Part 31 (1/2)

he said.

There was an odd reflection in his eyes, and he seemed to consider her and the situation again.

”Well,” he began after his pause, ”what I want to know is what you expect ME to do.”

There was no unkindness in his manner, in fact, quite the contrary, even when he uttered what seemed to Miss Alicia these awful, unwarranted words. As though she had forced herself into his presence to make demands upon his charity! They made her tremble and turn pale as she got up quickly, shocked and alarmed.

”Oh, nothing! nothing! nothing WHATEVER, Mr. Temple Barholm!” she exclaimed, her agitation doing its best to hide itself behind a fine little dignity. He saw in an instant that his style of putting it had been ”'way off,” that his ignorance had betrayed him, that she had misunderstood him altogether. He almost jumped at her.

”Oh, say, I didn't mean THAT!” he cried out. ”For the Lord's sake!

don't think I'm such a Tenderloin tough as to make a break like that!

Not on your life!”

Never since her birth had a male creature looked at Miss Alicia with the appeal which showed itself in his eyes as he actually put his arm half around her shoulders, like a boy begging a favor from his mother or his aunt.

”What I meant was--” He broke off and began again quite anxiously, ”say, just as a favor, will you sit down again and let me tell you what I did mean?”

It was that natural, warm, boyish way which overcame her utterly. It reminded her of the only boy she had ever really known, the one male creature who had allowed her to be fond of him. There was moisture in her eyes as she let him put her back into her chair. When he had done it, he sat down on the ottoman again and poured himself forth.

”You know what kind of a chap I am. No, you don't, either. You mayn't know a thing about me; and I want to tell you. I'm so different from everything you've ever known that I scare you. And no wonder. It's the way I've lived. If you knew, you'd understand what I was thinking of when I spoke just now. I've been cold, I've been hungry, I've walked the wet streets on my uppers. I know all about GOING WITHOUT. And do you expect that I am going to let a--a little thing like you--go away from here without friends and without money on the chance of getting into an almshouse that isn't vacant? Do you expect that of me? Not on your life! That was what I meant.”

Miss Alicia quivered; the pale-purple ribbons on her little lace cap quivered.

”I haven't,” she said, and the fine little dignity was piteous, ”a SHADOW of a claim upon you.” It was necessary for her to produce a pocket- handkerchief. He took it from her, and touched her eyes as softly as though she were a baby.

”Claim nothing!” he said. ”I've got a claim on YOU. I'm going to stake one out right now.” He got up and gesticulated, taking in the big room and its big furniture. ”Look at all this! It fell on me like a thunderbolt. It's nearly knocked the life out of me. I'm like a lost cat on Broadway. You can't go away and leave me, Miss Alicia; it's your duty to stay. You've just GOT to stay to take care of me.” He came over to her with a wheedling smile. ”I never was taken care of in my life. Just be as n.o.ble to me as old Temple Barholm was to you: give me a sort of home.”

If a little gentlewoman could stare, it might be said that Miss Alicia stared at him. She trembled with amazed emotion.

”Do you mean--” Despite all he had said, she scarcely dared to utter the words lest, after all, she might be taking for granted more than it was credible could be true. ”Can you mean that if I stayed here with you it would make Temple Barholm seem more like HOME? Is it possible you--you mean THAT?”

”I mean just that very thing.”

It was too much for her. Finely restrained little elderly gentlewoman as she was, she openly broke down under it.

”It can't be true!” she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed shakily. ”It isn't possible. It is too--too beautiful and kind. Do forgive me! I c-a-n't help it.” She burst into tears.

She knew it was most stupidly wrong. She knew gentlemen did not like tears. Her father had told her that men never really forgave women who cried at them. And here, when her fate hung in the balance, she was not able to behave herself with feminine decorum.

Yet the new Mr. Temple Barholm took it in as matter-of- fact a manner as he seemed to take everything. He stood by her chair and soothed her in his dear New York voice.

”That's all right, Miss Alicia,” he commented. ”You cry as much as you want to, just so that you don't say no. You've been worried and you're tired. I'll tell you there's been two or three times lately when I should like to have cried myself if I'd known how. Say,” he added with a sudden outburst of imagination, ”I bet anything it's about time you had tea.”

The suggestion was so entirely within the normal order of things that it made her feel steadier, and she was able to glance at the clock.

”A cup of tea would be refres.h.i.+ng,” she said. ”They will bring it in very soon, but before the servants come I must try to express--”

But before she could express anything further the tea appeared.