It should perhaps be recorded that the young master from Columbia University, who had hoped for so much from Mr. Halloran’s grotto and had even led himself to believe that Mr. Halloran would be of some use to him in return, in furthering his chosen career, the writing of plays in blank verse, did succeed in reading half of one scene of one play to Mr. Halloran and was rewarded by the offer of a position as file clerk in Mr. Halloran’s organization, from which he subsequently rose to the position of chief clerk, and got married.
Aunt Fanny came to the grotto in late July; it had been perhaps six months since she had last seen it, and she was struck at once with its air of mournful neglect; the roses still grew on its head, and the lake still moved gently under the soft wind, but the walls inside, which had been painted blue and green and gold, were faded, and the paint had chipped. A rock had cracked away from the entrance; “Fear no more the heat of the sun,” had almost gone. The little rustic benches and tables which had been in the grotto were broken and rotted. Far out over the lake the swans, wholly wild now, moved in distant patterns and Aunt Fanny, hoping that they would not notice her moving, ducked quietly into the grotto and—as had been her custom long ago—set two or three of the rustic chairs and tables across the entrance so that the swans, if they pursued her, could not get in.
Aunt Fanny was really quite angry, angrier than she had ever been before in her life. She was angry at her sister-in-law for planning to wear a crown, and angry at her brother for not preventing it and for letting his wife look like a fool before the villagers. She was angry at Miss Ogilvie and Maryjane and Essex for their passivity and their humble subjection to Mrs. Halloran’s every whim. She was most particularly angry, far and beyond any anger she had ever known before, at Mrs. Halloran, for having that morning given Aunt Fanny a carbon—and a carbon, Aunt Fanny thought furiously, not even the
first
copy—of a typewritten page headed INSTRUCTIONS and composed by Mrs. Halloran herself, with no reference to Aunt Fanny.
Sitting in the grotto, Aunt Fanny took out the paper and read it again.
Instructions
We all know what is going to happen on the night of August thirtieth. Certain measures must be taken for the general good, and each of us must preserve carefully this page of instructions as a constant reference. ANY DEVIATION FROM THESE RULES WILL BE SUBJECT TO PUNISHMENT.
1. No person is to leave the big house,
for any reason whatsoever
, after four o’clock in the afternoon on August thirtieth.
2. Under no circumstances is any person from outside to
enter
the house after that time.
3. Since the servants and staff will be leaving the house by noontime, it is expected that no special demands will be made for their services, after midnight on August twenty-ninth.
4. Due to the unusual conditions which will be existing outside the house on the night of August thirtieth, it has been decided that precautions must be taken to protect windows, etc. All persons remaining in the house will begin work immediately after the departure of the servants at noon to board up, cover with blankets, and in all possible fashions barricade all windows and doors. Mrs. Halloran will make herself responsible for explaining this action to Mr. Halloran.
5. The entire assembly will gather in the drawing room at four o’clock on the afternoon of August thirtieth, for a light meal, and last-minute instructions from Mrs. Halloran.
6. No one is to leave the drawing room during the night of August thirtieth.
7. It is expected that all persons remaining in the big house will so attire themselves as to greet the morning suitably, although a certain consideration of the probable fluctuations in temperature, etc., must be observed. No one except Mrs. Halloran may wear a crown.
8. When the morning arrives, Mrs. Halloran will lead the way to the door, everyone following in sober procession. Mrs. Halloran will be the first to step outside.
9. Since, for all practical purposes, the present calendar will lose all significance after the night of August thirtieth, the following morning will be referred to, from this time on, as The First Day.
10. On The First Day, depending entirely upon circumstances at present only imperfectly understood (the state of vegetation, for instance, or the availability of water) tasks will be assigned by Mrs. Halloran as necessary.
11. No one is to leave the general vicinity of the house on The First Day, and no one is to alter, pick, eat, or in any way deface existing conditions, until the various prohibitions have been determined.
12. Mates will be assigned by Mrs. Halloran. Indiscriminate coupling will be subject to severe punishment.
13. On The First Day, and thereafter, wanton running, racing, swimming, play of various kinds, and such manifestations of irresponsibility will of course not be permitted. It is expected that all members of the party will keep in mind their positions as inheritors of the world, and conduct themselves accordingly. A proud dignity is recommended, and extreme care lest offense be given to supernatural overseers who may perhaps be endeavoring to determine the fitness of their choice of survivors.
“Father,” Aunt Fanny said into the cool dim underwater light of the grotto, “Father, what have you done to me?”
FRANCES, FRANCES HALLORAN.
Aunt Fanny, moving in fear, pressed herself back against the painted wall of the grotto; the blue and green and gold swam and curled around her, and she knew at once who was standing in the doorway.
13
“But I don’t
want
to see anything,” Gloria insisted crossly. “You can just get someone else to try, that’s all. I’m simply not interested in gawking into that silly mirror any more.”
“Dear,” Mrs. Willow said soothingly, “try to be calm. Naturally you can’t see anything anyway when you’re so excited; try to relax and think of the rest of us.”
“Perhaps the lovely countries of the future have lost their savor for Gloria,” Mrs. Halloran said. “Perhaps Gloria is dreaming still of a world of wicker furniture and a job ushering in a movie theatre; perhaps Gloria longs to repudiate all of us.”
Gloria turned, astonished, to stare at Essex, and he smiled a little, and shrugged.
“That
was
nasty,” Fancy said to Gloria, “but I
told
you he would.”
“Essex is primarily a politician,” Mrs. Halloran said smoothly, smiling at Gloria. “His interest is thus in the good of the community as a whole; individual whims cannot be allowed to interfere, I think, with our general future.”
“Essex is a pig,” Fancy said, and put her hand into Gloria’s. “Didn’t I tell you, Gloria?”
“Essex,” Mrs. Halloran said, “tell Gloria that she must look into the mirror, or risk my displeasure.”
“Gloria?” said Essex, looking aside.
“There’s nothing in there,” Gloria said sullenly. “It’s just a dirty old mirror covered with oil.”
“Orianna, we will all see this country soon enough,” Aunt Fanny put in. “It is not necessary to force Gloria to look again.”
“I insist,” Mrs. Halloran said, “that Gloria look into the mirror. I will not abide childish temperament, and I can hardly be expected to plan for all of us without adequate information. Gloria
must
see.”
“I’m sick and tired of hearing you bully everybody,” Fancy said flatly to her grandmother, and there was a long, waiting moment of silence. Then Maryjane spoke, weakly but stubbornly, “Fancy’s right,” she said. “You can just stop bossing
me
around, for one.”
“Always so difficult to know what to do,” Aunt Fanny murmured.
“Family quarrels,” Miss Ogilvie agreed.
“Well, the way
I
see it,” Mrs. Willow swept nobly into the fray, “everyone’s gotten kind of on everyone else’s nerves, and pretty soon if we don’t look out we’re
all
going to be sniping at each other—what I used to say to my gels, when they were young things pulling hair over some toy—what
I
used to say, birds in their little nests agree, and what
I
’d like to know—are we or are we not a pack of goddamned little birds stuck in the fanciest nest in town?”
“Such a gift for the apt phrase,” Mrs. Halloran said. “I personally deplore this evidence of frayed nerves; we do not have much longer to wait, after all, and perhaps if we cannot contain ourselves we had better remain decently apart.” She looked at Gloria. “I will only point out once more that I have undertaken a tremendous responsibility in arranging to lead you all into this new world, and I expect complete cooperation; Maryjane, I do not think you can rightly call it bossing you around when I ask that you exert your dubious talents to the utmost to ensure our mutual safety?”
“Just don’t try
always
bossing me, is all,” Maryjane said sullenly.
“Well, I guess we all know where we stand now,” the captain said heartily. “Mrs. Halloran, we all know the little lady didn’t mean to disobey you by not looking into the mirror for you; got to make allowances for a little female jealousy,” and he winked at Arabella, who giggled and said
“Honestly!”
“I am satisfied,” Mrs. Halloran said. “In consideration of the captain’s sensible explanation of your motives, Gloria, we will excuse you for tonight.”
Gloria stood up and crossed the room to face Essex, who leaned against the back of Mrs. Halloran’s chair. “Essex,” she said, “I want to ask you once more, in front of everybody. There’s still time. They couldn’t stop us if we really wanted to go. We would have two weeks at least.”
“Don’t be silly, Gloria.” Essex stared down at his hands on the back of Mrs. Halloran’s chair. “I wouldn’t leave for anything in the world,” he said.
“I think you have been fairly answered, Gloria,” Mrs. Halloran said amiably. “Goodnight.”
_____
“I think you must be really
crazy
,” Fancy said. She was sitting on the foot of Gloria’s bed, looking like a small demon in red pajamas. “I never saw my grandmother so close to
really
mad.”
“She’s a terrible old woman. But you were nice to speak up for me, Fancy.”
“And what do you think of Essex now?” Fancy giggled. “He’s a kind of a poor fish,” she said. “And I
told
you so.”
“Poor Essex,” said Gloria unreasonably.
“What I can’t figure,” Fancy said, pulling at a tuft in the blanket, “is why you tell me it’s so terrible outside and then make such a fool out of yourself asking Essex to come away with you, right in front of everybody.”
“Maybe I didn’t really want him to leave. Maybe I only wanted him to
say
he would.”
“Well, you know now,” Fancy said unsympathetically. “She wouldn’t let him go any more than she let the captain go.”
“I’ve been wondering.” Gloria sat up in bed and leaned forward to speak to Fancy earnestly. “All the time your grandmother keeps telling us how hard and how serious and how tremendous it is, our waiting here till it all happens, and how careful we’ve got to be, and how much responsibility she’s got for seeing that we don’t get ourselves into trouble and how we only have her to direct us and we have to do what she says and how we can’t run and play and be happy in that nice country—”
“Well? We don’t any of us know what it’s going to be like, do we?”
“I do,” Gloria said. “I’ve seen it in the mirror. And in the mirror it wasn’t like that at all. In the mirror, your grandmother hasn’t ever even
been
there.”
_____
Essex spoke boldly. “I believe, Orianna,” he said, “that you have made a very grave mistake. I would never have believed that you could be so much in error.”
“Are you positive that I am in error? Might you not have mistaken my motives?”
“I doubt it,” Essex said with some irony. “You have seriously compromised your authority.”
“By suppressing that girl’s insolence? You had your choice, Essex; you had only to agree to accompany her.”
“You tried to turn me out of the house once, I recall. Perhaps, having stayed then, I lost the ability to go.”
Mrs. Halloran smiled, almost wistfully in the dusk of the garden. “It has already begun,” she said. “Some months ago I told you that, once committed to the belief in Aunt Fanny’s bright world, I was committed absolutely, but I would not go second to Aunt Fanny or to anyone else.”
“Where will you be when you can no longer turn us out of your house?”
“It is my house now, and it will be my house then. I will not relinquish one stone of it in this world or any other. Everyone must be made to remember that, and to remember that I will not relinquish, either, one fraction of my authority. Perhaps,” she added drily, “just as you have lost the ability to leave, I have lost the ability to serve.”
“I assume then, that you have no real faith in the fondness any of the rest of us may feel for you?”
“None,” said Mrs. Halloran.
_____
Mrs. Halloran breakfasted with her husband the next morning, in order to explain to him the plans for the last day and night. When Gloria came into the breakfast room where the others were sitting, she was flushed, and bright-eyed, and almost running. “Listen,” she began, as she came through the door, “I’ve got to
tell
you right away; I never expected anything
like
it. I was combing my hair just now—and I never even finished—look,” and, laughing a little, she pushed her hands through her tangled hair, “I was combing my hair and looking in the mirror, naturally, and looking at myself and then without any kind of warning my own reflection just vanished from the glass and I was looking through again, and this time I was walking. I was right
inside
, you see; I was at the top of a little hill and down below I could see great fields of flowers, the red flowers I saw before, I think, and bluebells, and what must have been the same little stream, sparkling and bright and clean—”