Crimson Roses (29 page)

But it was characteristic of Jennie that it vexed her to be taken by surprise. Although she had pictured a most undesirable brother-in-law, whose coming could but bring trouble and dissension to their home, she was annoyed that it had turned out otherwise than her prophecy, so that it was with an ill grace that she shook hands stiffly with Lyman and preceded him into the house, where she felt quite ill at ease. How was she to manage for this grand company with no one to help her? One could scarcely expect such a dressed-up minx of a Marion to help get dinner. It was just as she had expected, after all. Marion had arranged things so that she would have everything easy and be a lady living on her brother’s wife. She looked belligerently at the bride, who was surrounded again by the three adoring children, being freed of fur coat and chic hat and roses as fast as six little hands could accomplish it. Tom beamed joyously over the whole and loudly told his new brother-in-law to make himself at home at once. There seemed no place in the whole setting for the ill-used Jennie.

It was Marion whose sharp eyes saw and understood, and freeing herself from the little detaining hands, arose.

“Come, Jennie,” she cried, “get me an apron, and I’ll help get dinner. It was mean of us to come down upon you this way without a warning, but we were not quite sure whether we could get here so early; and, besides, I did enjoy surprising you so much. What a lovely, big house this is! I’m in a great hurry to see the whole of it. Is this the way to the kitchen? Come on and get me an apron.”

Jennie, somewhat mollified by the offer of help, followed her, protesting stiffly that she must not think of helping, but relieved, nevertheless, and more than curious about the bride’s attire, her husband, and, most of all, the car in which they had come.

“Where did you get it?” she demanded as soon as they reached the kitchen, her eyes meanwhile traveling over the bride’s clothing with comprehensive glance and resting scrutinizingly on the diamond that now guarded Marion’s wedding ring.

Marion, smiling, held out her hand.

“My ring, do you mean?” she said pleasantly. “Isn’t it beautiful? I never expected to have even the tiniest diamond, and to have this great beauty was wonderful. I was so surprised when he gave it to me.”

“No, I didn’t mean that,” said Jennie bluntly. “I hadn’t noticed that yet, though it’s big enough to see a mile off, goodness knows. Is it real?”

Marion felt indignant, but she managed to say, “Yes,” very gently, though she withdrew her hand from inspection. It seemed to desecrate her new joy to have unsympathetic eyes and tongue at work upon it. Perhaps pretty soon Jennie would ask whether Lyman’s love was genuine. She probably would if it occurred to her to do so. Marion shrank from the ordeal.

“It must have cost a lot of money if it’s real. In my opinion people better put their money away for a rainy day than to flaunt it in trinkets, but tastes differ. As for me, I never expect to have even a fake diamond. Though I don’t know but it’s a good thing he gave it to you. If you ever get in need, you could sell it.”

“Jennie!” Marion could not keep the horror from her voice.

“Well, it’s just as well to think of those things. You never know how a marriage is going to turn out. Are you sure he’s all right? Where’d you meet him, anyway?”

Marion controlled her feelings, although her cheeks were very red, and answered gently, “Mr. Radnor introduced us at a church social.”

“Well, it’s plain to be seen why you married him,” grudged Jennie. “You always did like pretty things and pretty people, and he certainly isn’t bad looking. And you seem to have blossomed out in stylish clothes on the strength of it. I hope you had the money to pay for them.”

“They are all paid for,” said Marion quietly.

“Hm!” said Jennie. “They must have cost a lot. But what I was asking you about at first was the automobile. Where did you get it? Did you rent it in the village? I didn’t know they had them to rent in the village.”

Marion smiled.

“Oh, no. It is our car,” she said. “We came all the way from New York since yesterday morning in it. The ride was beautiful. I have enjoyed the trip so much—”

“Your car!” interrupted Jennie. “What on earth do you mean, Marion Warren? Are you telling me the truth?”

“I certainly am,” said Marion, laughing now at the comical expression of her sister-in-law’s face. “Come, Jennie; let’s hurry and get dinner, for I’ve brought a few things for the children and I want to open them. Is Nannie as fond of dolls as ever?”

“Are you sure it’s paid for, Marion?” asked Jennie anxiously. “They say hardly anybody that owns an automobile pays for it. They say they just mortgage their houses to get them or go in debt. You can’t be sure about anybody.”

“Well, you needn’t worry, Jennie. This is all paid for, and my husband has money enough left to make us entirely comfortable. Come, Jennie, where is an apron? Were you going to peel these potatoes? Let me do them.”

“Marion Warren, have you married a real rich man? Tell me at once.”

“I suppose I have,” answered the bride meekly with a dimple in each cheek. “I never understood how it happened, but it’s true.”

“Well, then you can go right out of this kitchen. I’m not going to have a rich sister-in-law peeling potatoes for dinner in my kitchen. I know what is fitting if I am blunt in my speech.”

“Nonsense, Jennie! I’m no different because my husband has a little money. I’m just the same girl I was a year ago.”

“Indeed you’re not!” said Jennie, taking the knife from her and going at the potatoes furiously. “Look at your shoes and your dress; it looks as if a tailor made it. And you’re wearing roses in the morning. If you’ve really got the money to pay for it all, why, you’ve a right to be waited on, I suppose. Anyhow, you’re not going to sit down in that dress and peel potatoes in my kitchen. And wasn’t that a real mink coat you wore? Goodness! It’s a wonder you weren’t ashamed to bring your fine husband up here.”

In vain did Marion protest. Jennie would have none of her assistance. She worked rapidly and soon had a good dinner in preparation. She brought forth her best preserves and pickles and the last of the fruitcake she had been saving for the church sewing society when it would meet with her the following week. Jennie was not so bad, after all, when she really was impressed, and she was impressed at last.

She went about with martyr-like attitude, treating Marion with a deferential stiffness that was as unpleasant as her former attitude had been. When Marion insisted upon setting the table, Jennie sent Nannie to perform the task, saying with a heavy sigh, “I have done my own work and set my own table for a good many years, and shall probably have to continue to do so all my life. One setting of a table more or less will make little difference. It’s not with me as it is with you.”

And this style of conversation continued until Marion was almost sorry she had come, and she retreated at last to the parlor, which had been made delightful with a great open fire in the old-fashioned fireplace. Then Nannie abandoned her table-setting and nestled down close to her, and the other two children climbed into her lap and demanded a story just where she had left off the year before. Lyman, talking politics to the delight of Tom, who had missed his city friends when it came to election time, yet found time to watch his wife as she made a pretty picture of herself with the little ones around her.

The dinner would have been a trying affair with Jennie sitting up straight and stiff and dispensing her hospitalities without a smile, and Marion shy and embarrassed, wondering what her husband would think of it all, if it had not been for Lyman, who adapted himself to the situation with the most charming simplicity, talking intimately with Tom about the farm, admiring the view from the windows, discussing the possibilities of crops, then turning to the children with the story of a little dog they saw on the way, and even bringing a softened expression to Jennie’s mouth when he admired her plum jam.

Marion watched him with growing pride and love, and Jennie watched her surreptitiously and marveled. What a lady she had become! Did a few costly garments make all the difference there was between them, or had it been there all the time? These were the thoughts that were troubling Jennie.

As soon as dinner was over, Marion coaxed them all into the parlor, and Lyman brought the things from the car into the room. Thinking the gifts were all for the children, the father and mother gathered eagerly around to watch them untied. Jennie had thawed in her manner somewhat, but was not yet altogether cordial. She sat stiffly in one of the parlor chairs and watched Nannie’s eager fingers untie the cord of a large box; and then suddenly the child threw back the lid of the box and screamed with delight over the beautiful doll. The mother’s face relaxed then into real pleasure as she saw the costly doll and her little girl’s delight. Tom entered into the excitement as if he had been a boy and helped the two little boys undo their packages, even shouting with them over what they brought to light, and beginning at once to set up the little electric railway that the new uncle had brought them.

In the midst of the tumult Marion brought the hatbox and the suit box and the packages containing the other things she had for Jennie around to the couch and motioned her sister-in-law to come to her. Thinking these were more things for the children, and thoroughly mollified now, Jennie came and helped with untying the strings. When she saw the beautiful dress, and understood that it was for herself, her face was a study of conflicting emotions; amazement, doubt, shame, and delight contended for mastery.

“Do you like it?” asked Marion. “If you would rather have something else, I think I could change it on my way back and send it to you.”

Jennie laid eager hands on the soft, silken material and smoothed it lovingly.

“Well, I should think I did like it,” said Jennie, at last melted out of her frigidity. “I never expected to have anything half so fine; and the color is just what I always wanted and never could seem to find except in expensive stuff. I’m sure I’m very much obliged to you, Marion.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you like it!” said Marion, pleased, “and I do hope it fits you. I tried it on; but I used to be smaller than you, and I wasn’t sure it would fit you. It was large for me.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll fit. It looks good and large. I’m just glad to have it made; the dressmaker out here isn’t very good, and they never see anything as stylish as this. I’m real pleased.”

But when Marion opened the hat box and brought forth the hat, graceful and simple in its lines, yet beautiful and bearing that unmistakable stamp of the lady, Jennie succumbed entirely. It was the last straw that broke her barriers down. She looked and looked and could say nothing, and then looked again as Marion set it on her own head.

Then Marion put the hat on Jennie and sent her to the glass to see; and Jennie walked solemnly from the room, her kitchen apron still tied around her waist, but her head borne regally, mindful of its crowning glory. Tom and Lyman stopped talking, and Tom shouted out his hearty approval till his wife’s face grew rosy with pleasure. She stayed a long time in the guest room before the mirror; and Marion, fearful lest she did not like the hat, followed shyly and found her looking at herself intently in the glass, and two great tears rolling down her flushed cheeks.

“Don’t you like it, Jennie?” she asked anxiously.

“Like it!” said Jennie, turning full upon her. “I like it better than anything I ever had in my life before, and I don’t deserve it. I’ve been awful mean to you sometimes, and I’ve almost hated you because you didn’t come up here and help us get settled, and because you always held yourself away from things and seemed to think nothing was good enough for you; but I’m ashamed now, and I oughtn’t to take these nice things. They don’t belong to me, and I don’t deserve to have you bring such nice presents to me or the children. I’m sorry, and I ask you to forgive me.”

And suddenly Jennie, the grim and forbidding, burst into tears and fell upon her astonished sister-in-law’s neck. But Marion’s loving heart was equal to the occasion. With abounding forgiveness she received Jennie’s overtures and folded her arms lovingly around her, rejoicing that at last she had won her sister.

“But you don’t know it all yet,” sobbed out Jennie, lifting her head from Marion’s shoulder. “You’ll never forgive me, but I’ve got to tell. I can’t sleep nights thinking of it. I stole your father’s will and hid it so it wouldn’t be found. I didn’t destroy it, but I hid it so you’d never know the house was all yours. And now I can’t find the will anymore; it’s gone.”

Marion’s hand rested softly on Jennie’s head. Marion’s voice was very gentle as she said, “That’s all right, Jennie. I forgave it along ago.”

Jennie lifted her astonished head and stared.

“You forgave it? Then you knew it?”

“Yes, I knew it. The will fell out from behind the desk when the movers were carrying it out of the house.”

“But you didn’t know
I
did it.”

“Yes, Jennie, you had dropped a bit of your peppermint candy into the envelope. I knew it must have been you. But it’s all right now. I burned it up. Let’s forget it. I’ve got something far better than the old house. You must come and see me in my new one.”

“You knew I’d done it, and yet you forgave me!” marveled Jennie. “And you never
told
, either! You’re an angel, Marion Warren, and I’m a devil. But I’ll love you always, and I’ll do anything in the world for you. We’ll sell this farm and give you back your money. Tom hasn’t been happy about it either, but he didn’t know what I’d done.”

“You will not sell this farm, Jennie dear, and Tom is
never
to know about that will. I don’t want the money, and I
do
want you to have the farm. I’ve more money than I know how to spend, so please, please forget it. I have, and let us have a good time!”

They came into the other room in a few minutes with shining faces.

“We may as well open the rest of these things,” said Lyman, producing the packages meant for Tom; and Tom, enthusiastic and unsuspecting, took the small box handed him and presently found the fine watch and the books and the other things; and the two sat down and had a real brotherly chat over the good cheer that had been brought.