Part 9 (1/2)

Miss Bridger looked at him sidelong and laughed to herself. ”That's to pay you for forgetting that you ever met Mama Joy,” she a.s.serted. ”I shouldn't be surprised if next week you'll have forgotten that you ever met _me_. And if you do, after that chicken stew--”

”You're a josher,” said Billy helplessly, not being prepared to say just all he thought about the possibility of his forgetting her. He wished that he understood women better, so that he might the better cope with the vagaries of this one; and so great was his ignorance that he never dreamed that every man since Adam had wished the same thing quite as futilely.

”I'm not going to josh now,” she promised, with a quick change of manner. ”You haven't--I _know_ you haven't, but I'll give you a chance to dissemble--you haven't a partner for the dance, have you?”

”No. Have you?” Billy did have the courage to say that, though he dared not say more.

”Well, I--I could be persuaded,” she hinted shamelessly.

”Persuade nothing! Yuh belong to me, and if anybody tries to throw his loop over your head, why--” Billy looked dangerous; he meant the Pilgrim.

”Thank you.” She seemed relieved, and it was plain she did not read into his words any meaning beyond the dance, though Billy was secretly hoping that she would. ”Do you know, I think you're perfectly lovely.

You're so--so _comfortable_. When I've known you a little longer I expect I'll be calling you Charming Billy, or else Billy Boy. If you'll stick close to me all through this dance and come every time I lift my eyebrows this way”--she came near getting kissed, right then, but she never knew it--”and say it's _your_ dance and that I promised it to you before, I'll be--_awfully_ grateful and obliged.”

”I wisht,” said Billy pensively, ”I had the nerve to take all this for sudden admiration; but I savvy, all right. Some poor devil's going to get it handed to him to-night.”

For the first time Miss Bridger blushed consciously. ”I--well, you'll be good and obliging and do just what I want, won't you?”

”Sure!” said Billy, not trusting himself to say more. Indeed, he had to set his teeth hard on that word to keep more from tumbling out.

Miss Bridger seemed all at once anxious over something.

”You waltz and two-step and polka and schottische, don't you?” Her eyes, as she looked up at him, reminded Billy achingly of that time in the line-camp when she asked him for a horse to ride home. They had the same wistful, pleading look. Billy gritted his teeth.

”Sure,” he answered again.

Miss Bridger sighed contentedly. ”I know it's horribly mean and selfish of me, but you're so good--and I'll make it up to you some time. Really I will! At some other dance you needn't dance with me once, or look at me, even--That will even things up, won't it?”

”Sure,” said Billy for the third time.

They paced slowly, coming into view of the picnic crowd, hearing the incoherent murmur of many voices. Miss Bridger looked at him uncertainly, laughed a little and spoke impulsively. ”You needn't do it, Mr. Boyle, unless you like. It's only a joke, anyway; I mean, my throwing myself at you like that. Just a foolish joke; I'm often foolish, you know. Of course, I know you wouldn't misunderstand or anything like that, but it _is_ mean of me to drag you into it by the hair of the head, almost, just to play a joke on some one--on Mama Joy. You're too good-natured. You're a direct temptation to people who haven't any conscience. Really and truly, you needn't do it at all.”

”Yuh haven't heard me raising any howl, have yuh?” inquired Billy, eying her slantwise. ”I'm playing big luck, if yuh ask me.”

”Well--if you _really_ don't mind, and haven't any one else--”

”I haven't,” Billy a.s.sured her unsmilingly. ”And I really don't mind.

I think I--kinda like the prospect.” He was trying to match her mood and he was not at all sure that he was a success. ”There's one thing. If yuh get tired uh having me under your feet all the time, why--Dilly's a stranger and an awful fine fellow; I'd like to have you--well, be kinda nice to him. I want him to have a good time, you see, and you'll like him. You can't help it. And it will square up anything yuh may feel yuh might owe me--”

”I'll be just lovely to Dilly,” Miss Bridger promised him with emphasis. ”It will be a fair bargain, then, and I won't feel so--so small about asking you what I did. You can help me play a little joke, and I'll dance with Duly. So,” she finished in a tone of satisfaction, ”we'll be even. I feel a great deal better now, because I can pay you back.”

Billy, on that night, was more keenly observant than usual and there was much that he saw. He saw at once that Miss Bridger lifted her eyebrows in the way she had demonstrated as _this way_, whenever the Pilgrim approached her. He saw that the Pilgrim was looking extremely bloodthirsty and went out frequently--Billy guessed shrewdly that his steps led to where the drink was not water--and the sight cheered him considerably. Yet it hurt him a little to observe that, when the Pilgrim was absent or showed no sign of meaning to intrude upon her, Miss Bridger did not lift her eyebrows consciously. Still, she was at all times pleasant and friendly and he tried to be content.

”Mr. Boyle, you've been awfully good,” she rewarded him when it was over. ”And I think Mr. Dill is fine! Do you know, he waltzes beautifully. I'm sure it was easy to keep _my_ side of the bargain.”

Billy noticed the slight, inquiring emphasis upon the word _my_, and he smiled down rea.s.suringly into her face. ”Uh course mine was pretty hard,” he teased, ”but I hope I made good, all right.”

”You,” she said, looking steadily up at him, ”are just exactly what I said you were. You are comfortable.”