The Daughter of a Fool

"It was like the good old high school hops had come to life again." The Daughter o£ a Fool By BLANCHE KENDALL McKEY Illustrated by Paul C. Clowes V--/N Christmas Eve, the night before Eileen turned eighteen, she laid her hand timidly upon the handle of her mother's dressing-room door. A high- pitched voice within gave a com- mand, and the maid's low mono- syllable answered it. Eileen with- drew her hand quickly and stood a moment undecided. She fingered nervously a letter which she car- ried, then slipping it into a pocket in her dress, she rapped timorously upon the door. . Her mother, who was seated before a triple-mirrored dressing- table, turned as she entered. Even in the flare of the strong lights surrounding her the woman's lux- uriant, marcelled hair betrayed ar- tificial bleaching. Upon one cheek there was a daub of unblended rouge. 'This is no time to interrupt me," she said irritably. "I know," replied the girl in a low voice, "I'll only stay a mo- ment. May I — may I go to New York on the early morning train?" "Why so early?" "Grandfather is ill," the girl re- plied. "I just received this special delivery letter. That's why I'm troubling you at such an incon- venient time. May I go?" "Where is the letter?" her moth- er asked. iLlLEEN dug into her pocket and laid the envelope in

The Improvement Era for December, 1930 93 the be-ringed oustretched hand. The woman read aloud: " 'Dear Eileen: My neuralgia is acting up again. Can't you come early and cheer the old man? 'Grandfather.' He always writes about the same." "Yes," answered Eileen simply. "And when you get there he is well enough to take you to the theatre," her mother commented contemptuously. Eileen wanted to defend her grandfather. If only she weren't such a coward! She lifted her drooping shoulders a little; but her mother, now daubing the un- painted cheek, spoke suddenly: "And the letters come very of- ten." Eileen's shoulders went down again. I KNOW, mother," she said softly. "They come often now, but some day they won't come at all and then - — " The words ended in a throaty inarticu- late sound. She looked at her mother appealingly. "Please let me go," she said, her eyes welling with sudden tears. Her mother saw the tears. She gave a short laugh that broke off discordantly. "You are almost a woman and spineless," she said icily. "Your father's child!" Eileen came forward a pace or two. Her pale face had flushed pink. "Just what was wrong with my father? If I am almost a wo- man I ought to know." "You have always known. There is nothing new to tell. He was a fool." She called abruptly to her maid, who was taking from the adjoining closet a shimmering yellow gown: "Come powder my shoulders, Anne, and bring my pearls; quick!" Eileen was dismissed. Her ques- tion was unanswered, but she left the room silently, unprotestingly, as became a fool's daughter. BLINKING into the music room, the girl clung to the handle of the door as she closed it, her tall figure bent, her head bowed upon her chest. She was tired of being a worm of the dust. She couldn't help what her father had been. She herself had tried to be more than a fool, and she had failed. She did not feel resent- ment for her mother; she felt pity. She recalled with horror her com- ing out party a month or two be- fore— her mother's anticipation, her enthusiasm, her lavish expend- iture of money, time and effort — and her cold, spiritless "Good- night" when at last Eileen had departed dismally for bed. As LS Eileen recalled her first few appearances as a society "When Eileen opened the door a woman was standing at the piano." bud, unconsciously she stretched one hand out a little, then drew it back quickly, fearfully. She had had a feeling for a long time that in some unsteady moment she would stretch out her hand in an attempt to cling to something — and there would be nothing there; and she would fall, fall slowly, through shadowy mists, endlessly down, as one falls in a dream. JHE crossed to the grand piano, and ran her hand lovingly across its shining top. Its immobility steadied her. There was something majestic about its silence, in the fact of its having so much music shut up inside. How admirable to wait silently— in ma- jesty! All her life she had waited to free the music in her heart, waited silently often, but never majestically. Majesty was not for her. She belonged with the tur- bulent, the impatient, the fearful, the unserene. Her birthright was the cap and bells. She heard the voice of her moth- er's fiance speaking in the lower hall; and after a time her mother's high-pitched, gay greeting floated upward to the silent room. Then came the sound of the limousine, which grew gradually less indi- vidual, and was finally lost in the general noise of the boulevard. JtLlLEEN felt secure and warm. She seated herself at the piano and began to play — airy, gay music, as if the laughter she had missed had been locked in her heart and was suddenly set free. Her mood changing, she began to play tender melodies, the kind grand- father asked for. In the dim cor- ner she could almost see him re- clining in the big chair as he did at home, smiling at her — queerly, as he had a way of doing when she sat at her father's piano and played in the twilight. She could never forget one evening. Grand- father was bending over her. "You play just as your father used to," he had said. She looked up into the thin face with its tightly drawn skin and into the keen, clear blue eyes. "Was father a fool?" she had asked. And he had stared at her a long time, his face ghastly as he struggled to control trembling lips and fingers. Then he had turned away abruptly. "At one time I thought he was," the old man had said. "But we loved

94 The Improvement Era for December, 1930 him." The fading light from the window had fallen full upon the shaking frail frame and the bowed head, and the terror his anguish had inspired even now bore in up- on Eileen's shrinking spirit. Though mountains moved, and oceans ceased to roll she would never again mention the name "fa- ther" to the old man she loved. It caused too much suffering. R« RUMMAGING through an old music box an hour later, Eileen found something which changed the whole current of her thoughts; for on the morrow when she would turn eighteen, had her father been living she would have been facing an issue — a choice be- tween her parents, in accordance with the edict of the divorce law. Until tonight, within her mind had rested the foregone conclusion that she would have remained with her mother, for who would choose to follow a fool? But what Eileen found set her to wondering. It was a small typewritten manu- script of short poems arranged in book-form, ready for the press. The verses were exquisite and ded- icated to "Father," and had been copy-righted by Edward T. Hayes, Jr. While the girl was turning the pages wonderingly, a soft ball of snow struck the large window pane near which she was sitting. She looked out. No snow was falling; stars were gleaming in a clear sky. Another soft ball struck and froze to the icy pane. She looked down. A young man stood on the garden path, knocking fingers into op- posite palms for warmth. He flashed her a smile. The moonlight fell upon gleaming teeth and danc- ing eyes. "Merry Xmas!" he called. She opened the French door a crack. "Come in, Jimmie." "Oh, no!" He looked fearfully into the great windows of the lower floor. "There's nobody home but me," called the girl, her nose almost frozen in the thin current of icy air. "Oh, all right!" came the joy- ous answer. "Wait a minute; I'll let you in myself." In a moment or two he was thawing out in the library. "It seems ages since I saw you, Eileen. It was wonderful to see you sitting up there by the piano under that big lamp. I wish we had never graduated from high school." "Don't you like college?' "Not without you. Why don't you go?" "Mother didn't want me to this year. She says I'm such a book- worm that I'm dull. She's trying to get me interested in real life." "Succeeding?" "Not at all. I'm a total failure, Jimmie." There was a tremolo in Eileen's soft voice that stirred Jimmie's heart strings. "Say, Eileen," he cried, "there's a good celebration at the College Inn tonight. I saw the holly and candles as I went by. There are special singers and every lady is going to be presented with a sou- venir box of chocolates. Let's go!" "You and I?" "Yes. Why not? It's better than sitting here alone on Christ- mas eve." "Oh, I'm afraid!" But she went. IT was like the good old high school hops come to life again. Eileen's cheeks flushed red, every nerve of her body living. As she swayed to the music, an absurd line kept running through her head: "I have gazed on the A Prayer at Christmas A MID the Christmas greetings, JLl. gifts and cheer May we remember Thee, Oh Christ our King, Whose birth we celebrate this holy day,' Of whose great love the hosts of heaven sing! If but Thy love could enter ev'ry heart, This world would be a heaven filled with peace, For God is love, and love is peace; and Thou, Oh King of heav'n and earth, art Prince of Peace I Oh may the Christ-like spirit fill our hearts With charity and peace and love sincere, And may it sink deep in our souls and stay Not just today, but all through- out the year. — Nona H. Brown. pale face of sorrow, but tonight I laugh! I laugh!" Christmas chimes were softly peeling midnight when they reached Eileen's door. "May I wish you 'Merry Christmas' tomorrow, Eileen?" "We are going to New York to spend Christmas evening with Grandfather. I am going early in the morning, I hope." She looked at the still street, sparkling under the arc light like a fancy Christmas card, at the frozen trees, the large solemn stars, summoning courage to look into his face and say: 'There's a young man in New York whom mother wants me to marry." "Do you like him?" "Not at all. But he has scads of money — and what goes with it." "Sometimes what goes with it isn't so good. Would you like to marry him?" "Goodness, no!" 'Then square your shoulders and fight." "You won't understand, Jim- mie," said the girl solemnly. "A person can grapple with living men and women, but it's hard to fight dead people." "Dead people!" he gasped. He certainly didn't understand. But he understood the look in Eileen's troubled eyes, raised to his face with the moonlight falling full upon them and did something that both of them, two hours before, thought utterly impossible. He leaned down and kissed her. "Oh, Jimmie, you mustn't do that." "Keep a stiff upper-lip," he whispered rather breathlessly. "I'm with you, and I'm not a dead one." T HAT night when Eileen's mother re-entered her dressing room, she found her daughter waiting in the firelight. The mother's jewels, her yellow gown and hair seemed to bring light into the shadows. Eileen thought she had never seen her look so beautiful. There was something warm about her, glow- ing, living. She thought of her mother's promised husband — of Jimmie's kiss. "I waited to see if I could go to New York early in the morning," said Eileen timidly.

The Improvement Era for December, 1930 95 'Yes, you may go," her mother replied. The girl felt an impulse to touch her. "I hope you'll be very happy in your marriage, mother," she said eagerly. 'Thanks, dear. I ought to be. The Grayson fortune is as secure as your own; the Grayson name as solid in business as E. T. Hayes. Grayson' is open sesame to the best houses in the East." Eileen had risen, and had gone impulsively towards her mother; but as the woman spoke she stopped, rigid. A sort of pity arose within her for the man who had been tender enough to write the manuscript she was crushing in her hands. "Mother," she said, abruptly, in a throaty tone, "did father write these verses?" 1 HE woman's eyes fell upon the booklike manuscript. She stood immovable. Eileen's two hands clung to the papers. She was dreadfully afraid that she would stretch one of them out and then would fall into the sha- dowy mist. The woman drew herself up to the full height of her striking fig- ure.. The pearls moved slowly up- on her breast. "What verses?' she queried in staccato accents. "These," breathlessly. She took the manuscript. She turned a page. 'The star that shines above, O spirit turbulent, That shines above the cloud, Unbound, serene — " She closed the book and slowly rounded it into a loose roll. Hold- ing it tightly in both hands, she stared at the drab figure in the shadow. After a time the woman spoke. One word fell upon another heavily. "I thought I had destroyed ev- ery disagreeable reminder," she said slowly. "Swept them from my life, and from my memory. These are distasteful!" She turned quickly towards the glowing hearth. "No, no! No, no!" Eileen had swung in front of the fire. 'You shall not!" she cried. ^)HE struggled; she wrenched the manuscript out of the strong hands. quiet of her room she sank into untroubled slumber. T* Going to the dance. "They're not yours. They are grandfather's. They are dedicated to him," she cried hysterically. The woman took a step towards her, her chin thrust out. The girl backed quickly to the doorway, her eyes riveted upon her mother's face. "They are not ours," she wailed. 'They are grandfather's. They can't be destroyed. I don't believe a fool could write such verse." She fled, sobbing, down the long hall, and reaching her chamber, slammed the door, turn- ing the key in terror — in terror at her own daring. It was a pale Eileen whom Ed- ward T. Hayes greeted. "111?" he asked tenderly. "No. Up too late. How's the neuralgia, grandfather?" "Better." The lines of his dis- tinguished face broke suddenly in- to a boyish grin. 'Tonight if we can manage it we'll go to the opera." "Just you and I?" she queried, eagerly. "If your mother hasn't made other plans." "She probably has," the girl said grimly. "But I'm so glad to be here anyway," she continued softly, her eyes sweeping the small snow-covered area which separated the mansion from the avenue. Something in her look made grand- father think of the things he had wanted as a boy, and that had never come. "How's the music?" he asked. "It's coming." Her face be- came adorably alive. "And I've written another song. I'll play it tonight before the lights come on." "But right now, the first thing on the program is a sleep." Mr. Hayes prescribed, decidedly. Eileen knew revolt was useless. In the HAT afternoon it was grandfather's fate to take a dose of his own medicine. "And you just getting over a bad spell," Eileen argued. "It was bad — I can see by your face. No nap this afternoon, no opera tonight," the young tyrant fin- ished. E. T. Hayes surrendered. He fell into sleep as suddenly as does a tired child. Eileen gazed tenderly upon the waxen-whiteness of his skin, upon his frail, almost transparent hands — kindly hands. She drank in exultantly his look of nobility, of which slumber did not rob him. She was thinking of the verses his son had written — his son, who had been a fool. Settling herself in a large chair near her grandfather she once more opened the small collection of poems, and as she calmly read, the butler entered the room. "Hush!" warned Eileen, "Grandfather's sleeping. What is it?" "There's a woman at the door, Miss, who insists upon seeing Mr. Hayes," the man said in low tones. "Who is she?" Eileen asked. "She refused to give her name." "What kind of woman?" "A poor woman I should judge, Miss. She's rather excited. She says its a case of life and death." For her mother, Eileen had in- terviewed a good many "poor wo- men." "Show her into the small re- ception-room," the girl said. "I will see her myself." W HEN Eileen opened the door a woman was standing by the piano, the piano that had been the property of Edward T. Hayes, Jr. She was clinging to its edge by the finger-tips of one hand. This woman was small of stature, and her plain suit was well-cut. She turned nervously as the girl entered, visibly steadying herself by her fingers. Eileen was accus- tomed to looking upon women with artificially tinted cheeks and lips. This woman's face was like the snow that had drifted upon the casement at her side. All her life Eileen had been afraid of run- ning unexpectedly upon a ghost. Now the stranger fixed her with her blue eyes, and the girl noticed [Continued on page 1 IZ\