Part 10 (2/2)

The minister had helped him into the dining-room, a cheery room with a bay window looking toward the church and a window box of nasturtiums in which the bees hummed and buzzed.

The girl came in and acknowledged the casual introduction of her father with a quite sophisticated nod and sat down across from him. And there was a _prayer_ at the beginning of the meal! Just as he was about to say something graceful to the girl, there was a _prayer_. It was almost embarra.s.sing. He had never seen one before like this. At a boarding school once he had experienced a thing they called ”grace” which consisted in standing behind their chairs while the entire a.s.sembled hungry mult.i.tude repeated a poem of a religious nature. He remembered they used to spend their time making up parodies on it--one ran something about ”this same old fish upon my plate,” and rhymed with ”hate.” He stared at the lovely bowed hair of the girl across the table while it was going on, and got ready a remark calculated to draw her smiles, but the girl lifted eyes that seemed so far away he felt as though she did not see him, and he contented himself with replying to his host's question something about the part of the chicken he liked best. It was a queer home to him, it seemed so intimate. Even the chicken seemed to be a detail of their life together, perhaps because there was only one chicken, and one breast. Where he dwelt there were countless b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and everybody had a whole breast if he wanted it, or a whole chicken for the matter of that. Here they had to stop and ask what others liked before they chose for themselves. This a.n.a.lysis went queerly on in his mind while he sat waiting for his plate and wondering over the little things they were talking about. Mrs. Severn said Miss Saxon had been crying all through church, and she told her Billy had been away all night. She was awfully worried about his going with that baseball team.

A fleeting shadow pa.s.sed over the girl's face:

”Billy promised me he would be there to-day,” she said thoughtfully, ”something must have happened. I don't think Billy was with the baseball team--” then her eyes travelled away out the window to the distant hills, she didn't seem to see Laurence Shafton at all. It was a new experience for him. He was fairly good looking and knew it.

Who the deuce was this Billy? And what did she care about Miss Saxon crying? Did she care so much for Billy already? Would it be worth his while to make her uncare?

”Mrs. Carter wasn't out,” said Mrs. Severn as she poured coffee, ”I hope she's not having more trouble with her neuralgia.”

The minister suddenly looked up from his carving:

”Did Mark come back yesterday, Marilyn?”

The girl drew a quick breath and brought back her eyes from the hills, but she did not look at the young man: ”No, father he didn't come.”

Who the deuce was _Mark_? Of course there would be several, but there was always _one_. Billy and Mark! It was growing interesting.

But Billy and Mark were not mentioned again, though a deep gravity seemed to have settled into the eyes of the family since their names had come up. Laurie decided to speak of the weather and the roads:

”Glorious weather we're having,” he chirped out condescendingly, ”But you certainly have the limit for roads. What's the matter with the highway? Had a Detour right in the best part of the road. Bridge down, it said, road flooded! Made the deuce of a time for me--!”

”Bridge?” remarked Marilyn looking up thoughtfully.

”Flood?” echoed the minister sharply.

”Yes. About two miles back where the highway crosses this valley. Put me in some fix. Had a bet on you know. Date with a lady. Staked a lot of money on winning, too. Hard luck,” Then he looked across at Marilyn's attentive face. Ah! He was getting her at last! More on that line.

”But it'll not be all loss,” he added gallantly with a gesture of admiration toward her, ”You see I didn't have any idea I was going to meet _you_.”

But Marilyn's eyes were regarding him soberly, steadily, a.n.a.lytically, without an answering smile. It was as if she did not like what he had said--if indeed she had heard it at all--as if she were offended at it.

Then the eyes look on an impersonal look and wandered thoughtfully to the mountains in the distance. Laurie felt his cheeks burn. He felt almost embarra.s.sed again, like during the prayer. Didn't the girl know he was paying her a compliment? Or was she such a prude that she thought him presuming on so slight an acquaintance? Her father was speaking:

”I don't quite understand,” 'he said thoughtfully. ”There is no bridge within ten miles, and nothing to flood the road but the Creek, which never was known to overflow its banks more than a few feet at most.

The highway is far above the valley. You must have been a bit turned around.”

The young man laughed lightly:

”Well, perhaps I had a jag on. I'm not surprised. I'd been driving for hours and had to drink to keep my nerve till morning. There were some dandy spilling places around those mountain curves. One doesn't care to look out and see when one is driving at top speed.”

Heavens! What had he said now? The girl's eyes came round to look him over again and went through to his soul like a lightning flash and away again, and there was actually scorn on her lips. He must take another line. He couldn't understand this haughty country beauty in the least.

”I certainly did enjoy your music,” he flashed forth with a little of his own natural gaiety in his voice that made him so universal a favorite.

<script>