Page hurried through with her chocolate and salad, and ordering a cup of strong tea, carried it up to Laura's "sitting-room" herself.
Laura, in a long tea-gown lay back in the Madeira chair, her hands clasped behind her head, doing nothing apparently but looking out of the window.She was paler even than usual, and to Page's mind seemed preoccupied, and in a certain indefinite way tense and hard.Page, as she had told Landry that morning, had remarked this tenseness, this rigidity on the part of her sister, of late.But to-day it was more pronounced than ever.Something surely was the matter with Laura.
She seemed like one who had staked everything upon a hazard and, blind to all else, was keeping back emotion with all her strength, while she watched and waited for the issue.Page guessed that her sister's trouble had to do with Jadwin's complete absorption in business, but she preferred to hold her peace.By nature the young girl "minded her own business," and Laura was not a woman who confided her troubles to anybody.Only once had Page presumed to meddle in her sister's affairs, and the result had not encouraged a repetition of the intervention.Since the affair of the silver match box she had kept her distance.
Laura on this occasion declined to drink the tea Page had brought.She wanted nothing, she said; her head ached a little, she only wished to lie down and be quiet.
"I've been down to the Board of Trade all the morning,"Page remarked.
Laura fixed her with a swift glance; she demanded quickly:
"Did you see Curtis?"
"No--or, yes, once; he came out on the floor.Oh, Laura, it was so exciting there this morning.
Something important happened, I know.I can't believe it's that way all the time.I'm afraid Mr.Jadwin lost a great deal of money.I heard some one behind me say so, but I couldn't understand what was going on.For months I've been trying to get a clear idea of wheat trading, just because it was Landry's business, but to-day I couldn't make anything of it at all.""Did Curtis say he was coming home this evening?""No.Don't you understand, I didn't see him to talk to.""Well, why didn't you, Page?"
"Why, Laura, honey, don't be cross.You don't know how rushed everything was.I didn't even try to see Landry.""Did he seem very busy?"
"Who, Landry? I----"
"No, no, no, Curtis."
"Oh, I should say so.Why, Laura, I think, honestly, Ithink wheat went down to--oh, way down.They say that means so much to Mr.Jadwin, and it went down, down, down.It looked that way to me.Don't that mean that he'll lose a great deal of money? And Landry seemed so brave and courageous through it all.Oh, I felt for him so; I just wanted to go right into the Pit with him and stand by his shoulder."Laura started up with a sharp gesture of impatience and exasperation, crying:
"Oh, what do I care about wheat--about this wretched scrambling for money.Curtis was busy, you say? He looked that way?"Page nodded: "Everybody was," she said.Then she hazarded:
"I wouldn't worry, Laura.Of course, a man must give a great deal of time to his business.I didn't mind when Landry couldn't come home with me.""Oh--Landry," murmured Laura.
On the instant Page bridled, her eyes snapping.
"I think that was very uncalled for," she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright, "and I can tell you this, Laura Jadwin, if you did care a little more about wheat--about your husband's business--if you had taken more of an interest in his work, if you had tried to enter more into his life, and be a help to him--and--and sympathise--and--" Page caught her breath, a little bewildered at her own vehemence and audacity.But she had committed herself now; recklessly she plunged on.
"Just think; he may be fighting the battle of his life down there in La Salle Street, and you don't know anything about it--no, nor want to know.'What do you care about wheat,' that's what you said.Well, I don't care either, just for the wheat itself, but it's Landry's business, his work; and right or wrong--" Page jumped to her feet, her fists tight shut, her face scarlet, her head upraised, "right or wrong, good or bad, I'd put my two hands into the fire to help him.""What business--" began Laura; but Page was not to be interrupted."And if he did leave me alone sometimes,"she said; "do you think I would draw a long face, and think only of my own troubles.I guess he's got his own troubles too.If my husband had a battle to fight, do you think I'd mope and pine because he left me at home; no I wouldn't.I'd help him buckle his sword on, and when he came back to me I wouldn't tell him how lonesome I'd been, but I'd take care of him and cry over his wounds, and tell him to be brave--and--and--and I'd help him."
And with the words, Page, the tears in her eyes and the sobs in her throat, flung out of the room, shutting the door violently behind her.
Laura's first sensation was one of anger only.As always, her younger sister had presumed again to judge her, had chosen this day of all others, to annoy her.
She gazed an instant at the closed door, then rose and put her chin in the air.She was right, and Page her husband, everybody, were wrong.She had been flouted, ignored.She paced the length of the room a couple of times, then threw herself down upon the couch, her chin supported on her palm.
