Part 32 (2/2)

Wrandall turned scarlet. There had been nothing in his remarks to call for a laugh, he was quite sure of that. Flus.h.i.+ng slightly, she murmured something about having thought of an amusing story, and begged him to go on, she wouldn't be rude again.

He had little zest for continuing the subject and sullenly disposed of it in a word or two.

”What the devil was there to laugh at, Brandy?” he demanded of his friend after the women had left them together on the porch a few minutes later. Hetty had gone upstairs with Mrs. Wrandall, her arm clasped tightly about the older woman's waist.

”I dare say she was thinking about you falling a mile or two,” said Booth pleasantly.

But he was perplexed.

CHAPTER XI

MAN PROPOSES

The young men cooled their heels for an hour before word was brought down to them that Mrs. Wrandall begged to be excused for the afternoon on account of a severe headache. Miss Castleton was with her, but would be down later on. Meanwhile they were to make themselves at home, and so on and so forth.

Booth took his departure, leaving Leslie in sole possession of the porch. He was restless, nervous, excited; half-afraid to stay there and face Hetty with the proposal he was determined to make, and wholly afraid to forsake the porch and run the risk of missing her altogether if she came down as signified. Several things disturbed him. One was Hetty's deplorable failure to hang on his words as he had fondly expected her to do; and then there was that very--disquieting laugh of Sara's. A hundred times over he repeated to himself that sickening question: ”What the devil was there to laugh at?” and no answer suggested itself. He was decidedly cross about it.

Another hour pa.s.sed. His heels were quite cool by this time, but his blood was boiling. This was a deuce of a way to treat a fellow who had gone to the trouble to come all the way out in a stuffy train, by Jove, it was! With considerable asperity he rang for a servant and commanded him to fetch a time table, and to be quick about it, as there might be a train leaving before he could get back if it took him as long to find it as it took other people to remember their obligations! His sarcasm failed to impress Murray, who said he thought there was a schedule in Mrs. Wrandall's room, and he'd get it as soon as the way was clear, if Mr. Wrandall didn't mind waiting.

”If I minded waiting,” snapped Leslie, ”I wouldn't be here now.”

”It's the thing most people object to in the country, sir,” said Murray consolingly. ”Waiting for trains, sir.”

”And the sunset,” added Mr. Wrandall pointedly, with a westward glare.

”We don't mind that, sir. We rather look forward to it. It means one day less of waiting for the trains.” It was rather cryptic, but Leslie was too deeply absorbed in self-pity to take account of the pathos in Murray's philosophy.

”What time is it, Murray?”

”Five-twenty, Mr. Wrandall.”

”That's all, Murray.”

”Thank you, sir.”

As the footman was leaving, Sara's automobile whirled up to the porte-cochere.

”Who is going out, Murray?” he called in surprise.

”Miss Castleton, sir. For the air, sir.”

”The deuce you say!” gasped the hara.s.sed Mr. Wrandall. It was a pretty kettle of fis.h.!.+

Hetty appeared a few minutes later, attired for motoring.

”Oh, there you are,” she said, espying him. ”I am going for a spin.

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