Belles on Their Toes (9 page)

She started to enumerate the arguments, counting them off on her fingers.

“If you smoke you’ll have a bad reputation. I hate to let go of that one, but I’ll have to admit it doesn’t apply any more. It’s a shame, too!

“It’s bad for your health. That’s open to debate. Not so bad as overeating, or not getting enough sleep.

“It stunts your growth. I doubt it, and anyway you’re both grown.

“It’s a filthy habit. It’s not, really. Not half so filthy as gossiping or collecting old match boxes.

“It’s expensive. There!” Mother beamed triumphantly. “There’s a good argument. It
is
expensive, and can we afford it?”

“We don’t buy them,” Anne said. “Our dates always have them.”

“There goes my last argument,” Mother smiled, spreading her hands. “We’ll just say that I don’t like it, but that it’s a prejudice. I don’t believe in prejudices, so go ahead and light up, if you want to.”

Anne fished the cigarettes and ashtray from under the bed, and offered one to Ernestine.

“Not right now,” said Ernestine, whose throat and stomach were beginning to feel uneasy. “I believe my craving has been satisfied for this year—probably until I go to college.”

Anne helped herself to one, lighted it, and blew self-conscious smoke rings at the ceiling.

“Where are your manners?” Mother asked. “Aren’t you going to pass them to everybody? It looks as if it might be fun!”

“No, sir,” Ernestine protested.

“Oh, no you don’t,” said Anne, putting the cigarette package behind her back. “I’ve led one member of the family astray today. I’m not going to be responsible for anyone else’s downfall.”

Reluctantly, Anne stubbed out her smoke.

“That’s my last—if you’ll excuse the word—ciggie until I get back to college,” she declared. “The first thing you know, Jane might be smoking cigars. I believe it’d be safer to smoke in a nitroglycerine factory than around this house.”

WITH MORTON
at her disposal, Anne’s social life was pretty well taken care of for the remainder of the summer. She still didn’t like him very well, but nothing better came along, and he did have a Hupmobile and a motorboat.

Ernestine searched diligently, but didn’t find a man until a week before the summer was over. Then she kept him a dark secret.

His name was Al Lynch, and he had a summer job down at the grocery store, where Ern had met him when she did the shopping. He was big, hearty, loud-talking and collegiate—a little too collegiate. He wore a wooly crimson sweater which sported a green block “S” letter and a bejeweled fraternity pin as large as a fifty cent piece.

All of us had seen Al, at one time or another, in the store, and he was not the sort of chap that one would easily overlook. Of all the sheiks on the island, his hair was the greasiest, his trousers-cuffs the widest, his fraternity pin the biggest, his football letter the flashiest, and his sweater the loudest.

He wasn’t exactly handsome, but his features were perfect, and he was sure he had a way with women.

We knew Ernestine was dating somebody that last week, because she had deserted Anne’s beach crowd and spent hours rolling up her hair after supper. But she didn’t go out at night, and he never came to call. We didn’t know until later that he worked nights checking stock, but had most of the mornings off.

Morton and four or five of Martha’s ever-present and ever-neglected beaux were on the dock to see us off for Montclair. This time there was no funny business about half-fare tickets, with Mother in charge. Tom, Frank, and the pets had left a couple of days before, so that Tom could get the house opened.

Anne allowed Morton to peck her on the cheek, which Mother pretended not to notice. Martha shook hands with her boys, and even condescended to clap them on the back.

Then we noticed Ernestine and Al. They were holding hands, both hands, and looking into each other’s eyes. The green “S” was still sewed securely to Al’s crimson sweater, but the fraternity pin was gone.

Ernestine finally tore herself loose from him. Agnes Ayres, taking leave of Rudolph Valentino to return to the old lecher she was being forced to marry because of his money, never played the scene any better.

“Wow,” shouted Bill. “Look at that hog dog in the sweater.”

“Isn’t that the boy who works at the grocery store?” Mother asked Anne. “How long has she been going with him?”

Half-way up the gangplank, Ernestine turned around, ran to Al, and flung herself into his arms. Miss Ayres never played that scene any better, either.

Even Mother was too surprised and shocked to make believe she hadn’t noticed
that.
Ernestine tore herself loose again, and raced radiantly up the gangplank.

“I don’t think that sort of thing ought to be done in public, dear,” Mother admonished her when she was safely aboard. Mother seldom took any of us to task before the other children, but it seemed time for an exception.

“Or in private either,” Anne agreed. “The idea—a girl your age.”

“I know it,” Ernestine said, throwing back her head and looking at the clouds. “I didn’t intend to do it. I tried not to do it. But there was something like a powerful magnet pulling me back to his heart.”

“So that’s what that green thing shaped like an ‘S’ is,” Anne scoffed. “A magnet. Does it light up?”

“Jealousy,” intoned Ernestine, still looking at the clouds, “ill becomes you, you unfortunate wench whose troth is all but plighted to a beanpole.”

“Becomes me ill is right,” said Anne. “Me becomes very ill—sick to my stomach.”

Mother shooed the younger children away.

“I’m sure he’s a lovely boy,” she told Ernestine.

Anne hooted. “You can tell he thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”

“You just can’t bear to see your younger sister engaged before you are, can you?” Ernestine snapped, coming down from the clouds and looking Anne squarely in the eye.

“Engaged?” Mother almost shouted. “Do you mean to tell me that you and that … I’m sure he’s a lovely boy,” she repeated quickly.

Ernestine pulled back her topcoat, and there was the fraternity pin.

“I never saw such a big one,” Anne admitted. “If you had another just like it, you wouldn’t need to wear anything else above the waist. What’s the fraternity?”

“Tau Tau Tau,” Ernestine said proudly.

“Never heard of it. And what high school is the ‘S’ for?”

“You know perfectly well it’s not for any high school,” Ernestine hollered. “Make her stop, Mother.”

“Sometimes I think I can’t make any of you stop anything,” Mother sighed.

“Excuse me,” Anne said. “What institution of higher learning is the two-foot ‘S’ for?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Al is twenty-one, and a junior at Sagiwan Agricultural and Technical College. I suppose you never heard of that, either?”

“Did you?” Anne asked.

“Everyone knows about Sagiwan Agricultural. Just because it’s not full of snobs like Amherst and Harvard and Princeton.”

“A Tau Tau Tau at Saggie Aggie,” said Anne, shaking her head. “Saggie Aggie. It’s got a catchy sound—sort of Indian, and sort of like a fat woman who needs a corset.”

“I think,” said Ernestine, bursting into tears, “that you’re the most hateful person in the world. I really do.”

“Gosh, can’t you take a little kidding?”

“You and Martha both having the time of your lives all summer,” sobbed Ernestine. “And finally … and finally …”

“I’m sorry,” Anne choked, putting her arm around Ernestine’s waist. “After all, as you say, that Morton isn’t any rose. He’s sure a beanpole, isn’t he? And Al is cute, all right, I’ve got to admit that.”

“Do you really think so?” asked Ernestine, blowing her nose.

“Gosh, yes!” Anne fibbed.

“Where does he live, dear?” Mother asked.

“In upper New York State. Why does everything have to happen to me, Mother?” she sniffed. “Just as vacation is over, it has to happen to me. Now I won’t see him again until the Christmas holidays.”

“Christmas holidays?” Mother asked.

“I’m going to meet him in New York,” Ernestine said. “He’s coming down especially.”

“Maybe he could come to visit us during the holidays,” Mother suggested.

“Could he?” Ern shouted ecstatically, hugging Mother. “Do you think he could?”

“I don’t see why not,” Mother said. “After all, if you’re going to marry him, I’d like to meet him first.”

“Oh, I guess we’ll never get married,” Ern said gaily. “Just engaged. Al says he’s not the marrying kind. Al says why buy a cow, when milk’s so cheap.”

“Why, where does he think …” Anne began.

“It would be fine if he could come,” Mother interrupted. “Much better than your meeting him in New York. He sounds, well, very interesting, dear.”

“Gee, he sure is,” Ernestine agreed. “Will you loan me your pen? I’m going to write him right now and invite him.”

Ernestine went into the lounge, and Anne and Mother exchanged knowing glances.

“Do you know what I think?” Anne teased her. “I think you’re a scheming woman. I can see right through you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mother grinned sheepishly.

8.
Shopping Tour

E
VERY AUTUMN MOTHER TOOK
the boys into New York on a shopping trip, to get them clothes for the coming year. This year, to save time she decided to get the shopping out of the way as we passed through the city, en route from Nantucket to Montclair.

The trip to New York was accomplished relatively painlessly. Anne took the girls, including a moon-eyed Ernestine, who almost had to be led by the hand, on to Montclair. Then Mother and the boys headed for a department store that was featuring a back-to-school sale.

Mother believed that self-expression was essential to a child’s development, and always gave us a free hand in picking our clothes. She might advise, but she never vetoed.

Before leaving Nantucket, Ernestine, as chairman of the purchasing committee, had inventoried the condition of the boys’ clothes, and had given Mother a list of requirements.

It was decided that each boy would get one new suit, and also would be handed down a suit from the brother immediately above him in the age scale. Frank, being the oldest and not in line for a hand-down, would get two new suits. New shirts, ties, socks, underwear and shoes—which seldom lasted long enough to be handed down—also were needed by all the boys.

Frank was in Montclair with Tom, so he wasn’t included on the shopping trip. Mother thought that, being thirteen, he was old enough to get his own clothes, anyway.

In the subway on the way uptown from Barclay Street, the boys agreed that any suit bought would have to please not only its immediate possessor, but the next youngest brother who would be its ultimate owner.

It was still early when they arrived at the store, and the boys’ department was nearly deserted. A middle-aged salesman, pleased at the prospect of starting the day with such a large group of potential customers, hurried up to Mother. He was precise, plump, and wore a hearing aid, which fitted over his head earphones-fashion.

“Hello there, fellows,” he said heartily, in a tone designed to show that he was nothing but a great big boy himself. “Well, school’s about to start, eh? I know you’re all looking forward to it.” He laughed and rumpled Bob’s head, and Bob hid behind Mother.

“What will it be this morning?” the salesman asked Mother hopefully, “suits for all the boys?”

“Yes, please,” said Mother, while the salesman, obviously figuring that this was his lucky day, beamed happily.

Mother reached into her briefcase-sized pocketbook, pulled out two blueprints, the first draft of a speech she was writing, a copy of the magazine
Iron Age
, a shawl she was crocheting for her mother, some socks she had darned on the boat, and finally her black note book. There is never anything very efficient about Mother’s pocketbook.

“Let’s see,” she said,” reading from Ernestine’s list, “five suits, fifteen neckties, twenty suits of underwear, twenty-five pairs of socks, twenty shirts, and five pairs of shoes.”

“Yes, Madam,” smiled the salesman. It was a big, sincere smile, which was fortunate, because it was his last until the boys departed, and possibly his last for a matter of weeks.

“Do they let him play that radio when he’s supposed to be working?” Dan asked Mother.

“That’s not a radio, dear,” said Mother, who was embarrassed but believed in answering all questions from the floor. “It’s a hearing aid. So of course, it’s not polite to talk about it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Dan, and then whispering, “What’s a hearing aid?”

“He’s a little deaf, dear,” Mother whispered back. “So don’t say anything more about it.”

“What did she say?” Fred and Jack whispered to Dan.

“Deaf as a doornail,” Dan whispered back. “Don’t make him feel bad about it.”

“If you fellows will step this way,” said the salesman, “I think we can find something.”

“We don’t want to pay more than $17.50 for the suits,” said Bill, who had been coached by the girls. “And we want them with two pairs of knickers.”

Fred nudged Bill and whispered: “Deaf.”

“We don’t want to pay more than $17.50 for the suits,” Bill shouted, as loud as he could.

“I know you don’t, Sonny,” the salesman said patiently. “I heard you. You don’t really have to shout.”

“I’m sorry,” said Bill, glaring at Fred.

“Look, fellows,” the man said. “It’s all right about the hearing aid. Lots of boys ask about it. I’m going to show you how it works.”

He explained that he kept dry cell batteries in his hip pocket, and showed the boys the volume-control rheostat in the side pocket of his coat.

“Now let’s get down to business, fellows,” he said, swinging out a rack of clothes. He turned to Mother. “We have a special sale on this group, Madam.”

“How much?” said Bill.

“These have been marked down from $30,” the salesman continued, ignoring Bill, “and they’re a real buy, Madam.”

“How much?” said Bill.

“They’re $19.50,” he admitted, glaring.

“I’m afraid that’s too much, sir,” Bill said. “We want something cheaper.”