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Updated: June 12, 2025
These convictions she presented to Vida Sherwin Vida Wutherspoon beside a radiator, over a bowl of not very good walnuts and pecans from Uncle Whittier's grocery, on an evening when both Kennicott and Raymie had gone out of town with the other officers of the Ancient and Affiliated Order of Spartans, to inaugurate a new chapter at Wakamin. Vida had come to the house for the night.
He was not Raymie; he was Major Wutherspoon; and Kennicott and Carol were grateful when he divulged that Paris wasn't half as pretty as Minneapolis, that all of the American soldiers had been distinguished by their morality when on leave. Kennicott was respectful as he inquired whether the Germans had good aeroplanes, and what a salient was, and a cootie, and Going West.
While Raymie blushed and admitted, "Oh, they don't want to hear me," he was clearing his throat, pulling his clean handkerchief farther out of his breast pocket, and thrusting his fingers between the buttons of his vest. In her affection for Raymie's defender, in her desire to "discover artistic talent," Carol prepared to be delighted by the recital.
Somewhat too late she remembered that she had given up domesticity and repentance. "Let's play charades!" said Raymie Wutherspoon. "Oh yes, do let us," said Ella Stowbody. "That's the caper," sanctioned Harry Haydock. They interpreted the word "making" as May and King. The crown was a red flannel mitten cocked on Sam Clark's broad pink bald head. They forgot they were respectable.
"Say, do you think Carol has the right dope about using a strip light behind the fireplace in the second act? I told her I thought we ought to use a bunch," offered Raymie. "And I suggested it would be lovely if we used a cyclorama outside the window in the first act, and what do you think she said?
We all know how he loves his fun!" "You bet. I'm a jokey old bird. Come on, Carrie; let's beat it," remarked Kennicott. Raymie implored, "And what is your chief artistic interest, Mrs. Kennicott?" "Oh " Aware that the traveling salesman had murmured, "Dentistry," she desperately hazarded, "Architecture." "That's a real nice art.
Then Raymie Wutherspoon astoundingly spoke up: "So have I. I read through all the plays in the public library, so's to be ready for this meeting. And But I don't believe you grasp the irreligious ideas in this 'Androcles, Mrs. Kennicott. I guess the feminine mind is too innocent to understand all these immoral writers.
Ray still needed nursing, she explained. When Carol saw him with his uniform off, in a pepper-and salt suit and a new gray felt hat, she was disappointed. He was not Major Wutherspoon; he was Raymie. For a month small boys followed him down the street, and everybody called him Major, but that was presently shortened to Maje, and the small boys did not look up from their marbles as he went by.
She defied him by encouraging Raymie: "Do you have amateur dramatics and so on here?" "Oh yes! The town's just full of talent. The Knights of Pythias put on a dandy minstrel show last year." "It's nice you're so enthusiastic." "Oh, do you really think so? Lots of folks jolly me for trying to get up shows and so on. I tell them they have more artistic gifts than they know.
The carpenters and painters who did not actually assist crossed the lawn to peer through the windows and exclaim, "Fine! Looks swell!" Dave Dyer at the drug store, Harry Haydock and Raymie Wutherspoon at the Bon Ton, repeated daily, "How's the good work coming? I hear the house is getting to be real classy." Even Mrs. Bogart. Mrs. Bogart lived across the alley from the rear of Carol's house.
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