Sound of the Trumpet Read online

  “Well, at least we could have talked it over and sifted your feeling down to facts. And yes, perhaps we could have done something really practical about it. Victor always used to be amenable to reason. Perhaps he has had no one to talk things over with him. You know his mother is very conservative and dislikes to bring personal matters out into the open. When Victor was a little child I can remember her saying that it was better not to notice naughty things that he did. He would be more likely to drop them if they were not mentioned.”

  “Yes, I know. He never talks things over with his mother. He thinks women have the wrong viewpoints on almost everything and they are not wise advisers of the male sex. That’s what he said, Mother! Just recently. He never used to talk that way, but now he says he thinks women were made principally to be petted and to make a pleasant home for men. And for his father, he’s too busy to talk anything over with him. Don’t you see, Mother? That’s what is the matter with Victor. He’s made his own philosophy of life and he means to live by it. He says they encourage the students at his college to do just that. He told me so the other day, and he said that if girls were brought up that way they wouldn’t be so feminine in their ways. But he said he liked them better feminine, that he couldn’t bear a woman who was always trying to make him over. And since he said that, Mother, I haven’t tried to talk anything over with him. It wasn’t any use.”

  “Well,” sighed her mother, “I’m just sorry you didn’t mention this before. I would have had a good talk with him. He always used to listen most respectfully to anything I said. Maybe it’s not too late yet.”

  “I think it is, Mother. Victor is very definite in his ‘philosophy of life’ as he calls it. Just wait till you hear him talk. He simply thinks he knows it all, and I’d hate to have him try to take you down, and show you where he thinks you belong, the way he did to me. I would just hate him if he tried it, Mother.”

  “Well,” said the mother with a sigh, “I certainly hope that time will prove you are mistaken. I was always very fond of Victor, and I thought your friendship with him was such a happy, healthy companionship. I would be sorry indeed to have it turn out the way you seem to think it has. But don’t be too hasty in your judgment. Remember you have been separated for almost a year now, and it would be natural there would be some changes. But those things will probably all be adjusted as time goes on and life falls into its normal lines again. Try not to think too much about it. Just let things work out. Be your old self as far as possible. Avoid discussions, and above all wrangling, even about things that matter. You can state your own belief, of course, when necessary, but let it go at that. Don’t try to argue. Half his arguments will die out if he has no opposition, I imagine. Now dear, here we are! Forget all this and put your mind on your suit. I want you to be sure you get the right fur on that coat, because I do dislike to have you uncertain about things you have to wear through a season or two. This is the time to select wisely. Especially now as a war measure, you know. It isn’t patriotic to buy carelessly and fling a thing aside because you are tired of it, and get another. You know we are constantly warned about that. There! See the coat in the window! Do you like that shade of brown fur? I think that would be becoming to you, don’t you?”

  So they entered the tailor’s shop and were at once immersed in thoughts of garments.

  But now and again, back in the recesses of her mind, Lisle caught herself regretting that Victor was to be at lunch with them. Somehow she couldn’t seem to get away from annoying thoughts.

  As she put on her coat and adjusted her hat after the fitting she glanced at her watch and noted that it was within a half hour of the time set for them to meet Victor. How annoying! Now there would be no time to take her mother to look at the dress she had seen the other day and was hoping her mother would be as interested in as she was. And there wouldn’t be any time after lunch. There never was when Victor was around. He would have some movie or show to which he wanted to take her, or he would be planning something, she was sure; and she would have to go, of course, if he asked her mother. Her mother was troubled, she could see, because she and Victor were at odds, and she would be certain to further any plans Victor had, hoping it might smooth the troubled waters and bring about a state of peace between the two who had been such close friends through childhood.

  She drew a deep sigh as they stepped out into the crisp autumn air, thinking of Victor. Was it riches and position that made him that way? Maybe it wasn’t only the college he attended. Maybe he was just lifted up in his own eyes. Well, however it was, she had to meet him in half an hour and be as pleasant as possible through the lunch time. But she would get away from him if possible for the afternoon, so she might as well smooth out the ruffled brow she knew she was carrying and get ready to smile. Certainly she never could get anywhere frowning.

  So she went with her mother to select some new shoes to go with her new suit, and had as good a time while she was doing it as possible. It would be good to make her mother feel that this matter of a difference between herself and Victor was a trifling thing after all and nothing to worry about. She didn’t want her mother to talk to Victor about it. He would tell her she always ran to Mamma with all questions, and wouldn’t she ever grow up? She hated to have him talk that way about her mother. No, she would just ignore things. Of course she would likely have to go to that party, much as she hated the idea. It would mean having Victor order her around and tell her who to speak to and what to do, but perhaps after all he might go away to war, and she could escape the party, so she needn’t worry.

  So she went through the duties of the next half hour, sat with her mother laughing and talking when Victor arrived, and met him with her usual charming casualness. Perhaps she had been silly. Victor was very handsome, of course, and he had been a delightful friend. Well!

  She watched him as he came down the aisle toward the waiting room where they were seated on a leather couch. His distinguished bearing, the almost haughty carriage of his fine head and shoulders, the wide dark eyes, the flashing smile. Yes, he was about the handsomest boy she had ever seen, and she used to be so proud to think he was her friend and had chosen her for the object of his attentions. What had changed him? What had changed her? Or—were they really changed?

  His eyes rested upon her as soon as he sighted her, and expressed his admiration. And she knew she was looking well. She had taken pains with her brief opportunity for those few touches she had given to her toilet as she stood before the mirror in the fitting room. She knew that he had always admired the green suit she was wearing, and she knew that her hat was becoming. There was no reason for her to feel that she was not at her best, even though her garments were not new this year. So she met her old friend quite at her ease and held out a pleasant hand of greeting, suddenly aware that her mother was watching with sharp eyes. Perhaps this knowledge gave her tone a sound of formality, though she was struggling to make it as natural as possible.

  “Hello, Vic. Nice you could take lunch with us,” she said heartily, trying to make her voice sound genuine. “I didn’t know you were back from Washington till Mother said you had telephoned. Did you have a pleasant time on your trip?”

  “Oh, fairly so,” said the boy, looking her over critically. “You’re looking well, Lisle. Seems to me I remember that dress and hat you’re wearing. One of your old-time favorites, isn’t it?”

  Lisle laughed and tilted her chin a bit defiantly. Was he rebuking her for not being dressed more formally when he was lunching with her?

  “What a memory you have for trivial matters,” she replied gaily. “Yes, of course this is an old dress. It isn’t patriotic, you know, to get new ones unless you have to.”

  “Oh, I see. Yes, of course. Well, it’s still becoming to you.”

  Lisle’s cheeks were glowing now. Something in her old friend’s tone aroused her anger. It was perfectly silly, of course, and why should she care? But he acted almost as if it were a personal affront to himself that she was no
t wearing a new suit. She gave a quick glance at her mother to see if she had noticed it or whether this was just her own imagination, but she saw her mother, too, had a look of annoyance.

  “Yes, we’re all doing our best to be patriotic, aren’t we, Victor?” responded the mother sweetly, with just a little haughty lift of her chin. “I think that English slogan is so interesting. You know it of course. ‘Eat it up, wear it out, make it do!’ I often say that over to myself when I’m tempted to buy something I don’t really need. I think it is an excellent rule. We want to do all we can, of course, to help win this war. And indeed it is little enough we can do, we who have to stay at home and cannot go out and fight. We want you boys to feel that you have us all a hundred percent behind you. Did I understand you to say, Victor, that you have your commission?”

  “Well, no, Mrs. Kingsley, it hasn’t come through yet, but I am sure there is no doubt about it at all. Dad has some very powerful friends in the government, you know; he can practically get anything he wants.”

  “Oh,” said Mrs. Kingsley, raising her eyebrows slightly. “I must have misunderstood you. But of course, I suppose those things all have a certain amount of red tape to be arranged before things are really finished. However, I understand that plans are being hurried up because of the great need of sending more soldiers over at once, and I suppose it won’t be long now before we can expect to be startled by having some of our best friends called. You know it is awfully hard to see those whom we have known and loved for years leave us. Yet we do not grudge the pain of their going, because they are our very best, and only the very best are ready to take on them the responsibilities of this great cause. Just think! You, Victor Vandingham, are really going to war! Aren’t you thrilled at the thought?”

  Victor regarded her as if she were slightly demented.

  “Well, not exactly,” he drawled in a new accent he had acquired at college. “One scarcely yearns to go out and get into such a mess, of course. And there are a good many reasons why I would much rather stay at home just now. Plans I had made to begin my life in a regular way, business plans, and so on. One hates to be halted right at the start this way. But of course if it has to be, it has to be. However, I’ll be honest. I’m not shouting with joy over the prospect. But say, I’m starved, aren’t you? Shall we go to the tearoom at once?”

  In silence Lisle walked beside her old playmate as he led the way to the tearoom, while her mother did her best to converse about generalities.

  It was Victor who selected the table at which they were to sit, although Mrs. Kingsley suggested that she usually sat in the center of the room where she had a favorite waitress.

  “What! You mean that crab-faced woman with the lantern jaw? Forget her, Mother Kingsley. She thinks she owns you. She knows how to put one over on you, Emily, and she works you for all she’s worth. The last time I ate here she gave me the worst serving of chicken. It was nearly all bones, and I think she personally picked out that serving because I jacked her up on telling you that the cherry pie was all gone when I saw the woman at the next table get a big piece just five minutes before. If I’d had time I’d have reported her. You wait till I show you a waitress that is real. Here! There she is over there! That one with a pink ribbon on her hair that just matches her cheeks. She’s easy to look at, isn’t she? No lantern jaws on her. She’ll give you her prettiest smile and get you what you want in a jiffy. Now, you’ll see.”

  Lisle giggled softly.

  “You mean she’ll smile and be a villain still?” she asked pointedly.

  The young man flashed a haughty reproof at his playmate and, walking over to the table, drew back a chair for Mrs. Kingsley and another for Lisle, then turned to a convenient coat tree, divested himself of his handsome overcoat, and sat down, seemingly well pleased with himself.

  The pretty waitress fluttered up and prepared the table for their use with glasses and silver, providing them with menu cards.

  The young man accepted his with a grin and a, “Hi, Cherry! How are things with you today?”

  “All right, thank you, Mr. Vandingham,” responded the girl with as perfect a poise as if she had been his dinner partner at some social affair.

  Mrs. Kingsley lifted her eyes in a quick thorough survey of the girl and brought them back to the menu. But the girl’s flush was permanent and her poise quite perfect—the poise of a well-trained waitress who knew her place, no matter what a daring young man chose to do.

  The lady gave her order quietly, with utmost breeding and few words.

  “Tomato stuffed with chicken salad, this plate of sandwiches, and a cup of tea. Dessert? No, no dessert. I seldom take it at this time of day.”

  Lisle was ready to give her order. “Vegetable soup and a chicken salad sandwich.”

  “Now, Lisle, that’s no gala lunch!” put in the young man. “We want this to be a real meal. I’m taking roast beef and mashed potatoes and shrimp salad, avocados, and hot rolls, unsalted butter, and black coffee. You take the same, Lisle, then we’ll come out even. Come on, be a good sport and play up!”

  But Lisle sat coolly and looked down, shaking her head.

  “Thanks, no, Vic, I’m taking the vegetable soup and a chicken salad sandwich. You get what you want. It will be all right with me. I’ll take an orange sherbet to close with if that will help you out. And now, having settled the momentous question of what we shall eat, suppose you tell us your impression of Washington during this strenuous wartime. Did you like it? Would you be glad if you could stay there?”

  Like a child, the young man turned quickly to the new subject offered.

  “Washington? Oh yes, it’s certainly swell to be down there for a while, only everybody is so terribly busy, and nobody has any time to enjoy life. There’s too much traffic and too many people trying to run things their own way, and even girls are putting on uniforms and trying to act like soldiers. It’s all right for the women to help in the war problem, of course, but when it comes to pretty girls dropping their gaiety and attempting to pose as nurses or messengers or hostesses or even fliers, I draw the line at that. Girls haven’t the mental power to go out for war. They’re bound to get silly and make great mistakes. This is man’s work, this war, and women shouldn’t try to mess in it just to get notoriety. They should confine their activities to something more feminine. However, they did take time off for a few dances. There are some swell girls down there, of course. The finest of the fine. Daughters of senators and officials. I met a girl from Russian nobility who was a stunner. She was clever, too.”

  “Hm!” commented Lisle pleasantly. “That must have been interesting.”

  But Lisle’s mother was silently eating her luncheon and watching the boy who had been so many years her daughter’s playmate, noting the changes that seemed to have come to his state of mind since he had been away, first in college and then, after a brief interval at home, off to Washington, where he was supposed to have been maneuvering some desirable berth for himself during the war, with the wise machinations of his father and friends.

  Then suddenly the young man turned to her, annoyed perhaps at the silence of the woman who had always seemed to be his old friend and ally.

  “Say, Emily,” he burst forth nonchalantly, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to speak to you about, and I guess this is as good a time as any. It’s about Lisle. Have you ever considered sending her away to get a little different slant on life? I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, Emily, and I felt it was my duty to suggest it to you.”

  Mrs. Kingsley lifted her eyes calmly and looked into the saucy eyes of the handsome boy for a moment before she spoke. Then she said coolly, “Since when have you taken to calling your elders by their first names, Victor?”

  “Oh, that!” laughed Victor. “Why everybody does that now, haven’t you noticed it, Emily? It’s quite the thing. All my friends at college do it. In fact, I think you’ll find that it’s getting to be a custom all over the civilized world. Of course, my mother
practically had a fit the first time I called her Geraldine, but she’s getting quite accustomed to it now, and only laughs when I say it. And you’ll soon get to like it, too, Emily, I’m sure. You see, it gives you a personal individuality that you didn’t have before.”

  “No,” said Mrs. Kingsley quickly, “I shall not like it. I shall never like to have youths who are practically little more than children speaking to their elders in what I consider a disrespectful manner, and if you intend to remain a friend to our family, I must insist that you do not do it again.”

  “Oh, now Em—I beg your pardon, Mother Kingsley—I’m sorry you take it that way. I assure you I have the utmost respect for you, but it seems that it would be best for you to recognize the trend of the times and accept the changes that are coming into circulation. And it is for that reason that I suggested that Lisle might profit by going away to another college for a while and getting a more modern viewpoint for herself and for her parents. It has done me a world of good to get away from the elderly and somewhat antique ideas of my parents, and I’m sure it would improve Lisle wonderfully.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t agree with you that it has done you a world of good to go away,” said Mrs. Kingsley. “I think it has injured you unbearably, and if I were your mother I should be grieved beyond endurance at the change. Even as merely your old friend, I am filled with disappointment in you. I used to count you as a lad of great promise, but now you seem to have been under some stultifying blast that has made you insufferable. I would scarcely recognize you for the same boy we used to know. And I certainly do not recognize any right that you seem to think you have to criticize or advise about the education of and development of my daughter.”

  “Well, you are mistaken,” said the arrogant youth. “If Lisle is to be my wife someday, I think I have a right to suggest how she should be prepared to fill the position of hostess in my home and her social position as my wife.”