Revelations of a Wife Part 33

Dr. Pett.i.t must have made a record journey, for the door bell signalled his arrival only a few moments after Mother Graham's message.

He gave my throat one swift, shrewd glance, then turned to his small valise and drew from it a stick, some absorbent cotton and a bottle of dark liquid. With swift, sure movements he prepared a swab, and turned to me.

"Open your mouth again," he said gently, but peremptorily.

I obeyed him, and the antiseptic bathed the swollen tonsils surely and skilfully.

As I swayed, almost staggered, in the spasm of coughing and choking which followed, I felt the strong, sure support of his arm touching my shoulders, of his hand grasping mine.

"Now lie down," he commanded gently, when the paroxysm was over. He drew the covers over me himself, lifted my head and shoulders gently with one hand, while with the other he raised the pillows to the angle he wished. Then he turned to my mother-in-law.

"She has a bad case of tonsilitis, but there is no danger," he said quietly, utterly ignoring her rudeness at the time of his last visit.

"I will stay until I have swabbed her throat again. She is to have these pellets," he handed her a bottle of pink tablets, "once every fifteen minutes until she has taken four, then every hour until midnight. Let her sleep all she can and keep her warm. I would like two hot water bags filled, if you please, and a gla.s.s of water. She must begin taking these tablets as soon as possible."

As my mother-in-law left the room to get the things he wished, Dr.

Pett.i.t came back to the bedside and stood looking down at me.

"Where is your husband?" he asked, a note of sternness in his voice.

I shook my head. I was just nervous and sick enough to feel the question keenly. I could not restrain the foolish tears which rolled slowly down my cheeks.

Dr. Pett.i.t took his handkerchief and wiped them away. Then he said in almost a whisper:

"Poor little girl! How I wish I could bear the pain for you!"

XXIII

"BLUEBEARD'S CLOSET"

My recovery from the attack of tonsilitis, thanks to Dr. Pett.i.t's remedies, was almost as rapid as the seizure had been sudden.

My mother-in-law, forgetting her own invalidism, carried out the physician's directions faithfully. The choking sensation in my throat gradually lessened, until by midnight I was able to go to sleep.

I have no idea when d.i.c.ky came home from his "impromptu studio party."

His mother, whose deftness, efficiency and unexpected tenderness surprised me, arranged a bed for him on the couch in the living room, and I did not hear him come in at all.

"My poor little sweetheart!" This was his greeting the next morning.

"If I had only known you were ill the old blow-out could have gone plump. It was a stupid affair, anyway. Had a rotten time."

"It doesn't matter, d.i.c.ky," I said wearily, and closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. I knew d.i.c.ky was puzzled by my manner, for I could feel him silently watching me for several minutes. Then evidently satisfied that I was really sleeping he tiptoed out of the room, and a little later I heard him depart for his studio, first cautioning his mother to call him if I needed him.

I spent a most miserable day after d.i.c.ky had left, in spite of my mother-in-law's tender care and Katie's a.s.siduous attentions. The studio party, of which I was sure Grace Draper was a member, rankled as did anything connected with this student model of d.i.c.ky's. The memory of the village gossip concerning her friends.h.i.+p for my husband which I had heard in Marvin troubled me, while even d.i.c.ky's solicitude for my illness seemed to my overwrought imagination to be forced, artificial.

His exclamation, "My poor little sweetheart!" did not ring true to me. I felt bitterly that there was more sincerity in Dr. Pett.i.t's low words of the day before: "Poor little girl, I wish I could bear this pain for you!" than in d.i.c.ky's protestations.

How genuinely troubled the tall young physician had been! How resentful of d.i.c.ky's absence from my bedside! How tender and strong in my paroxysms of choking! I felt a sudden added bitterness toward my husband that the memory of my suffering should have blended with it no recollection of his care, only the tender sympathy of a stranger.

But in two days I was my usual self again, ready for the arduous tasks of moving and settling.

Mother Graham and I spent a hectic day in the furniture and drapery shops, buying things to supplement her furniture and mine, which we had arranged to have sent to the Brennan house in Marvin. I found that her judgment as to values and fabrics was unerring. But her taste as to colors and designs frequently clashed with mine. Save for the fact that she became fatigued before we had finished our shopping, there would have been no individual touch of mine in our home. As it was, I was not sorry that she found herself too indisposed to go with me the second day, so that I had a chance to put something of my own individuality into the new furnis.h.i.+ngs.

Another two days in Marvin with the aid of a workman unpacking and arranging the crated furniture and our purchases, and the new home was ready to step into.

We were a gay little party as we went together through the house inspecting all the rooms. When we came to d.i.c.ky's, he barred us out.

"Now, remember, no stealing of keys and peering into Bluebeard's closet," said d.i.c.ky gayly, as he closed and locked the door of his room.

"You flatter yourself, sir." I swept him a low bow. "I really haven't the slightest curiosity about your old room."

"Sour grapes," he mocked, and then impressively, "And no matter what packages or furniture come here for me they are not to be unwrapped.

Just leave them on the porch, or in the library until I come home."

"I wouldn't touch one of them with a pair of tongs," I a.s.sured him.

"See that you don't," he returned, hanging the key up, and hastily kissing me. "Now I've got to run for it."

He hurried down the stairs and out of the front door. I stood looking after him with a smile of tender amus.e.m.e.nt.

The day after d.i.c.ky's purchases arrived he rose early.

"No studio for me today," he announced. "Can you get hold of that man who helped you clean up here? I want an able-bodied man for several hours today."

"I think so," I returned quietly, and going to the telephone, soon returned with the a.s.surance that William-of-the-wide-grin would shortly be at the house.

"That's fine," commented d.i.c.ky. "And now I want you and mother to get out of the way after breakfast. Go for a walk or a drive or anything go you are not around. I want to surprise you this afternoon. I'll bet that room will make your eyes stick out when you see it."

I had a wonderful tramp through the woods, enjoying it so much that it was after four o'clock when I finally returned home. d.i.c.ky greeted me exuberantly.

"Come along now," he commanded, rus.h.i.+ng me upstairs. "Come, mother!"

The elder Mrs. Graham appeared at the door of her room, curiosity and disapproval struggling with each other in her face. But curiosity triumphed. With a protesting snort she followed us to the door of the locked room. d.i.c.ky unlocked the door with a flourish and stood aside for us to enter.

I gasped as I caught my first sight of the transformed room. d.i.c.ky had not exaggerated--it was wonderful.

The paper had been taken from the walls, and they and the ceiling had been painted a soft gray with just a touch of blue in its tint. The woodwork was ivory-tinted throughout, while the floor was painted a deeper shade of the gray that covered the walls.

Almost covering the floor was a gorgeous Chinese rug with wonderful splashes of blue through it. I knew it must be an imitation of one costing a fortune, but I realized that d.i.c.ky must have paid a pretty penny even for the counterfeit, for the coloring and design were cleverly done.

The blue of the rug was reproduced in every detail of the room. The, window, draperies, of thin, Oriental fabric, had bands of Chinese embroidered silk cunningly sewed on them. These bands carried out in the azure groundwork and the golden threads the motif of the rug. The cus.h.i.+ons, which were everywhere in evidence, were made of the same embroidered silk which banded the window draperies, while blue strips of the same material were thrown carelessly over a teakwood table and, a chest of drawers.

A chaise lounge of bamboo piled with cus.h.i.+ons stood underneath the windows, which commanded a view of the rolling woodland and meadows I had found so beautiful. Three chairs of the same material completed the furnis.h.i.+ngs of the room, save for a wonderful Chinese screen reaching almost from the ceiling to the floor, which hid a single iron bed, painted white, of the type used in hospitals, a small bureau, also painted white, and a shaving mirror.

"Don't want any junk about my sleeping quarters," d.i.c.ky explained, as I looked behind the screen.

"Well, what do you think of it?" he demanded at last, in a hurt tone, as I finished my inspection of the walls, which were almost covered with the originals of d.i.c.ky's best magazine ill.u.s.trations, framed in narrow, black strips of wood.