§ 18
Peter lay awake a good part of the night, thinking over this new
job — that of getting himself a girl. He realized that for some time he
had been falling in love with little Jennie; but be wanted to be sane
and practical, he wanted to use his mind in choosing a girl. He was
after information, first of all. And who had the most to give him? He
thought of Miss Nebbins, who was secretary to Andrews, the lawyer; she
would surely know more secrets than anyone else; but then, Miss Nebbins
was an old maid, who wore spectacles and broad-toed shoes, and was
evidently out of the question for love-making. Then he thought of Miss
Standish, a tall, blond beauty who worked in an insurance office and
belonged to the Socialist Party. She was a "swell dresser," and Peter
would have been glad
to have something like that to show off to McGivney and the rest of
Guffey's men; but with the best efforts of his self-esteem, Peter could
not imagine himself persuading Miss Standish to look at him. There was a
Miss Yankovich, one of the real Reds, who trained with the I. W. W.; but
she was a Jewess, with sharp, black eyes that clearly indicated a
temper, and frightened Peter. Also, he had a suspicion that she was
interested in McCormick — tho of course with these "free lovers" you
could never tell.
But one girl Peter was quite sure about, and that was little
Jennie; he didn't know if Jennie knew many secrets, but surely she could
find some out for him. Once he got her for his own, he could use her to
question others. And so Peter began to picture what love with Jennie
would be like. She wasn't exactly what you would call "swell," but there
was something about her that made him sure he needn't be ashamed of her.
With some new clothes she would be pretty, and she had grand
manners — she had not shown the least fear of the rich ladies who came to
the house in their automobiles; also she knew an awful lot for a
girl — even if most of what she knew wasn't so!
Peter lost no time in setting to work at his new job. In the
papers next morning appeared the usual details from Flanders; thousands
of men being shot to pieces almost every hour of the day and night, a
million men on each side locked in a ferocious combat that had lasted
for weeks, that might last for months. And sentimental little Jennie sat
there with brimming eyes, talking about it while Peter ate his oatmeal
and thin milk. And Peter talked about it too; how wicked it was, and how
they must stop it, he and Jennie together. He agreed with her now; he
was a Socialist,
he called her "Comrade," and told her she had converted
him. Her eyes lighted up with joy, as if she had
really done something to end the war.
They were sitting on the sofa, looking at the paper, and they
were alone in the house. Peter suddenly looked up from the reading and
said, very much embarrassed, "But Comrade Jennie — "
"Yes," she said, and looked at him with her frank grey
eyes. Peter was shy, truly a little frightened, this kind of
detective business being new to him.
"Comrade Jennie," he said, "I — I — don't know just how
to say it, but I'm afraid I'm falling a little in love."
Jennie drew back her hands, and Peter heard her breath
come quickly. "Oh, Mr. Gudge!" she exclaimed.
"I — I don't know — " stammered Peter. "I hope you
won't mind."
"Oh, don't let's do that!" she cried.
"Why not, Comrade Jennie?" And he added, "I don't
know as I can help it."
"Oh, we were having such a happy time, Mr. Gudge!
I thought we were going to work for the cause!"
"Well, but it won't interfere — "
"Oh, but it does, it does; it makes people unhappy!"
"Then — " and Peter's voice trembled — "then you don't
care the least bit for me, Comrade Jennie?"
She hesitated a moment. "I don't know," she said. "I
hadn't thought — "
And Peter's heart gave a leap inside him. It was the first time
that any girl had ever had to hesitate in answering that question for
Peter. Something prompted him — just as if he had been doing this kind of
"sleuthing" all his
life. He reached over, and very gently took her hand.
"You do care just a little for me?" he whispered.
"Oh, Comrade Gudge," she answered, and Peter said,
"Call me `Peter.' Please, please do."
"Comrade Peter," she said, and there was a little catch
in her throat, and Peter, looking at her, saw that her eyes
were cast down.
"I know I'm not very much to love," he pleaded. "I'm
poor and obscure — I'm not good looking — "
"Oh, it isn't that!" she cried, "Oh, no, no! Why
should I think about such things? You are a comrade!"
Peter had known, of course, just how she would take
this line of talk. "Nobody has ever loved me," he said,
sadly. "Nobody cares anything about you, when you are
poor, and have nothing to offer — "
"I tell you, that isn't it!" she insisted. "Please don't
think that! You are a hero. You have sacrificed for the
cause, and you are going on and become a leader."
"I hope so," said Peter, modestly. "But then, what is
it, Comrade Jennie? Why don't you care for me?"
She looked up at him, and their eyes met, and with a little sob
in her voice she answered, "I'm not well, Comrade Peter. I'm of no use;
it would be wicked for me to marry."
Somewhere back in the depths of Peter, where his inner self was
crouching, it was as if a sudden douche of ice-cold water were let down
on him. "Marry!" Who had said anything about marrying? Peter's reaction
fitted the stock-phrase of the comic papers: "This is so sudden!"
But Peter was too clever to reveal such dismay. He
humored little Jennie, saying, "We don't have to marry
right away. I could wait, if only I knew that you cared
for me; and some day, when you get well — "
She shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid I'll never get
really well. And besides, neither of us have any money,
Comrade Peter."
Ah, there it was! Money, always money! This "free
love" was nothing but a dream.
"I could get a job," said Peter — just like any other
tame and conventional wooer.
"But you couldn't earn enough for two of us," protested the girl;
and suddenly she sprang up. "Oh, Comrade Peter, let's not fall in love
with each other! Let's not make ourselves unhappy, let's work for the
cause! Promise me that you will!"
Peter promised; but of course he had no remotest intention of
keeping the promise. He was not only a detective, he was a man — and in
both capacities he wanted Comrade Jennie. He had all the rest of the
day, and over the addressing of envelopes which he undertook with her,
he would now and then steal love-glances; and Jennie knew now what these
looks meant, and the faint flush would creep over her cheeks and down
into her neck and throat. She was really very pretty when she was
falling in love, and Peter found his new job the most delightful one of
his lifetime. He watched carefully, and noted the signs, and was sure
he was making no mistake; before Sadie came back at supper-time he had
his arms about Comrade Jennie, and was pressing kisses upon the lovely
white throat; and Comrade Jennie was sobbing softly, and her pleading
with him to stop had grown faint and unconvincing.
