The Adventures of Sally Read online

  Sally had just finished telling her brother Fillmore what a pig he was.The lecture had taken place in the street outside the boarding-houseimmediately on the conclusion of the festivities, when Fillmore, whohad furtively collected his hat and overcoat, had stolen forth into thenight, had been overtaken and brought to bay by his justly indignantsister. Her remarks, punctuated at intervals by bleating sounds from theaccused, had lasted some ten minutes.

  As she paused for breath, Fillmore seemed to expand, like an indiarubberball which has been sat on. Dignified as he was to the world, he hadnever been able to prevent himself being intimidated by Sally whenin one of these moods of hers. He regretted this, for it hurt hisself-esteem, but he did not see how the fact could be altered. Sallyhad always been like that. Even the uncle, who after the deaths of theirparents had become their guardian, had never, though a grim man, beenable to cope successfully with Sally. In that last hectic scene threeyears ago, which had ended in their going out into the world, togetherlike a second Adam and Eve, the verbal victory had been hers. And ithad been Sally who had achieved triumph in the one battle which Mrs.Meecher, apparently as a matter of duty, always brought about with eachof her patrons in the first week of their stay. A sweet-temperedgirl, Sally, like most women of a generous spirit, had cyclonicpotentialities.

  As she seemed to have said her say, Fillmore kept on expanding till hehad reached the normal, when he ventured upon a speech for the defence.

  "What have I done?" demanded Fillmore plaintively.

  "Do you want to hear all over again?"

  "No, no," said Fillmore hastily. "But, listen. Sally, you don'tunderstand my position. You don't seem to realize that all that sort ofthing, all that boarding-house stuff, is a thing of the past. One's gotbeyond it. One wants to drop it. One wants to forget it, darn it! Befair. Look at it from my viewpoint. I'm going to be a big man..."

  "You're going to be a fat man," said Sally, coldly.

  Fillmore refrained from discussing the point. He was sensitive.

  "I'm going to do big things," he substituted. "I've got a deal on atthis very moment which... well, I can't tell you about it, but it'sgoing to be big. Well, what I'm driving at, is about all this sort ofthing"--he indicated the lighted front of Mrs. Meecher's home-from-homewith a wide gesture--"is that it's over. Finished and done with. Thesepeople were all very well when..."

  "... when you'd lost your week's salary at poker and wanted to borrow afew dollars for the rent."

  "I always paid them back," protested Fillmore, defensively.

  "I did."

  "Well, we did," said Fillmore, accepting the amendment with the air ofa man who has no time for chopping straws. "Anyway, what I mean is, Idon't see why, just because one has known people at a certain period inone's life when one was practically down and out, one should havethem round one's neck for ever. One can't prevent people forming anI-knew-him-when club, but, darn it, one needn't attend the meetings."

  "One's friends..."

  "Oh, friends," said Fillmore. "That's just where all this makes me sotired. One's in a position where all these people are entitled to callthemselves one's friends, simply because father put it in his will thatI wasn't to get the money till I was twenty-five, instead of letting mehave it at twenty-one like anybody else. I wonder where I should havebeen by now if I could have got that money when I was twenty-one."

  "In the poor-house, probably," said Sally.

  Fillmore was wounded.

  "Ah! you don't believe in me," he sighed.

  "Oh, you would be all right if you had one thing," said Sally.

  Fillmore passed his qualities in swift review before his mental eye.Brains? Dash? Spaciousness? Initiative? All present and correct. Hewondered where Sally imagined the hiatus to exist.

  "One thing?" he said. "What's that?"

  "A nurse."

  Fillmore's sense of injury deepened. He supposed that this was alwaysthe way, that those nearest to a man never believed in his abilitytill he had proved it so masterfully that it no longer required theassistance of faith. Still, it was trying; and there was not muchconsolation to be derived from the thought that Napoleon had had to gothrough this sort of thing in his day. "I shall find my place in theworld," he said sulkily.

  "Oh, you'll find your place all right," said Sally. "And I'll comeround and bring you jelly and read to you on the days when visitors areallowed... Oh, hullo."

  The last remark was addressed to a young man who had been swingingbriskly along the sidewalk from the direction of Broadway and who now,coming abreast of them, stopped.

  "Good evening, Mr. Foster."

  "Good evening. Miss Nicholas."

  "You don't know my brother, do you?"

  "I don't believe I do."

  "He left the underworld before you came to it," said Sally. "Youwouldn't think it to look at him, but he was once a prune-eater amongthe proletariat, even as you and I. Mrs. Meecher looks on him as a son."

  The two men shook hands. Fillmore was not short, but Gerald Fosterwith his lean, well-built figure seemed to tower over him. He was anEnglishman, a man in the middle twenties, clean-shaven, keen-eyed, andvery good to look at. Fillmore, who had recently been going in for oneof those sum-up-your-fellow-man-at-a-glance courses, the better to fithimself for his career of greatness, was rather impressed. It seemed tohim that this Mr. Foster, like himself, was one of those who Get There.If you are that kind yourself, you get into the knack of recognizing theothers. It is a sort of gift.

  There was a few moments of desultory conversation, of the kind thatusually follows an introduction, and then Fillmore, by no means sorryto get the chance, took advantage of the coming of this new arrival toremove himself. He had not enjoyed his chat with Sally, and it seemedprobable that he would enjoy a continuation of it even less. He was gladthat Mr. Foster had happened along at this particular juncture. Excusinghimself briefly, he hurried off down the street.

  Sally stood for a minute, watching him till he had disappeared round thecorner. She had a slightly regretful feeling that, now it was too late,she would think of a whole lot more good things which it would have beenagreeable to say to him. And it had become obvious to her that Fillmorewas not getting nearly enough of that kind of thing said to himnowadays. Then she dismissed him from her mind and turning to GeraldFoster, slipped her arm through his.

  "Well, Jerry, darling," she said. "What a shame you couldn't come to theparty. Tell me all about everything."

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