I
CAROL was on the porch, a on the baby's go-cart, this Sunday afternoon. Through an open window of the Bogart house she a screeching, Mrs. Bogart's voice:
“ . . . did too, and there's no use your it no you don't, you right out of the house . . . in my life of such . . . had nobody talk to me like . . . walk in the of and . . . your here, and that's more than you . . . any of your lip or I'll call the policeman.”
The voice of the other Carol did not catch, nor, though Mrs. Bogart was that he was her and present assistant, did she catch the voice of Mrs. Bogart's God.
“Another with Cy,” Carol inferred.
She the go-cart the steps and it across the yard, proud of her repairs. She steps on the sidewalk. She saw not Cy Bogart but Fern Mullins, a suit-case, up the with her low. The widow, on the with arms akimbo, after the girl:
“And don't you your on this again. You can send the for your trunk. My house has been long enough. Why the Lord should me——”
Fern was gone. The glared, into the house, came out at her bonnet, away. By this time Carol was in a manner not visibly to be from the window-peeping of the of Gopher Prairie. She saw Mrs. Bogart enter the Howland house, then the Casses'. Not till did she the Kennicotts. The doctor answered her ring, and her, “Well, well? how's the good neighbor?”
The good neighbor into the living-room, the most of black kid and sputtering:
“You may well ask how I am! I do wonder how I go through the of this day—and the I took from that woman's tongue, that ought to be cut out——”
“Whoa! Whoa! Hold up!” Kennicott. “Who's the hussy, Sister Bogart? Sit and take it and tell us about it.”
“I can't down, I must home, but I couldn't myself to my own selfish till I'd you, and I don't any thanks for trying to the town against her, there's always so much in the world that won't see or your trying to safeguard them——And herself in here to in with you and Carrie, many 's the time I've her doing it, and, thank heaven, she was out in time she do any more harm, it my and me to think what she may have done already, if some of us that and know about things——”
“Whoa-up! Who are you talking about?”
“She's talking about Fern Mullins,” Carol put in, not pleasantly.
“Huh?”
Kennicott was incredulous.
“I am!” Mrs. Bogart, “and good and you may be that I her out in time, she YOU into something, Carol, if you are my neighbor and Will's wife and a lady, let me tell you right now, Carol Kennicott, that you ain't always as to—you ain't as reverent—you don't by the good old like they was for us by God in the Bible, and while of there ain't a of in having a good laugh, and I know there ain't any in you, yet just the same you don't God and the of his like you ought to, and you may be I out this I in my bosom—and oh yes! oh yes indeed! my lady must have two eggs every for breakfast, and eggs sixty a dozen, and wa'n't satisfied with one, like most folks—what did she how much they cost or if a person couldn't make nothing on her and room, in I just took her in out of and I might have from the of and that she into my house in her trunk——”
Before they got her she had five more minutes of wallowing. The into high tragedy, with Nemesis in black kid gloves. The was simple, depressing, and unimportant. As to Mrs. Bogart was indefinite, and angry that she should be questioned.
Fern Mullins and Cy had, the before, alone to a barn-dance in the country. (Carol out the that Fern had to a chaperon.) At the Cy had Fern—she that. Cy had a of whisky; he said that he didn't where he had got it; Mrs. Bogart that Fern had it to him; Fern herself that he had it from a farmer's overcoat—which, Mrs. Bogart raged, was a lie. He had drunk. Fern had him home; deposited him, and wabbling, on the Bogart porch.
Never had her boy been drunk, Mrs. Bogart. When Kennicott grunted, she owned, “Well, maybe once or twice I've on his breath.” She also, with an air of being only too exact, that sometimes he did not come home till morning. But he couldn't have been drunk, for he always had the best excuses: the other boys had him to go the by torchlight, or he had been out in a “machine that ran out of gas.” Anyway, had her boy into the hands of a “designing woman.”
“What do you Miss Mullins design to do with him?” Carol.
Mrs. Bogart was puzzled, gave it up, on. This morning, when she had of them, Cy had that all of the was on Fern, the teacher—his own teacher—had him to take a drink. Fern had to it.
“Then,” Mrs. Bogart, “then that woman had the to say to me, 'What purpose I have in wanting the to drunk?' That's just what she called him—pup. 'I'll have no such language in my house,' I says, 'and you and the over people's and making them think you're and fit to be a teacher and look out for people's morals—you're 'n any street-walker!' I says. I let her have it good. I wa'n't going to from my and let her think that had to for her talk. 'Purpose?' I says, 'Purpose? I'll tell you what purpose you had! Ain't I you making up to in that'd waste time and pay attention to your impert'nence? Ain't I you off your with them skirts of yours, trying to make out like you was so and la-de-da, along the street?'”
Carol was very at this of Fern's youth, but she was as Mrs. Bogart that no one tell what had Fern and Cy the drive home. Without the scene, by her power of the woman dark country places from the and and dance-steps in the barn, then and conquest. Carol was too to interrupt. It was Kennicott who cried, “Oh, for God's it! You haven't any idea what happened. You haven't us a single proof yet that Fern is anything but a rattle-brained youngster.”
“I haven't, eh? Well, what do you say to this? I come out and I says to her, 'Did you or did you not taste the Cy had?' and she says, 'I think I did take one sip—Cy me,' she said. She owned up to that much, so you can imagine——”
“Does that prove her a prostitute?” asked Carol.
“Carrie! Don't you use a word like that again!” the Puritan.
“Well, it prove her to be a woman, that she took a taste of whisky? I've done it myself!”
“That's different. Not that I approve your doing it. What do the Scriptures tell us? 'Strong drink is a mocker'! But that's different from a teacher with one of her own pupils.”
“Yes, it bad. Fern was silly, undoubtedly. But as a of she's only a year or two older than Cy and a good many years in of vice.”
“That's—not—true! She is old to him!
“The job of Cy was done by your town, five years ago!”
Mrs. Bogart did not in return. Suddenly she was hopeless. Her drooped. She her black kid gloves, at a of her skirt, and sighed, “He's a good boy, and if you him right. Some thinks he's terrible wild, but that's he's young. And he's so and truthful—why, he was one of the in town that wanted to for the war, and I had to speak to him to keep him from away. I didn't want him to into no these camps—and then,” Mrs. Bogart rose from her pitifulness, her pace, “then I go and into my own house a woman that's worse, when all's said and done, than any woman he have met. You say this Mullins woman is too and to Cy. Well then, she's too and to teach him, too, one or t'other, you can't have your cake and eat it! So it don't make no which they fire her for, and that's almost what I said to the school-board.”
“Have you been telling this to the members of the school-board?”
“I have! Every one of 'em! And their I says to them, ''Tain't my to decide what you should or should not do with your teachers,' I says, 'and I ain't to in any way, shape, manner, or form. I just want to know,' I says, 'whether you're going to go on record as here in our schools, among a of boys and girls, a woman that drinks, smokes, curses, language, and such as I wouldn't to but you know what I mean,' I says, 'and if so, I'll just see to it that the town about it.' And that's what I told Professor Mott, too, being superintendent—and he's a man, not going on the Sabbath like the school-board members. And the as much as he was of the Mullins woman himself.”
II
Kennicott was less and much less than Carol, and more in his of Mrs. Bogart, when she had gone.
Maud Dyer to Carol and, after a question about cooking with bacon, demanded, “Have you the about this Miss Mullins and Cy Bogart?”
“I'm sure it's a lie.”
“Oh, is.” Maud's manner that the of the was an in its delightfulness.
Carol to her room, sat with hands tight together as she to a of voices. She the town with it, every of them, at new details, to win by having of their own to add. How well they would make up for what they had been to do by it in another! They who had not been (but and sneaky), all the barber-shop and millinery-parlor mondaines, how they were (this second—she them at it); with what self-commendation they were their wit: “You can't tell ME she ain't a bird; I'm wise!”
And not one man in town to out their of superb and cursing, not one to the that their “rough chivalry” and “rugged virtues” were more than the scandal-picking of older lands, not one to thunder, with and oaths, “What are you at? What are you at? What have you? What are these unheard-of you so much—and like so well?”
No one to say it. Not Kennicott Guy Pollock Champ Perry.
Erik? Possibly. He would protest.
She what her in Erik had with this affair. Wasn't it they had been by her from on her own that they were at Fern?
III
Before supper she found, by a dozen telephone calls, that Fern had to the Minniemashie House. She there, trying not to be self-conscious about the people who looked at her on the street. The said that he “guessed” Miss Mullins was up in Room 37, and left Carol to the way. She along the stale-smelling with their of and poison-green rosettes, in white from water, their red and yellow matting, and of doors painted a blue. She not the number. In the at the end of a she had to the on the door-panels. She was once by a man's voice: “Yep? Whadyuh want?” and fled. When she the right door she listening. She out a long sobbing. There was no answer till her third knock; then an “Who is it? Go away!”
Her of the town as she pushed open the door.
Yesterday she had Fern Mullins in and skirt and canary-yellow sweater, and self-possessed. Now she across the bed, in and pumps, very feminine, cowed. She her in terror. Her was in and her was sallow, creased. Her were a from weeping.
“I didn't! I didn't!” was all she would say at first, and she it while Carol her cheek, her hair, her forehead. She rested then, while Carol looked about the room—the welcome to strangers, the of Main Street, the property of Kennicott's friend, Jackson Elder. It of old and and tobacco smoke. The was rickety, with a thin mattress; the sand-colored were and gouged; in every corner, under everything, were and cigar ashes; on the wash-stand was a and pitcher; the only chair was a object of varnish; but there was an and rose cuspidor.
She did not try to out Fern's story; Fern on telling it.
She had gone to the party, not Cy but to him for the of dancing, of from Mrs. Bogart's of comments, of after the of teaching. Cy “promised to be good.” He was, on the way out. There were a from Gopher Prairie at the dance, with many farm-people. Half a dozen from a in a brush-hidden hollow, of potatoes, thieves, came in drunk. They all the of the in old-fashioned square dances, their partners, skipping, laughing, under the of Del Snafflin the barber, who and called the figures. Cy had two drinks from pocket-flasks. Fern saw him among the overcoats on the at the end of the barn; soon after she a farmer that some one had his bottle. She taxed Cy with the theft; he chuckled, “Oh, it's just a joke; I'm going to give it back.” He that she take a drink. Unless she did, he wouldn't return the bottle.
“I just my with it, and gave it to him,” Fern. She sat up, at Carol. “Did you take a drink?”
“I have. A few. I'd love to have one right now! This with has about done me up!”
Fern laugh then. “So would I! I don't I've had five drinks in my life, but if I meet just one more Bogart and Son——Well, I didn't touch that bottle—horrible whisky—though I'd have loved some wine. I so jolly. The was almost like a stage scene—the high rafters, and the dark stalls, and swinging, and a silage-cutter up at the end like some of machine. And I'd been having of fun dancing with the farmer, so and nice, and intelligent. But I got when I saw how Cy was. So I if I touched two of the stuff. Do you God is me for wanting wine?”
“My dear, Mrs. Bogart's god may be—Main Street's god. But all the people are him . . . though he us.”
Fern again with the farmer; she Cy while she was talking with a girl who had taken the University course. Cy not have returned the bottle; he came toward her—taking time to make himself to every girl on the way and to a jig. She on their returning. Cy with her, and jigging. He her, the door. . . . “And to think I used to think it was to have men you at a dance!”. . . She the kiss, in the need of him home he started a fight. A farmer helped her the buggy, while Cy in the seat. He they set out; all the way home he alternately slept and to make love to her.
“I'm almost as as he is. I managed to keep him away while I drove—such a buggy. I didn't like a girl; I like a scrubwoman—no, I I was too to have any at all. It was dark. I got home, somehow. But it was hard, the time I had to out, and it was muddy, to read a sign-post—I matches that I took from Cy's pocket, and he me—he off the step into the mud, and got up and to make love to me, and——I was scared. But I him. Quite hard. And got in, and so he ran after the buggy, like a baby, and I let him in again, and right away again he was trying——But no matter. I got him home. Up on the porch. Mrs. Bogart was waiting up. . . .
“You know, it was funny; all the time she was—oh, talking to me—and Cy was being sick—I just thinking, 'I've still got to drive the to the stable. I wonder if the man will be awake?' But I got through somehow. I took the to the stable, and got to my room. I locked my door, but Mrs. Bogart saying things, the door. Stood out there saying about me, things, and the knob. And all the while I Cy in the yard-being sick. I don't think I'll any man. And then today——
“She me right out of the house. She wouldn't to me, all morning. Just to Cy. I he's over his now. Even at he the whole thing was a joke. I right this minute he's going around town about his 'conquest.' You understand—oh, DON'T you understand? I DID keep him away! But I don't see how I can my school. They say country are for up boys in, but——I can't this is me, here and saying this. I don't BELIEVE what last night.
“Oh. This was curious: When I took off my dress last night—it was a dress, I loved it so, but of the had it. I over it and——No matter. But my white were all torn, and the thing is, I don't know I my in the when I got out to look at the sign-post, or Cy me when I was him off.”
IV
Sam Clark was president of the school-board. When Carol told him Fern's Sam looked and neighborly, and Mrs. Clark sat by cooing, “Oh, isn't that too bad.” Carol was only when Mrs. Clark begged, “Dear, don't speak so about 'pious' people. There's of Christians that are tolerant. Like the Champ Perrys.”
“Yes. I know. Unfortunately there are people in the churches to keep them going.”
When Carol had finished, Mrs. Clark breathed, “Poor girl; I don't her a bit,” and Sam rumbled, “Yuh, sure. Miss Mullins is and reckless, but in town, Ma Bogart, what Cy is. But Miss Mullins was a to go with him.”
“But not to pay for it with disgrace?”
“N-no, but——” Sam verdicts, to the of the story. “Ma Bogart her out all morning, did she? Jumped her neck, eh? Ma is one hell-cat.”
“Yes, you know how she is; so vicious.”
“Oh no, her best ain't her viciousness. What she in our store is to come in with Christian Fortitude and keep a for one hour while she out a dozen nails. I one time——”
“Sam!” Carol was uneasy. “You'll for Fern, won't you? When Mrs. Bogart came to see you did she make charges?”
“Well, yes, you might say she did.”
“But the school-board won't act on them?”
“Guess we'll more or less have to.”
“But you'll Fern?”
“I'll do what I can for the girl personally, but you know what the is. There's Reverend Zitterel; Sister Bogart about his church, so of he'll take her say-so; and Ezra Stowbody, as a banker he has to be all for and purity. Might 's well admit it, Carrie; I'm there'll be a majority of the against her. Not that any of us would a word Cy said, not if he it on a of Bibles, but still, after all this gossip, Miss Mullins wouldn't be the party to our basket-ball team when it out of town to play other high schools, would she!”
“Perhaps not, but couldn't some one else?”
“Why, that's one of the she was for.” Sam stubborn.
“Do you that this isn't just a of a job, and and firing; that it's actually sending a girl out with a on her, all the other Bogarts in the world a at her? That's what will if you her.”
Sam moved uncomfortably, looked at his wife, his head, sighed, said nothing.
“Won't you for her on the board? If you lose, won't you, and with you, make a report?”
“No reports in a case like this. Our is to just decide the thing and the final decision, it's or not.”
“Rules! Against a girl's future! Dear God! Rules of a school-board! Sam! Won't you by Fern, and to from the if they try to her?”
Rather testy, of so many subtleties, he complained, “Well, I'll do what I can, but I'll have to wait till the meets.”
And “I'll do what I can,” together with the “Of you and I know what Ma Bogart is,” was all Carol from Superintendent George Edwin Mott, Ezra Stowbody, the Reverend Mr. Zitterel or any other of the school-board.
Afterward she Mr. Zitterel have been to herself when he observed, “There's too much in high places in this town, though, and the of is death—or anyway, bein' fired.” The with which the said it in her mind.
She was at the hotel eight next morning. Fern to go to school, to the tittering, but she was too shaky. Carol read to her all day and, by her, her own self that the school-board would be just. She was less sure of it that when, at the motion pictures, she Mrs. Gougerling to Mrs. Howland, “She may be so and all, and I she is, but still, if she a whole bottle of at that dance, the way says she did, she may have she was so innocent! Hee, hee, hee!” Maud Dyer, from her seat, put in, “That's what I've said all along. I don't want to anybody, but have you noticed the way she looks at men?”
“When will they have me on the scaffold?” Carol speculated.
Nat Hicks stopped the Kennicotts on their way home. Carol him for his manner of that they two had a understanding. Without he to at her as he gurgled, “What do you think about this Mullins woman? I'm not strait-laced, but I tell you we got to have in our schools. D' you know what I heard? They say she may of done afterwards, this Mullins took two of to the with her, and got Cy did! Some tank, that wren! Ha, ha, ha!”
“Rats, I don't it,” Kennicott muttered.
He got Carol away she was able to speak.
She saw Erik the house, late, alone, and she after him, for the of the he would say about the town. Kennicott had nothing for her but “Oh, course, ev'body a juicy story, but they don't to be mean.”
She up to to herself that the members of the school-board were men.
It was Tuesday she learned that the had met at ten in the and voted to “accept Miss Fern Mullins's resignation.” Sam Clark the news to her. “We're not making any charges. We're just her resign. Would you like to over to the hotel and ask her to the resignation, now we've it? Glad I the to put it that way. It's thanks to you.”
“But can't you see that the town will take this as proof of the charges?”
“We're—not—making—no—charges—whatever!” Sam was it hard to be patient.
Fern left town that evening.
Carol with her to the train. The two girls through a lip-licking crowd. Carol to them but in of the of the boys and the of the men, she was embarrassed. Fern did not at them. Carol her arm tremble, though she was tearless, listless, plodding. She Carol's hand, said something unintelligible, up into the vestibule.
Carol that Miles Bjornstam had also taken a train. What would be the at the station when she herself took departure?
She walked up-town two strangers.
One of them was giggling, “See that good-looking that got on here? The kid with the small black hat? She's some charmer! I was here yesterday, my jump to Ojibway Falls, and I all about her. Seems she was a teacher, but she was a high-roller—O boy!—high, wide, and fancy! Her and of other skirts a whole case of and on a tear, and one night, if this of cradle-robbers didn't of some kids, just small boys, and they all got up like a White Way, and out to a dance, and they say——”
The turned, saw a woman near and, not being a common person a but a salesman and a householder, his voice for the of the tale. During it the other man laughed hoarsely.
Carol off on a side-street.
She passed Cy Bogart. He was some to a group which Nat Hicks, Del Snafflin, Bert Tybee the bartender, and A. Tennyson O'Hearn the lawyer. They were men older than Cy but they him as one of their own, and him to go on.
It was a week she from Fern a of which this was a part:
. . . & of my family did not the but as they were sure I must have done something they just me generally, in me till I have gone to live at a house. The teachers' must know the story, man at one almost the door in my when I to ask about a job, & at another the woman in was beastly. Don't know what I will do. Don't to very well. May a that's in love with me but he's so that he makes me SCREAM.
Dear Mrs. Kennicott you were the only one that me. I it's a joke on me, I was such a simp, I while I was the that night & Cy away from me. I I the people in Gopher Prairie to me. I did use to be for my at the U.—just five months ago.
