Part 25 (2/2)
Once more, for the moment, he looked the care-free boy again.
”You may be a pupil of the riding-schools, but you 've taken plenty of road-training since,” was his comment. ”And not a hairpin loose, so far as I can see.”
”That's because I always tie my mop with a ribbon for riding, like any schoolgirl. It's childish, but comfortable. Is n't this deliciously cool in here? And I 've forgotten all about the pothooks already.” But having said this, s.h.i.+rley bit her lip. She had not meant to tell yet.
”Pothooks?” repeated Peter, curiously. ”Have you been bothered by pothooks lately?”
”A trifle.” She turned away her head, and pointed out a fine clump of ferns, growing on a bank by the roadside.
”Do you want them?” he asked.
”No, no, not enough to get down for. I--said something I did n't mean to, and the ferns offered a way of escape.”
Peter was silent, wondering what she could mean.
Then s.h.i.+rley said, frankly:
”That sounds rude, and I 'm going to tell you.”
”Not because something slipped out. I won't even guess at it, unless you want me to.”
”I do--now. I think I 'd like to tell you, though not even Nancy knows yet. My family do--but I don't think even they quite realise what it means to me. Perhaps you would.”
”I 'd like to try.”
”I--have begun to study stenography,” said s.h.i.+rley. ”When I've learned it--and typewriting--thoroughly, I 'm to have a place in Murray's office.”
She said it with her eyes looking straight between her horse's ears; and she did not see the quick, astonished glance which fell upon her.
Peter made no answer for so long that she turned, wondering and a little resentful.
”I beg your pardon,” said Peter. ”I believe I forgot to answer. But that was n't from lack of interest. You took my breath away. When I got it back I fell to thinking that I might have expected it of you.”
”You might? Why?”
”I 'm not good at telling my thoughts. But I knew you had a mind of your own from the day you first gave Nancy Bell of Gay Street the preference over the little Hille girl of Worthington Square.”
”Gay Street was sixteen times more interesting than Worthington Square, always,” declared s.h.i.+rley, frankly.
”How do you like the pothooks?”
”I 'm going to like them, whether they 're likable or not. Just now I 'm in a sort of delirium ever them. Little black quirls and dots and dashes walk through my dreams. I 've just one week of it now, and I 'm fascinated. The only trouble is, I want to get hold of everything at once.”
”Hold steady and make sure as you go. Slow accuracy at first is much better than a fast jumble that you can't read yourself. If you like it, and are getting hold of it already, that shows you are going to win out.
It's easy to tell, from the start, who 'll make a stenographer in the end and who won't.”
”That's what Murray says, and it encourages me. You 've studied it yourself, then?”
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