Mardi Gras Madness (Carnival of Love)

Chapter Fourteen

Barbara awoke early the following morning. She lay dreamily beneath the covers for a few minutes, luxuriating in the feeling of expectancy which gripped her. She felt childishly eager to be up and grasp the happiness the day held for her. As she used to feel on Christmas morning before delving into her stocking.

For this was Mardi Gras. What had gone before had been but preparation for the final festival. The atmosphere seemed surcharged with delighted anticipation.

For weeks the city had moved riotously toward this culmination. Since early daybreak the entire area had seethed with feverish activity. Mardi Gras Day!

Barbara flung back the covers and skipped out of bed. A quick shower, and she was glowingly ready for anything the day might bring forth. She refused to remember the confused sensations of the preceding night. That was past. Today was hers.

The door opened as she dressed, and Ethel stood on the threshold.

“Hello,” she called happily. “You’re up and about mighty early after the scene you put on last night.”

“Wasn’t it terrible?” Barbara laughed. “Were you horribly disgusted with me?”

“Not disgusted. Worried for a time. You picked a hell of a place to do your passing out,” Ethel told her severely. “Next time please make an attempt to stagger out of the man’s room before we have to call the medico to revive you.”

“Was Frank... angry?”

“No. Only disappointed,” Ethel said serenely.

“I’ll be ready in a moment,” Barbara said hastily. “Are we missing anything yet?”

“No. We’re not missing anything.” Ethel smiled tolerantly. “The real excitement doesn’t start till eleven o’clock when Rex’s day pageant begins. I’ve got a swell place picked to watch the parade. Come on. We’ll go down for breakfast if you’re ready.”

“All ready,” Barbara said hastily. She dabbed some powder on her nose and ran a comb through her hair. Then followed Ethel sedately down the stairs.

“Hello, Dad,” she heard Ethel greet her father. “You going to step out to give some frustrate lady a thrill to-day?”

“I’m going to stay close indoors,” Mr. Brinkley assured her. “You’ll not catch me risking my limbs in the mad capers of carnival.”

“So you say,” Ethel laughed. “I’ll bet a five-spot you’re out among ’em before sundown to-night.”

“Is that so?” Mr. Brinkley began indignantly. Then he caught sight of Barbara as she descended the stairs.

“Good morning,” he called to her. “Did your young man find you last night?”

“My young man?” she asked lightly. “Which of my young men? I didn’t know one was looking for me.”

“He sounded rather desperate over the telephone,” Mr. Brinkley said humorously. “He must be a very naïve young man to be calling up at eleven o’clock on Mardi Gras eve and expecting to find a young lady at home. He should have realized that was the last place in the world to look for you.”

“What are you talking about?” Ethel asked. “What young man wanted whom?”

“Someone who acted as though the end of the world had come when I told him Barbara wasn’t here,” Mr. Brinkley said. “Come on in to breakfast and we’ll talk about it,” he added. “Mardi Gras is the one day in the year that you’re up early enough to eat breakfast with me.”

“Didn’t he say who he was?” Barbara asked. “I can’t imagine who was calling me last night.”

“He mumbled some name,” Mr. Brinkley said disgustedly. “Robert something-or-other... I couldn’t understand him very well.”

“Robert?” both the girls echoed in unison. They gazed at each other in dismay. Barbara’s eyes were distended.

“Do you suppose it could have been...?”

“Of course not,” Ethel said impatiently. “Probably one of Frank’s drunken friends.”

“But... but... if it was...” Barbara faltered.

“Was his last name anything like Sutler?” Ethel demanded of her father.

“Now let me see.” He wrinkled his forehead thoughtfully. “It might have been Sutler,” he acknowledged. “Though I couldn’t say positively.”

“What did he say?” Barbara asked tensely. “Did he leave any message?”

“He left no message,” Mr. Brinkley assured her. “He merely asked for you... and gasped when I told him you were out and I had no idea when you would return.”

“Oh!” Barbara bit her lip fiercely and stared at Ethel. “I... I... Excuse me,” she stammered, jumping up from the table and hurrying from the room.

“What on earth?” Mr. Brinkley began stupidly.

“Why didn’t you tell her his name wasn’t Sutler?” Ethel asked angrily. “Her whole day will be spoiled now.”

“But... how was I to know?” Mr. Brinkley said helplessly. “Who is Robert Sutler, and why should a call from him spoil her day?”

“He’s a brawny nincompoop from the farm back home that she thinks she’s in love with,” Ethel told him swiftly. “If that hick has followed her here to spoil her vacation, I’ll... I’ll shoot him,” she said savagely. “Just when she was beginning to snap out of it too,” she muttered. “You’ll have to excuse me, Dad. I’ll go up to keep her from tearing out her hair.”

Mr. Brinkley stared after Ethel in bewilderment. He shook his head sadly and muttered something between his teeth.

Ethel found Barbara sitting in her room staring out the window.

“Don’t start moping.” Ethel crossed the room quickly and laid her hand on Barbara’s shoulder.

“But suppose it was Bob?” Barbara began tragically.

“You’ll do better to suppose it wasn’t,” Ethel told her practically. “He refused to come when you begged him to, didn’t he? What makes you think he’d change his mind?”

“But if he did? And I... Oh, Ethel! What shall I do?”

“Don’t turn on the waterworks,” Ethel said impatiently. “I thought you were through with that guy. Suppose he is here? Are you going to let him ruin your fun? Going to let him be a killjoy? He did his best to keep you from coming. Going to let him pull his dog-in-the manger stuff again?”

“Oh but... but you don’t understand.”

“The devil I don’t. I understand his type all right,” Ethel told her viciously. “It gripes his soul to see anybody have a good time. But I bet he wouldn’t turn down anything if he thought he could get away with it.”

“Oh no! Not Bob!” Barbara defended him quickly. “He’s too fine and good. That’s why... last night...” She began to sob unhappily.

“Forget it.” Ethel shook her roughly. “Ten to one it wasn’t Bob. And suppose it was? You haven’t anything to be ashamed of. You’re still pure. You’ve still got your virginity, if that’s what you’re worrying about...”

“It’s no credit to me that I’m not... not ruined,” Barbara sobbed. “I just the same as gave myself to Frank last night. I tried to... and wanted to. I just... happened to... to lose consciousness before it... it happened.”

“What of it? He doesn’t need to know that,” Ethel comforted her. “You’ve still got your cherished purity to hand over to him, if you persist in marrying the yokel. So dry those tears and let’s go out to make whoopee.”

“But what about Bob?” Barbara protested. “He may call up again.”

“If it was Bob and if he wanted to find you he would have left a message for you. I’ll tell mom to get his phone number if he calls again, and we can call here any time you get impatient to see if he’s called. You can’t sit around all Mardi Gras with just the thin suspicion that it’s Bob,” she ended angrily.

“All right.” Barbara dried her eyes and essayed a smile. “Dumb of me,” she conceded. “But I’m all right now.”

“Come on then.” Ethel arose quickly. “I’ll go tell mom to be sure and check on any telephone calls that come. You get your face fixed and come on. It’s time we were getting down to where we can see the parade. An hour from now we’ll not be able to move on the streets for the crush.”