I
THEY were the to the that January night, twenty of them in the bob-sled. They sang “Toy Land” and “Seeing Nelly Home”; they from the low of the to over the ruts; and when they were they on the for a lift. The moon-tipped up by the settled over the and their necks, but they laughed, yelped, their leather against their chests. The rattled, the sleigh-bells were frantic, Jack Elder's the horses, barking.
For a time Carol with them. The cold air gave power. She that she on all night, twenty at a stride. But the of energy her, and she was to under the which the in the sled-box.
In the of the she quietude.
Along the road the from oak-branches were on the like of music. Then the came out on the surface of Lake Minniemashie. Across the thick ice was a road, a short-cut for farmers. On the of the lake-levels of hard crust, of green ice clear, of like the sea-beach—the moonlight was overwhelming. It on the snow, it the into of fire. The night was and voluptuous. In that magic there was no and cold.
Carol was dream-strayed. The voices, Guy Pollock being her, were nothing. She repeated:
Deep on the convent-roof the snows
Are to the moon.
The and the light into one happiness, and she that some great thing was to her. She from the into a of gods. The night expanded, she was of the universe, and all to her.
She was out of her as the bob-sled up the road to the where the cottages.
They at Jack Elder's shack. The of boards, which had been in August, were in the chill. In and over they were a company, and talking. Jack Elder the waiting in the of a cast-iron which was like an bean-pot. They their high on a rocker, and the as it over backward.
Mrs. Elder and Mrs. Sam Clark coffee in an pot; Vida Sherwin and Mrs. McGanum and gingerbread; Mrs. Dave Dyer up “hot dogs”—frankfurters in rolls; Dr. Terry Gould, after announcing, “Ladies and gents, prepare to be shocked; line on the right,” produced a bottle of whisky.
The others danced, “Ouch!” as their the planks. Carol had her dream. Harry Haydock her by the and her. She laughed. The of the people who and talked her the more for frolic.
Kennicott, Sam Clark, Jackson Elder, Dr. McGanum, and James Madison Howland, on their near the stove, with the of the commercialist. In the men were unlike, yet they said the same in the same voices. You had to look at them to see which was speaking.
“Well, we good time up,” from one—any one.
“Yump, we it up after we the good going on the lake.”
“Seems of slow though, after an auto.”
“Yump, it does, at that. Say, how'd you make out with that Sphinx you got?”
“Seems to out fine. Still, I don't know's I like it any than the Roadeater Cord.”
“Yump, nothing than a Roadeater. Especially the cord. The cord's than the fabric.”
“Yump, you said something——Roadeater's a good tire.”
“Say, how'd you come out with Pete Garsheim on his payments?”
“He's paying up good. That's a piece of land he's got.”
“Yump, that's a farm.”
“Yump, Pete's got a good place there.”
They from these into the which are the of Main Street. Sam Clark was particularly at them. “What's this wild-eyed sale of you think you're trying to off?” he at Harry Haydock. “Did you 'em, or are you just us, as usual? . . . Oh say, speaking about caps, d'I tell you the good one I've got on Will? The thinks he's a good driver, fact, he thinks he's almost got intelligence, but one time he had his machine out in the rain, and the fish, he hadn't put on chains, and thinks I——”
Carol had the often. She to the dancers, and at Dave Dyer's of an Mrs. McGanum's she hysterically.
They sat on the floor, the food. The men as they passed the bottle, and laughed, “There's a sport!” when Juanita Haydock took a sip. Carol to follow; she that she to be and riotous; but the her and as she saw Kennicott she the bottle on repentantly. Somewhat too late she that she had up and repentance.
“Let's play charades!” said Raymie Wutherspoon.
“Oh yes, do let us,” said Ella Stowbody.
“That's the caper,” Harry Haydock.
They the word “making” as May and King. The was a red on Sam Clark's pink head. They they were respectable. They made-believe. Carol was to cry:
“Let's a and give a play! Shall we? It's been so much fun tonight!”
They looked affable.
“Sure,” Sam Clark loyally.
“Oh, do let us! I think it would be to present 'Romeo and Juliet'!” Ella Stowbody.
“Be a of a of fun,” Dr. Terry Gould granted.
“But if we did,” Carol cautioned, “it would be to have theatricals. We ought to paint our own and everything, and do something fine. There'd be a of hard work. Would you—would we all be at rehearsals, do you suppose?”
“You bet!” “Sure.” “That's the idea.” “Fellow ought to be at rehearsals,” they all agreed.
“Then let's meet next week and the Gopher Prairie Dramatic Association!” Carol sang.
She home these friends who through snow, had Bohemian parties, and were about to create in the theater. Everything was solved. She would be an part of the town, yet the of the Village Virus. . . . She would be free of Kennicott again, without him, without his knowing.
She had triumphed.
The moon was small and high now, and unheeding.
II
Though they had all been that they for the of and rehearsals, the as definitely only of Kennicott, Carol, Guy Pollock, Vida Sherwin, Ella Stowbody, the Harry Haydocks, the Dave Dyers, Raymie Wutherspoon, Dr. Terry Gould, and four new candidates: Rita Simons, Dr. and Mrs. Harvey Dillon and Myrtle Cass, an but girl of nineteen. Of these fifteen only seven came to the meeting. The their and and illnesses, and that they would be present at all other through eternity.
Carol was president and director.
She had added the Dillons. Despite Kennicott's the and his wife had not been taken up by the Westlakes but had as definitely as Willis Woodford, who was teller, bookkeeper, and in Stowbody's bank. Carol had noted Mrs. Dillon past the house a of the Jolly Seventeen, looking in with at the of the accepted. She the Dillons to the meeting, and when Kennicott was to them she was cordial, and virtuous.
That self-approval her at the smallness of the meeting, and her Raymie Wutherspoon's of “The stage needs uplifting,” and “I that there are great lessons in some plays.”
Ella Stowbody, who was a professional, having in Milwaukee, of Carol's for plays. Miss Stowbody the of the American drama: the only way to be is to present Shakespeare. As no one to her she sat and looked like Lady Macbeth.
III
The Little Theaters, which were to give to American three or four years later, were only in embryo. But of this fast Carol had premonitions. She from some magazine article that in Dublin were called The Irish Players. She that a man named Gordon Craig had painted scenery—or had he plays? She that in the of the she was a history more than the which with and their puerilities. She had a of familiarity; a of in a Brussels and going to a under a wall.
The in the Minneapolis paper from the page to her eyes:
The Cosmos School of Music, Oratory, and
Dramatic Art a program of four
one-act plays by Schnitzler, Shaw, Yeats,
and Lord Dunsany.
She had to be there! She Kennicott to “run to the Cities” with her.
“Well, I don't know. Be fun to take in a show, but why the do you want to see those plays, by a of amateurs? Why don't you wait for a regular play, later on? There's going to be some coming: 'Lottie of Two-Gun Rancho,' and 'Cops and Crooks'—real Broadway stuff, with the New York casts. What's this you want to see? Hm. 'How He Lied to Her Husband.' That doesn't so bad. Sounds racy. And, uh, well, I go to the show, I suppose. I'd like to see this new Hup roadster. Well——”
She which him decide.
She had four days of worry—over the in her one good petticoat, the of a of from her and frock, the on her best blouse. She wailed, “I haven't a single thing that's fit to be in,” and herself very much indeed.
Kennicott about people know that he was “going to to the Cities and see some shows.”
As the train through the prairie, on a day with the from the engine to the in cotton-rolls, in a low and which off the fields, she did not look out of the window. She closed her and hummed, and did not know that she was humming.
She was the and Paris.
In the Minneapolis station the of lumberjacks, farmers, and Swedish families with children and and paper parcels, their and their her. She in this once familiar city, after a year and a of Gopher Prairie. She was that Kennicott was taking the trolley-car. By dusk, the warehouses, Hebraic clothing-shops, and lodging-houses on Hennepin Avenue were smoky, hideous, ill-tempered. She was by the noise and of the rush-hour traffic. When a in an overcoat too closely at the at her, she moved nearer to Kennicott's arm. The was and urban. He was a person, used to this tumult. Was he laughing at her?
For a moment she wanted the secure of Gopher Prairie.
In the hotel-lobby she was self-conscious. She was not used to hotels; she with how often Juanita Haydock talked of the famous in Chicago. She not the traveling salesmen, in large leather chairs. She wanted people to that her husband and she were to luxury and elegance; she was angry at him for the way in which, after the register “Dr. W. P. Kennicott & wife,” he at the clerk, “Got a room with for us, old man?” She about haughtily, but as she that no one was in her she foolish, and of her irritation.
She asserted, “This is too florid,” and she it: the with capitals, the crown-embroidered at the restaurant door, the silk-roped where girls waited for men, the two-pound boxes of and the of at the news-stand. The was lively. She saw a man who looked like a European diplomat, in a top-coat and a Homburg hat. A woman with a coat, a veil, pearl earrings, and a close black entered the restaurant. “Heavens! That's the woman I've in a year!” Carol exulted. She metropolitan.
But as she Kennicott to the the coat-check girl, a woman, with like lime, and a low and thin and crimson, her, and under that Carol was again. She waited for the to her into the elevator. When he “Go ahead!” she was mortified. He she was a hayseed, she worried.
The moment she was in their room, with the safely out of the way, she looked at Kennicott. For the time in months she saw him.
His were too and provincial. His suit, by Nat Hicks of Gopher Prairie, might have been of iron; it had no of cut, no easy like the diplomat's Burberry. His black shoes were and not well polished. His was a brown. He needed a shave.
But she her as she the of the room. She ran about, on the of the bathtub, which of like the at home, the new wash-rag out of its of paper, trying the rose-shaded light the beds, out the of the kidney-shaped to the stationery, to on it to every one she knew, the claret-colored and the rug, the ice-water tap, and when the water did come out cold. She her arms about Kennicott, him.
“Like it, old lady?”
“It's adorable. It's so amusing. I love you for me. You are a dear!”
He looked indulgent, and yawned, and condescended, “That's a on the radiator, so you can it at any temperature you want. Must take a big to this place. Gosh, I Bea to turn off the tonight.”
Under the of the dressing-table was a with the most dishes: of hen De Vitresse, de a la Russe, Chantilly, Bruxelles.
“Oh, let's——I'm going to have a bath, and put on my new with the flowers, and let's go and eat for hours, and we'll have a cocktail!” she chanted.
While Kennicott over ordering it was to see him permit the waiter to be impertinent, but as the her to a among stars, as the came in—not in the Gopher Prairie fashion, but on the half-shell—she cried, “If you only how it is not to have had to plan this dinner, and order it at the butcher's and and think about it, and then watch Bea cook it! I so free. And to have new of food, and different patterns of and linen, and not worry about the is being spoiled! Oh, this is a great moment for me!”
IV
They had all the of in a metropolis. After Carol to a hair-dresser's, and a blouse, and met Kennicott in of an optician's, in with plans down, revised, and verified. They the diamonds and and and chairs and sewing-boxes in shop-windows, and were by the in the department-stores, and were by a into too many for Kennicott, and at the “clever perfumes—just in from New York.” Carol got three books on the theater, and an hour in herself that she not this rajah-silk frock, in how it would make Juanita Haydock, in her eyes, and it. Kennicott from shop to shop, a felt-covered device to keep the of his car clear of rain.
They at their hotel at night, and next the to at a Childs' Restaurant. They were by three in the afternoon, and at the motion-pictures and said they they were in Gopher Prairie—and by eleven in the they were again so that they to a Chinese restaurant that was by and their on pay-days. They sat at a and marble table Eggs Fooyung, and to a piano, and were cosmopolitan.
On the they met people from home—the McGanums. They laughed, hands repeatedly, and exclaimed, “Well, this is a coincidence!” They asked when the McGanums had come down, and for news of the town they had left two days before. Whatever the McGanums were at home, here they out as so to all the past that the Kennicotts them as long as they could. The McGanums said good-by as though they were going to Tibet of to the station to catch No. 7 north.
They Minneapolis. Kennicott was and and cockle-cylinders and No. I Hard, when they were through the and new of the largest flour-mills in the world. They looked across Loring Park and the Parade to the towers of St. Mark's and the Procathedral, and the red of houses Kenwood Hill. They about the of garden-circled lakes, and viewed the houses of the and and peers—the of the city. They the small with pergolas, the houses of and with sleeping-porches above sun-parlors, and one the Lake of the Isles. They through a shining-new of apartment-houses; not the tall of Eastern but low of yellow brick, in which each had its glass-enclosed with and and Russian bowls. Between a waste of and a hill they in shanties.
They saw miles of the city which they had in their days of in college. They were explorers, and they remarked, in great esteem, “I Harry Haydock's the City like this! Why, he'd have to study the in the mills, or go through all these districts. Wonder in Gopher Prairie wouldn't use their and explore, the way we do!”
They had two with Carol's sister, and were bored, and that which married people when they admit that they a relative of either of them.
So it was with but also with that they approached the on which Carol was to see the plays at the school. Kennicott not going. “So from all this walking; don't know but what we turn in early and rested up.” It was only from that Carol him and herself out of the warm hotel, into a trolley, up the steps of the which the school.
V
They were in a long with a draw-curtain across the front. The chairs were with people who looked and ironed: of the pupils, girl students, teachers.
“Strikes me it's going to be punk. If the play isn't good, let's it,” said Kennicott hopefully.
“All right,” she yawned. With she to read the of characters, which were among of pianos, music-dealers, restaurants, candy.
She the Schnitzler play with no interest. The actors moved and spoke stiffly. Just as its was to her village-dulled frivolity, it was over.
“Don't think a of a of that. How about taking a sneak?” Kennicott.
“Oh, let's try the next one, 'How He Lied to Her Husband.'”
The Shaw her, and Kennicott:
“Strikes me it's fresh. Thought it would be racy. Don't know as I think much of a play where a husband actually he wants a to make love to his wife. No husband did that! Shall we shake a leg?”
“I want to see this Yeats thing, 'Land of Heart's Desire.' I used to love it in college.” She was now, and urgent. “I know you didn't so much for Yeats when I read him to you, but you just see if you don't him on the stage.”
Most of the were as as chairs marching, and the setting was an of and tables, but Maire Bruin was as Carol, and larger-eyed, and her voice was a bell. In her, Carol lived, and on her voice was from this small-town husband and all the of to the of a where in a green dimness, a window by branches, she over a of and the gods.
“Well—gosh—nice kid played that girl—good-looker,” said Kennicott. “Want to for the last piece? Heh?”
She shivered. She did not answer.
The was again aside. On the stage they saw nothing but long green and a leather chair. Two men in like furniture-covers were and full of repetitions.
It was Carol's of Dunsany. She with the Kennicott as he in his pocket for a cigar and put it back.
Without when or how, without a in the of the stage-puppets, she was of another time and place.
Stately and among tiring-maids, a queen in that on the marble floor, she the of a palace. In the courtyard, trumpeted, and men with with blood-stained hands upon their hilts, the from El Sharnak, the with Tyrian of and cinnabar. Beyond the of the the and shrieked, and the sun was above orchids. A came through the steel-bossed doors, the sword-bitten doors that were higher than ten tall men. He was in mail, and under the of his were curls. His hand was out to her; she touched it she its warmth——
“Gosh all hemlock! What the is all this about, Carrie?”
She was no Syrian queen. She was Mrs. Dr. Kennicott. She with a into a and sat looking at two girls and a man in tights.
Kennicott as they left the hall:
“What the did that last mean? Couldn't make or of it. If that's drama, give me a cow-puncher movie, every time! Thank God, that's over, and we can to bed. Wonder if we wouldn't make time by walking over to Nicollet to take a car? One thing I will say for that dump: they had it warm enough. Must have a big hot-air furnace, I guess. Wonder how much it takes to 'em through the winter?”
In the car he her knee, and he was for a second the in armor; then he was Doc Kennicott of Gopher Prairie, and she was by Main Street. Never, not all her life, would she and the of kings. There were in the world, they existed; but she would see them.
She would them in plays!
She would make the her aspiration. They would, surely they would——
She looked at the of and and soap and underwear.
