had more of the mother in it; it was like a kindly pat on the head; and she was the mother as she mused:

"So you _have_ missed me, then?"

"Missed you--"

"Did you think of me after you came here? Oh, I know--I was forgotten; poor Istra abdicates to the pretty pink-face."

"Oh, Istra, _don't_. I--can't we just go out for a little walk so--so we can talk?"

"Why, we can talk here."

"Oh, gee!--there's so many people around.... Golly! when I came back to America--gee!--I couldn't hardly sleep nights--"

From across the room came the boisterous, somewhat coa.r.s.e-timbred voice of Tom, speaking to Nelly:

"Oh yes, of course you think you're the only girl that ever seen a vodville show. _We_ ain't never seen a vodville show. Oh no!"

Nelly and Miss Proudfoot dissolved in giggles at the wit.

Mr. Wrenn gazed at them, detached; these were not his people, and with startled pride he glanced at Istra's face, delicately carven by thought, as he stumbled hotly on.

"--just couldn't sleep nights at all.... Then I got on the job...."

"Let's see, you're still with that same company?"

"Yes. Souvenir and Art Novelty Company. And I got awfully on the job there, and so I managed to forget for a little while and--"