The Green Mouse
"Why? Just because I happen to be president of the Amalgamated Wireless
Trust Company?"
"Yes. And we were dying to see a wireless telephone work.... I thought
I'd like to call up Central--just to be sure I could make the thing go--
_What_ is the matter, Pa-_pah?_"
He dropped into a wadded armchair and motioned Sybilla to a seat
opposite. Then with another frightful facial contortion he reimbedded the
monocle.
"So you deliberately opened that door and went in to rummage?"
"No," said the girl; "we were--skylarking a little, on our way to the
gymnasium; and I gave Brasilia a little shove toward the laboratory door,
and then Flavilla pushed me--very gently--and somehow I--the door flew
open and my mask fell off and rolled inside; and I went in after it. That
is how it happened--partly."
She lifted her dark and very beautiful eyes to her stony parent, then
they dropped, and she began tracing figures and arabesques on the
polished floor with the point of her foil. "That is partly how," she
repeated.
"What is the other part?"
"The other part was that, having unfortunately disobeyed you, and being
already in the room, I thought I might as well stay and take a little
peep around----"
Her father fairly bounced in his padded chair. The velvet-eyed descendant
of Eve shot a fearful glance at him and continued, still casually tracing
invisible arabesques with her foil's point.
"You see, don't you," she said, "that being actually _in_, I thought I
might as well do something before I came out again, which would make my
disobedience worth the punishment. So I first picked up my mask, then I
took a scared peep around. There were only jars and bottles and
things.... I was dreadfully disappointed. The certainty of being punished
and then, after all, seeing nothing but bottles, _did_ seem rather
unfair.... So I--walked around to--to see if I could find something to
look at which would repay me for the punishment.... There is a proverb,
isn't there Pa-_pah?_--something about being executed for a lamb----"
"Go on!" he said sharply.
"Well, all I could find that looked as though I had no business to touch
it was a little jeweled machine----"
"_That_ was it! Did you touch it?"
"Yes, several times. Was it a wireless?"
"Never mind! Yes, it's one kind of a wireless instrument. Go on!"
Sybilla shook her head:
"I'm sure I don't see why you are so disturbingly emphatic; because I
haven't an idea how to send or receive a wireless message, and I hadn't
the vaguest notion how that machine might work. I tried very hard to make
it go; I turned several screws and pushed all the push-buttons----"
Mr. Carr emitted a hollow, despairing sound--a sort of musical groan--and
feebly plucked at space.
"I tried every lever, screw, and spring," she went on calmly, "but the
machine must have been out of order, for I only got one miserable little
spark----"
"You got a _spark?_"
"Yes--just a tiny, noiseless atom of white fire----"
Her father bounced to his feet and waved both hands at her distractedly.
"Do you know what you've done?" he bellowed.
"N-no----"
"Well, you've prepared yourself to fall in love! And you've probably
induced some indescribable pup to fall in love with you! And _that's_
what you've done!"
"In--_love!_"
"Yes, you have!"
"But how can a common wireless telephone----"
"It's another kind of a wireless. Your brother-in-law, William Destyn,
invented it; I'm backing it and experimenting with it. I told you to keep
out of that room. I hung up a sign on the door: _'Danger! Keep out!'_"
"W-was that thing loaded?"
"Yes, it _was_ loaded!"
"W-what with?"
"Waves!" shouted her father, furiously. "Psychic waves! You little ninny,
we've just discovered that the world and everything in it is enveloped in
psychic waves, as well as invisible electric currents. The minute you got
near that machine and opened the receiver, waves from your subconscious
personality flowed into it. And the minute you touched that spring and
got a spark, your psychic waves had signaled, by wireless, the
subconscious personality of some young man--some insufferable pup--who'll
come from wherever he is at present--from the world's end if need be--and
fall in love with you."
Mr. Carr jumped ponderously up and down in pure fury; his daughter
regarded him in calm consternation.
"I am so very, very sorry," she said; "but I am quite certain that I am
not going to fall in love----"
"You can't help it," roared her father, "if that instrument worked."
"Is--is that what it's f-for?"
"That's what it's invented for; that's why I'm putting a million into it.
Anybody on earth desiring to meet the person with whom they're destined,
some time or other, to fall in love, can come to us, in confidence, buy a
ticket, and be hitched on to the proper psychic connection which insures
speedy courtship and marriage--Damnation!"
"Pa-_pah!_"
"I can't help it! Any self-respecting, God-fearing father would swear! Do
you think I ever expected to have my daughters mixed up with this
machine? My daughters wooed, engaged and married by _machinery!_ And
you're only eighteen; do you hear me? I won't have it! I'll certainly not
have it!"
"But, dear, I don't in the least intend to fall in love and marry at
eighteen. And if--_he_--really--comes, I'll tell him very frankly that I
could not think of falling in love. I'll quietly explain that the machine
went off by mistake and that I am only eighteen; and that Flavilla and
Drusilla and I are not to come out until next winter. That," she added
innocently, "ought to hold him."
"The thing to do," said her father, gazing fixedly at her, "is to keep
you in your room until you're twenty!"
"Oh, Pa-_pah!_"
Mr. Carr smote his florid brow.
"You'll stay in for a week, anyway!" he thundered mellifluously. "No
motoring party for you! That's your punishment. You'll be safe for today,
anyhow; and by evening William Destyn will be back from Boston and I'll
consult him as to the safest way to keep you out of the path of this
whippersnapper you have managed to wake up--evoke--stir out of space--
wherever he may be--whoever he may be--whatever he chances to call
himself----"
"George," she murmured involuntarily.
"_What!!_"
She looked at her father, abashed, confused.
"How absurd of me," she said. "I don't know why I should have thought of
that name, George; or why I should have said it out loud--that way--I
really don't----"
"Who do you know named George?"
"N-nobody in particular that I can think of----"
"Sybilla! Be honest!"
"Really, I don't; I am always honest."
He knew she was truthful, always; but he said:
"Then why the devil did you look--er--so, so moonily at me and call me
George?"
"I can't imagine--I can't understand----"
"Well, _I_ can! You don't realize it, but that cub's name must be George!
I'll look out for the Georges. I'm glad I've been warned. I'll see that
no two-legged object named George enters this house! You'll never go
anywhere where there's anybody named George if I can prevent it."
"I--I don't want to," she returned, almost ready to cry. "You are very
cruel to me----"
"I wish to be. I desire to be a monster!" he retorted fiercely. "You're
an exceedingly bad, ungrateful, undutiful, disobedient and foolish child.
Your sisters and I are going to motor to Westchester and lunch there with
your sister and your latest brother-in-law. And if they ask why you
didn't come I'll tell them that it's because you're undutiful, and that
you are not to stir outdoors for a week, or see anybody who comes into
this house!"
"I--I suppose I d-deserve it," she acquiesced tearfully. "I'm quite ready
to be disciplined, and quite willing not to see anybody named George--
ever! Besides, you have scared me d-dreadfully! I--I don't want to go out
of the house."
And when her father had retired with a bounce she remained alone in the
gymnasium, eyes downcast, lips quivering. Later still, sitting in
precisely the same position, she heard the soft whir of the touring car
outside; then the click of the closing door.
"There they go," she said to herself, "and they'll have such a jolly
time, and all those very agreeable Westchester young men will be there--
particularly Mr. Montmorency.... I _did_ like him awfully; besides, his
name is Julian, so it is p-perfectly safe to like him--and I _did_ want
to see how Sacharissa looks after her bridal trip."
Her lower lip trembled; she steadied it between her teeth, gazed
miserably at the floor, and beat a desolate tattoo on it with the tip of
her foil.
"I am being well paid for my disobedience," she whimpered. "Now I can't
go out for a week; and it's April; and when I do go out I'll be so
anxious all the while, peeping furtively at every man who passes and
wondering whether his name might be George.... And it is going to be
horridly awkward, too.... Fancy their bringing up some harmless dancing
man named George to present to me next winter, and I, terrified, picking
up my débutante skirts and running.... I'll actually be obliged to flee
from every man until I know his name isn't George. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!
What an awful outlook for this summer when we open the house at Oyster
Bay! What a terrible vista for next winter!"
She naïvely dabbed a tear from her long lashes with the back of her
gauntlet.
Her maid came, announcing luncheon, but she would have none of it, nor
any other offered office, including a bath and a house gown.
"You go away somewhere, Bowles," she said, "and please, don't come near
me, and don't let anybody come anywhere in my distant vicinity, because I
am v-very unhappy, Bowles, and deserve to be--and I--I desire to be alone
with c-conscience."
"But, Miss Sybilla----"
"No, no, no! I don't even wish to hear your voice--or anybody's. I don't
wish to hear a single human sound of any description. I--_what_ is that
scraping noise in the library?"
"A man, Miss Sybilla----"
"A _man!_ W-what's his name?"
"I don't know, miss. He's a workman--a paper hanger."
"Oh!"
"Did you wish me to ask him to stop scraping, miss?"
Sybilla laughed: "No, thank you." And she continued, amused at herself
after her maid had withdrawn, strolling about the gymnasium, making
passes with her foil at ring, bar, and punching bag. Her anxiety, too,
was subsiding. The young have no very great capacity for continued
anxiety. Besides, the first healthy hint of incredulity was already
creeping in. And as she strolled about, swishing her foil, she mused
aloud at her ease:
"What an extraordinary and horrid machine!... _How_ can it do such
exceedingly common things? And what a perfectly unpleasant way to fall in
love--by machinery!... I had rather not know who I am some day to--to
like--very much.... It is far more interesting to meet a man by accident,
and never suspect you may ever come to care for him, than to buy a
ticket, walk over to a machine full of psychic waves and ring up some
strange man somewhere on earth."
With a shudder of disdain she dropped on to a lounge and took her face
between both hands.
She was like her sisters, tall, prettily built, and articulated, with the
same narrow feet and hands--always graceful when lounging, no matter what
position her slim limbs fell into.
And now, in her fencing skirts of black and her black stockings, she was
exceedingly ornamental, with the severe lines of the plastron accenting
the white throat and chin, and the scarlet heart blazing over her own
little heart--unvexed by such details as love and lovers. Yes, unvexed;
for she had about come to the conclusion that her father had frightened
her more than was necessary; that the instrument had not really done its
worst; in fact, that, although she had been very disobedient, she had had