Authors: Grace Livingston Hill
There was the affair of the green taffeta dress, Diana’s first real party dress. How her mother and she had delighted in it, selecting the smooth, shimmering silk with care, having it made in the style most becoming to her slender form; how happy she had been when she tried it on the last time before the party. Mother loved it so, and she felt as she looked at herself in Mother’s long mirror as if she were a child in a fairy tale. A great part of the anticipation of that party had been in the thought of the lovely dress she was to wear, her first really long dress.
And then Cousin Helen had arrived! On the very morning of the party day she had arrived. She had a way of arriving at inopportune times like that, and it always annoyed Mother. Though Mother never had said a word about it, Diana somehow knew that Mother did not enjoy Cousin Helen’s visits. She wondered now—was it—could it have been that Cousin Helen so often absorbed Father’s time and interest when she happened to have no other admirer near? Somehow Diana’s eyes were being opened quickly to several things that had happened in the past.
But not even Cousin Helen’s advent had quite dimmed the thought of that wonderful party. And so the day had slipped by in glad anticipation until it was time to dress.
Cousin Helen had gone upstairs immediately after dinner, telling them someone was coming to take her to the country club that evening for a party. She had been dressed for evening when she came down to dinner, but while Diana was in her mother’s room getting something done to her hair that only Mother could rightly do, Cousin Helen had suddenly appeared in the doorway with a rustle and called out nonchalantly, “Well, folks, how do you like me? Don’t I look delicious? I found this up in a closet and liked it so much better than my own that I put it on. Hope you don’t mind!”
And there stood Cousin Helen in Diana’s lovely green taffeta party dress, smiling impishly, her eyes showing that she had full knowledge of the confusion she was occasioning.
Diana remembered her own indignation, how she had cried out in horror: “Oh, that’s my party dress! I’m going to wear it to a party tonight! You can’t wear that, Cousin Helen!”
And Mother had turned quickly, the brush in her hand, and protested firmly: “I’m sorry, Helen, but you couldn’t wear that—”
And Cousin Helen had just given a laugh, whirled around, and flung back: “Sorry, kitten, it’s too late now. You’ll have to wear something else. My boyfriend is downstairs waiting for me! Ta-ta!” and was halfway down the stairs before they could get to the door.
Mother had followed her indignantly to the head of the stairs and called down sharply, “Helen! Come back here! You
can
’
t do
that! You really
can
’
t
!”
But Helen only laughed and called back, “Can’t I? See if I can’t!” and went out the front door, slamming it after her. They could hear the sound of a motor starting before they fully comprehended what had happened. That was Cousin Helen! And Father was going to marry her!
There had been other depredations as she grew older, acts utterly disloyal to her family when she was their guest, borrowings from others, unasked, of things far more important than dresses. Diana recalled dimly discussions between her father and mother concerning intense flirtations with other women’s husbands in which Cousin Helen had utterly alienated some of Mother’s best friends because of her calm way of taking possession of their husbands.
Diana suddenly remembered that, most unaccountably, Father had always taken Cousin Helen’s part in these discussions. He said she was only a kid and was “a cute little piece” and “a pretty child,” and insisted that she had no idea she was doing anything to hurt anybody. Insisted that she was entirely guileless and only having a good time.
Even in the matter of the green taffeta he hadn’t been able to see that there was anything more than an innocent prank.
“What’s one dress?” he said amusedly. “Let Diana wear something else. She has plenty of clothes, hasn’t she?” They couldn’t seem to make him understand that she hadn’t any real party dress that would be suitable for the occasion. That this had been her first really grown-up dress, and it had meant so much to her. He had smoothed her head caressingly when she had dissolved in tears and refused to go to the party at all and told her she was silly to stay at home just because she couldn’t wear a certain dress. Also he had insisted that nothing should be said to Cousin Helen.
Even when Cousin Helen came home with a tear in one of the taffeta ruffles and a large spot on the front of the skirt where she had spilled ice cream, and no apology by a laugh, Father dismissed the whole matter as a trifle. Oh, had Cousin Helen even then begun to get her hands on dear Father to pull the wool over his eyes? She had that faculty whenever she chose to use it. She had never bothered to do it with Mother and herself.
There had been many times later when Cousin Helen had demanded a great deal of Father’s attention. And it was all done so prettily. Father was always gallant to every woman, though he had ever been most devoted to Diana’s mother. But the girl remembered now those evenings when Helen had dragged Father off to an entertainment she was bent on seeing. Diana more than once on such an occasion found her mother in her darkened room in tears. Mother said she had a headache, or something of the sort. But now Diana began to have a feeling that Cousin Helen had a lot to do with those headaches. Helen would steal a man’s heart as easily as she would borrow a party dress!
And Father hadn’t realized it. No, Father wasn’t one of those men who enjoyed going off with other women, no matter how pretty and young they were. Father loved Mother deeply always. But now that Mother was gone—! Oh—! And now Helen made him think he ought to marry her! Oh, he mustn’t! He
mustn
’
t
! She must stop it somehow! She must save him from Cousin Helen! He didn’t know! He didn’t realize! She must do something about it at once. Even if she had to tell him all the little, silly, annoying things from her childhood up, she must make him understand what a calamity it would be if he married Cousin Helen!
She picked up the letter again and began to read once more. She must find out if he was coming home that morning.
So she read on.
We are to be married at once and will come right home for a few days before we go on a wedding trip. Helen feels that there are changes she will want made in the house and those could be made while we are absent—different furnishings and decorations. But I am writing to you now to make a few suggestions about our homecoming. You will want to have a nice dinner ready, of course, and the rooms in order. Perhaps Maggie will want some help about special cleaning. You will know how to look after that
.
But there are a few little things that you can do for me before I get there. Please go through my room and take away anything you feel might be annoying to Helen. Your mother’s picture and any little things that were especially hers. Just put them away out of sight. You have nice tact, and I’m sure you will understand what to do. Helen has a very sensitive nature, you know, and might feel it if anything were left around to remind her of the past
.
Helen seems to think you would rather not be present at the wedding, and being a woman, of course, she probably knows how you would feel about that, so I will not suggest that you come. In fact, by the time this letter reaches you it would be too late for you to start. But I am sure you will understand that I have refrained wholly for your sake from asking that you come. And, of course, when we get home, we’ll all have good times together—!
Diana caught her breath in a great sob. Good times! Would there ever be any good times again? A panic seized her! She must get in touch with her father right away! She must not waste another minute. She must somehow stop this terrible catastrophe that was about to happen to herself and her father!
She glanced at the letterhead to get the name of the hotel at which he was staying and hurried to the telephone. Oh, would he be there? Would she be able to talk to him if he were? What should she say? How should she begin?
I
t was two full hours before Mr. Disston was finally located in the distant city hotel to which she telephoned, and Diana spent those two hours alternately walking the floor in desperation and flinging herself on her bed to weep her heart out, then springing up again to listen for the telephone.
During that two hours, every tantalizing deed of Cousin Helen Atherton’s came back in vivid form to torture her imagination. When she finally heard her father’s beloved voice over the telephone she was almost too worked up to speak.
“Oh, Father!” she cried with a great sob in her voice. “Don’t,
don
’
t
do this dreadful thing! Don’t marry that terrible woman!”
“Why, Diana!” said her father sternly. “You don’t realize what you are saying!”
“Yes, I do, I do! Oh, Father, I
do
! She is
terrible
! You don’t know! We never told you everything. We thought it would annoy you. But Mother almost hated her. I’m sure she did!”
“Stop!” said Diana’s father in a tone she never had heard him use to her since she was a little child and had been guilty of extreme naughtiness. “Diana, I cannot believe my senses! To think that you should speak such words! To think that you should charge your lovely, sweet mother with ever having hated anybody, much less one who has often been an honored guest in our home!”
“Oh, Father! You do not understand. Helen is deceitful! She does the meanest, most underhanded things and just laughs, and you have to stand whatever she does! She doesn’t care how she hurts you! She doesn’t care what she ruins or how she spoils other people’s plans! She often made Mother cry. And she used to take my things and wear my clothes without even asking if she might, and—”
“Oh, now, Diana,” said her father in a soothing voice, “you have gotten yourself all excited over the memory of some of those childish things that happened when Helen was a mere child herself. You can’t forget that foolish party dress! I know that was a little hard for you to bear, but you were a mere baby yourself, and, of course, you must realize that she is grown up now. I didn’t think you had it in your sweet nature to hold a grudge so long about such a trifling thing as a dress. Of course, I expected you to be a little surprised, perhaps even somewhat startled. But I never dreamed that you would allow your lips to utter such bitter words about another fellow creature, let alone the woman you know your father is going to marry—”
But Diana’s spirit was goaded again into a frenzy. “That’s it, Father! You
mustn
’
t
marry her! Oh Father,
Fath-
er,
please
don’t do it! Anyway, wait until you can come home and let me tell you all about her. It isn’t alone for my sake I’m asking this. It’s for yours. If you knew how hateful she can be you wouldn’t
want
to marry her! Why, Father dear, even before Mother was gone she tried to get you away from Mother!”
“
Diana!
” Her father’s voice was angry now. “Don’t attempt to say another word to me! You are beside yourself! I certainly did not foresee any such demonstration as this or I should have prepared you beforehand for what I have been contemplating for some time. I am sure when you get by yourself and have a chance to think over what you have said you will be ashamed of yourself and be quite ready to apologize. In the meantime, it is not good to talk about these things over the telephone. We won’t say any more about it! Just please remember, when you come to your senses, what I have asked you to do, and if I do not find it done, and well done, as I know you
can
do it, I shall consider that you have given me a personal affront. You know, Diana, I am really making this move partly for your sake, that you may have a richer, fuller life, and it ill becomes you to carry on like this even for the first few minutes until you get used to the idea. Now, child, just go and calm yourself, do the things I have asked of you, and let us say no more about it. Certainly not over the telephone!”
“But, Father—!” Diana’s voice was full of desperation. “I must talk to you. I
must
tell you something—Father,
dear
!
Won
’
t
you come home even for a few minutes? Won’t you take the next train and come to me quick? I
must
see you!”
Her father’s voice was cold and displeased as he answered. It made her shiver to listen to him. “That is quite impossible, Diana! My plans are made, and I have no time to take the long journey home just now. Be sensible and forget your former little jealousies and prejudices. Believe me, we are going to have a very happy time now if you do your part.”
“No!
No!
” protested Diana, the tears raining down her cheeks. “No, Father! I could never stay here in this home if you brought Helen here. I
couldn
’
t
! And she would not want me! You’ll find out! Oh Daddy, Daddy! Don’t do this!”
“Diana, would you want your father to be lonely the rest of his life?” came the question after a brief pause. His tone was almost placating, gentle.
“Daddy, you wouldn’t be any more lonesome than I would. We would have each other.” The tone was very sweet and pleading.
“But, little Di, you don’t realize that pretty soon you’ll be getting married yourself, and then where would I be?”
Diana recognized Helen’s fine strategy in that argument.
“I? Getting married? Who would I marry, Daddy? There isn’t anybody in the world I would rather be with than you. There isn’t anybody I care for. I’ll promise
never
to get married if you won’t. I’ll stay with you always. And we’ll have such a happy home!”
The man’s voice was sharp with almost a hint of sudden pain as he replied. “Diana, stop this nonsense. Get hold of your self-control and put these wild opinions out of your mind. You think you won’t get married now, but you don’t realize that such ideas change—”