Play the Game! by Ruth Comfort Mitchell
CHAPTER XII
They had a whole hour entirely to themselves and it went far towardrestoring the years that the locusts had eaten. It was characteristic ofthem both that they talked little, even after the long ache of silence.For Jimsy, it was enough to have her there, in his arms, utterly his--toknow that she had come to him alone and unafraid across land and sea;and for Honor the journey's end was to find him clear-eyed andclean-skinned and steady. Stephen Lorimer was right when he appliedGelett Burgess' "caste of the articulate" against them; they were verynearly of the "gagged and wordless folk." Yet their silence was a ratherfine thing in its way; it expressed them--their simplicity, their largefaith. It was not in them to make reproaches. It did not occur to Jimsyto say--"But why didn't you let me know you were coming?--At least youmight have let me have the comfort of knowing you were on this side ofthe ocean!" And Honor never dreamed of saying "But Jimsy,--to rush fromStanford down here without sending me a line!"
Therefore it was somewhat remarkable that it came out, in the briefspeeches between the long stillnesses, that Honor knew that Carter hadtelephoned to his mother as they passed through Los Angeles, and thatMrs. Van Meter had spoken of Honor's return, and she had naturallysupposed he would tell Jimsy; and that Jimsy had written her a ten pageletter, telling with merciless detail of the one wild party of protestin which he had taken part, of his horror and remorse, of hisdetermination to go to his people in Mexico and stay until he wascertain he had himself absolutely in hand and had made up his mind abouthis future.
"Well, it will be sent back to me from Florence," said Honor,contentedly.
"Funny it wasn't there almost as soon as you were--I sent it so longago!--The night after that party, and I didn't leave for over two weeks,and that makes it--well, anyhow, it's had time to be back. But itdoesn't matter now."
"No, it doesn't matter, now, Jimsy. I won't read it when it does come,because it's all ancient history--ancient history that--that neverreally happened at all! But I'm glad you wrote me, dear!" She rubbedher cheek against his bronzed face.
"Of course I'd tell you everything about it, Skipper."
"Of course you would, Jimsy."
They were just beginning to talk about the future--beyond hurrying backto Jimsy's father--when Carter came for them. He called to them beforehe came limping into the little cleared space, which was partly his tactin not wanting to come upon them unannounced, and partly because hedidn't want, for his own sake, to find them as he knew he would findthem, without warning. As a matter of fact, while Honor lifted her headwith its ruffled honey-colored braids from Jimsy's shoulder, he kept hisarm about her in brazen serenity.
Carter's eyes contracted for an instant, but he came close to them andheld out his hand. "Honor! This is glorious! But why didn't you wire andlet us meet you? We never dreamed of your coming! Of course, the matertold me you were on your way home, but I didn't tell old Jimsy here, aslong as you hadn't. I knew you meant some sort of surprise. I thoughthe'd hear from you from L. A. by any mail, now."
"Say, Cart', remember that long letter I wrote Skipper, the night afterthe big smear?"
"Surely I do," Carter nodded.
"Well, she never got it."
"It passed her, of course. It will come back,--probably follow her downhere."
"Oh, it'll show up sometime. I gave it to you to mail, didn't I?"
"Yes, I remember it distinctly, because it was the fattest one of yoursI ever handled."
He grinned ruefully. "Yep. Had a lot on my chest that night."
"Mrs. King thought you ought to rest before dinner, Honor."
"At least I ought to make myself decent!" She smoothed the collarJimsy's arms had crumpled, the hair his shoulder had rubbed from itssmooth plaits. "She must think I'm weird enough as it is!"
But the Richard Kings had lived long enough in the turbulent _tierracaliente_ to take startling things pretty much for granted. Honor'scoming was now a happily accepted fact. A cool, dim room had been madeready for her,--a smooth floor of dull red tiles, some astonishinglygood pieces of furniture which had come, Mrs. King told her when shetook her up, from the Government pawnshop in Mexico City and dated backto the brief glories of Maximilian's period, and a cool bath in a tintub.
"You are so good," said Honor. "Taking me in like this! It was adreadful thing to do, but--I had to come to him."
The Englishwoman put her hand on her shoulder. "My dear, it was atopping thing to do. I--" her very blue eyes were pools ofunderstanding. "I should have done it. And we're no end pleased to haveyou! We get fearfully dull, and three young people are a feast! We'llhave a lot of parties and divide you generously with our friends andneighbors--neighbors twenty miles away, my dear! We'll do sometheatricals,--Carter says your boy is quite marvelous at that sort ofthing."
"Oh, he _is,"_ said Honor, warmly, "but I'm afraid we ought to hurryback to his father!"
"I'll have Richard telegraph. Of course, if he's really bad, you'll haveto go, but we do want you to stay on!" She was moving about the bigroom, giving a brisk touch here and there. "Have your cold dip and restan hour, my dear. Dinner's at eight. Josita will come to help you." Sheopened the door and stood an instant on the threshold. Then she cameback and took Honor's face between her hands and looked long at her."You'll do," she said. "You'll do, my girl! There's no--no royal roadwith these Kings of ours--but they're worth it!" She dropped a briskkiss on the smooth young brow and went swiftly out of the room.
To the keen delight of the hosts there was a fourth guest at dinner, aman who was stopping at another _hacienda_ and had come in to tea andbeen cajoled into staying for dinner and the night. He was a personagefrom Los Angeles, an Easterner who had brought an invalid wife therefifteen years earlier, had watched her miraculous return to pink plumphealth and become the typical California-convert. He had established abranch of his gigantic business there and himself rolled semiannuallyfrom coast to coast in his private car. Honor and Jimsy were a littleawed by touching elbows with greatness but he didn't really bother themvery much, for they were too entirely absorbed in each other. He seemed,however, considerably interested in them and looked at them and listenedto them genially. The Kings were thirstily eager for news of thenorthern world; books, plays, games, people--they drank up names anddates and details.
"We must take a run up to the States this year," said Richard King.
"It would be jolly, old dear," said his wife, levelly, her wise eyes onhis steady hands. "If the coffee crop runs to it!"
"There you have it," he growled. "If the coffee crop is bad we can'tafford to go,--and if it's good we can't afford to leave it!"
"But we needn't mind when we've house parties like this! My word,Rich'--fancy having four house guests at one and the same blessed time!"She led the way into the long _sala_ for coffee.
"Yes,--isn't it great? Drink?" Richard King held up a half filleddecanter toward his guest.
The personage shook his head. "Not this weather, thanks. That enchantedwell of yours does me better. Wonderful water, isn't it?"
"Water's all right, but it's a deuce of a nuisance having to carry everydrop of it up to the house."
"Really? Isn't it piped?"
"Ah, but it will be one day, Rich'! I expect the first big coffee cropwill go there, rather than in a trip to the States. But it is rather abother, meanwhile."
"But you have no labor question here."
"Haven't we though? With old Diaz gone the old order is changed. Thisbunch I have here now are bad ones," King shook his head. "They mayrevolute any minute."
"Oh, Rich'--not really?"
"I daresay they'll lack the energy when it comes to a show-down,Madeline. But this man Villa is a picturesque figure, you know. Heappeals to the _peon_ imagination."
The guest was interested. "Yes. Isn't it true that there's a sort ofRobin Hood quality about him--steals from the rich to give to thepoor--that sort of thing?"
"That's more or less true, but the herd believes it utterly." He sighed."It was a
Jimsy King had been listening. "But, Uncle Rich', they _have_ had arotten deal, haven't they?"
His uncle shrugged. "Got to treat 'em like cattle, boy. It's what theyare."
"Well, it's what they'll always be if you keep on treating 'em thatway!" Jimsy spoke hotly and his uncle turned amused eyes on him.
"Don't let that Yaqui fill you up with his red tales!"
"But you'll admit the Yaquis have been abused?"
"Well, I believe they have. They're a cut above the _peon_ inintelligence and spirit. But--can't have omelette without breakingeggs." He turned again to his elder guest. "This boy here has beenpalling about with a Yaqui Indian he made me take in when he was herelast time."
The great man nodded. "Yes,--I've seen them together. Magnificentspecimen, isn't he?"
"They are wonderfully built, most of them. This chap was pretty badlyused by his master--they are virtually slaves, you know,--and bolted,and Jimsy found him one night----"
The boy got up and came over to them. "Starving, and almost dead withweakness and his wounds,--beaten almost to death and one of his earshacked off! And Uncle Rich' took him in and kept him for me."
His uncle grinned and flung an arm across his shoulder. "And had thedevil--and many _pesos_ to pay to the local _jefe_ and the naturallypeevish gentleman who lost him. But at that I'll have to admit he's thebest man on the _rancho_ to-day." He threw a teasing look at Honor,glowing and misty-eyed over Jimsy's championing of the oppressed. "Theonly trouble is, I suppose Jimsy will take him with him when he sets uphousekeeping for himself. What do you think, Maddy? Could Yaqui Juan betaught to buttle?"
"No butlers for us, Uncle Rich'!" Jimsy was red but unabashed. "We mightrent him for a movie star and live on his earnings. We aren't very clearyet as to what we _will_ live on!"
The personage looked at him gravely. "You are going to settle in LosAngeles?"
"_Yes!_" said Jimsy and Honor in a breath. The good new life comingwhich would be the good old life over again, only better!
"Oh," said Mrs. King, "I forgot,--I asked them to come up from thequarters and make music for you! They're here now! Look!" She went tothe window and the others followed. The garden was filled with vaguelyseen figures, massed in groups, and there was a soft murmur of voicesand the tentative strumming of guitars. "Shall we come out on theveranda? You'll want a _rebozo_, Honor,--the nights are sharp." Shecalled back to the serving woman. "Put out the lights, Josita."
They sat in the dusk and looked out into the veiled and shadowy spacesand the dim singers lifted up their voices. The moon would rise late;there was no light save the tiny pin points of the cigarettes; it gavethe music an elfin, eerie quality.
"Pretty crude after Italy, eh, Honor?" Richard King wanted to know.
"Oh, it's delicious, Mr. King! Please ask them to sing another!"
"May we have the _Golondrina_?" the eldest guest wanted to know.
"Well--how about it, Maddy? Think we're all cheerful enough? We knowthat two of us are! All right!" He called down the request and it seemedto Honor that a little quiver went through the singers in the shadow.The guitars broke into a poignant, sobbing melody.
"I don't know what the words mean," said the personage under his breath."I don't believe I want to know. I fancy every one fits his own words toit."
"Or his own need," said Richard King's wife. She slipped her hand intoher husband's. The melody rose and fell, sobbed and soared. Honor drewcloser to Jimsy and he put his arm about her and held her hard. "Yes,"he whispered. "I know." The man who had asked for _Golondrina_ sat withbent head and his cigar went out. Only Carter Van Meter, as once longago in Los Angeles, seemed unmoved, unstirred, scatheless.
There was a little silence after the music. Then the personage said,"You know, I fancy that's Mexico, that song!"
Jimsy King wheeled to face him through the dusk. "Yes, sir! It's true!That _is_ Mexico,--everything that's been done to her,--and everythingshe'll do, some day!"
"It's--beautiful and terrible," said Honor. "I had to keep tellingmyself that we are all safe and happy, and that nothing is going tohappen to us!"
Carter laughed and got quickly to his feet. "I suggest indoors andlights--and Honor! Honor must sing for us!"
She never needed urging; she sang as gladly as a bird on a bush. TheKings were parched for music; they begged for another and another. Shehad almost to reproduce her recital in Florence. Jimsy listened, raptand proud, and at the end he said--"Not too tired for one more, Skipper?Our song?"
"Never too tired for that, Jimsy!" She sat down again and struck herstepfather's ringing, rousing chords. Instantly it ceased, there in theroom, to be Mexico; it was as if a wind off the sea blew past them. Thefirst verse had them all erect in their chairs. She swung into thesecond, holding a taut rein on herself:
The sand of the desert is sodden red; Red with the wreck of a square that broke; The gatling's jammed and the colonel dead, And the regiment blind with dust and smoke: The River of Death has brimmed his banks; And England's far and Honor's a name, But the voice of a school boy rallies the ranks-- Play up! Play up! and--Play the Game!
Honor sat still at the piano. She did not mean to lift her eyes untilshe could be sure they would not run over. Why did that song alwayssweep her away so?--from the first moment Stepper had read her the wordsin the old house on South Figueroa Street, all those years ago? Why hadshe always the feeling that it had a special meaning for her and forJimsy--a warning, a challenge? Jimsy came over to stand beside her,comfortably silent, and then, surprisingly, the personage came to standbeside Jimsy.
"I've been wondering," he said, "if you hadn't better come in to see meone day, when we're all back in Los Angeles? You haven't any definiteplans for your future, have you?"
"No, sir," said Jimsy. "Only that I've got to get something--quick!" Helooked at Honor, listening star-eyed.
The great man smiled. "I see. Well, I think I can interest you. I'vewatched you play football, King. I played football, forty years ago. Ilike the breed. My boys are all girls, worse luck--though they're thefinest in the world----"
"Oh, _yes_," said Honor, warmly.
"But I like boys. And I like you, Jimsy King." He held out his hand."You come to me, and if you're the lad I think you are, you'll stay."
"Oh, I'll come!" Jimsy stammered, flushed and incoherent. "I'll come!I'll--I'll sweep out or scrub floors--or--or anything! But--I'm afraidyou don't----" he looked unhappily at Honor.
"Yes, Jimsy. He's got to know."
Jimsy King stood up very straight and tall. "You've got to know that Iwas kicked out of college two months ago, for marching in a paradeagainst----"
"For telling the truth," cried Honor, hot cheeked, "when a cowardly liewould have saved him!"
"But just the same, I was kicked out of college, and----"
"Lord bless you, boy," said the personage, and it was the first timethey had heard him laugh aloud, "I know you were! And that's one reasonwhy I want you. _So was I!_"