Part 22 (1/2)

”Don't I think what, dear?”

”Oh, I don't know--but you see so many married people, who seem to have lost interest in each other--nice people, too. You see them at North East Harbor--Boston--everywhere--and somehow they are bored at each other's company. Wouldn't it be awful if--if we were to be married--and then got like that, too?”

”We never, never could! Oh, we couldn't! You know as well as I do that we couldn't!”

”They must have felt that way once,” she mused, her thoughts still upon the indifferent ones, ”but I suppose if people were awfully careful to guard against it, they wouldn't get that way--”

She felt Wally's arm along the back of the bench.

”Don't be afraid of love, Mary,” he whispered. ”Don't you know by now that it's the one great thing in life?”

”I wonder....” breathed Mary.

”Oh, but it is. You shouldn't wonder. It's the sweetest story ever told--the greatest adventure ever lived--”

But still old dreams echoed in her memory, though growing fainter with every breath she drew.

”It's all right for the man,” she murmured. ”If he gets tired of hearing the story, he's got other thoughts to occupy his mind. He's got his work--his career. But what's the woman going to do?”

Instinct told him how to answer her.

”I love you,” he whispered.

She looked at him. Somewhere over them a robin began to sing as though its breast would burst. The scent of the honeysuckle grew intoxicating.

”Your heart is beating faster,” he whispered again. ”'Tck-tck-tck' it's saying. 'There's going to be a wedding next month'--'Tck-tck-tck' it's saying. 'Lieutenant Cabot is now about to kiss his future bride--”

Mary's head bent low and just as Wally was lifting it, his hand gently cupped beneath her chin, he caught sight of Helen running toward them.

”Oh, Mary!” she called.

With an involuntary movement, Mary freed herself from Wally's hand.

”Four women to see you--from the factory, I think,” Helen breathlessly announced, and pretending not to notice Wally's scowl she added, ”I wouldn't have bothered you ... only one of them's crying....”

CHAPTER XXII

The four women were standing in the driveway by the side of the house, and if you had been there as Mary approached, they might have reminded you of four lost sheep catching sight of their shepherd.

”Come and sit down,” said Mary, ”and tell me what's the matter.”

”We've been discharged,” said one with a red face. ”Of course I know that we shouldn't have come to bother you about it, Miss Spencer, but it was you who hired us, and I told him, said I, 'Miss Spencer's going to hear about this. She won't stand for any dirty work.'”

Mary had seated herself on the veranda steps and, obeying her gesture, the four women sat on the step below her, two on one side and two on the other.

”Who discharged you?” she asked.

”Mr. Woodward.”