Part 21 (1/2)
”Oh, no, I don't like you. How can I? People don't like utter strangers.
One feels wors.h.i.+p, adoration for a creature that drops from the skies, and lifts a wretched helpless girl out of torturing captivity into the free sweet air of heaven.”
”Well, that'll do,” returned Ben, nodding. ”Adoration and wors.h.i.+p will do to begin with. Let us go over to the village and be married--_my beautiful darling_.”
Geraldine colored vividly under this escape of her companion's ungovernable steam, but she did not change her expression.
”I certainly shall not do that,” she answered quietly.
Ben relaxed his tense, appealing posture.
”Well, then,” he said, drawing a long breath, ”if you positively decline the trap--oh, it was a trap all right--if you are determined to postpone the wedding, I'll tell you that I really don't believe your father forged those checks.”
”Oh, Mr. Barry--” the girl leaned toward him.
”Ben, or I won't go on.”
”Ben, then. It is no sort of a name compared to the one I have been giving you. I've been calling you Sir Galahad.”
Ben smiled at her blissfully. ”Nice,” he said. ”I don't believe Miss Upton went beyond that.”
”Oh, please go on, Mr. Barry--Ben--Sir Galahad.”
”Why couldn't our cheerful friend have shown you any checks he drew to your father's name and claim that they were forged?”
Geraldine's eyes shone. ”I never thought of that.”
”Of course I cannot be sure of it. I would far rather get something definite on the old scamp.”
Geraldine shuddered. ”He is so cruel. He is so rough to that poor little fellow Pete. Think what I owe that boy! He managed to get your message to me even when threatened with his master's whip. Mr. Carder saw you speaking to him and questioned him.”
”Oh, you mean that nut who took my letter?”
”The hero who took your letter. He had to lie outside my door every night to keep me from escaping, and he slipped your message under it.
Where should I be now but for him? Poor child, he is as friendless as I am”--Geraldine interrupted herself with a grateful look at her companion--”as I was, I mean. He had to follow me and guard me wherever I went, always keeping at a distance, because he mustn't speak to me and the ogre was always watching. How I thank Heaven,” added Geraldine fervently, ”that Mr. Carder himself had called Pete off duty for the first time before the--the archangel swooped down from the sky.”
”I'm getting on,” said Ben. ”If you keep on promoting me, I'll arrive first thing you know.”
”I should honestly be wretched if I had to think Mr. Carder was blaming Pete for my escape. The boy did tell me his life depended on my safety.”
”Well, I don't understand,” said Ben with a puzzled frown. ”Who lies in front of Pete's door? Why does he stay there? Why doesn't he light out some time between two days?”
”Oh, Mr. Carder has told him no one would employ him, that Pete would starve but for him. Did you notice how ragged and neglected he looked?”
”He looked like a nut. I was afraid he was so stupid that you would never receive the message.” Ben looked thoughtful. ”How long has he lived at the farm?”
”For years. Mrs. Carder took him from the orphan asylum when he was a child. She thought he would be more useful than a girl. They keep him as a slave. You saw how very bow-legged he is. He can't get about normally, but he drives the car and helps in the kitchen and does every sort of menial task. There was such a look in his eyes always when he saw me.
Little as I could do for him, or even speak to him, I'm afraid he is missing me terribly.” Geraldine's look suddenly grew misty. ”See how faithful he was about Daddy's letter. Poor little Pete. Mr. Carder will be out of his mind at my flight. I hope he doesn't visit it on that poor boy.”
”Well,” said Ben, heroically refraining from putting his arms around her, ”why don't we take him?”
”We? Take Pete? How wonderful!” she returned, her handkerchief pausing in mid-air.