Part 35 (2/2)
she went on, a faint furrow appearing between her eyes.
”Of course, I may be wrong,” said he magnanimously. ”It may have been the result of an honest, uncontrollable impulse. But I doubt it.”
”Men do queer, strange things when under the influence of a strong emotion,” she said, a hopeful note in her voice.
”True. They are also capable of doing very base things. You don't for an instant suspect Percival of being a religious fanatic, do you?”
”Please don't sneer. And what, pray, has religion to do with it?”
”I dare say Morris s.h.i.+ne is again lamenting the absence of a motion picture camera. He is always complaining about the chances he has missed to--”
”Stop!”
”Why, Ruth dear, I--”
”We have no right to judge him, Mr. Landover.”
”Are you defending him?”
”I don't believe he had the faintest notion that he was being--theatrical, as you call it. I am sure he did it because he was moved by an overpowering desire to make all of us happy. He couldn't bear the thought of that evil thing out there, pointing at us while we wors.h.i.+pped and tried to sing with gladness in our hearts. No! He did it for you, and for me, and for all the rest of us,--and he made every heart lighter when that thing toppled over and fell. Did you not see the change that came over every one when they realized that it was destroyed? There were smiles on every face, and every voice was cheerful. The look of uneasy dread was gone--Oh, you must have seen.”
”I can only say that it ought to have been done before, Ruth,--not during the exercises.”
”It was his way of publicly admitting he was wrong in insisting that it should remain.”
”He had his way with that weak-kneed committee, as usual. The tactics of that Copperhead Camp he talks so much about are hardly applicable to conditions here. We are not law-defying ruffians, you know,--and these are women of quite another order.”
”No one,--not even you, Mr. Landover,--can say that he has been anything but kind and considerate and sympathetic,” she flashed. ”He is firm,--but isn't that what we want? And the people wors.h.i.+p him,--they will do anything for him. Even Manuel Crust respects him,--and obeys him. And you, down in your heart, respect him. He is your kind of a man, Mr. Landover. He does things. He is like Theodore Roosevelt. He does things.”
Landover smiled grimly. ”Perhaps that is why I dislike him.”
”Because he is like Roosevelt?”
”My dear, let's not start an argument about Roosevelt.”
”Just the same, I've heard you say over and over again that you wish Roosevelt were President now,” she persisted. ”Why do you say that if you are so down on him?”
Landover shrugged his shoulders expressively.
”I can wish that, my dear, and still not be an admirer of Mr.
Roosevelt,” he replied. ”But to return to Percival, isn't it quite plain to you that he was pouting like a school-boy because he had not been asked to take part in today's exercises?”
”He was asked to take part in them. I asked him myself.”
He glanced at her sharply. ”You never told me you had asked him, Ruth.”
”The night the crime was committed,” she said briefly. ”He was very nice about it. He promised to sing in the choir and--and to help me with the decorations. After our unpleasant experience the next day, he had the--shall we say tact or kindness?--to reconsider his promise.”
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