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It was no easier than I expected it to be, especially when little Mayme, having come to say good-bye, put her lips close to my ear and tried to whisper something, and cried and kissed me instead. Our Square was a dimmer and duller place after she left. But her letters helped. They were so exactly like herself!
The front door had been left ajar, and, seeing the Berthelins' monogrammed car outside, she had come in. The oratress turned and stared. "That's a lie," said Mayme McCartney steadily. "I'm as straight a girl as your own daughter. Ask him." She pointed to the stricken David. Pointing may not be ladylike, but it can be extremely effective. David's head dropped into his hands. "Oh, Ma!" he groaned.
He burst into the hectic grievances of the pampered and spoiled child. All was up. Their new, precariously held acquaintances would drop them. Samuel Berthelin, her daughter, Mrs. Harris, and her son, David, referred to glowingly as "the scion of the wealth and position of the late lamented financier." Mayme was impressed. Like most shop-girls she was a fervent reader of society news.
However, she won't have much chance. He's off to-morrow." "Will he write?" said Mayme in a curious, strained voice. "He will. He'll report to me from time to time." "Didn't he wasn't there any message?" "Just good-bye and good luck," answered the Little Red Doctor, censoring ruthlessly. The Bonnie Lassie went over and put her arms around Mayme McCartney. "My dear," she said softly.
I tell you, man that is born of woman cannot resist it. Give little Mayme three more years " "I wish to God I could," said the Little Red Doctor. "Can't you?" I asked, startled. "Is it as bad as that?" "It isn't much better. How's your insomnia, Dominie?" "Insomnia," said I, "is a scientific quibble for unlaid memories. I take mine out for the early morning air at times, if that's what you mean."
At the close, he disappeared. I suppose he did not dare trust himself to join in the congratulations with which she was overwhelmed. I found him, as I rather expected, on the bench where he had sat when Mayme McCartney first found him. And when the crowd had departed from the studio, I told the girl. Without even stopping to put on her hat she went out to him.
The nasty, hateful thing! "If Bessie Dole or Mayme Leary could only see this dump!" she added, looking over the room again. "Anyhow, I've made 'em give me the best they've got. I'll show 'em how to treat a real relation that comes to see 'em." Supper time came and passed no more cheerfully than had the midday meal. The society of the old people was anything but enlivening for Ida May.
They went to Thomson's Élite Restaurant, on the corner, where David roused mingled awe and misgivings in the breast of Polyglot Elsa, the cashier, by ordering champagne, and Mayme reassured her by declining it. Thus began an acquaintanceship which swiftly ripened into a queer sort of intimacy, more than a little disturbing to us of Our Square who were interested in Mayme.
Thence issued, presently, stirring tidings. "What do you think?" wrote our exile. "They've got my funny little monkey mug in the movies. Five per and steady work. The director likes me and says he will give me a real chance one of these days. You have to be, out here. That reminds me: I have cut out the Mayme.
She was reading she wrote the Bonnie Lassie all the books that the Dominie had listed for her, and she was being tutored by a school-teacher with blue goggles and a weak heart who lived at the same resort. "Why grow up a Boob," wrote the philosophic Mayme, "when the lil old world is full of wise guys just aking to spill their wiseness?"
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