The Indifference of Juliet Part 24

Juliet glanced toward a mirror opposite. "How old and haggard I must be looking," she observed, with--it must be confessed--a touch of complacency. The woman who could have seen that image reflected as her own without complacency must have been indifferent, indeed.

"Of course, you manage it somehow--I suppose because Anthony takes such care of you. But you wait till five years more have gone over your head, and see if you're not tired of it."

"If I'm as tired of it as you are--" began Juliet, and stopped. "But seriously, Judith, is it nothing to you to please Wayne?"

"Why, of course." Judith flushed. "But Wayne is satisfied."

"Are you sure of it?"

"Certainly. Oh, sometimes, when we go to see you, and you make things so pleasant with your big fire and your good things to eat, he gets a spasm of wis.h.i.+ng we were by ourselves, but----"

Juliet shook her head. "Wayne doesn't say a word," she said, "and he's as devoted to you as a man can be. But, Judith, if I know the symptoms, that husband of yours is starving for a home, and--do I dare say it?"

Judith was staring out of the window at the ugly walls opposite. It was her bedroom window, and the opposite walls were not six feet away.

"I suppose you dare say anything," she answered, looking as if she were about to cry. "I'm sure I envy you, you're so supremely contented. I don't think I was made to care for children."

"That might come," said Juliet softly. "I'm sure it would, Judith. As for Wayne, if you could see the look on his face I've surprised there more than once, when he had little Anthony, and he thought n.o.body noticed, it would make your heart ache, dear. Don't deny him--or yourself--the best thing that can happen to either of you. At least, don't deny it for lack of a home. I'm sure I can't imagine Tony, Junior, in these rooms of yours.

They don't look," she explained, smiling, "exactly babyish."

She rose to go. She looked so young and fair and sweet as she spoke her gentle homily that Judith, half doubting, half believing, admitted to herself that of one thing there could be no question: Mrs. Anthony Robeson envied n.o.body upon the face of the earth.

The visits of the Robesons to the various apartments which were in rotation occupied by the Careys were few. Somehow it seemed much easier and simpler for the pair who had no children, and no housekeeping to hamper them, to run out into the suburbs than for their friends to get into town. So the Careys came with ever increasing frequency, always warmly welcomed, and enjoyed the hours within the little house so thoroughly that in time the influence of the content they saw so often began to have its inevitable effect.

"I've great news for you," said Anthony, coming home one March day, when little Tony was nearing his second birthday. "It's about the Careys.

Guess."

"They are going to housekeeping."

"How did you know?"

"I didn't know, but Judith told me weeks ago she supposed she should have to come to it. Have they found a house?"

"Carey thinks he has. Judith doesn't like the place, for about fifty good and sufficient reasons--to her. He's trying to persuade her. He has an option on it for ten days. He wants us to come out and look at it with them."

"Where is it?"

"About as far east of the city as we are north. If to-morrow is a good day I promised we would run out with them on the ten-fifteen. I suspect they need us badly. Wayne looks like a man distracted. The great trouble, I fancy, is going to be that Judith Dearborn Carey is still too much of a Dearborn to be able to make a home out of anything. And Carey can't do it alone."

"Indeed he can't, poor fellow. I never saw a man in my life who wanted a home as badly as Wayne does. Let's do our best to help them."

"We will. But the only way to do it thoroughly is to make Judith over.

Even you can't accomplish that."

"There's hope, if she has agreed at all to trying the experiment," Juliet declared, and thought about her friends all the rest of the day.

It was but five minutes' walk, from the suburban station where the party got off next morning, to the house which Carey eagerly pointed out as the four approached.

"There it is," he said. "Don't tell me what you think of it till you've seen the whole thing. I know it doesn't look promising as yet, but I keep remembering the photographs of your home, Robeson, before you went at it.

I'm inclined to think this can be made right, too."

Anthony and Juliet studied Carey's choice with interest. Judith looked on dubiously. It was plain that if she should consent it would be against her will.

"It looks so commonplace and ugly," she said aside to Juliet, as the four completed the tour around the house and prepared to enter. "Your home is old-fas.h.i.+oned enough to be interesting, but this is just modern enough to be ugly. Look at that big window in front with the cheap coloured gla.s.s across the top. What could you do with that?"

"Several things," said her friend promptly. "You might put in a row of narrow cas.e.m.e.nt windows across the front, with diamond panes. No--the porch isn't attractive with all that gingerbread work, but you could take it away and have something plain and simple. The general lines of the house are not bad. It has been an old-fas.h.i.+oned house, Judith, but somebody who didn't know how has altered it and spoiled it. People are always doing that. There must have been a fanlight over this door. You could restore it. And do you see that quaint round window in the gable?

Probably they looked at that and longed to do away with it, but happily for you didn't know how."

Carey glanced curiously at his friend's wife, then anxiously at his own.

Juliet's face was alight with interest; Judith's heavy with dissatisfaction. He wondered for the thousandth time what made the difference. He would have given a year's salary to see Judith look interested in this desire of his heart. It was hard to push a thing like this against the will of the only person whose help he could not do without. Carey was determined to have the home. Even Judith acknowledged that she had not been happy in any of the seven apartments they had tried during the less than four years of their married life. Carey believed with all his heart that their only chance for happiness lay in getting away from a manner of living which was using up every penny he could earn without giving them either satisfaction or comfort. His salary would not permit him to rent the sort of thing in the sort of neighbourhood which Judith longed for. And if it should, he did not believe his wife would find such environments any more congenial than the present one. Carey had a theory that a woman, like a man, must be busy to be contented. He meant to try it with his handsome, discontented wife.

"Oh, what a pretty hall!" cried Mrs. Robeson, with enthusiasm. "How lucky that the vandals who made the house over didn't lay their desecrating hands on that staircase."

"The hall looks gloomy to me," said Mrs. Carey, with a disapproving glance at the walls.

"Of course--with that dingy brown paper and the woodwork stained that hideous imitation of oak. You can sc.r.a.pe all that off, paint it white, put on a warm, rich paper, restore your fanlight, and you'll have a particularly attractive hall."

"I wish I could see things that are not visible, as you seem to be able to," sighed Judith, looking unconvinced. "I never did like a long, straight staircase like that. And there's not room to make a turn."

"You don't want to, do you? It's so wide and low it doesn't need to turn, and the posts and rails are extremely good. How about this front room?"

She stood in the center of the front room, and the two men, watching her vivid face as it glowed above her furs, noting the capable, womanly way she had of looking at the best side of everything and discerning in a flash of imagination and intuition what could be done with unpromising material, appreciated her with that full masculine appreciation which it is so well worth the trouble of any woman to win.

Judith was not blind; she saw little by little as Juliet went from room to room--seizing in each upon its possibilities, ignoring its poorer features except to suggest their betterment, giving her whole-hearted, friendly counsel in a way which continually took the prospective homemakers into consideration--that she herself was losing something immeasurably valuable in not attempting to cultivate these same winning characteristics. And in the same breath Judith was forced to admit to herself that she did not know how to begin.

"There is really a very pretty view from the dining-room," she said, as a first effort at seeing something to admire. Both Juliet and Anthony agreed to this statement with a cordiality which came very near suggesting that it was a relief to find Mrs. Carey on the optimistic side of the discussion even in this small detail. As for Carey, he looked so surprised and grateful that Judith's heart smote her with a vigour to which she was unaccustomed.

"I suppose you could use this room as a sort of den?" she was prompted to suggest to her husband; and such a delighted smile illumined Carey's face that the sight of it was almost pathetic to his friends, who understood his situation rather better than he did himself. In his pleasure Carey put his arm about his wife's shoulders.

"Couldn't I, though?" he agreed enthusiastically. "And you could use it for a retreat while I was away for the day."

"A retreat from what? Too much excitement?" began Judith, the old habit of scorn of everything which was not of the city returning upon her irresistibly. But it chanced that she caught Juliet's eyes, unconsciously wearing such an expression of solicitude to see her friend complaisant in this matter which meant so much, that Judith hurriedly followed her ironic question with the more kindly supplement: "But doubtless I should have plenty, and be glad to get away."

"You certainly would," a.s.serted Anthony. "We never guessed how much there would be to occupy us in the country, but there seems hardly time to write letters. n.o.body can believe, till he tries, how much pleasure there is in wheedling a garden into growing, nor how well the labour makes him sleep o' nights."

"Yes--I think I could sleep here," said Carey, and pa.s.sed a hand over a brow which was aching at that very moment. "I haven't done that satisfactorily for six months."

"You'll do it here," Anthony prophesied confidently. "It's a fine air with a good breath of the salt sea in it, which we don't get. Your sleeping rooms are all well aired and lighted--a thing you don't always find in more pretentious houses. And when the paint and paper go on you'll own yourselves surprised at the transformation. I was never so astonished in my life as I was at the change in the little bedroom in our house which has that pale yellow-and-white stripe on the wall. It was a north room, and the old wall was a forlorn slate, like a thundercloud. My little artist here, with her eye for colours, instantly announced that she would get the suns.h.i.+ne into that room. And so she did--with no more potent a charm than that fifteen-cent paper and a fresh coat of white paint."

Carey looked at Juliet with longing in his eye. He wanted to ask her to supervise the alterations in his purchase, if he should make it. But he remembered other occasions when he had held the sayings and doings of Mrs.

Robeson before the eyes of Mrs. Carey with disastrous result, and he dared not make the suggestion. He hoped, however, that Judith might be inclined to ask the a.s.sistance of her friend, and himself hinted at it, cautiously.

But Judith, beyond inquiring what Juliet thought of certain possible changes, seemed inclined to shoulder her own responsibilities.

Anthony left his wife upon the home-bound train, to return to his work; the Careys accompanied him, so that he had no chance to talk things over until he came home to dinner at night. But when he saw Juliet again almost her first words showed him where her thoughts were.

"Tony, I can't get those people off my mind. Do you suppose they will ever make a home out of anything?"

"They haven't much genius for utilizing raw material, I'm very much afraid," Anthony responded thoughtfully. "Carey has the will, and he can furnish a moderate amount of funds, but whether Judith can furnish anything but objections and contrariety I don't dare to predict. If her heart were in it I should have more hope of her. There's one thing I can tell her. If she doesn't set her soul to the giving the old boy a taste of peace and rest she'll have him worn out before his time. A fellow who doesn't know how it feels to sleep soundly, and whose head bothers him half the time, needs looking after. He's a slave to his office desk, and needs far more than an active chap like me to get out of the city as much as he can."