Part 15 (1/2)
”He has money--lots of it. He has a keen, broad mind. But he chose this. When he was first married be brought mother to China. He saw, and realized, China's vast problems. And he stayed. He wanted to help.”
Peter gazed into her gray eyes, which seemed to take on a clear violet tinge when she was deeply moved.
”He told me to come to see him because he was growing old. I stopped off in Amoy,” said Miss Vost with a ghost of a smile. ”A young missionary he wanted me to meet lives there. I met him. But I could not admire that young missionary. He was a--a _poseur_. He was pretending. One reason I like you, Mr. Moore, is because you're so sincere. He was so transparent. And his 'converts' saw through him, too. They were bread-and-b.u.t.ter converts. They listened to him; they devoured his food--then they went to the fortune-tellers! Father could not have known Doctor Sanborn longer than a few minutes--or else he's not the father that he used to be! I inherit his love for sincerity.
I--I'm sure he will like you!”
”But--but----” stammered Peter--”I don't expect to go to Wenchow.
Better say he'd like--Bobbie!”
”Oh, he'd like anybody that I liked,” Miss Vost said lightly.
”It--it's really interesting, you know, from Ching-Fu to Wenchow. We take bullock carts--if we can find them. Otherwise we walk. Doesn't it--appeal to you--just a little--to be all alone with me for nearly a hundred miles?”
”Very much indeed,” replied Peter earnestly. ”But our roads part--at Ching-Fu. I go directly south.”
”In search of more adventure and romance? Perhaps--perhaps a girl who is not so silly as I have been? Or--is it India--or Afghanistan?”
”Neither. An old friend!”
”Is that why you are growing a beard--to surprise--_him_?”
”Perhaps,” said Peter, absently fingering the bristles. ”Don't tell me it's unbecoming or I'll have to shave it off!”
”As if what I thought made a particle of difference!” retorted Miss Vost defiantly.
Peter gave her a thoughtful, a puzzled stare. ”I overheard you last night. You broke your promise. You promised to be nice to him.”
”I was. Do you mean what I said about Liauchow?”
”You don't realize what you _mean_ to Bobbie. My dear, dear girl----”
”I am not your dear, dear girl!”
Peter groaned.
”Does your heart ache, too, Peter?”
”Of course it does! I--I'd like----”
”Then why don't you?”
”It wouldn't be fair, that's why!”
”To--Bobbie?”
”Bobbie, too.”
”Then there _is_ another girl,” Miss Vost cried bitterly. She bit her lip. ”You should have told me before.”