Part 38 (2/2)
”You'll be awfully crowded,” he said at last, ”with Dale in the buggy, too!”
”We'll take the surrey.”
”And he'll be bored stiff!”
”Not from hearing complimentary things said to me,” she gently rebuked him.
”Oh, Jane, be a sport and let's go alone! I'm worth saving, ain't I, Colonel?”
”You can't prove it by me, you rogue,” the old gentleman a.s.serted.
”I may think about it,” she compromised, smiling over her shoulder as she turned away.
They drew up to the table and arranged the chess board. Zack stood waiting for the goblets, having no intention to leave these treacherous exhibits again at large should a spirit of fatigue overtake the players.
So there was a prolonged pause while the men fortified themselves for the coming fray, and when the Colonel noisily sucked the very last drop through the cooling ice--and took a piece of this in his mouth to crunch--he leaned back with a sigh of satisfaction. Zack, as he walked slowly away, also sighed, but it held a curious mixture of perplexity and antic.i.p.ation: perplexity, because Brent had scarcely drunk a third of his julep, and antic.i.p.ation for an obvious reason.
”All the same,” the engineer announced when they were alone, ”Bip is too young!”
”Of course, he's too young,” the Colonel heartily agreed. ”Anybody's too young, or too old, or too something, when it comes to being third person on such a pleasant prospect. I would stand no intrusion, sir!”
”I didn't mean just that,” Brent flushed.
”Certainly not, you altruistic and good natured liar,” the old gentleman chuckled. ”Come, sir; here goes p.a.w.n to King four! Now be on your guard!”
”To King four,” Brent replied, leaning over and pus.h.i.+ng out his own King's p.a.w.n.
They had not been playing many minutes when the Colonel, pausing to light a cigar, looked up with a start of surprise. Brent wheeled about and there stood Tom Hewlet, swaying awkwardly and weeping. It was uncanny the way he had approached so near without being heard.
”Well, Tom,” the Colonel asked sharply, ”what do you want?”
”I just want to call it quits, Cunnel. I ain't done nuthin' to be locked up for!”
”You're very drunk,” the old gentleman thundered. ”I'm surprised you would approach my place in such a condition!”
”There wasn't no other way, Cunnel. I'm sorry, I am, 'bout what I aimed to do--an' I won't no moh, if Mister McElroy'll let up! I'm a hard workin' man, an' got a big fam'ly to keer for!”
”Do you know what he's talking about?” the old gentleman asked Brent.
”I told you some of it the other day--but I think an approaching delirium tremens is partially responsible for this!”
”Ah, so you did! Tom, you tried to practice blackmail!” The Colonel's eyes were glowering.
”But I ain't no moh,” Hewlet turned his back and began anew to weep.
”Don't do nuthin' to me!”
Brent motioned the Colonel to let him speak.
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