Part 26 (1/2)
Let's get out of here. I'm melting. How about you?”
”It _is_ pretty hot,” Jane admitted. It most certainly was. An attic, even on coolish days seems able to store up heat as no other place can, and on a sizzling August afternoon a bakeoven is Iceland in comparison.
The only thing to be said in favor of the Lambert's attic was that it had a northern light if not a northern temperature, and here Paul had set to work.
”Want to take a walk?” he suggested, dropping his paintbrushes into a can of turpentine.
”Can't. I promised Elise I'd help her with some of the mending.”
”Well, I think I'll browse around for a while. Tell Aunt Gertrude I'll be back for supper. She said there wasn't a thing for me to do.”
”Where are you going?”
”Nowhere in particular. I feel like doing something rash and reckless, but there's no danger of anything like _that_-here. Where's Carl?”
”Out in the garden with Elise and the twins.”
”Well-good-bye. I'll be back in half an hour or so.”
Paul selected for his solitary ramble a certain rough, dusty, shady lane that led down past the ruins of an old mill. Here on those breathless afternoons a crowd of little urchins were wont to gather to splash and paddle in the gurgling stream that tossed over its stony bed on to the water-fall above the mill. On the opposite side of the road rose a wooded hill, where the tree-tops were gilded with ruddy sunlight, and the deep fern scented recesses were always cool and dim.
The shade and freshness of the woods on that hot day were not to be resisted, and Paul turned into them, following a soft, weed-grown road that lead along a little tributary of the mill-stream. But he was feeling restless and even a little rebellious. The calm, uneventful course of his life during the past nine months had gotten on his nerves, and he found himself longing for some kind of change or excitement. What wouldn't he give to see old Bill Tyler coming toward him at that moment!
He stopped, and leaning against an old wooden railing, stared down at the stream that flowed by at the foot of the steep bank. For more than a month he had been working as hard as he could at his picture, taking good care not to let it interfere with his other duties, lest his uncle should recall his permission; Aunt Gertrude tried to help him, and he had progressed; but there wasn't a chance in a million of his winning anything, and he was not sure but that he had made a mistake in undertaking the task at all. He started on again, walking slowly, with his hands buried in his pockets, forgetful of the pa.s.sage of time, and of his uncle's dislike of having anyone late for a meal. Suddenly he stopped. It seemed to him that someone had called his name.
Looking back over his shoulder he saw a small man running easily along the road toward him.
”h.e.l.lo! Where are you off to?” inquired the newcomer, as he came up, smiling in a friendly way. ”I saw you back there, and thought I recognized you. How are you?”
It was no other than the notorious Jefferson Roberts, his face beaming with a friendly, winning smile, and his hand outstretched. Paul shook the hand, and said that he was off to nowhere-that he was just walking.
”Communing with Nature?” said Jeff, c.o.c.king his head on one side, while his bright brown eyes twinkled merrily. ”May I commune with you? I'm going in your direction.”
”Come ahead. That is, unless you're in a hurry. I _won't_ walk fast.”
”Oh, I'm never in a hurry. What have you been doing since I saw you last?”
Paul answered the question briefly without going into any details.
”What an industrious life!” exclaimed Jeff gaily. ”How is your good little cousin, Carl Lambert? Do you remember that day in Allenboro? He was horrified at you-he thinks I'm the most wicked creature alive. But then, most of those good souls _do_. And why? simply because I like to enjoy myself-and succeed at it.” And as he said this he laughed so spontaneously, his face was so full of arch, easy-going good nature that Paul joined in his laugh, feeling convinced that the tales about Jeff were mostly absurd exaggerations. In fifteen minutes or so he began to believe, also, that there was a great deal of good in Jeff that had been most uncharitably overlooked. There was nothing ”smarty” about him; he seemed frank and boyish, overflowing-with high spirits, impulsive, enthusiastic, and happy-go-lucky all at once. He was even rather a confiding soul, and strolling along beside Paul, whose arm he had taken, chattered navely about himself and his affairs with child-like frankness.
Presently his mood changed; he began to blame himself for his idleness, and to talk about his mother. He told Paul that he had decided to get a good job in the fall, and work hard.
”I'm a lot more serious than anyone thinks, let me tell you,” he remarked gravely. ”I like fun, but I'm not like the rest of those chumps you saw up at Allenboro. _They_ think they know me-but they don't. They only see one side-so does everyone else. But I'll show 'em. One of these days I'll be a nice, respectable-Mayor, with three chins, and a gold watch-chain.” This fancy sent him off into a fit of amus.e.m.e.nt. His humors changed so rapidly from melancholy to gaiety that there was no way of being sure that he was not joking when he seemed grave, and serious when he was laughing; but he was a delightful companion, and the two boys sauntered along talking as if they had been intimates from their childhood.
Suddenly, Paul realized that much time must have flown since Jeff interrupted his meditations.
”Gee! It must be pretty late,” he exclaimed looking up through the trees, trying to guess the time by the sun. ”Have you got a watch?”
Jeff laughed, and pulling his watch-chain from his pocket, displayed a bunch of keys, which he twirled jauntily.
”My watch, I'm sorry to say, is on a short vacation. But you don't have to bother about the time. Come on with me-I'm going to scare up some of the fellows, and see what we can find to do.”