Two Serious Ladies (17 page)

She was wearing gloves and a hat and she sat up very straight. In her right hand she held a long thin package which looked like a fly-swatter. The woman stared ahead of her and not a muscle in her face moved. There were some more packages that she had piled neatly on the seat next to her. Miss Goering looked at her and hoped that she too, was going to the tip of the island. The train started to move and the woman put her free hand on top of the packages next to her so that they would not slide off the seat.

The children had mostly crowded into two seats and those who would have had to sit elsewhere preferred to stand around the already occupied seats. Soon they began to sing songs, which were all in praise of the school from which they had come. They did this so badly that it was almost too much for Miss Goering to bear. She got out of her seat and was so intent upon getting to the children quickly that she paid no attention to the lurching of the car and consequently in her hurry she tripped and fell headlong on the floor right next to where the children were singing.

She managed to get on her feet again although her chin was bleeding. She first asked the children to please stop their singing. They all stared at her. Then she pulled out a little lace handkerchief and started to mop the blood from her chin. Soon the train stopped and the children got off. Miss Goering went to the end of the car and filled a paper cup with water. She wondered nervously, as she mopped her chin in the dark passage, whether or not the lady with the fly-swatter would still be in the car. When she got back to her seat she saw with great relief that the lady was still there. She still held the fly-swatter, but she had turned her head to the left and was looking out at the little station platform.

"I don't think," said Miss Goering to herself, "that it would do any harm if I changed my seat and sat opposite her. After all, I suppose it's quite a natural thing for ladies to approach each other on a suburban train like this, particularly on such a small island."

She slid quietly into the seat opposite the woman and continued to occupy herself with her chin. The train had started again and the woman stared harder and harder out of the window in order to avoid Miss Goering's eye, for Miss Goering was a little disturbing to certain people. Perhaps because of her red and exalted face and her outlandish clothes.

"I'm delighted that the children have left," said Miss Goering; "now it is really pleasant on this train."

It began to rain and the woman pressed her forehead to the glass in order to stare more closely at the slanting drops on the window-pane. She did not answer Miss Goering. Miss Goering began again, for she was used to forcing people into conversation, her fears never having been of a social nature.

"Where are you going?" Miss Goering asked, first because she was really interested in knowing whether or not the woman was traveling to the tip of the island, and also because she thought it a rather disarming question. The woman studied her carefully.

"Home," she said in a flat voice.

"And do you live on this island?" Miss Goering asked her. "It's really enchanting," she added.

The woman did not answer, but instead she started to gather all her packages up in her arms.

"Where exactly do you live?" asked Miss Goering. The woman's eyes shifted about.

"Glensdale," she said hesitatingly, and Miss Goering, although she was not sensitive to slights, realized that the woman was lying to her. This pained her very much.

"Why do you lie to me?" she asked. "I assure you that I am a lady like yourself."

The woman by then had mustered her strength and seemed more sure of herself. She looked straight into Miss Goering's eyes.

"I live in Glensdale," she said, "and I have lived there all my life. I am on my way to visit a friend who lives in a town a little farther along."

"Why do I terrify you so?" Miss Goering asked her. "I would like to have talked to you."

"I won't stand for this another moment," the woman said, more to herself than to Miss Goering. "I have enough real grief in my life without having to encounter lunatics."

Suddenly she grabbed her umbrella and gave Miss Goering a smart rap on the ankles. She was quite red in the face and Miss Goering decided that in spite of her solid bourgeois appearance she was really hysterical, but since she had met many women like this before, she decided not to be surprised from now on at anything that the woman might do. The woman left her seat with all of her packages and her umbrella and walked down the aisle with difficulty. Soon she returned, followed by the conductor.

They stopped beside Miss Goering. The woman stood behind the conductor. The conductor, who was an old man, leaned way over Miss Goering so that he was nearly breathing in her face.

"You can't talk to anyone on these here trains," he said, "unless you know them." His voice sounded very mild to Miss Goering.

Then he looked over his shoulder at the woman, who still seemed annoyed but more calm.

"The next time," said the conductor, who really was at a loss for what to say, "the next time you're on this train, stay in your seat and don't molest anybody. If you want to know the time you can ask them without any to-do about it or you can just make a little signal with your hand and I'll be willing to answer all your questions," He straightened up and stood for a moment trying to think of something more to say. "Remember also," he added, "and tell this to your relatives and to your friends. Remember also that there are no dogs allowed on this train or people in masquerade costume unless they're all covered up with a big heavy coat; and no more hubbubs," he added, shaking a finger at her. He tipped his hat to the woman and went on his way.

A minute or two later the train stopped and the woman got off. Miss Goering looked anxiously out of the window for her, but she could see only the empty platform and some dark bushes. She held her hand over her heart and smiled to herself.

When she arrived at the tip of the island the rain had stopped and the stars were shining again intermittently. She had to walk down a long narrow boardwalk which served as a passage between the train and the landing pier of the ferry. Many of the boards were loose and Miss Goering had to be very careful where she was stepping. She sighed with impatience, because it seemed to her that as long as she was still on this boardwalk it was not certain that she would actually board the ferry. Now that she was approaching her destination she felt that the whole excursion could be made very quickly and that she would soon be back with Arnold and his father and Miss Gamelon.

The boardwalk was only lighted at intervals and there were long stretches which she had to cross in the dark. However, Miss Goering, usually so timorous, was not frightened in the least. She even felt a kind of elation, which is common in certain unbalanced but sanguine persons when they begin to approach the thing they fear. She became more agile in avoiding the loose boards, and even made little leaps around them. She could now see the landing dock at the end of the boardwalk. It was very brightly lighted and the municipality had erected a good-sized flagpole in the center of the platform. The flag was now wrapped around the pole in great folds, but Miss Goering could distinguish easily the red and white stripes and the stars. She was delighted to see the flag in this far-off place, for she hadn't imagined that there would be any organization at all on the tip of the island.

"Why, people have been living here for years," she said to herself. "It is strange that I hadn't thought of this before. They're here naturally, with their family ties, their neighborhood stores, their sense of decency and morality, and they have certainly their organizations for fighting the criminals of the community." She felt almost happy now that she had remembered all this.

She was the only person waiting for the ferry. Once she had got on, she went straight to the prow of the boat and stood watching the mainland until they reached the opposite shore. The ferry dock was at the foot of a road which joined the main street at the summit of a short steep hill. Trucks were still obliged to stop short at the top of the hill and unload their freight into wheelbarrows, which were then rolled cautiously down to the dock. Looking up from the dock, it was possible to see the side walls of the two stores at the end of the main street but not very much more. The road was so brightly lighted on either side that it was possible for Miss Goering to distinguish most of the details on the clothing of the persons who were coming down the hill to board the ferry.

She saw coming towards her three young women holding onto one another's arms and giggling. They were very fancily dressed and were trying to hold onto their hats as well as one another. This made their progress very slow, but half-way down the hill they called to someone on the dock who was standing near the post to which the ferry had been moored.

"Don't you leave without us, George," they yelled to him, and he waved his hand back in a friendly manner.

There were many young men coming down the hill and they too seemed to be dressed for something special. Their shoes were well shined, and many of them wore flowers in their buttonholes. Even those who had started long after the three young women quickly trotted past them. Each time this happened the girls would go into gales of laughter, which Miss Goering could hear only faintly from where she stood. More and more people kept appearing over the top of the hill and most of them, it seemed to Miss Goering, did not exceed the age of thirty. She stepped to the side and soon they were talking and laughing together all over the foredeck and the bridge of the ferry. She was very curious to know where they were going, but her spirits had been considerably dampened by witnessing the exodus, which she took as a bad omen. She finally decided that she would question a young man who was still on the dock and standing not very far away from her.

"Young man," she said to him, "would you mind telling me if you are all actually going on some lark together in a group or if it's a coincidence?"

"We're all going to the same place," said the boy, "as far as I know."

"Well, could you tell me where that is?" asked Miss Goering.

"Pig Snout's Hook," he answered. Just then the ferry whistle blew. He hastily took leave of Miss Goering and ran to join his friends on the foredeck.

Miss Goering struggled up the hill entirely alone. She kept her eye on the wall of the last store on the main street. An advertising artist had painted in vivid pinks a baby's face of giant dimensions on half the surface of the wall, and in the remaining space a tremendous rubber nipple. Miss Goering wondered what Pig Snout's Hook was. She was rather disappointed when she arrived at the top of the hill to find that the main street was rather empty and dimly lighted. She had perhaps been misled by the brilliant colors of the advertisement of the baby's nipple and had half hoped that the entire town would be similarly garish.

Before proceeding down the main street she decided to examine the painted sign more closely. In order to do this she had to step across an empty lot. Very near to the advertisement she noticed that an old man was bending over some crates and trying to wrench the nails loose from the boards. She decided that she would ask him whether or not he knew where Pig Snout's Hook was.

She approached him and stood watching for a little while before asking her question. He was wearing a green plaid jacket and a little cap of the same material. He was terribly busy trying to pry a nail from the crate with only a thin stick as a tool.

"I beg your pardon," said Miss Goering to him finally, "but I would like to know where Pig Snout's Hook is and also why anyone would go there, if you know."

The man continued to bother with the nail, but Miss Goering could tell that he was really interested in her question.

"Pig Snout's Hook?" said the man. "That's easy. It's a new place, a cabaret."

"Does everyone go there?" Miss Goering asked him.

"If they are the kind who are fools, they go."

"Why do you say that?"

"Why do I say that?" said the man, getting up finally and putting his stick in his pocket. "Why do I say that? Because they go there for the pleasure of being cheated out of their last penny. The meat is just horsemeat, you know. This size and it ain't red. It's a kind of gray, without a sign of a potato near it, and it costs plenty too. They're all as poor as church mice besides, without a single ounce of knowledge about life in the whole crowd of them. Like a lot of dogs straining at the leash."

"And then they all go together to Pig Snout's Hook every single night?"

"I don't know when they go to Pig Snout's Hook," said the man, "any more than I know what cockroaches are doing every night."

"Well, what's so wrong about Pig Snout's Hook?" Miss Goering asked him.

"There's one thing wrong," said the man growing more and more interested, "and that's that they've got a nigger there that jumps up and down in front of a mirror in his room all day long until he sweats and then he does the same thing in front of these lads and lassies and they think he's playing them music. He's got an expensive instrument all right, because I know where he bought it and I'm not saying whether or not he paid for it, but I know he sticks it in his mouth and then starts moving around with his long arms like the arms of a spider and they just won't listen to nothin' else but him."

"Well," said Miss Goering, "certain people do like that type of music."

"Yes," said the man, "certain people do like that type of music and there are people who live together and eat at table together stark naked all the year long and there are others who we both know about"—he looked very mysterious—"but," he continued, "in my day money was worth a pound of sugar or butter or lard any time. When we went out we got what we paid for plus a dog jumpin' through burning hoops, and steaks you could rest your chin on."

"What do you mean?" asked Miss Goering—"a dog jumping through burning hoops?"

"Well," said the man, "you can train them to do anything with years of real patience and perseverance and lots of headaches too. You get a hoop and you light it all around and these poodles, if they're the real thing, will leap through them like birds flying in the air. Of course it's a rare thing to see them doing this, but they've been right here in this town flying right through the centers of burning hoops. Of course people were older then and they cared for their money better and they didn't want to see a black jumping up and down. They would rather prefer to put a new roof on their house." He laughed.