Part 35 (1/2)

She could not raise her eyes. A rich bright color rose to the soft border of her hair. He caught her face in his hands and made her look at him; saw those dark, brilliant eyes softened, tear-filled, asking, and turned sharply away with a m.u.f.fled cry.

”I have taken a solemn oath,” he said in a strained, hard voice, ”never to ask a woman to marry me.”

He heard a little gasping laugh, and turned upon her. She stood there smiling, her hands reached out to him.

”You don't have to,” she said.

A long time later, upon their happy stillness broke a faint voice from the other room:

”Vivian, I think if you'd bring me some bread and b.u.t.ter--and a cup of tea--and some cold beef and a piece of pie--I could eat it.”

Upon the rapid and complete recovery of her grandmother's health, and the announcement of Vivian's engagement, Mr. and Mrs. Lane decided to make a visit to their distant mother and daughter, hoping as well that Mr. Lane's cough might be better for a visit in that alt.i.tude. Mr. and Mrs. d.y.k.eman also sent word of their immediate return.

Jeanne, using subtle powers of suggestion, caused Mrs. Pettigrew to decide upon giving a dinner, in honor of these events. There was the betrothed couple, there were the honored guests; there were Jimmie and Susie, with or without the baby; there were the d.y.k.emans; there was Dr. Bellair, of course; there was Mr. Skee, an even number.

”I'm sorry to spoil that table, but I've got to take in Mrs. St.

Cloud,” said the old lady.

”O, Grandma! Why! It'll spoil it for d.i.c.k.”

”Huh!” said her grandmother. ”He's so happy you couldn't spoil it with a mummy. If I don't ask her it'll spoil it for Mr. Skee.”

So Mrs. St. Cloud made an eleventh at the feast, and neither Mr.

d.y.k.eman nor Vivian could find it in their happy hearts to care.

Mr. Skee arose, looking unusually tall and shapely in immaculate every-day dress, his well-brushed hair curling vigorously around the little bald spots; his smile wide and benevolent.

”Ladies and Gentlemen, both Domestic and Foreign, Friends and Fellowtownsmen and Women--Ladies, G.o.d Bless 'em; also Children, if any: I feel friendly enough to-night to include the beasts of the fields--but such would be inappropriate at this convivial board--among these convivial boarders.

”This is an occasion of great rejoicing. We have many things to rejoice over, both great _and_ small. We have our healths; all of us, apparently. We are experiencing the joys of reunion--in the matter of visiting parents that is, and long absent daughters.

”We have also the Return of the Native, in the shape of my old friend Andy--now become a Benedict--and seeming to enjoy it. About this same Andy I have a piece of news to give you which will cause you astonishment and gratification, but which involves me in a profuse apology--a most sincere and general apology.

”You know how a year or more ago it was put about in this town that Andrew d.y.k.eman was a ruined man?” Mrs. St. Cloud darted a swift glance at Mr. d.y.k.eman, but his eyes rested calmly on his wife; then at Mr.

Skee--but he was pursuing his remorseful way.

”I do not wish to blame my friend Andy for his reticence--but he certainly did exhibit reticence on this occasion--to beat the band! He never contradicted this rumor--not once. _He_ just went about looking kind o' down in the mouth for some reason or other, and when for the sake o' Auld Lang Syne I offered him a job in my office--the cuss took it! I won't call this deceitful, but it sure was reticent to a degree.

”Well, Ladies--and Gentlemen--the best of us are liable to mistakes, and I have to admit--I am glad to humble myself and make this public admission--I was entirely in error in this matter.

”It wasn't so. There was nothing in it. It was rumor, pure and simple.