Chapter V: Jack's Send-Off

IT took some time for Theo's eyes to be entirely opened; it was hard for her to give up her ideals, and she reproached herself with an inconstancy which she decried. It is often so with imaginative natures. While heretofore she had always confided in her aunt, Theo now felt it impossible to share her secret with any one.

The nearest approach to a confidence, strange to say, was in a conversation with Mr. Smith, whose feeling for Theo was very deep. He had watched her pass through her first trials, had learned to value the pure womanly nature which scorned artifice of any kind, and with his natural astuteness, he guessed that she was in danger of bestowing her affections where he dreaded their falling. He knew we are apt to judge persons from the stand-points of our own compositions, not realizing that they who are differently temperamented must act and feel differently. And so he believed that Theo was in danger of clothing her ideal in Felix Parkhurst's form, imagining he possessed the qualities she most admired. And he saw that Felix was clever enough to make her believe that he answered to her ideal, when all which was responsive in him was only surface deep; he was a mere trifler with the true and beautiful, a seeker of new emotions, and only a lover of himself. Young men of this type were most heartily despised by Mr. Smith.

"He hasn't a bit of force," was his criticism; "he is as weak as dishwater, conceited jackanapes!" he exclaimed.

This was in answer to Val's question of "What do you think of Felix Parkhurst, Colonel?"

Mr. Smith was standing in the studio, looking at one of Nannie's studies. He was waiting for Theo to go out to drive with him; and Val had been teasing him in her usual saucy way.

"I don't see why you don't take me?" she said, hanging on his arm. "You always ask Theo," she continued, pouting.

"Would you rather I asked you?" inquired he, sharply.

Val laughed. "You thought you would catch me, Colonel, but I am not to be taken in that way, for I don't want to go a bit. I have an engagement, if you please, good sir. You aren't near as snappish as you used to be," she added, going off and regarding him meditatively. "I don't know what would have become of you if papa had not asked to have you appointed my guardian. You would eventually have become like some of these new war explosives: one couldn't come within miles of you without being blown up," and, making an elaborate courtesy, she left the room just as Theo entered.

"I am not going to have you lose your bloom in this city air," was the Colonel's greeting.

Theo smiled, but rather wearily. "I remember you brought it back once before," she replied; "you always do me good, Mr. Smith. I think you are a wholesome tonic. I am in a doubting mood to-day; if you can find me some faith in myself on our way, I shall come home in much better spirits."

Mr. Smith made no reply just then, and they were fairly on their way, when he suddenly turned and said,—

"Don't doubt yourself because you haven't found your ideal. Take an old man's advice, Theo. I've been through the mill, and I cannot have you beginning to be bitter at your age."

"But I must be such a weakling, such a dreamer," returned Theo.

"No, child; it is like searching for truth. One may make many mistakes, but the endeavor is none the less true, nor is truth the less when it is found. It is not your limit, my girl, nor are you any the less constant to love as love."

"How did you know?" said Theo, softly, after a pause.

The Colonel turned, and saw that her eyes were cast down to hide the tears falling from them; for answer, he only whipped up his horse and changed the subject. But Theo felt that among her friends none read her heart so well or gave her closer sympathy than the gruff old Colonel.

During this period of Theo's self-abasement, nothing tended to restore her to a better state of mind than Jack's little unassuming attentions, although she did not realize what he was doing for her, so delicately did he offer comfort. A bunch of violets, a bright book, a turn of the talk from morbid subjects to something actively interesting, suggestions of all sorts to Miss Nelson for taking Theo out of herself, suggestions which auntie was wise enough to offer without accounting for the source.

One evening, Jack came in with something cuddled up under his overcoat. Theo was in the studio with her aunt.

"I have brought a suppliant for your favor," announced he, still holding his coat over the little creature he concealed.

Theo came nearer. "Oh, what is it, Jack? Let me see."

"Can you harbor a homeless waif?"

"That depends," remarked Miss Nelson.

"Is it a kitten?" inquired Theo, curiously.

Jack shook his head. "No; I wouldn't dream of bringing any one to share his majesty Lord Ishmael's reign. 'This is another story.' As I was coming up the street, a few days ago, I saw a little lost dog, which, when I spoke to him, followed me so persistently that he must have imagined I was his master. I took him home, not knowing what else to do, but I couldn't keep him long,—for I am going away in a short time,—and though Archie, dear old man, would be glad to see to him, the little chap would be lonely if left to himself all day. I have advertised, but no answer has come, and I haven't the heart to turn him loose," and Jack turned back his coat, displaying a little Yorkshire terrier, whose bright eyes looked out from under his scraggy hair.

"The darling!" exclaimed Theo, and down bounced doggie, running to her, wagging his stump of a tail, and putting suppliant paws on her lap. "You dear little fellow," giving utterance to the caressing words as she picked him up. "Oh, auntie!" appealing to Miss Janet. "We may keep him, mayn't we? We can as well as not."

Jack gave Miss Janet a quick glance.

"Will you be responsible for him?" she asked.

"Of course I will," vouched Theo. "I will see that he has plenty to eat, and will take him out airing every day; won't I, doggie? What do you call him, Jack?"

"Rags!" replied he.

"That just suits him," and Theo hugged up the little creature, showing such a lively interest in him that Jack was entirely satisfied with his policy in bringing him.

"You are going away?" said Miss Nelson, turning to Jack. "You will not be gone long, I hope."

"I don't know," he answered. "I may never come back: I cannot tell."

"Oh!" cried Theo, contritely. "And I never noticed what you said. I was so taken up with Rags. You really are not going, Jack?"

Jack set his lips firmly and looked at the girl regarding him with friendly eyes. "Yes," he said. "I have not spoken of it before, even to Arch. I only told him to-day. I have nothing in the world, Theo, but my own energy to depend upon. I am not rich any longer. My uncle has absorbed everything; he has failed, after making over everything to his wife."

"Oh, you poor boy!" exclaimed Theo, with real concern. "Tell us all about it," and she left her place to go to his side.

"There is nothing to tell," replied Jack, simply; "that is all. My uncle married, I think, with this end in view; he had put all my money in the business. I could not get it out, and he has failed for a million, at least; so I must go to work."

"But you have been working," asserted Miss Nelson; "you have never been an idler, Jack. Tell us your plans. I am just beginning to take in all you have said. It will be hard to lose one of my boys; and Archie—how he will miss you."

"I am going south," Jack told them; "there is a chance for me there; and when I make my fortune, I will come back," and he gave a smile full of sweetness and courage to Theo.

"We shall all miss you dreadfully," she assured him. "Oh, Jack, we shall indeed," as she suddenly remembered all his little thoughtful ways, his never-failing readiness to be of use to one and all, and her eyes filled. "It was cruel of your uncle."

"Never mind; it will be all right," he said, consolingly. "Don't mind, Theo: it will make a man of me, maybe," he added. "No doubt, it's just as well."

Miss Nelson understood, if Theo didn't; for she knew how hard it was for him to give them all up, Theo especially; and that nothing less than absolute compulsion could give him the courage to renounce the companionship so dear to him.

"I shall keep you well posted, young man," said Miss Janet, "as to all that concerns us, for I do not mean to have you give us up at all. And Archie, of course, will hear from you very often, so it is not an entire separation. When must you leave us?"

"About the first of the month; there is time for any number of farewells. Don't bother, Miss Nelson; it's all right, you know. I don't mind it much."

But auntie knew he did mind, auntie and Archie. Theo felt a little indignant that he should assume such indifference, and Nannie was genuinely sorry to have him go; Archie was inconsolable, and Val was loud in her lamentations and continually bewailed Jack's hard lot. She finally told Theo it was all her fault, and heaped such reproaches upon her that poor Theo began almost to believe that she had been party to an iniquitous proceeding.

The evening before Jack's departure, they agreed to have, as Archie said, "one glorious, old, idiotic time;" and the preparations for this somewhat modified the sharpness of the loss of their comrade.

By this time, Rags had a new sobriquet, it having been arrived at by a series of expressions, through Theo's endeavor to teach him the trick of sitting up on his hind legs and crossing his forepaws.

"Poor thing, cross his legs," in a coaxing tone, became "poor 'sing, c'oss he legs," then "po''sing, c'oss he," and finally "Posie-Cossie," and "Posie-Cossie" every one called him.

He was a most intelligent, sensitive, affectionate little fellow, and developed as many peculiar tastes as did Theo's cat, Ishmael.

The evening's jollifications were ushered in by a candy party, and great was the variety the girls managed to manufacture.

"Don't they look good?" said Val, as she daintily nibbled a cream chocolate. "I think these are the best. We will put them aside where it is cool, and eat some of those ragged-looking things first. Jack likes chocolate, and this is his send-off," and she took the buttered sheet of paper carefully into another room.

"I like the nutty ones best," declared Theo, "and so does Archie; so we will save a lot of those, too." And these were set aside with the chocolates.

But an hour later, when Theo went to get them, not one of the chocolates was left, and only a few of the nutty ones.

"Val, Val," she called, "where have you put the chocolates?"

"Why, in there," responded Val, pausing in her occupation of laying a table for a reception of the feast.

"They're not here."

"Not there!" And Val appeared at the door, then approached nearer to examine the place. She looked around, above and below, and, finally, discovered the paper on the floor. "I know!" she exclaimed. "Posie-Cossie has taken them. Where is he?"

Theo called him, and presently, with a very wagging tail and an exceedingly cordial manner, the little dog appeared from under the bed; but he approached slowly and with much fawning.

"Posie-Cossie," said Theo, in a severe tone, "who took the chocolates?"

Immediately Posie-Cossie fell over on his back and held up deprecating paws, while his tail from wagging kept up a slight wiggle, as if he meant to assure them that, no matter what their feelings towards him, he was entirely amiably disposed.

"You're a bad, naughty dog!" scolded Theo. "Poor Jack, to think it should be his favorite candy, too. It is a mean shame."

Posie-Cossie was plunged into utter misery by the continued reproaches, and Theo concluded he was punished enough when she refused to respond to his blandishments; for he was, by this time, trying to jump up and lick her hand. But when, failing of all other resources, he went off in the corner abjectly and crossed his paws, in the most approved manner, Theo had to laugh, and that ended the scolding.

With Miss Nelson and Mr. Smith as audience, Theo, Val, Nannie, Archie, and Jack as performers, the evening's entertainment began.

"I'm not going to be in it at all," decided Jack. "I think it is more fun to look on. Or, I'll tell you: give me my acts first, and let me join the audience."

"Oh, no," remonstrated Archie; "you're up to it, Jack. Come, join the gang."

"No," said the girls; "that isn't fair, Archie. We are all audience, you know, for each one enjoys the others' performances, and we can look on when we are not performing. Jack shall do just as he pleases; it is his last evening, and this is in his honor, so don't cross him."

"Don't cross him!" repeated Archie. "One would suppose he was a toddling infant just recovering from the whooping-cough."

"He is anything but an infant," retorted Val, smiling up into Jack's face, at such a height above her. "I declare, Jack, you are so nice and big, I could almost fall in love with you; it is a pity you are going away. Why didn't I think of it sooner?" And Val laughed saucily at Archie as he gave her a disappointing look. "Don't look upon me with such 'spurn,'" she besought him. "Jack doesn't care. Do you, Jack?"

"Not in the least," he assured her. "I know your capabilities, and am not afraid of what you can do."

"What a very subtle and obscure speech," remarked Val to Nannie. "What does he mean? That I am not capable of falling in love, or that he is proof against me?"

"Here, here," ordered Archie, "stop fooling. It is time we were getting into our rigs. You and Nannie come after Jack, Val, and you haven't begun to get ready. Hurry up now, while we go to our green-room and prepare."

"Don't forget you're to do the announcing," called Val after him.

Jack had precipitately fled before this, and was ready to return as Lamio the great snake-charmer. How he contrived to manipulate his paper snakes was a mystery to all; but they certainly did crawl out of a basket, coil themselves up at his bidding, dance, fight, and do so many strange things that one really doubted if they were not alive.

"I believe he has hypnotized us," said Nannie, "for I certainly never saw anything so uncanny. Oh, Theo!" For one of the snakes was slowly winding its way along towards them, but crept back at Nannie's exclamation.

"Doesn't he look handsome?" whispered Val. "Where did he get his turban?"

"My scrap-basket," informed Theo. "I wound it with a white mull scarf I had, and his costume is just odds and ends; but he does look well in it."

"These snakes," Jack's voice broke in, "are very dangerous and venomous. They are found in the wilds of Africa. Their names are Beard of the Prophet, Pride of the Desert, Plains of South Africa, and Brother of Princes. Here, Beard of the Prophet, you are getting sleepy; wake up," and the creature jumped from its coiled position. "The natives," continued Jack, "hunt them with tigers by watching for their footprints in the sands."

After this astounding statement, he paused for inspiration; then he went on. "They are very similar to the boa-constrictor, and their habits are much the same; only their habits are smaller," he added, gravely, much to the amusement of Val, who burst into such a peal of laughter as disconcerted Lamio, and he was not long in bringing his exhibition to a close.

Before long, Val and Nannie sent word that they were ready, and Archie announced to the audience "the first appearance on any stage of the infant prodigy, Baby Le Moyne," and Val, led by Nannie, came in. The latter's appearance, however, created such mirth—for Theo and Jack had joined the others till they should be called upon to appear—that the infant prodigy had no chance at first. Nannie was stuffed out to large proportions, her nose was held up by a thread of silk cunningly fastened to her hair, and her costume was strikingly unique, while her brogue was richness itself. Val carried a doll, and looked so like a little baby that it was impossible to believe her eighteen years old. Her voice, too, was pitched to exactness, and as she sang a little song and repeated a little poem, she was perfect, and retired amid great applause.

Then Theo appeared as Miss Argosa, a freak with three eyes,—the third one of glass, in the middle of her forehead,—upon which an eyebrow and eyelashes had been most artistically painted by Nannie. Miss Argosa professed to be able to see more than any one else; and Archie pretended to hide articles, but in the most obvious places, which Theo discovered immediately, of course.

Archie next bounded upon the scene in an astounding acrobatic costume, devised from some of Nannie's draperies. And he went through such performances as standing on his head, turning somersaults and handsprings, walking on his hands, till his agility evoked much applause.

Theo, as a professional singer, came out and sang a popular song in most approved concert style, receiving a market-basket of paper flowers.

Nannie painted a picture to music. She was dressed in the most fantastic garb, with a false nose and flowing ringlets, a scarf with fluttering ends about her shoulders. But her wax nose-fell off, and created such merriment that she couldn't get it back again, and was obliged to finish her sketch "with her own nose," as Val remarked.

Then Jack sang a rollicking song. But being encored vociferously, he began a ballad.

"The busy tide of time flows on
And bears our lives unto the main;
And you are there, but I am gone,
And we shall meet no more again,—"

the rich voice rang out, and into it crept such a pathos that presently Val was crying unmistakably. The tears were standing in Miss Nelson's eyes, and Nannie was shading her face with her hand.

Theo rebelliously bit her lip, and Archie cried out, "Let up, Jack; we can't stand that."

And Jack looked around to see them so sobered and saddened that he broke into the Toreador Song from Carmen, and in a few moments, the mood had changed.

Archie, meantime, had dressed up Posie-Cossie, and, bringing him in, tried to make him perform some tricks.

Then followed an Indian dance, the costumes bringing into requisition all the rugs, a striped Italian blanket, a pair of striped "portières," and such like articles, while a quantity of monkey-fur served for hair in the case of Archie, and Jack being surmounted by small feather-dusters. An absurdly solemn dance it was, and, when exhausted with the whirling, one after another stopped, and at last, the performance was declared at an end.

"We had a good time, didn't we?" said Val. "Wasn't it funny, Colonel? Did you ever laugh more?"

"I never in my life laughed more," declared Mr. Smith. "I don't see how you children manage to be so intensely amusing," which was a great compliment for the Colonel, who seldom praised, and the performers were correspondingly grateful.

"Posie-Cossie ate up all the chocolates," announced Nannie; "so, Jack, we will have to select some other 'dainty dish to set before a king.'"

"Never mind," replied Jack; "the display is tempting enough without them. I'll take a nutlet. I'm not much of a candy fiend, and you have enough left to supply an army."

"You will make yourselves ill, children," warned Miss Nelson; "do eat something besides sweets. How do they manage to do it?" she said to Mr. Smith.

"Try a bon-bon, Colonel," said Val, persuasively.

"Not for the world," he replied, with a wry face; "but you may give me some of that salad: it looks passable."

"Passable!" was Val's indignant response. "It is equal to Delmonico's. Theo and I made it, drop by drop, just as the recipe says."

"A remarkable way," concluded Mr. Smith, smiling. "It isn't bad," pronounced he, "but you might improve it."

"I wonder if we left out anything," said Val, in an aside to Theo.

"No," she replied, "of course we didn't; he is only teasing."

"Time is flying," Jack proclaimed. "I must be off."

"Oh, dear!" sighed Val. "Jack, I just hate to say good-by. Please come back soon. You are so like the rest of us, it is a shame to lose you out of the crowd. You are so appreciative of our own special form of wit, and are so responsive."

"You are giving him a fine load to carry away with him, Val," said Archie; "he will not be able to travel with all those compliments."

"Never mind," retorted she. "Jack has strength enough to carry them; now you—"

"Stop, stop; no personalities," interrupted Jack. "Really, it is high time we were going, for I must put some things in my trunk to-night, and, do you know, it is to-morrow already. Midnight, actually," and he began his adieux, to Miss Nelson first, to Theo last.

For a moment he stood in the doorway, his eyes resting on the girl whose face showed a lingering regret as he turned away. Then he darted back again, and caught her hand in both his.

"God bless you!" he said, huskily; then, without another word, he was gone, and Archie followed.

"There goes one of the truest, noblest men I know," said Mr. Smith, breaking in upon the silence which had fallen upon the group.

"Who?" asked Theo, flippantly, to hide some real emotion. "Archie?"

"No, Miss," returned Mr. Smith, taking up his hat; "Jack Allen."