The Last Drive and Other Stories

“No, he won’t!” cried Gowanton suddenly, spring to the door. “It’s absurd! Why, it’s absurd! Mr. Beach—”

“Don’t let him out, Andy,” said Sackerville.

“But it’s ridiculous, I tell you! I won’t stand for it! Why, you—”

“Wait a minute, Mr. Gowanton.” Andrew Beach raised his voice for the first time. “You have reminded me that this is my house. I’m going to do what Sackerville asks. I’ve known him longer than you have, and I think — anyway, he’s right. Melly ought to have a chance, and I’m going to give her one. You wait—”

He unlocked the door, poked his head out and called to a servant in the hall. Then he closed the door again and turned to the two men.

“We haven’t much time,” he observed, glancing at his watch. “It’s twenty after eleven. We were to leave for the church at a quarter to twelve. The only thing is, if Melissa—”

A knock sounded. A voice came:

“Daddy!”

The grocer opened the door, and Melissa entered. He stepped forward to take her hand, then sprang back so suddenly that he nearly lost his balance as another figure, that of his wife, advanced across the threshold.

The mother and daughter stood, one a little in front of the other, stopped short by the appearance of three men where they had expected to find one or, at the most, two. But Mrs. Beach soon found her voice.

“John!” she cried, looking at Gowanton in amazement. “What in the name of goodness are you doing here?”

The bridegroom scowled. Andrew Beach proved his bravery by coming forward and opening his mouth to explain; but Sackerville, knowing that to be both useless and dangerous, put his hand on his friend’s arm and said something in a low tone, and Andrew Beach nodded and turned to his daughter.

“Melly,” he said, “come here.”

She obeyed wonderingly. All in white, enveloped in lace and satin, she looked so fresh and lovely that she seemed to belong to a different world from those common-looking men in their black and gray. She went to her father’s side, glancing first at Gowanton, then at Sackerville.

“Listen, Melly,” said the grocer, patting her hand, “I want to ask you something I should have asked you a long time ago. I’ve been a bad father; but it’s not too late. Tell me the truth — remember, the truth — do you want to marry John Gowanton?”

“Good heavens!”

It was Mrs. Beach’s voice.

“Are you crazy, Andrew? I knew it was something — when I saw John here — I knew it—”

But her husband silenced her for once. You would never have supposed that authority to be concealed in the little grocer’s breast unless you had heard him in a business crisis.

“Not another word from you!” he commanded.

Then he turned to his daughter.

“Do you want to marry John Gowanton?” he repeated.

But though Melissa had had a moment to recover from her astonishment she could only stammer:

“Why, I am — yes — that is—”

“No, don’t be frightened,” said the grocer. “Tell me the truth; do you want to marry him?”

Melissa looked at her father, at Sackerville, at her mother, and finally at Gowanton. She looked at him a long time, directly in his face, as if she were seeing him for the first time. And then her eyes dropped, and she saw her bridal dress with its folds of white, and her face suddenly grew pale with resolution.

“No,” she said, in a low, distinct voice. “No, I don’t want to marry him.”

A sharp cry came from her mother:

“Melissa!”

“Let her alone,” said the grocer. “You’ve done enough as it is. Thank God, it’s not too late. Mr. Gowanton — you’ve heard — I’m sorry—”

If Gowanton’s face had been red before, it was purple now with emotion. It could be seen that he was hard put to maintain his role of gentleman. He looked very much as though he wanted to hit somebody.

“You mean—” he stammered violently and could get no farther.

“Yes,” said Andrew Beach. “I’m sorry.”

Gowanton choked. He glared at Sackerville a moment, then he turned and bowed formally to Melissa; then he went to the door, wheeled and bowed to Mrs. Beach. The next moment he was gone — gone in a rush down the stairs and through the hall to where his big gray limousine waited at the curb.

“And now,” said Mrs. Beach in tense tones of fury, “now, Andrew Beach, perhaps you’ll explain—”

“You bet I’ll explain,” said the grocer grimly. “But first, I know you’ve been to a lot of trouble for this wedding, and there’s a church full of people down the street waiting for us. It’s been a big expense, too, and I don’t like to throw away money. Gowanton’s gone, thank God, but we’ll give Melly a chance to dig up another bridegroom.”

He turned to Sackerville.

“Just ask her, Harry. Ask her yes or no. No pushing. Only, if she wants to and you want to, I’ll get a car to take you to the church and we’ll have some fun with society.”