UTTERLY IRRESPONSIBLE
Illustrated by
SKRENDA
H ml V" , W Gardner
Xr White
in the snowy road. A big,
- HEautumn -wind
was keening across
the fi.-lds and
around the house.
There was no
sun and all the
world was gray
and heavy. Jennie
Zurbrick straight
ened from her
task, screwed her
eyes tight shut in
a special kind of
weariness and
opened them to
the f r j. i 1 white
and green box of a house with the banking jf
straw. '
She huddled into her leather jacket and her
brown skirt whipped in the wind along with
a lock of hair beneath the edge of an old
brown felt hat. Her face wu thin, bony. She
was tall and walked with a free swing. In
ipite of her sombre eyes, everything about bet
was quick and alive.
The door of the little white home opened
violently. "Hi, Jen I Where's my breakfast?"
He stood on the step In a red and brown
striped flannel robe, hit fair hair rumpled.
"Where do you think?" she called. Her
grin was eager, matching his.
"How about a cupacoffee for t man what's
crippled and has seen better days? , . . Good
"lord, but it's cold! What do I smell?" He
strode across the little square living room to
the kitchen, pulled open the oven door. "Baked
beans!" He duped Jen to him ecstatically.
"Don't be silly!"
"Silly? The trouble with you it, Jen, you're
undeveloped, aesthetically speaking."
"The trouble with me is," she said tartly,
"that I've been up since six, lugging straw and
manure and it'll take more than beans to stir
.me, aesthetically speaking. You'd better get
aome clothes on."
"Well, Hi'll appreciate 'em, anyway."
"Hi?" She turned toward him, startled.
"Oh, didn't I tell you I asked him out?
Him and the Kelscys I just happened to run
into him. , ."
She stood and stared at him. "What about
your mother?" she said.
"Mother?" He slapped a hand to his head.
"Good heavens, I did say something to her
about coming out today, didn't I ? Oh, well
I'll fix that up!" He strode toward the tele
phone. "Pour me some coffee, will you? . . . Hello
Hello Give me Garfield 9321 . . . Hello
Mither? We've had some unexpected com
pany come in ... I don'l believe 1 can get
in for you. Do you mind?"
"No, of course not'" Jen murmured. "Of
course not!"
"How about coming back with me after
work some night this week and staying all
night? Could you make it? . . . How about
Wednesday? . . . Swell! Awfully sorry about
today. Mother!"-
He turned from the phone with a pleased
grin. "There that's fixed up!" he said, re
lieved. "Oh, that's fixed up, is it?" she said dryly.
Suddenly he made a little sound, put his
cup down and went into the bedroom. He
came back and dropped a bit of cardboard into
bet lap. "It's a lottery ticket," he announced.
"It'i your!"
"Thanks. What did you pay tor it?"
"Only three fifty I" Hla voice defied her
to find that any picayune bargain. "Of course,
if you win thousands, you might buy me a new
typewriter," he said.
"First of all, I'd get me a new dustpan,"
she said. "Or maybe a baby."
"You're not implying you're bored with my
company, are you ? This'd be a swell place for
a baby now wouldn't It?" A car came
; noisily over the brow of the hill. "Good
grief, there comes Hi nowl I'd better get
a shirt on!" He called from the bedroom:
"I thought we might as well make a day of it."
HI, EVERYBODY I" Peter ailed from the
bedroom. He came out, kissed Bess
Kelsey and hit Hi on the shoulder. Hi Am
ber was slim and short and always wore a tie
and kept his dark hair brushed.
"Well, what are we celebrating today?" he
said.
"Peter's foresight in buying a Mexican lot
tery ticket at only three-fifty I" Jen said quickly.
"Of course we haven't paid for the last cord
ol wood. But when you think that for three
fifty thrtt-fifiy, mind you ... Hi, for good
ness sake, keep out of thai oven I Hie num
ber of times those beans have been smelled
of there won't be any aroma left in 'em!"
"I've got a tew little gadgets out in the
car," Hi said. He brought In cheese and
pickles, salt-rising bread and Italian onions.
"Just for filling in chinks," he saiu.
"Hi, I love you devotedly. Devotedly,"
Jen said. "The truth is that Peter only told
me five minutes ago that you were coming.
Luckily, there's a big pan ol beans and an
apple pie. But there might just as well have
been two chops and two cups of chocolate
pudding!"
Bess wrote book reviews for the Express;
William wasn't working just now but he had a
line on several things at last and he'd done
some first class poems that Peter was printing
on hi hind press
Hi stood with back to the stove and said.
What's the matter, Jen? 'Mad because we
came out and used up all your Sunday?"
"No," she said, "1 like you to. come. But
I like to know you're coming. 1 hope 1
haven't seemed inhospitable or anything. Pot
luck was all right in the old days when cellars
were full and people had their own orchards
and smokehouses. It's not quite the same
nowadays. If you hadn't brought a few
fillers. . ."
"Well, just bread and butter would have
been all right. Lord, it's quiet out here!"
"Yes, isn't it?"
"You don't sound as if that were a selling
point."-
"I thought it was when I came I'm not
so sure now, The winter gets p'etty long.
I was. keen to buy this place, too. But when
you're in town rushing about madly to this
boring place or that, you think: 'If only I had
more time for reading!' But you can have
too much time."
"I daresay you're right."
'People in i place make it seem quite dif
ferent. Or work. But I haven't iny special
work: And no family. Peter has his print
ing and he uses most of his evenings for it.
"Why don't you' have a family?"
She was silent a moment. "You know about
what Peter earns," she said at last. Her voice
had suddenly lost its warmth. "And if we
had enough for a baby, it'd probably go for
a first edition."
"Well, if I see a 'little girl anywhere, cheap,
I'll pick her up for you," he said, grinning.
NOW, you can't tell me you didn't enjoy
that more than you would have a day
with mother, my girl," Peter said when they
were alone.
"Oh; Peter!" she answered, a little help
lessly. "What do you mean 'OA, Ptltrf "
"Of course I like Hi and William and Bess
as people. But I couldn't help thinking
all day about yout mother and of how she'd
probably planned and told people. I suppose
the stayed home, alone, sooner than let folks
know she didn't come."
"Oh, don't be a fool, Jen! Mother's pot
like that. She'i not one of these over-sensitive
old ladies you read about in boob. She
has a life of her own and she doesn't depend
on me for it, either."
"All right, Peter, maybe it's ust because It
seems part of everything else. You take
other people's feelings so for granted. Oh,
no I haven't enjoyed this day, Peter! I
haven't!"
He leaned over and knocked bit pipe on
the woodbox, "Huh?" he said, a little skep
tically, "When I think of the money you throw
away on tickets and the like when, after all,
your income is limited you know It won't
stretch, and you don't want children. And
this business of collecting first editions. I
know you run with an artistic crowd, but, after
all, you're a business man and young and
you're buying this house. You can't afford
to collect first editions. Oh, well, maybe it's
only that I get lonely and I'm taking it out
this way." ,
That week cold set In in earnest. Jen went
to town one day and bought wool, began
knitting Peter a sweater.
"Talk about my squandering!" Peter said.
"It's for a sweater and won't cost as much
as one from the store!" she said. "Besides, it
keeps me busy."
"So you get restless, Mrs. Zurbrick?"
'Sometimes."
TWO nights later he drove heme in a
new car, Not new, but new to the Zur
bricks. "Peter!" the said, and waited.
"Now, wait wait, darling! . , , Don't get
out your axe yet I It'i yours!"
"Mine?"
"Yours." He took her by the hand, point
ing out the distinctive points. "Even t clock 1"
he boasted.
"It's grand car," she said, but slowly.
"Only, Peter, we can't possibly afford two cart,
Not possibly."
"There you go again, Mrs. Pinchpenny!
Ot course we can .".fiord it if you need it.
You're going all edg), woman. You need to
get out more. Didn't you tell me you were
lonesome? You can run in to town now
whenever you want to! See a show get out
of yourself!"
"I'm not lonesome for town," she said,
"I'm lonesome for you, Peter ... I wouldn't
care if I never saw another soul provided I
really saw you when you were here."
Once inside he pulled her to him and
looked at her with that eng.iging grin of his.
"I'll bet you do love me, all the same," he
defied her. 1
. She pressed her cheek against his. "Yes,
I'll bet I do," she admitted.
One night, with the larder low, pay day
four days and Christmas ten days off, Peter
said: "What'U we do for Christmas?"
"I've asked your mother here," Jen said
steadily.
"For all day? I thought maybe we'd go in
and have dinner with her and then . ."
"I've asked her here," Jen said again.
SHE took what little there was and bought
tiny presents for Peter and his mother, It
was easy to get a tree and to mak wreaths
for the light green front door of their little
white house.
There was one strange package with a
great red satin bow and Peter didn't quite
look at Jen as she opened it. It was an
autogAphed first edition of Sara Teasdale's
poems. Jen sat looking at it, holding it gently
in her brown hands. At last she looked up.
"It's' lovely," she said. "I love it!"
Peter grinned.
The second week in January the phone rang
one day. "Hello Jennie?" Hi Amber said.
"Got you a-little girl!"
"Really? Where?"
"In my pocket. I meant to get her to you
for Christmas but I couldn't quite make it."
"Red hair?"
"No. Brown. But quite nice, for all that.,
Snub nose. Sara Brenner's little girl. Sara's
got a chance to go to Rome for a couple
months. Her mother-in-law who always took
Amaryllis went and died on her!"
"Amaryllis?"
' "Wait wait a minute, Jen. The name's
nothing to do with her doesn't fit! Snub
nose, I told you! . . . Well, how about it?
This is a toll call, remember, gal!"
"Oh, I'd love to, Hi, but I couldn't."
"Why, not?"' .
"Peter doesn't like children around. Really
doesn't, I mean."
"Oh, I thought you were lonesome."
Jen looked away from the phone toward
the door of Peter's workroom. "I am some
times," she said seriously. "But I couldn't,
Hi. It would tie us-down. We couldn't ever
get to town or no, I couldn't, Hi. But tell
me who gets her, will you?"
"AH right, Jen. Sorry," Hi said, and hung
up.
Jen had been knitting. She went back and
picked up her work; the topaz needles began
to click. Presently the threw the knitting on
the table, walked to the phone, rang.
"Hello hello, Hi? ... Jen . . Hi, It it
too late to change my mind? , . .No. I'll come
in and see Sara tomorrow morning. . .'Bye,
Hi."
At dinner she said quietly enough: "Peter,
I'm going to have Sara Brenner't little girl
here for a couple months. I'm going in to get
her tomorrow."
"Good heavens, Jen are you crazy?"
"Maybe. Anyway, I've said I'd take her,"
"You're mad. Why, we'd have to have
someone here to look after her if we so, much
as stepped out nights!"
Amaryllis was packed and waiting and Sara
was volubly gi'eful. There wjis a funnyllttle
snort of mirth from the corner, . len looked
and her own face wrinkled into an answering
smile. Amaryllis had pushed herself into her
own woolly brown coat and it was on back
wards. . '
"Come on, my little girl, I'll help you,"
Jen said in just the right tone. And in less
than ten minutes they were in the car speed
ing toward the little white house on the rim
of the lonely vallq.
"Amaryllis it too much," Jen said after the
first mile.
"Nanna called me Poll," Amaryllis said.
"Poll?" Jen considered that doubtfully
"Well, all right."
Amaryllis was round with red cheeks and
straight brown hair and brown eyes that
sparkled nearly all the time with a delirious
merriment. She looked as if the found life
very good and ve7 funny.
AI'TliR she was in bed at last, rubbed
and kissed and patted, in the oilier tiny
Ix-droom, Jen came and tat on the stool.
"Peter," she said softly, "you don't really
mind her, do you?"
"Mind her? 1 think she's a nuisance but
I suppose I can stand It for a couple of
months."
"Nuisance? Amaryllis?"
"Well, she been here a few hours and
already r.he monopolizes all the conversation
al! the attention. . ." He grinned a little at
her. "Don't look hurt, lady. You ought to
feel flattered!"
She stood up. "1 don't especially," she
said. "It seems as if you ought to have a
little overflow of charm to use for little girls.
Well," she ended sharply, "perhaps she'll turn
into a ghost, like me."
Daytimes, Jen bundled herself and Amaryllis
into coats and hats and overshoes and they
were out of the house and into a world of
snow and exploration, of adventure and laugh
ter. They built an enormous snowman. They
hollowed out a cave where the snow had
drifted into the corner by the woodshed. They
followed mysterious tracks. They rode down
hill.
But there was always a look of waiting in
Jen's eyes. The evenings were the same as
always. Peter was printing something for a
friend of Bess Kelsey's.
Amaryllis and Lincoln had a birthday to
gether. Twins, Amaryllis said. Peter couldn't
get off and Jen and Amaryllis planned a full
day.
The afternoon before Peter phoned. "They've
drawn the lottery," he said.
"How much?"
"Not a cent. But I've got the day off after
all and Bess is going to have an all day con
solation party!"
"Tomorrow?"
"Beginning at eleven."
"Peter, it's Amaryllis' birthday."
"Well, what of it?' She can celebrate with
mother, can't she? I called mother and fixed
it all up."
"Peter I can't. She's counting on it."
"I tell you it's all fixed!"
"You'll have to unfix it."
He was sulky .that night but in the morning
he seemed to have forgotten his grievance.
After breakfast they made the cake. Just as
it came out of the oven Peter went to the
phone. Jen slipped a jacket on, picked up the
chicken feed and opened the door. When she
came back Peter was whistling.
"Well," he said, "they're all coming here
for the consolation party!"
Jen just stared at him. Then she turned
without a word, took Amaryllis' leggings from
their hook.
"Come on, Poll !" she said. "All ready for
the long hill!"
They made ready in silence. But at the
door Jen turned. "If you need anything, you
can drive over to North Collins," she said.
"I thought you'd be tickled! Aren't you
the one that's always getting lonesome out
here?"
"No," she said, "I'm all over that." She
and Amaryllis dragged the sled to the road,
to the little level place before the long dip.
"Hang on like a limpet! Like a barnacle!"
Jen said.
The door opened. "Hi, Jen!" She didn't
turn. Peter came across the yard in his green
sweater. "Jen, wait a minute!"
Jen said: "Like a barnacle, nowl" and they
were off,' speeding like the wind, faster than
the wind, down the long hill, Their caps
were a red stretch, their voices only t laugh
ing thread floating back up the hill to Peter.
They moved away and away. . . Then the
branch was there in the snowy road. A big,
dead old branch. Jen swerved.
-
THE next day Jen opened her eyes and
Peter sat beside her. "Why are you at
home ?" she laid. .
"Why do you think? I'm looking aftet
you, Mm. Zurbrick."
"Oh." She shut her eyes. Presently she
taid: "Is Poll all right?"
"Poll's practically perfect. She't getting
dinner, aren't you, Poll?"
There came from somewhere an explosive
little giggle.
After some long period of time Jen opened
her eyes again. Peter was doing nothing, just
sitting there beside her, her hand in hit, "Hurt
much now?"
"No." '
After another long time. "Jen, may I say
something?" He let go her hand and folded
his arms. "Once you get up and around I
probably couldn't . , , Jen, I never kniw what
lonesomeness was till. . ."
"Till when, Peter?"
"Till you went of) with Amaryllis yesterday
and left me. You can learn a lot in a minute,
1 guess ... I found out what th country
was like, alone in it all day and how it felt
to sit knitting while I printed and how it
felt to have somebody you care about not not
very dependable. . ." He got U(- and began
a little awkwardly but lovingly to vwjth the
covers.' "Don't ever do it again, will you,
Mrs. Zurbritk?"
She was silent. When she spoke aji.un her
eyes were on a bit of exotic lavender loveli
ness in a vase on the table
"What's that?" she said She looked as it
she might cry, though she nevei did,
"That ? Oh, that's an orchid. Petei said,
his voice too casual, Then, defensively: "I
know I cculdn I aflord it, but this it different,
Jen. Honestly, it different. Il really ii t
celebration and you mustn't scold me."
"Oh, Peter!" She grinned faintly, htlpleasly,
but she put out her unbandaged hand and let
it rest in his.
Copyright,
PAGE SEVEN