Part 20 (1/2)
”_Have_ we?” sweetly inquired Miss Van Buren. ”I'm a little near-sighted, and I've such a wretched memory for faces. Unless I notice people particularly, I have to be introduced at least twice before it occurs to me to bow.”
”Oh, but, _Nell_,” protested Miss Rivers. ”Surely you know we saw Mr.--no, _Jonkheer_ Brederode--with your cousin at the Museum in Delft, and then afterwards you----”
”People's _clothes_ make so much difference,” remarked Miss Van Buren.
”Oh, but I wasn't thinking of your sea adventure, so much as when Jonkheer Brederode rode in the contest----”
”I'm afraid I was looking at the horses,” cut in her stepsister.
If Robert had been on board at this juncture he would probably have wished to box his cousin's ears, but I had no such desire, though mine were tingling. In fact, I should have enjoyed boxing Robert's; for I saw that, with the best intentions in the world (and intentions are dangerous weapons!), my too-loyal friend had in some way contrived to make me appear insufferable. Perhaps he'd given the impression that I had boasted an intention to meet her within a given time, and she took this for my brutal way of carrying out the boast.
”What is a Jonkheer?” the _pseudo_ Lady MacNairne demanded of Starr.
”I don't know exactly,” he admitted.
”_Don't_ you? But, nephew dear, how can you help knowing, when you have an _old_ friend who is one?”
(Was there a spice of malice in this question?)
”You see, almost ever since I've known him, I've thought of him as Alb,”
Starr explained hastily. ”Alb is a kind of--er--pet name.”
”I suppose it means something nice in Dutch,” said Miss Rivers, in the soft, pretty way she has, which would fain make every one around her happy. ”But I think Mr. van Buren told us that 'Jonkheer' was like our baronet; Jonkheer instead of 'Sir,' isn't it?”
”Something of the sort,” I answered.
”It sticks in the throat, if you'll excuse me for saying so, like a bit of crust,” remarked Aunt Fay.
”You can all call him Alb,” said Starr.
”Why not compromise with Skipper?” asked Miss Van Buren, looking at my yachting-cap (rather a nice one) with serene impertinence. ”We shall probably never have the pleasure of knowing him on land, so why stumble over Dutch names or t.i.tles? He has come on board 'Lorelei' to be our skipper, hasn't he? So he would probably prefer to be _called_ 'Skipper.'”
Starr leaned down to pat Tibe, shaking all over. ”Ha, ha, ha!” he gasped. ”I never _saw_ such a funny tail; I do hope it isn't going to give me hysterics.”
But n.o.body else laughed, and Miss Rivers was gazing at her stepsister in a shocked, questioning way, her violet eyes saying as plainly as if they spoke----
”My darling girl, what possesses you to be so rude to an inoffensive foreigner?”
I should have liked to ask the same question, in the same words; but I said nothing, did nothing except turn the wheel with the air of that Miller who grinds slowly but exceedingly small, and smile a hard, confident smile which warned the enemy----
”Oh yes, you _are_ going to know me on land, and love me on land, so you might as well make up your mind to what has to come.”
She caught the look, which forcibly dragged hers down from my hat-brim, and I am convinced that she read its meaning. It made her hate me a degree worse, of course; but what is an extra stone rolled behind the doors of the resisting citadel, or a gallon more or less of boiling oil to dash on the heads of the besiegers? If they are determined, it comes to the same thing in the end.
Fortunately for the spirits of the other players who were ”on” in this scene (in a subordinate capacity), the fair Enemy was not of the nature to sulk. True, of free will she did not address me; but having shown her opinion of and intentions toward the person deserving punishment, she did not weary her arm with continued castigation. Instead, she gave herself up heart and soul to delight in her first taste of ”botoring.”
She basked in it, she reveled in it; had she been a kitten, I think she would have purred in sheer physical enjoyment of it.
”_My_ boat! My _boat_!” she repeated, lingering over the words as if they had been cream and sugar. ”Oh, I wonder if it _knows_ it's My Boat?
I wish it could. I should like it to get fond of me. I _know_ it's alive. Feel its heart beat. What Tibe is to Lady MacNairne, 'Lorelei' is going to be to me. We never lived before, did we, Phil? And aren't you glad we came? Who knows what will become of us after this, for we certainly never can go home again and take up life where we left it off.”