Part 28 (1/2)

”You are going to be amused this morning,” he announced breezily. ”Talk is forbidden, so I've borrowed a toy. A jig-saw in four hundred pieces.

How's that for high? You and I are going to get it out before lunch?”

Katrine's aspect was not enthusiastic.

”Jig-saw! A puzzle, isn't it? I have never tried. Isn't it rather a f.a.g?”

”You wait and see!” The brown fingers rained the wooden morsels upon the table. ”You _think_ it a f.a.g, until you begin--then it's a possession! There's a man in the regiment who has 'em sent up from Bombay, and we have a sweepstake for the quickest solutions. I once sat up half the night, over three horses in a meadow; brown beggars, all of 'em, as like as three pins. Everybody's bits belonged to everybody else, as much as to himself, and the rest was a ma.s.s of green stuff, cut in points, diabolically alike. This is a locked fellow; all the better for s.h.i.+pboard. It's the d.i.c.kens when they joggle. Plenty of colour, too. That's good for a start.”

”Where is the picture?” asked Katrine innocently. She was bored at the prospect of the jig-saw, but relieved at the geniality of Bedford's manner, and anxious to respond to his efforts towards amus.e.m.e.nt. It was a shock to hear that there was _no_ picture, and that the ma.s.s of pieces before her were to be sorted with no clue whatever as to their meaning.

”How does one begin?” was the awed question, and at that Bedford's smile deepened.

”_Cela depend_! I am rather interested to see. There are two ways, and you shall choose between them. You can look out all the edges, straight, you see, like this; study the grain of the wood, make up your frame, and gradually work towards the centre--that's one way, and perhaps the most common. On the other hand you can abandon method, and dash for the colours, make up little blocks here and there, half a dozen at a time perhaps, and look out for a chance of fitting them together, leaving the frame to look after itself. You take your choice. Which will you do?”

Katrine bent over the pieces, turning them right side up with rapid fingers. She saw a ma.s.s of dull grey green, a second of baffling white and grey, a third of a p.r.o.nounced white, and dotted among them welcome patches of blue and red.

”Colour, please!” she cried quickly. ”Let's dash for the colours, and trust to luck for the rest.”

”Right ho!” he said, sweeping the pieces towards him. Katrine had an intuition that he approved of her choice, but he made no comment, and together they bent over the detached fragments of blue and red, which appeared at this stage so dishearteningly alike. Katrine was utterly at sea, but Bedford's greater experience soon scented a clew.

”The blue is sky, which goes on top; the light beggars are clouds.

Here's a quaint hunchback little chap. Look out for a scoop for him as a start.”

”Here's a scoop!” cried Katrine, picking out another fragment, and wonder of wonders! it fitted,--absolutely, unmistakably fitted into every curve, so that there could be no doubt as to its right to be there. To fit a piece at the very first effort,--here was success indeed! Bedford cheered, Katrine hitched her chair nearer the table, rubbing her hands with an altogether ridiculous sense of elation. ”How fine! _And_ easy! Much easier than I imagined. Where's the next?”

”The next is probably at the bottom of the Indian Ocean, or will pretend to be, until we've exhausted ourselves looking for it, and have gone on to something else, when it will jump out and, figuratively speaking, hit us in the face. It's a way they have. What about this person?”

”Certainly not; you want a jagged edge. Nor that, it's too square. I'm afraid you have not much eye for contour!”

”Nor you for colour! That shade's too light... Here's a fellow like a b.u.t.ton-hook. Where's his b.u.t.ton? I knew an old maid who used to try each blessed bit in turn, until she'd gone through the whole fandango.

If it shows a well-regulated mind to work at the rim, what does _that_ mean in the way of perseverance?”

Katrine's quest for the b.u.t.ton was disturbed by the reflection that she had evidently proved herself devoid of a well-regulated mind. Regarded as a test of character, her ”dash for the colours” would seem to prove a predisposition towards impulse and daring, the last qualities of which she was usually accused. Friends at home had agreed in p.r.o.nouncing Katrine Beverley all that was prudent and cautious, and she herself had agreed in their verdict, yet surely those qualities had been upon the surface only, since it was this very prudent and cautious maid who had exchanged love letters with an unknown man--who was even now on her way across the world to meet him!

”I think,” said a small voice suddenly, ”the other way is better after all. I think, if you don't mind, I'll try the frame!”

Bedford lifted his face. It was nearer to Katrine than it had ever been before; startlingly near; in the momentary glance she discovered wrinkles. .h.i.therto unnoticed, a fleck of brown in the iris of one eye.

Bedford saw a wave of colour mounting to the roots of soft brown hair, eyes of dark blue, their beauty heightened by the contrast of that flush.

”Now I wonder,” he said thoughtfully, ”I wonder just what mental excursion brought you to that decision! A moment ago you were so violently on the other track! Is it a journey that one might share?”

Katrine shook her head, stretching her hand to grope for the first straight edge, but the brown fingers swept them away, and a masterful voice cried:

”No, you don't! You've made your choice, and you'll stick to it. We'll see this thing through as we've begun,” He studied her with twinkling, curious eyes, taking no pity on her embarra.s.sment. ”I'd like to follow that journey! What started your travels? Something I said? What _did_ I say? Blessed if I remember. You take yourself very seriously, don't you? It's not a matter of life and death how one works out a jig-saw.

Here's the b.u.t.ton! He's been staring us in the face all the time. Now it's a fork!”

Katrine was fumbling industriously at another corner of the table.

”I've fitted two bits of the red, but I haven't an _idea_ what it's about. It seems divided into small squares.”