I
IT WAS at a supper of the Jolly Seventeen in August that
Carol heard of "Elizabeth," from Mrs. Dave Dyer.
Carol was fond of Maud Dyer, because she had been particularly
agreeable lately; had obviously repented of the nervous
distaste which she had once shown. Maud patted her hand
when they met, and asked about Hugh.
Kennicott said that he was "kind of sorry for the girl,
some ways; she's too darn emotional, but still, Dave is sort
of mean to her." He was polite to poor Maud when they
all went down to the cottages for a swim. Carol was proud of
that sympathy in him, and now she took pains to sit with their
new friend.
Mrs. Dyer was bubbling, "Oh, have you folks heard about
this young fellow that's just come to town that the boys call
`Elizabeth'? He's working in Nat Hicks's tailor shop. I bet
he doesn't make eighteen a week, but my! isn't he the perfect
lady though! He talks so refined, and oh, the lugs he puts on
—belted coat, and piqué collar with a gold pin, and socks
to match his necktie, and honest—you won't believe this, but
I got it straight—this fellow, you know he's staying at Mrs.
Gurrey's punk old boarding-house, and they say he asked Mrs.
Gurrey if he ought to put on a dress-suit for supper! Imagine!
Can you beat that? And him nothing but a Swede tailor—Erik
Valborg his name is. But he used to be in a tailor shop
in Minneapolis (they do say he's a smart needle-pusher, at
that) and he tries to let on that he's a regular city fellow.
They say he tries to make people think he's a poet—carries
books around and pretends to read 'em. Myrtle Cass says
she met him at a dance, and he was mooning around all
over the place, and he asked her did she like flowers and
poetry and music and everything; he spieled like he was a
regular United States Senator; and Myrtle—she's a devil, that
girl, ha! ha!—she kidded him along, and got him going, and
honest, what d'you think he said? He said he didn't find any
intellectual companionship in this town. Can you
beat it?
Imagine! And him a Swede tailor! My! And they say he's
the most awful mollycoddle—looks just like a girl. The boys
call him `Elizabeth,' and they stop him and ask about the
books he lets on to have read, and he goes and tells them, and
they take it all in and jolly him terribly, and he never gets
onto the fact they're kidding him. Oh, I think it's just
too
funny!"
The Jolly Seventeen laughed, and Carol laughed with them.
Mrs. Jack Elder added that this Erik Valborg had confided
to Mrs. Gurrey that he would "love to design clothes for
women." Imagine! Mrs. Harvey Dillon had had a glimpse
of him, but honestly, she'd thought he was awfully handsome.
This was instantly controverted by Mrs. B. J. Gougerling,
wife of the banker. Mrs. Gougerling had had, she reported,
a good look at this Valborg fellow. She and B. J.
had been motoring, and passed "Elizabeth" out by McGruder's
Bridge. He was wearing the awfullest clothes, with the waist
pinched in like a girl's. He was sitting on a rock doing
nothing, but when he heard the Gougerling car coming he
snatched a book out of his pocket, and as they went by he
pretended to be reading it, to show off. And he wasn't really
good-looking—just kind of soft, as B. J. had pointed out.
When the husbands came they joined in the exposé. "My
name is Elizabeth. I'm the celebrated musical tailor. The
skirts fall for me by the thou. Do I get some more veal
loaf?" merrily shrieked Dave Dyer. He had some admirable
stories about the tricks the town youngsters had played on
Valborg. They had dropped a decaying perch into his pocket.
They had pinned on his back a sign, "I'm the prize boob,
kick me."
Glad of any laughter, Carol joined the frolic, and surprised
them by crying, "Dave, I do think you're the dearest thing
since you got your hair cut!" That was an excellent sally.
Everybody applauded. Kennicott looked proud.
She decided that sometime she really must go out of her
way to pass Hicks's shop and see this freak.
