Who Cares? A Story of Adolescence by Cosmo Hamilton
V
At the moment when the Nice Boy, as brown as the proverbial berry, wasplaying a round of golf with Joan within sound of the sea, HowardOldershaw, his cousin, drove up to the little house in East Sixty-fifthStreet to see Martin.
He, too, had caught the sun, and his round fat face was rounder andfatter than ever. He, too, had the epitome of health, good nature, andmisdirected energy. He performed a brief but very perfect doubleshuffle on the top step while waiting for the door to open, and thenbarged past the constitutionally unsurprised man servant, sang out aloud woo-hoo and blew into the library like an equinoctial gale.
Pipe in mouth, and wearing a thin silk dressing gown, Martin wasstanding under the portrait of his father. He slipped something quicklyinto his pocket and turned about. It was a photograph of Joan.
"Well, you Jack-o'-Lantern," he said. "It's better late than never, Isuppose."
Howard sent his straw hat spinning across the room. It landed expertlyin a chair. "My dear chap, your note's been lying in my apartment for aweek, snowed under my bills. I drove back this morning, washed thebricks out of my eyes and came right around. What are you grumblingabout?"
"I'm not grumbling. When you didn't show up in answer to my note Itelephoned, and they told me you were away. Where've you been?"
"Putting in a week at the Field Club at Greenwich," replied Howard,filling a large cigarette case from the nearest box, as was his mostfriendly habit. "Two sweaters, tennis morning, noon and night, nosugar, no beer, no butter, no bread, gallons of hot water--and look atme! Martin, it's a tragedy. If I go on like this, it's me for Barnum'sCircus as the world's prize pig. What's the trouble?"
There was not the usual number of laughter lines round Martin's eyes,but one or two came back at the sight and sound of his exuberantfriend. "No trouble," he said, lying bravely. "I got here the day youleft and tried to find you. That's all. I wanted you to come down toShinnecock and play golf. Everybody else seems to be at Plattsburg, andI was at a loose end."
"Golf's no good to me. It wouldn't reduce me any more than playing thepiano with somebody dying in the next room. Been here all the week?"
"Yes," said Martin.
"What? In this fug hole, with the sun shining? Out with it, Martin. Getit off your chest, old son."
Just for an instant Martin was hugely tempted to make a clean breast ofeverything to this good-hearted, tempestuous person, under whose tightskin there was an uncommon amount of shrewdness. But it meant draggingJoan into open discussion, and that was all against his creed. He hadinherited from his father and his father's father an absoluteincapability of saying anything to anybody about his wife. And so heslammed the door of his soul and presented an enigmatical front.
"There's nothing on my chest," he said. "Business downtown has kept mehere,--legal stuff and that sort of thing. But I'm free now. Got anysuggestions?"
Howard accepted this. If a pal was determined not to confide and getinvaluable advice, what was the use of going for him with a can opener?But one good look at the face whose every expression he knew so wellconvinced him that something was very much the matter. "Why, goodLord," he said to himself, "the old thing looks as if he'd been workingnight and day for an examination and had been plucked. I wonder whichof the two girls is at the back of all this,--the wife or the other?"Rumors had reached his way about both.
"What do you want to do?" he asked.
"I don't care," said Martin. "Any damn thing so long as it's somethingwith somebody. What's it matter?"
He didn't quite manage to hide the little quiver in his voice, and itcame to Howard Oldershaw for the first time how young they both were tobe floundering on the main road, himself with several entanglements andmoney worries, his friend married and with another complication. Theywere both making a pretty fine hash of things, it seemed, and just fora moment, with something of boyishness that still remained behind hissophistication, he wished that they were both back at Yale, unhamperedand unencumbered, their days filled with nothing but honest sport andgood lectures and the whole joy of life.
"It's like this with me, Martin," he said, with a rather rueful grin."I'm out of favor at home just now and broke to the wide. There are oneor two reasons why I should lie low for a while, too. How about goingout to your place in the country? I'll hit the wily ball with you andexercise your horses, lead the simple life and, please God, lose someflesh, and guarantee to keep you merry and bright in my well-known,resilient way. What do you say, old son?"
Martin heartily appreciated Howard's sound method of swingingeverything round to himself and trying to make out that it was all onhis side to go out to the house in which Joan ought to be. He was not ahorseman or a golfer, and the simple life had few attractions for him.Well, that was friendship.
"Thanks, old man," he said. "That's you to the life, but I vote we geta change from golf and riding. Come down to Devon with me, and let's dosome sailing. You remember Gilmore? I had a letter from him thismorning, asking if I'd like to take his cottage and yawl. Does thatsound good?"
"Great," cried Howard. "Sailing--that's the game, and by gum,swimming's the best of all ways of dropping adipose deposit. WireGilmore and fix it. I'll drive you out to-morrow. By the way, I found aletter from my cousin Harry among the others. He's in that part of theworld. He's frightfully gone on your wife, it appears."
Martin looked up quickly. "Where is she?" he asked.
"Why, they're both staying at the Hosacks' place at Easthampton. Didn'tyou know that?" He was incredulous.
"No," said Martin.
Howard metaphorically clapped his hand over his mouth. Questions wereon the tip of his tongue. If Martin were not in the mood to take himinto his confidence, however, there must be a good reason for it,but,--not to know where his wife was! What on earth was at the bottomof all this? "All right," he said. "I've one or two things I must do,and I'll be round in the morning, or is that too soon?"
"The sooner the better," said Martin. "I'll send the cook and Judsondown by the early train. They'll have things in shape by the time weshow up. I'm fed up with New York and can smell the water already. Willyou dine with me to-night and see a show?"
"I can't," said Howard, and laughed.
"I see. To-morrow, then."
"Right. Great work. So long, old son. Get busy and do what you have todo to-day, then we can leave this frying pan to-morrow with nothing onour minds."
"I haven't anything to do," said Martin.
Howard picked up his hat and caught it with his head in the manner of avaudeville artist. But he didn't go. He stood waiting, keyed to a greatsympathy. There was something in Martin's voice and at the back of hiseyes which made him see him plainly and suddenly as a man standing allalone and wounded. But he waited in vain. There was a curioussilence,--a rather painful and embarrassing silence, during which thesetwo lads, who had been pretending to be men, dodged each other's eyes.
And then Howard, with an uncharacteristic awkwardness, and looking veryyoung, made a quick step forward, and with a sort of gentle roughnessgrasped Martin by the arm. "But you've got something to say," he said."Good God, man, have we been pals for nothing? I hide nothing from you.I can help."
But Martin shook his head. He tried to speak and failed. There wassomething hard in his throat. But he put his hand very warmly on hisfriend's shoulder for a moment and turned away abruptly. "Joan, Joan,"he cried in his heart, "what are you doing, what are we both doing? Whyare we killing the days that can never come back?"
He heard Howard go out. He heard the front door close and the honk ofthe horn. And for a long time he stood beneath the portrait of the manwho had gone so far away and who alone could have helped him.
The telephone bell rang.
Martin was spoken to by the girl that lived in the rabbit warren inWest Forty-sixth Street in the rooms below those of Tootles. "Can youcome round at once?" she asked. "It's about Tootles--urgent."
And Martin answered, "Yes, now, at once."
After all, then, there