"Congratulations, General Cannon. I hope you two will be . . ."
"Lily! You
can't!
You can't treat nobody this way. Lily, that woman won't give me a moment's peace and quiet. Lily, I'm not a
young
man. Lily, that woman's all
over
me. She's like an octopus.
She . . ."
"Gen-er-al Cannon," Mrs. Ames said, trying valiantly to suppress a wild outburst. "Remember, you're speaking of my
sister!"
"But, Lily, it's
you
I want. It's always been . . ."
"General, to think that . . ."
"Call me Walter, Lily,
please."
"General Cannon, to think that you would expect me to do anything so base as to step between my sister—my
baby
sister—and the man she loves!"
"Lily, I'll kill myself. I'll . . ."
"Yoo hoo! Yoo hoo!" Violet called from the distance.
"Oh, Gawd, she's after me again!"
"Yoo hoo! Lily, Walter! Come! Time for the fireworks to begin!”
The house party, seated in two ragged semi-circles on the lawn, looked strange and unearthly in the light of the red flares which Mr. Early had embedded in the grass. Robin and Emily ran noisily among the guests brandishing sparklers above their heads and fifty yards away, between the audience and the house, Mr. Early's two assistants were setting up standards for some of the ground effects.
"There's a big pyrotechnics display at the Republican Rally over to Timber Point, tonight," Mr. Early was explaining to anyone who would listen. "I got the contrack for that show, too, but I sent my brothern-law. I always prefers a private party—seems so much more refined-like. Oh, I kin tell you, Aurora Borealis has handled some big shows—mighty big shows—in its day. Don't seem like there is many private affairs nowadays calling for really refined pyrotechnics. Why, I remember . . . Oh, there you are, Missis Clendennin'."
"Yes, Mr. Early," Violet giggled. She clutched her little mink cape around her and tripped prettily to his side.
"Now Missis Clendennin', you just tell me how you want the
program-me
ta run. We kin start out with rockets, or we kin commence with the Cather'n Wheels, or we could have the Ni'g'ra Falls—personally I always feel the falls is nicer for the later effecks—or we kin intry-sperse the effects anyway you like."
"Well, now, let's see. Your attention, everyone!" Violet called. "Has anyone any preference as to what effects we see first?"
No one had.
"Then, Mr. Early, I think we'll begin with some rockets from back behind the house—but not
all
of them. Then some Catherine Wheels out here in front of the house. Then some more rockets.
Then
the Niagara Falls. And finally the golden eagle."
"Very suitable choice, mam. That-there eagle is a lovely effeck for the gran' fi-nail. It's one I an' my brothern-law developed ouselffs. The wings flap just as
realistic!
You 'bout ready?"
"Very well, Mr. Early. You may begin. All right, everybody, we're ready! This is to be my little treat for the Fourth. Come Robin, Emily! Come darlings, you sit right here by Granny—Granny and Uncle Walter."
General Cannon shuddered and moaned softly.
"Zut! But can I ever forget the glorious display of fireworks at Deauville on the night before the war—this
recent
unpleasantness—broke out," Uncle Ned said to Claire. "I was there with Teddy and Sascha and Nada and Aga and Aly and . . ."
Whisssssssshh! Boom! The first rocket was released and a glory of golden light burst high above the house. Robin and Emily squealed ecstatically. Whisssssssssh! Boom! Balls of fire in pink and green, in white and mauve, fell from the skies, flickering slowly out as they descended.
Whisssssssssh! Boom! A scarlet comet streaked across the night and landed far out in the Sound.
"Isn't it divine, darlings! Isn't this
fun?"
Violet said squeezing her grandchildren. "Just the way it was when
I
was a little girl. We're even going to have the old peacock effect."
Money to burn, Manning said grimly to himself, sidling into the garden.
Money to burn.
He would have liked to have changed from the skin out, but the thought of spending one unnecessary second away from Felicia had urged him to clean himself off as best he could and hurry to her side.
Felicia was beginning to get over her anger. She'd certainly fixed Kathy all right. She tried to see Kathy's face. It didn't seem unusual, somehow; almost serene, if anything. Well, Felicia had to hand it—albeit grudgingly—to her cousin. She certainly had control! Whisssssh! Boom! Felicia, bored sick by the fireworks, was conscious of someone stealing into the empty seat next to her. By the pink light of the rocket she saw that it was Manning. Her
nostrils quivered.
There was an odor, a most unpleasant odor. She sniffed delicately again. She knew that the Sound could sometimes smell of old fish, but this . . . She inclined her head slightly toward Manning. The odor grew stronger. Really, she'd read ads for all those manly scents and colognes—silly names like Male, Him, Stallion, Virility—but whatever Manning was wearing was just a little
too
gamey. Then the blue fire burst into red fire. Then the red fire into white. In the brightness, Felicia saw John Burgess' arm slip around Kathy and then, to her horror, she saw Kathy rest her head on his shoulder. Felicia stiffened. Manning's hand sought hers and she snatched it away. "Don't!" she said sharply.
Whissssssssssssh! Boom! Bronze and silver stars soared and fell. Then there was a flash of white and a tiny American flag fluttered down into the garden. Little Robin rushed, screaming with joy, to retrieve it. Emily took it away from him. There were tears.
Mrs. Ames stifled a yawn. Fireworks were a terrible bore. The noise was startling, the light distracting, and she knew she'd spend the next week picking bits and pieces of the debris off the lawn.
". . . and then I recall the time in '93 when a jolly bunch of us went out to Chicago to see the Columbian Exposition. What fireworks they had there!" Uncle Ned was saying. "I fully expected to see buffalo and Indians in the streets but it was quite civilized and the old Auditorium Hotel was . . ." Whissssssh! Boom! Fang cowered beneath Uncle Ned's chair, terrified by the noise.
Standing next to Nanny, at a respectful distance behind the crowd, Sturgis shifted his weight painfully from one foot to the other. He did wish that silly Miss Violet wouldn't be so democratic and
insist
that the staff come out to enjoy these treats. Red and green balls of light hung suspended for a moment in the sky and then fell. He didn't need to
see
them. He had spots before his eyes
every
day of the year.
"Nothing like the fireworks at the Diamond Jubilee when I was in service to Lady Dreerilea," Nanny sniffed.
The Dreerileas were
nobody,
Sturgis knew. The title was only three generations old and they'd bought the peerage in the first place.
Whissssh! Boom!
The Catherine Wheels revolved violently—sending out little asterisks of brilliant color—so close you could almost touch them. Fang whined and burrowed farther under his master's chair.
Jigging badly, the peacock was wheeled out and lighted. Now its tail spread out, a gorgeous fan of iridescent flame. Globes of color balanced above it and soon flickered out. The breeze came up a little stronger from the Sound. Violet huddled deeper into her cape and squeezed the general's beefy arm. "Oh, Walter, darling. Don't you
love
this! When we're married I think we'll have fireworks every year. They make me feel like a
girl
again."
"Vi'let
,”
the general whined, "lissen, I . . ."
"Hush, my lover, not so
loud.
I don't want the others to know—that is, no one except dear Lily—until I have my engagement ring."
Again the rockets began from the other side of the house. It was becoming quite breezy now and the fireworks, after their initial burst of glory, scattered wildly in the wind. The garden was lit up in a tender flash of rose. Bryan saw Claire sitting a few seats away, rapt. Poor kid, he thought, she hasn't had such a good weekend, either. She looked so fragile and yielding in this light. Bryan wondered what she was thinking about. It couldn't be about Paul. Then he speculated fleetingly on what the chances were of getting Claire into the hay. Five-oh, five-oh, he guessed. He wondered if . . .
There was a regular blockbuster of a rocket and the place was lit first in red, then in white, then in blue, then, in rapid succession, in pink and lavender and silver and gold. In its multicolored light, Bryan glanced at Elly. She was sitting cuddled next to Joe Sullivan, both of her hands in his. Bryan looked away. It was
awful
to think about someone as young and innocent as Elly—more like his own daughter than his sister—going off with . . . No, he wouldn't think about that tonight.
That had been the last of the rockets. Mrs. Ames looked surreptitiously at her wrist watch and was glad that it had diamond numbers. They made it so much easier to tell time in the dark.
Violet had been
too
generous. More than an hour and a half had elapsed since the first rocket had risen and the pause now was only for the preparation of Niagara Falls. Once again the children darted forth with sparklers, but little Robin was growing restive and sleepy. He tripped on the cord of his dressing gown and again there were tears.
"Violet,” Mrs. Ames said. "They're awfully tired. Don't you think Nanny should take them in?"
Oddly enough there were no protests from Robin and Emily.
"Oh, no, dear. Let's keep them up just a little longer. The two big things are just about to come."
Some half-hearted roman candles were set off to volley back and forth at one another across the lawn, while the big event was being prepared. Elly sighed in comfort. She felt so complete, so happy. She had all she'd ever wanted.
Then, with a fanfare of four-letter words from Mr. Early's assistants, the Niagara Falls got underway. It seemed to be a bit sparse in the middle and a trifle out of hand on the Canadian side, but in a matter of seconds it was going brightly. In its merciless light, Elly caught a glimpse of Bryan. How
old
he looked! How old and how defeated! Elly felt a little ache in her heart. Was it really possible to love somebody so much for so long and then hate him so bitterly? No, it couldn't be. I'll soon start loving him again, Elly thought. I'll love him but I'll never
listen
to anything he says.
The falls died with a resounding hiss, drowning out Uncle Ned's recollections of a costume ball in Venice. There was a restless, uneasy silence. "And
now,"
Violet cried,
"now
the big surprise! Mr. Early's
very own
creation. A golden eagle with wings that really . . ." Her skirts blew briskly in the breeze and there was an ominous roaring sound. Violet looked around. A brilliant light was
coming from the other side of the house. "Oh, no, Mr. Early. I
told
you. The eagle is to be on
this
side of the house where we're all . . ."
"I got the eagle right here, Missis Clendennin’. I ain't lit the fuse yet. I ain't even
touched
it! The wing meckinizum . . ."
"The house!" Bryan yelled, jumping up so violently that he knocked his chair over. "The house! It's on
fire!"
"It
is?"
Mrs. Ames said. "Is it
really?"
Then there was complete pandemonium. Everyone leaped up and rushed around to the other side of the old Pruitt house. A blaze of considerable proportions had commenced on the roof; it was racing along the ornamental fretwork that trimmed the gutters, and creeping up a side of the tower.
"Papa's house!" Violet wailed. "Dear Papa's house. Hurry, run in someone. Call the fire department."
"You can't call the fire department," Mrs. Ames said. "You can't call
anybody,
Violet."
"Oh, my God!" Bryan bellowed. "Quick! I’ll get the car. I’ll drive to the fire department in the village."
"You can't," Mr. Early roared. "All the volunteers is at the big Republican Rally over to Timber . . ."
"Well, I’ll drive
there.
Where in the hell are my keys?"
"They're here," Elly said, reaching immodestly down the front of her dress.
"Hurry, Bryan. Do hurry!" Violet called after him.
"That's twenty-five miles, Aunt Violet," Kathy said. "He'll never make it!" Bryan's car shot down the driveway.
"I hope not," Mrs. Ames breathed. "I
hope
not!"
"I'm
going in there," Claire said. "I've
got
to. My clothes. I've got Hildegarde's hat up there. I'm . . ."
"Stay where you are, you little
fool!"
John said, dragging her back.
"You can't go in there, child," Mrs. Ames said firmly. "It's burning like a tinder box. The whole house is made of wood and it's old—old and dry."
With an ear-splitting roar, the whole tower went up in flames. "That's my suite!” Uncle Ned shrieked.
"My
clothes! My signed photographs! My . . ."
"Your
clothes, you daffy old quean!" Manning yelled. "What about
my
clothes?"
"Sturgis! Sturgis. Come! I
need
you!”
Enraptured, the children squealed delightedly. "Firework! Firework!" Robin cooed. Fang barked wildly and chased his tail around in a frenzied circle, knocking Felicia to the ground.
"Lissen," the general barked in his best parade-ground voice. "I'm in command here. We men’ll form a bucket brigade. Here, you, Stone! Pruitt!"
"Are you speaking to
me?"
Uncle Ned gasped.
"Oh, Walter!" Violet cried rapturously, "My
general!"
"Don't you think that a bucket is more or less essential to a bucket brigade, general," Mrs. Ames said calmly. "We don't happen to have any, except in the house and I
forbid
you to go in there."
"We can't just stand here, woman!" the general screamed.
"We might all sit down—at a safe distance, of course—and wait for the firemen," Mrs. Ames said.
With a roar, a major portion of the mansard roof crashed in. Light showed eerily through the windows.
"Pretty!" Robin said. "Pretty firework!"
"Here," Paul shouted. "Kathy, Elly, take the kids. Run 'em way back."
"Oh," Violet moaned. "Our lovely, lovely home. Those happy days!"
"That leaking roof," Mrs. Ames said. "Now, quickly," she added briskly, "we've got to get well
away
from here—
all
of us! Nanny! Stop that blubbering immediately and help Kathy with the children. Sturgis! Take the dog! Do as I tell you, all of you. Do you want to be
killed?"
Claire was tearing at her stole and gibbering ". . . Miss Golden made it for Hildegarde. It retails at eighty. I've got to go in and
get
it. Miss Golden can make or break . . ."