Part 4 (1/2)

”And I'm glad to be home, Dad, to be”--there was again that clearing of the throat, but he finished bravely--”with you.”

The father avoided a threatening display of emotion by an abrupt change of subject to the trite.

”Have a good time?” he inquired casually, while fumbling with the papers on the desk.

d.i.c.k's face broke in a smile of reminiscent happiness.

”The time of my young life!” He paused, and the smile broadened. There was a mighty enthusiasm in his voice as he continued: ”I tell you, Dad, it's a fact that I did almost break the bank at Monte Carlo. I'd have done it sure, if only my money had held out.”

”It seems to me that I've heard something of the sort before,” was Gilder's caustic comment. But his smile was still wholly sympathetic. He took a curious vicarious delight in the escapades of his son, probably because he himself had committed no follies in his callow days. ”Why didn't you cable me?” he asked, puzzled at such restraint on the part of his son.

d.i.c.k answered with simple sincerity.

”Because it gave me a capital excuse for coming home.”

It was Sarah who afforded a diversion. She had known d.i.c.k while he was yet a child, had bought him candy, had felt toward him a maternal liking that increased rather than diminished as he grew to manhood. Now, her face lighted at sight of him, and she smiled a welcome.

”I see you have found him,” she said, with a ripple of laughter.

d.i.c.k welcomed this interruption of the graver mood.

”Sadie,” he said, with a manner of the utmost seriousness, ”you are looking finer than ever. And how thin you have grown!”

The girl, eager with fond fancies toward the slender ideal, accepted the compliment literally.

”Oh, Mr. d.i.c.k!” she exclaimed, rapturously. ”How much do you think I have lost?”

The whimsical heir of the house of Gilder surveyed his victim critically, then spoke with judicial solemnity.

”About two ounces, Sadie.”

There came a look of deep hurt on Sadie's face at the flippant jest, which d.i.c.k himself was quick to note.

He had not guessed she was thus acutely sensitive concerning her plumpness. Instantly, he was all contrition over his unwitting offense inflicted on her womanly vanity.

”Oh, I'm sorry, Sadie,” he exclaimed penitently. ”Please don't be really angry with me. Of course, I didn't mean----”

”To twit on facts!” the secretary interrupted, bitterly.

”Pooh!” d.i.c.k cried, craftily. ”You aren't plump enough to be sensitive about it. Why, you're just right.” There was something very boyish about his manner, as he caught at the girl's arm. A memory of the days when she had cuddled him caused him to speak warmly, forgetting the presence of his father. ”Now, don't be angry, Sadie. Just give me a little kiss, as you used to do.” He swept her into his arms, and his lips met hers in a hearty caress. ”There!” he cried. ”Just to show there's no ill feeling.”

The girl was completely mollified, though in much embarra.s.sment.

”Why, Mr. d.i.c.k!” she stammered, in confusion. ”Why, Mr. d.i.c.k!”

Gilder, who had watched the scene in great astonishment, now interposed to end it.

”Stop, d.i.c.k!” he commanded, crisply. ”You are actually making Sarah blush. I think that's about enough, son.”

But a sudden unaccustomed gust of affection swirled in the breast of the lad. Plain Anglo-Saxon as he was, with all that implies as to the avoidance of displays of emotion, nevertheless he had been for a long time in lands far from home, where the habits of impulsive and affectionate peoples were radically unlike our own austerer forms. So now, under the spur of an impulse suggested by the dalliance with the buxom secretary, he grinned widely and went to his father.