Part 57 (2/2)

When the breakfast was eaten the dishes were washed and dried at Winifred's direction. But when it came to what Forbes called ”policing the camp,” it was unanimously voted to leave that to the gardener and his wife, or to the caretaker on his return.

The three automobiles rolled up through the rain, all s.h.i.+pshape for the storm, with tops hooded and side-curtains b.u.t.toned down snugly.

Forbes remembered that other rain with Persis in the taxicab. How much better the opportunity here, with the world shut out from view and two hours' cruise ahead. But he was again consigned to Mrs. Neff's car, and it was Willie Enslee who had Persis and the opportunity. Forbes could not follow even the flutter of her veil. All he could see ahead was the shoulder of Mrs. Neff's chauffeur and the winds.h.i.+eld studded and streaked with rain.

There was no landscape to divert the mind, only his imagination of the courts.h.i.+p Willie would be paying to his newly announced fiancee. Forbes pictured the privileges he would exact, and Persis would not deny. And he gnashed his teeth in wrath. In the cave of Mrs. Neff's car Alice had nothing to say. She was thinking too eagerly ahead. Mrs. Neff had nothing to say. She was wondering what Alice was so cheerful about.

And so the car pushed south, with no pa.s.sing scenery to indicate progress, only the b.u.mps and teeterings, the swerves and slitherings, and the nauseating belches of noise made by the horn. Eventually the wheels ceased to run upon irregular ground and glided on asphalt. This must be New York.

At Seventy-second Street they turned off Broadway and crossed Central Park. At the eastern gate Mrs. Neff's chauffeur checked his car alongside a whale-like ma.s.s, from which Willie Enslee's voice was heard shrilly calling through the rain:

”Good-by, Mrs. Neff! Good-by Alice! Good-by Mr. Wa--er--Forbes. Awfully glad you could come. See you again. Go on to Miss Cabot's house.” This last to his own driver.

Mrs. Neff and Alice cried in unison: ”Good-by! Had lovely time! See you soon!”

And out of s.p.a.ce came the disembodied voice of Persis as from a grave: ”Good-by, Mrs. Neff! By-by, Alice! Good-by, Mr. Forbes!”

”Good-by, P--Miss Cabot!” he called. Her voice trailed away as if it were her soul going to death, and his voice followed with an ache of despair in it. Mrs. Neff caught the pathos hovering over the cries like overtones sounding above and beyond a tone of music. She said:

”Too bad you let Willie take her away from you; it's not too late yet if you've any ambition.”

Forbes smiled dully, and Alice said:

”Mother, you do say the most tactless things!”

”I had set my heart on that love-match,” sighed Mrs. Neff.

”Better begin at home,” said Alice, with unusual cheer.

Mrs. Neff changed the subject. ”We'll get out at our house, if you don't mind, and the man can take you to your hotel.”

”That's mighty kind of you,” said Forbes. He helped them to alight, promised to call, and re-entered the car.

On his way to the hotel he pondered what Mrs. Neff had said. It cheered him until he realized she was still a.s.suming that he had a respectable income. If she had known the truth she would have thought him as unfit for Persis as she thought Stowe Webb unfit for Alice. She would have approved Persis' theory that such a wedding was impossible.

It is doleful travel that takes one home from an unaccomplished errand--only Forbes was not returning even to his home. His home was as s.h.i.+fty as a Methodist minister's. At present it was a hotel, and after that the army post.

And now those duties which he had dreaded so to resume became in his mind a refuge. He had spent a few wild days pursuing a will-o'-the-wisp of a woman's whim through a moonlit marsh, never sure which turn it would take, sure only that it would not be where he expected it to be.

After such a maddening recreation there was a kind of heaven in the thought of living according to a rigid program. At such an hour a bugle would exclaim and drums would ruffle, and the day's work would begin. At such an hour a roll-call would be due, or a sick-call, or a guard-mount call, or a headquarters call. Certain books were to be inspected and corrected; certain men were to be taught to do certain things exactly so. If there were ever a doubt, the answer was printed in a book, or in an order numbered and dated.

Everything was gloriously impersonal and objective, accurate and material.

Forbes understood the spirit of old convicts who, after cursing their penitentiaries for years, are let out into the world's turmoil, and by and by return, pleading to be let in again.

Only yesterday he had been trying to concoct schemes for postponing the date of his return to duty; now he was resolved to antic.i.p.ate it.

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