Chapter III

by Susan Glaspell

　　"Kate," demanded Captain Jones, "what's that noise?"

　　"How should I know?" airily queried Kate.

　　"I heard a noise in the room above. This chimney carries every sound."

　　"Nonsense," jeered his sister. "Wayne, you've lived alone so long thatyou're getting spooky."

　　He turned to the other man. "Prescott, didn't you hear something?"

　　"Believe I did. It sounded like a cough."

　　"Well, what of it?" railed Kate. "Isn't poor Nora permitted to cough, ifshe is disposed to cough? She's in there doing the room for me. I'm goingto try sleeping in there—isn't insomnia a fearful thing? But thefussiness of men!"

　　They were in the library over their coffee. Kate was peculiarly charmingthat night in one of the thin white gowns she wore so much, and which itseemed so fitting she should wear. She had been her gayest. Prescott wasthinking he had never known any one who seemed to sparkle and bubble thatway; and so easily and naturally, as though it came from an inner fountof perpetual action, and could more easily rise than be held down. And hewas wondering why a girl who had so many of the attributes of a boyshould be so much more fascinating than any mere girl. "There are twokinds of girl," he had heard an older officer once say. "There are girls,and then there is Katie Jones." He had condemned that as distinctlymaudlin at the time, but recalled it to-night with less condemnation.

　　"Katie," exclaimed Wayne, after his sister had read aloud some one'sengagement from the Army and Navy Register, and wondered vehemently howthose two people ever expected to live together, "Nora's out on the sideporch with Watts!"

　　"Do you disapprove of this affair between Nora and Watts?" Katie wantedto know, critically inspecting the design on her coffee spoon.

　　"I distinctly disapprove of having some one coughing in the room upstairsand not being satisfied who the some one is!"

　　She leaned forward, pointing her spoon at him earnestly. "Wayne, they saythere are some excellent nerve specialists in Chicago. I'd advise you totake the night train. Take the rifle along, Wayne, and find out just whatit's done to you."

　　"That's all very well! But if you'd been reading the papers lately you'dknow that ideas of house-breaking are not necessarily neurasthenic."

　　"Dear Wayne, lover of maps and charts, let me take this pencil and make alittle sketch for you. A is the chamber above. In that chamber is Nora.Nora coughs in parting. Then she parts. B is the back hall throughwhich Nora walks. C is the back stairs which she treads. Watts beingwaiting, she treads—or is it kinder to say trips?—with good blithespeed. D is the side door and E the side porch. Now I ask you, ohmaster of engineering and weird mechanical and mathematical mysteries,what is to prevent Nora from getting from A to E in the interval oftime between the coughing and the viewing?"

　　Prescott laughed, but Wayne only grunted and ominously eyed thechimney place.

　　"There!" he cried, triumphantly on his feet before his sister, as againcame the faint but unmistakable little cough. "A little harder to make amap this time, isn't it? Talk about nerve specialists—!"

　　He started for the door, but Katie slipped in in front of him, andclosed it.

　　"Don't go, Wayne," she said quietly; queerly, Prescott thought.

　　"Don't go? Kate, what's the matter with you? Now don't be foolish,

　　Katie," he admonished with the maddening patronage of the older brother.

　　"Open the door."

　　"I wish you wouldn't go," she sighed plaintively, arms outstretchedagainst the door. "I do hope you won't insist on going. You'llfrighten Ann."

　　"Frighten who?"

　　"Ann," she repeated demurely.

　　"Ann—who? Ann—what?"

　　"Ann who! Ann what! That's a nice way to speak of my friends! It'sall very well to blow up the world, Wayne, but I think one should retainsome of the civilities of life!"

　　"But I don't understand," murmured poor Wayne.

　　"No, of course not. Do you understand anything except things that nobodyelse wants to understand? Ann is not smokeless powder, so I presume youare not interested in her, but it seems to me you might tax your brainsufficiently to bear in mind that I told you she was coming!"

　　"I'm sorry," said Wayne humbly. "I don't seem able to recall a wordabout her."

　　"I scarcely expected you would," was the withering response.

　　"Tell me about her," Captain Prescott asked sympathetically. "I likegirls better than guns. Has Ann another name? Do I know her?"

　　Katie was bending down inspecting a tear she had discovered at the bottomof her dress. "Oh yes, why yes, certainly, Ann has another name. Her nameis Forrest. No, I think you do not know her. I don't know that Ann knowsmany army people. I knew her in Europe." Then, as they seemed waiting formore: "I am very fond of Ann."

　　She had resumed her seat and the critical examination of her coffeespoon. The men were silent, respecting the moment of tender contemplationof her fondness for Ann. "Ann is a dear girl," she volunteered at last.

　　"Having had it impressed upon me that I am such a duffer," Captain Jonesbegan, a little haughtily, "I naturally hesitate to make many inquiries,but I cannot quite get it through my stupid and impossible head just why'Ann' is hidden away in this mysterious manner."

　　"There's nothing mysterious about it," said Kate sharply. "Ann wastired."

　　"And why, if I may venture still another blundering question, was poor

　　Nora held responsible for a cough she never coughed?"

　　Once more Miss Jones surveyed the torn ruffle at the bottom of her skirt.

　　She seemed to be giving it serious consideration.

　　"I am glad that I do not live in the Mississippi Valley," was the remarkshe finally raised herself to make.

　　"One of Kate's greatest charms," Wayne informed Prescott, "is theemphasis and assurance with which she unfailingly produces theirrelevant. Now when you ask her if she likes Benedictine, don't be atall surprised to have her dreamily murmur: 'But why should oranges alwaysbe yellow?'"

　　"I am glad that I do not live in the Mississippi Valley," Kate went on,superiorly ignoring the observation, "because the joy of living seems tobe at a very low ebb out here."

　　"Honestly now, do you get that?" he demanded of his friend.

　　"Ann and I had planned a beautiful surprise for you, Wayne."

　　"Thanks," said Wayne drily.

　　"To-night Ann was tired. She did not wish to come down to dinner. Ofcourse, I might have told you: 'Ann is here.' To the orderly,West-Pointed mind, the well oiled, gun-constructing mind, I presume thatwould present itself as the thing to do. But Ann and I have a sense ofthe joy of living, a delight in the festive, in the—the bubbling wine ofyouth, you know. So we said, 'How beautiful to surprise dear Wayne.' Inthe morning Ann, refreshed by the long night's sleep, was to go out andgather roses. Wayne—"

　　"The roses don't bloom until next month," brutally interrupted Wayne.

　　"Of course, you would think of that! As we had planned it, Wayne, lookingfrom his window was to see the beautiful girl—she is a beautifulgirl—gathering dew-laden roses in the garden. Perhaps Captain Prescott,chancing at that very moment to look from his window, would see her too.It was to be a beautiful, a never-to-be-forgotten moment for you both."

　　"We humbly apologize," laughed Prescott.

　　"Hum!" grunted dear Wayne.