options-第4章

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uilt　to　cut　down　the　time　between　Los　　Angeles　and　New　York　City　one…eighth　of　a　minute。

Hetty；　turning　her　head　during　her　continuous　monologue；　saw　tears　　running　from　her　guest's　eyes　as　she　gazed　on　the　idealized　　presentment　of　the　speeding；　foam…girdled　transport。

〃Why；　say；　Cecilia；　kid；〃　said　Hetty；　poising　her　knife；　〃is　it　as　bad　　art　as　that？　　I　ain't　a　critic；　but　I　thought　it　kind　of　brightened　up　　the　room。　　Of　course；　a　manicure…painter　could　tell　it　was　a　bum　　picture　in　a　minute。　　I'll　take　it　down　if　you　say　so。　　I　wish　to　the　　holy　Saint　Potluck　we　had　an　onion。〃

But　the　miniature　miniature…painter　had　tumbled　down；　sobbing；　with　　her　nose　indenting　the　hard…woven　drapery　of　the　couch。　　Something　was　　here　deeper　than　the　artistic　temperament　offended　at　crude　　lithography。

Hetty　knew。　　She　had　accepted　her　role　long　ago。　　How　scant　the　words　　with　which　we　try　to　describe　a　single　quality　of　a　human　being！　When　　we　reach　the　abstract　we　are　lost。　　The　nearer　to　Nature　that　the　　babbling　of　our　lips　comes；　the　better　do　we　understand。　　Figuratively　　（let　us　say）；　some　people　are　Bosoms；　some　are　Hands；　some　are　Heads；　　some　are　Muscles；　some　are　Feet；　some　are　Backs　for　burdens。

Hetty　was　a　Shoulder。　　Hers　was　a　sharp；　sinewy　shoulder；　but　all　her　　life　people　had　laid　their　heads　upon　it；　metaphorically　or　actually；　　and　had　left　there　all　or　half　their　troubles。　　Looking　at　Life　　anatomically；　which　is　as　good　a　way　as　any；　she　was　preordained　to　be　　a　Shoulder。　　There　were　few　truer　collar…bones　anywhere　than　hers。

Hetty　was　only　thirty…three；　and　she　had　not　yet　outlived　the　little　　pang　that　visited　her　whenever　the　head　of　youth　and　beauty　leaned　　upon　her　for　consolation。　　But　one　glance　in　her　mirror　always　served　　as　an　instantaneous　pain…killer。　　So　she　gave　one　pale　look　into　the　　crinkly　old　looking…glass　on　the　wall　above　the　gas…stove；　turned　down　　the　flame　a　little　lower　from　the　bubbling　beef　and　potatoes；　went　　over　to　the　couch；　and　lifted　Cecilia's　head　to　its　confessional。

〃Go　on　and　tell　me；　honey；〃　she　said。　　〃I　know　now　that　it　ain't　art　　that's　worrying　you。　　You　met　him　on　a　ferry…boat；　didn't　you？　Go　on；　　Cecilia；　kid；　and　tell　youryour　Aunt　Hetty　about　it。〃

But　youth　and　melancholy　must　first　spend　the　surplus　of　sighs　and　　tears　that　waft　and　float　the　barque　of　romance　to　its　harbor　in　the　　delectable　isles。　　Presently；　through　the　stringy　tendons　that　formed　　the　bars　of　the　confessional；　the　penitentor　was　it　the　glorified　　communicant　of　the　sacred　flametold　her　story　without　art　or　　illumination。

〃It　was　only　three　days　ago。　　I　was　coming　back　on　the　ferry　from　　Jersey　City。　　Old　Mr。　　Schrum；　an　art　dealer；　told　me　of　a　rich　man　in　　Newark　who　wanted　a　miniature　of　his　daughter　painted。　　I　went　to　see　　him　and　showed　him　some　of　my　work。　　When　I　told　him　the　price　would　　be　fifty　dollars　he　laughed　at　me　like　a　hyena。　　He　said　an　enlarged　　crayon　twenty　times　the　size　would　cost　him　only　eight　dollars。

〃I　had　just　enough　money　to　buy　my　ferry　ticket　back　to　New　York。　　I　　felt　as　if　I　didn't　want　to　live　another　day。　　I　must　have　looked　as　I　　felt；　for　I　saw　him　on　the　row　of　seats　opposite　me；　looking　at　me　as　　if　he　understood。　　He　was　nice…looking；　but　oh；　above　everything　else；　　he　looked　kind。　　When　one　is　tired　or　unhappy　or　hopeless；　kindness　　counts　more　than　anything　else。

〃When　I　got　so　miserable　that　I　couldn't　fight　against　it　any　longer；　　I　got　up　and　walked　slowly　out　the　rear　door　of　the　ferry…boat　cabin。　　　No　one　was　there；　and　I　slipped　quickly　over　the　rail　and　dropped　into　　the　water。　　Oh；　friend　Hetty；　it　was　cold；　cold！

〃For　just　one　moment　I　wished　I　was　back　in　the　old　Vallambrosa；　　starving　and　hoping。　　And　then　I　got　numb；　and　didn't　care。　　And　then　　I　felt　that　somebody　else　was　in　the　water　close　by　me；　holding　me　up。　　　He　had　followed　me；　and　jumped　in　to　save　me。

〃Somebody　threw　a　thing　like　a　big；　white　doughnut　at　us；　and　he　made　　me　put　my　arms　through　the　hole。　　Then　the　ferry…boat　backed；　and　they　　pulled　us　on　board。　　Oh；　Hetty；　I　was　so　ashamed　of　my　wickedness　in　　trying　to　drown　myself；　and；　besides；　my　hair　had　all　tumbled　down　and　　was　sopping　wet；　and　I　was　such　a　sight。

〃And　then　some　men　in　blue　clothes　came　around；　and　he　gave　them　his　　card；　and　I　heard　him　tell　them　he　had　seen　me　drop　my　purse　on　the　　edge　of　the　boat　outside　the　rail；　and　in　leaning　over　to　get　it　I　had　　fallen　overboard。

And　then　I　remembered　having　read　in　the　papers　that　people　who　try　to　　kill　themselves　are　locked　up　in　cells　with　people　who　try　to　kill　　other　people；　and　I　was　afraid。

〃But　some　ladies　on　the　boat　took　me　downstairs　to　the　furnace…room　　and　got　me　nearly　dry　and　did　up　my　hair。　　When　the　boat　landed；　he　　came　and　put　me　in　a　cab。　　He　was　all　dripping　himself；　but　laughed　as　　if　he　thought　it　was　all　a　joke。　　He　begged　me；　but　I　wouldn't　tell　　him　my　name　nor　where　I　lived；　I　was　so　ashamed。〃

〃You　were　a　fool；　child；〃　said　Hetty；　kindly。　　〃Wait　till　I　turn　the　　light　up　a　bit。　　I　wish　to　Heaven　we　had　an　onion。〃

〃Then　he　raised　his　hat；〃　went　on　Cecilia；　〃and　said：　'Very　well。　　But　　I'll　find　you；　anyhow。　　I'm　going　to　claim　my　rights　of　salvage。'　　　Then　he　gave　money　to　the　cab…driver　and　told　him　to　take　me　where　I　　wanted　to　go；　and　walked　away。　　What　is　'salvage；'　Hetty？〃

〃The　edge　of　a　piece　of　goods　that　ain't　hemmed；〃　said　the　shop…girl。　　　〃You　must　have　looked　pretty　well　frazzled　out　to　the　little　hero　　boy。〃

〃It's　been　three　days；〃　moaned　the　miniature…painter；　〃and　he　hasn't　　found　me　yet。〃

〃Extend　the　time；〃　said　Hetty。　　〃This　is　a　big　town。　　Think　of　how　　many　girls　he　might　have　to　see　soaked　in　water　with　their　hair　down　　before　he　would　recognize　you。　　The　stew's　getting　on　finebut　oh；　　for　an　onion！　　I'd　even　use　a　piece'of　garlic　if　I　had　it。〃

The　beef　and　potatoes　bubbled　merrily；　exhaling　a　mouth…watering　savor　　that　yet　lacked　something；　leaving　a　hunger　on　the　palate；　a　haunting；　　wistful　desire　for　some　lost　and　needful　ingredient。

〃I　came　near　drowning　in　that　awful　river；〃　said　Cecilia；　shuddering。

〃It　ought　to　have　more　water　in　it；〃　said　Hetty；　〃the　stew；　I　mean。　　　I'll　go　get　some　at　the　sink。〃

〃It　smells　good；〃　said　the　artist。

〃That　nasty　old　North　River？〃　　objected　Hetty。　　〃It　smells　to　me　like　　soap　factories　and　wet　setter…dogsoh；　you　mean　the　stew。　　Well；　I　　wish　we　had　an　onion　for　it。　　Did　he　look　like　he　had　money？〃

〃First；　he　looked　kind；''　said　Cecilia。　　〃I'm　sure　he　was　rich；　but　　that　matters　so　little。　　When　he　drew　out　his　bill…folder　to　pay　the　　cab…man　you　couldn't　help　seeing　hundreds　and　thousands　of　dollars　in　　it。　　And　I　looked　over　the　cab　doors　and　saw　him　leave　the　ferry　　station　in　a　motor…car；　and　the　chauffeur　gave　him　his　bearskin　to　put　　on；　for　he　was　sopping　wet。　　And　it　was　only　three　days　ago。〃

〃What　a　fool！〃　said　Hetty；　shortly。

〃Oh；　the　chauffeur　wasn't　wet；〃　breathed　Cecilia。　　〃And　he　drove　the　　car　away　very　nicely。〃

〃I　mean　you；〃　said　Hetty。　　〃For　not　giving　him　your　address。〃

〃I　never　give　my　address　to　chauffeurs；〃　said　Cecilia；　haughtily。

〃I　wish　we　had　one；〃　said　Hetty；　disconsolately。

〃What　for？〃

〃For　the　stew；　of　courseoh；　I　mean　an　onion。〃

Hetty　took　a　pitcher　and　started　to　the　sink　at　the　end　of　the　hall。

A　young　man　came　down　the　stairs　from　above　just　as　she　was　opposite　　the　lower　step。　　He　was　decently　dressed；　but　pale　and　haggard。　　His　　eyes　were　dull　with　the　stress　of　some　burden　of　physical　or　mental　　woe。　　In　his　hand　he　bore　an　oniona　pink；　smooth；　solid；　shining　　onion　as　large　around　as　a　ninety…eight…cent　alarm…clock。

Hetty　stopped。　　So　did　the　young　man。　　There　was　something　Joan　of　　Arc…ish；　Herculean；　and　Una…ish　in　the　look　and　pose　of　the　shoplady　she　had　cast　off　the　roles　of　Job　and　Little…Red…Riding…Hood。　　The　　young　man　stopped　at　the　foot　of　the　stairs　and　coughed　distractedly。　　　He　felt　marooned；　held　up；　attacked；　assailed；　levied　upon；　sacked；　　assessed；　panhandled；　browbeaten；　though　he　knew　not　why。　　It　was　the　　look　in　Hetty's　eyes　that　did　it。　　In　them　he　saw　the　Jolly　Roger　fly　　to　the　masthead　and　an　able　seaman　with　a　dirk　between　his　teeth　　scurry　up　the　ratlines　and　nail　it　there。　　But　as　yet　he　did　not　know　　that　the　cargo　he　carried　was　the　thing　that　had　caused　him　to　be　so　　nearly　blown　out　of　the　water　without　even　a　parley。

〃Beg　your　pardon；〃　said　Hetty；　as　sweetly　as　her　dilute　acetic　acid　　tones　permitted；　〃but　did　you　find　that　onion　on　the　stairs？　　There　　was　a　hole　in　the　paper　bag；　and　I've　just　come　out　to　look　for　it。〃

The　young　man　coughed　for　half　a　minute。　　The　interval　may　have　given　　him　the　courage　to　defend　his　own　property。　　Also；　he　clutched　his　　pungent　prize　greedily；　and；　with　a　show　of　spirit；　faced　his　grim　　waylayer。

〃No；〃　he　said　huskily；　〃I　didn't　find　it　on　the　stairs。　　It　was　given　　to　me　by　Jack　Bevens；　on　the　top　floor。　　If　you　don't　believe　it；　ask　　him。　　I'll　wait　until　you　do。〃

〃I　know　about　Bevens；〃　said　Hetty；　sourly。　　〃He　writes　books　and　　things　up　there　for　the　paper…and…rags　man。　　We　can　hear　the　postman　　guy　him　all　over　the　house　when　he　brings　them　thick　envelopes　back。　　　Saydo　you　live　in　the　Vallambrosa？〃

〃I　do　not；〃　said　the　young　man。　　〃I　come　to　see　Bevens　sometimes。　　　He's　my　friend。　　I　live　two　blocks　west。〃

〃What　are　you　going　to　do　with　the　onion？

begging　your　pardon；〃　said　Hetty。

〃I'm　going　to　eat　it。〃

〃Raw？〃

〃Yes：　as　soon　as　I　get　home。〃

〃Haven't　you　got　anything　else　to　eat　with　it？〃

The　young　man　considered　briefly。

〃No；〃　he　confessed；　〃there's　not　another　scrap　of　anything　in　my　　diggings　to　eat。　　I　think　old　Jack　is　pretty　hard　up　for　grub　in　his　　shack；　too。　　He　hated　to　give　up　the　onion；　but　I　worried　him　into　　parting　with　it。〃

〃Man；〃　said　Hetty；　fixing　him　with　her　world…sapient　eyes；　and　laying　　a　bony　but　impressive　finger　on　his　sleeve；　〃you've　known　trouble；　　too；　haven't　you？〃

〃Lots；〃　said　the　onion　owner；　promptly。　　〃But　this　onion　is　my　own　　property；　honestly　come　by。　　If　you　will　excuse　me；　I　must　be　going。〃

〃Listen；〃　said　Hetty；　paling　a　little　with　anxiety。　　〃Raw　onion　is　a　　mighty　poor　diet。　　And　so　is　a　beef…stew　without　one。　　Now；　if　you're　　Jack　Bevens'　friend；　I　guess　you're　nearly　right。　　There's　a　little　　ladya　friend　of　minein　my　room　there　at　the　end　of　the　hall。　　Both　　of　us　are　out　of　luck；　and　we　had　just　potatoes　and　meat　between　us。　　　They're　stewing　now。　　But　it　ain't　got　any　soul。　　There's　something　　lacking　to　it。　　There's　certain　things　in　life　that　are　naturally　　intended　to　fit　and　belong　together。　　One　is　pink　cheese…cloth　and　　green　roses；　and　one　is　ham　and　eggs；　and　one　is　Irish　and　trouble。　　　And　the　other　one　is　beef　and　potatoes　with　onions。　　And　still　another　　one　is　people　who　are　up　against　it　and　other　people　in　the　same　fix。〃

The　young　man　went　into　a　protracted　paroxysm　of　coughing。　　With　one　　hand　he　hugged　his　onion　to　his　bosom。

〃No　doubt；　no　doubt；〃　said　he；　at　length。　　〃But；　as　I　said；　I　must　be　　going；　because〃

Hetty　clutched　his　sleeve　firmly。

〃Don't　be　a　Dago；　Little　Brother。　　Don't　cat　raw　onions。　　Chip　it　in　　toward　the　dinner　and　line　yourself　inside　with　the　best