Part 35 (1/2)

”Well, mother dear,” Elizabeth opined calmly, ”it appears that you've spilled the beans.”

”What a funny old popsy-wops it is, to be sure!” Jane chirped. ”It's fine to be such a grand old sport, but so dreadfully inconvenient!

Beth, can you imagine what father McKaye would say if he only knew?”

”I wouldn't mind the things he'd say. The things he'd do would be apt to linger longest in our memories.”

”Oh, my dears, what shall I do?” poor Mrs. McKaye quavered.

”Stand pat, should necessity ever arise, and put the buck up to Mr.

Daney,” the slangy Elizabeth suggested promptly. ”He has warned you not to confess to father, hasn't he? Now, why did he do this? Answer.

Because he realized that if dad should learn that you telephoned this odious creature from the Sawdust Pile, the head of our clan would consider himself compromised--bound by the action of a member of his clan, as it were. Then we'll have a wedding and after the wedding we'll all be thrown out of The Dreamerie to make room for Master Don and his consort. So, it appears to me, since Mr. Daney has warned you not to tell, mother dear, that he cannot afford to tell on you himself--no, not even to save his own skin.”

”You do not understand, Elizabeth,” Mrs. McKaye sobbed. ”It isn't because that stupid Andrew cares a snap of his finger for us; it's because he's devoted to Hector and doesn't want him worried or made unhappy.”

And in this observation, it is more than probable that the lady spoke more truly than she realized.

”Oh, well, if that's the case, it's all as clear as mud!” Jane cried triumphantly. ”If the worst should ever come to the worst, Mr. Daney will lie like a gentleman and--why, he has already done so, silly! Of course he has, and it's rather gallant of him to do it, I think.”

”He's an imbecile, and why Hector has employed him all these years--why he trusts him so implicitly, I'm sure I am at a loss to comprehend.” Mrs. McKaye complained waspishly.

”Dear, capable, faithful Andrew!” Elizabeth mimicked her mother's speech earlier in the day. ”Cheer up, ma! Cherries are ripe.” She snapped her fingers, swayed her lithe body, and undulated gracefully to the piano, where she brought both hands down on the keys with a crash, and played ragtime with feverish fury for five minutes. Then, her impish nature a.s.serting itself, she literally smashed out the opening bars of the Wedding March from Lohengrin, and shouted with glee when her mother, a finger in each ear, fled from the room.

x.x.xIV

Mr. Daney worked through a stack of mail with his stenographer, dismissed her, and, in the privacy of his sanctum, lighted his pipe and proceeded to mend his fences. In the discretion of the chief operator at the telephone exchange, he had great confidence; in that of Mrs. McKaye, none at all. He believed that the risk of having the secret leak out through Nan herself was a negligible one, and, of course (provided he did not talk in his sleep) the reason for Nan's return was absolutely safe with him. Indeed, the very fact that The Laird had demanded and received an explanation from the girl would indicate to Nan that Mrs. McKaye had acted on her own initiative; hence, Nan would, in all probability, refrain from disclosing this fact to The Laird in any future conversations.

Reasoning further, Daney concluded there would be no future conversations. The Laird, following his usual custom of refraining from discussing a subject already settled to his satisfaction, could be depended upon to avoid a discussion of any kind with Nan Brent in future, for such discussions would not be to his interest, and he was singularly adept in guarding that interest.

His cogitations were interrupted by a telephone-call from Mrs. McKaye.

The good soul's first gust of resentment having pa.s.sed, she desired to thank him for his timely warning and to a.s.sure him that, on the subject of that transcontinental telephone-conversation she and her daughters could be depended upon to remain as silent as the Sphinx.

This information relieved Mr. Daney greatly. ”After all,” he confided to the cuspidor, ”it is up to the girl whether we fish or cut bait.

But then, what man in his senses can trust a woman to stay put.

Females are always making high dives into shoal water, and those tactless McKaye women are going to smear everything up yet. You wait and see.”

The longer Mr. Daney considered this situation, the more convinced did he become that mischief was brewing. Did not periods of seraphic calm always precede a tornado? In the impending social explosion, a few hard missiles would most certainly come his way, and in a sudden agony of apprehension and shame because he had told The Laird a half-truth, he sprang to his feet, resolved to seek old Hector, inform him that Mrs. McKaye had compromised the family, and thus enable him to meet the issue like a gentleman. But this decision was succeeded by the reflection that perhaps this action would merely serve to precipitate a situation that might not be evolved in the ordinary course of affairs. Furthermore, he could not afford to betray Mrs. McKaye on the mere suspicion that, sooner or later, she would betray herself, for this would savor of too much anxiety to save his own skin at her expense. ”I'm a singularly unhappy old duffer,” he groaned and kicked his inoffending waste-basket across the office. ”The females! The mischief-making, bungling, thoughtless, crazy females! There are millions of wonderful, angelic women in this terrible world, but what I want to know is: Where the Sam Hill do they hide themselves?”

x.x.xV

Nan did not remain at the hospital more than fifteen minutes. She was ill at ease there; it was no comfort to her to gaze upon the pallid, wasted face of the man she loved when she realized that, by her presence here, she was const.i.tuting herself a party to a heart-breaking swindle, and must deny herself the joy of gazing upon that same beloved countenance when, later, it should be glowing with health and youth and high hopes. He was too weak to speak more than a few words to her. The faintest imaginable pressure of his hand answered the pressure of hers. It appeared to be a tremendous effort for him to open his eyes and look up at her. When, however, he had satisfied his swimming senses that she was really there in the flesh, he murmured:

”You'll not--run away--again? Promise?”