Bambi
for his new sense of peace and well-being.
IV
The marriage of Jarvis and Bambi furnished the town with a ten days'
topic of conversation, a fact to which they were perfectly indifferent.
Then it was accepted, as any other wonder, such as a comet passing, or
an airship disaster.
In the meantime the strangely assorted trio fell into a more or less
comfortable relationship. Jarvis and the Professor almost came to blows,
but for the most part the diplomatic Bambi kept peace. Both men appealed
to her for everything and she took care of them like babies. She called
them the "Heavenly Twins" and found endless amusement in their
dependence on her. Sometimes she did not see Jarvis for days. His study
and bedroom were on the top floor, and when he was in a work fit he
forgot to come to meals. She let him alone, only seeing that he ate what
she sent up to him. Sometimes his light burned all night. She would go
to the foot of the stairs and listen to him reading scenes aloud in the
early dawn, but she never interfered with him in any way. He plunged
into the remaking of "Success" with characteristic abandon. He destroyed
the old version entirely, and began on a new one. When he had the
framework completed, he summoned Bambi for a private view. She condemned
certain parts, praised others, flashed new thoughts upon him, forced him
to new viewpoints. He raved at her, defended his ideas, refuted her
arguments, and invariably accepted every contribution. When he came to
an impasse, he howled through the house for her, like a lost child
wailing for its mother.
These daily councils of war, his incessant need of her, interfered with
her plan of a career as a danseuse. She found that her days were
resolving themselves into two portions--times when Jarvis needed her,
and times when he did not. The hours they devoted together to his work
constituted the core of her day, her happy time. She considered Jarvis
as impersonally as she did the typewriter. It was the sense of being
needed, of helping in his work, that filled her with such new zest. But
the hours hung heavy between the third-floor summons, and one day, as
she lay in the hammock, a book in her hand, it came to her that she
might try it herself. She might put down her thoughts, her dreams, her
ambitions, and make a story of them. Thought and action were one with
Bambi. In five minutes' time she had pencil and paper, and had set forth
on her new adventure.
For the next few days she was so absorbed in her experiment that she
almost neglected the "Heavenly Twins." The Professor commented on her
abstraction, and Ardelia complained that "everybody in dis heah house is
crazy, all of them studyin' and writin'; yo' cain't even sing a
hallelujah but somebody is a shoutin', 'Sh!'"
Only Jarvis failed to note any change. It was too much to expect that
the great Jocelyn could concentrate on any but his own mental attitudes.
Like most facile people, Bambi was bored with her masterpiece at the end
of a week, and abandoned it without a sigh. She decided that literature
was not to be enriched by her. In fact, she never gave a thought to her
first-born child until a month after its birth, when a New York magazine
fell into her hands offering a prize of $500 for a short story. She took
out her manuscript and read it over with a sense of surprise. She
marched off to a stenographer, had it typed, and sent it to the contest,
using a pen name as a signature, and then she promptly forgot about it.
Six weeks more of hard labour brought "Success" almost to completion.
Bambi was absorbed in the play. It was undoubtedly much better; her
hopes were high that it would get a production. If only Jarvis could get
to New York with it and show it to the managers; but that meant money,
and they had none. Her busy brain spent hours scheming, but no
light came.
Then out of the blue fell a shining bolt! A long envelope, with a
magazine imprint on it, came with her morning's mail and nearly ended a
young and useful life. The editor begged to inform her that the
committee of judges had awarded her the short-story prize, that her tale
would be published in the forth-coming issue, and she would please find
check enclosed. Had she any other manuscript that they might see? Would
she honour them with a visit the next time she came to New York? They
would like to talk over a series of stories similar to the prize winner.
The Professor and Jarvis had both departed to their lairs, or they would
have witnessed the best pas seul of Bambi's life. She fluttered the
joy-bringing letter above her head, and circled the breakfast room in a
whirl of happiness. Ardelia entered as she reached her climax.
"Mah good Lud, Miss Bambi, yo' sho' can dance better'n Jezebel! I 'low
the debil do git into yo', the way yo' all dance! Go 'way frum me! Don'
yo' drag me into no cunjer dance."
"Ardelia, the gods do provide!" cried Bambi. "Such unutterably crazy
good luck--to think of my getting it!"
"Did yo' get a lottery prize, Miss Bambi?"
"That's just what I got--a lottery prize."
"Foh the Lud's sake! What you gwine to do with it?"
"I am going to take Jarvis Jocelyn to New York, and between us we are
going to harness Fame and drive her home."
"Well, I don' know who Fame is, but if she's a hoss, wher' yo' goin' to
keep her when yo' get her? We ain't got no barn for her."
Bambi laughed.
"We'll stable her all right, Ardelia, if we can catch her. This is a
secret between you and me. Don't you breathe it to a soul that I have
won anything."
"No, ma'am; yo' kin trust me to the death."
"I'll bring you a present from New York if you won't tell."
She rushed off to her own room, to look over her clothes and plan.
Having married Jarvis out of hand, she would now take him on a
moneymoon; they would seek their fortune instead of love. He would
peddle his play; she would honour the publisher with a visit. She hugged
herself with joy over the prospect. She worked out various schemes by
which she could break it to Jarvis and the Professor that she had money
enough for a trip to New York, without saying how she got it.
Fortunately, they were not of an inquiring mind, so she hoped that she
could convince them without much difficulty. She tried out a scene or
two just to prove how she would do it. At luncheon she paved the way.
"How much more work is there on the play, Jarvis?"
"I ought to finish it this week," he answered. "It is good, too. It is a
first-rate play."
"You ought to go to New York with it, and see the managers," she said.
"Ugh!"
"Well, it's got to be done. You can't teach school unless you have
pupils."
"I am not a pedant," he protested.
"You're a reformer, and you've got to get something to reform."
"The work itself satisfies me."
"It doesn't satisfy me. You have got to produce and learn before you
will grow."
"You're a wise body for such a small package."
"That's the way wisdom comes."
"Perhaps, O sibyl, you will read the future and tell me how I am to
finance a trip to New York."
"Oh, the money will be provided," airily.
"Yes, I suppose it will. It always is when actual need demands it, but
how?"
"Never mind how. Just rest in the assurance that it will."
He looked at her, smiling.
"Do you know I sometimes suspect that Fate had a hand in bringing us
together? We are so alike."
"We are so alike we're different," she amended, laughing.
She waited until next day to explode her bomb.
"I think if you finish up the play this week, Jarvis, we can have it
typed early next week, and get off to New York on Friday or Saturday."
He stared at her.
"On foot?" he inquired.
"Oh, no. I find I have the money."
"You find you have it! You had that much and didn't know it?" he
exploded so loudly that the Professor came to, and paid attention.
"I am careless about these things," Bambi murmured.
"What's all this?" queried the Professor.
"What I can't see is that if you had money enough to pay up my board
bill, why you married me," continued Jarvis.
"Just one of my whims. I am so whimsical," retorted Bambi.
"Would you mind telling me?" begged the Professor.
"She's got money enough to take us to New York," repeated Jarvis.
"Thank you. I don't wish to go to that terrible place. Of all the
distressing, improbable places, New York is the worst," replied
Professor Parkhurst.
"Be calm, Professor. I was not planning to take you," soothed his
daughter.
"But what is to be done with me?" he inquired, anxiously.
"You are to be left the one sole duty of Ardelia, to be overfed and
pampered until you aren't fit to live with."
"But you can't go off alone with Jarvis."
"Why not? I am married to him."
"Yes, I suppose you are, but you seem so unmarried," he objected.
"We will have to practise up a few married poses, Jarvis. You must not
act so interested in me. Father says we don't act married."
"I am not in the least interested in you," Jarvis defended himself,
valiantly.
"There, father, could anything be more husband-like?"
"Where did you get the money, Jarvis?" the Professor asked.
"I didn't get it. She got it."
"Why, my dear," protested her father, "where did you get any money?"
"I have turned lady burglar."
"What?"
"Cheer up. It's butter-'n'-eggs money."
"Butter-'n'-eggs money?" repeated Jarvis.
"Certainly. The downtrodden farmer's wife always gives up her
butter-'n'-eggs money to save the family fortunes, or build a new barn."
"What are you talking about?" interrupted the Professor.
"I don't know why the fact that I have a little money saved up should
start a riot in this family. I have to go to New York on business, and
as Jarvis has to go to see managers about 'Success,' I merely proposed
that we go together."
"What business have you in New York, my dear?"
"My own, Professor darling."
"Excuse me," he hastened to add.
"Certainly," she replied, blithely.
"I hate New York," said Jarvis. "How long do you suppose we will have to
stay?"
"I adore New York, and we will stay as long as the money holds out."
"Would you mind stating, in round figures, how much you have?" the
Professor remarked.
"I would. I detest figures, round or oblong. I have enough."
"I hope you won't get there, and then call on me for a supply, as you
usually do, my dear. I am a little short this spring."
"You two have no confidence in me. If you will just put your trust in
Bambi, I'll mend the fortunes of this family so you will never be able
to find the patch."
The two men laughed in spite of themselves, and the matter was dropped,
but Bambi herself took the manuscript of "Success" to the stenographer,
with strict orders as to a time limit; she led Jarvis, protesting, to a
tailor's, to order a suit of clothes; she restocked him in collars,
shirts, and ties. In fact, she handled the situation like a diplomat,
buying the railroad tickets with a thrill of anticipation.
Jarvis made no protest at all, until the night before they were to
start. He came to her and offered her a little black notebook.
"What is this?"
"I want you to put down every cent we spend. This is a loan, you
understand."
"It's a gift from the gods. Go offer libations. I don't want your old
debit and credit book."
He laid his hand on her shoulder, and looked into her shining eyes.
"Good little fairy," he said, "I want to put some gold dust in the pot,
too."
"Wait until we get to the end of the rainbow."
"Just keep a record for me. My mind is such a sieve," he said, offering
the spurned black book.
"All right. Give me the Black Maria. I will ride your figures in it."