Part 29 (1/2)

”What at?” demanded Nora fiercely.

”At m-m-my air. I know it's funny, cut off, that way. But I c-c-can't help it. It's gone.”

”I didn't,” exclaimed Nora hotly, her face flus.h.i.+ng. ”Your ears is all right. I was laughin' at seein' you move 'em. I beg your pardon. I didn't know anybody could, that way, you know. I'm--I'm sorry.”

A great light broke over Sam. A vast dam crashed free. His soul rushed forth in one mad wave.

”M-M-Miss M-M-Markley--Miss--Nory!” he exclaimed, whirling about and facing her, ”d-d-d-do y-y-you l-l-like to s-s-see me work my airs?”

”Yes, it's funny,” admitted Nora, on the point of another outbreak in spite of herself.

This amiability was an undreamed thing, yet Sam saw his advantage. He squared himself about, and, looking solemnly and earnestly in Nora's face, he pulled first his right and then his left ear forward until the members stood nearly at right angles to his head.

After all, the ludicrous is but the unexpected. Many laugh who see an old woman fall upon the slippery pavement. This new spectacle was the absolutely undreamed-of to Nora, who was no scientist. Her laughter was irrepressible. In a trice the precedents of years were gone. Nora felt the empire of her dignity slipping away, but none the less could not repress her mirth. And more than this; as she gazed into the honest, blue-eyed face before her she felt a lessening of her desire to retain her icy pedestal, and she struggled the less against her laughter. Indeed, with a sudden fright, she found her laughter growing nervous. She, the head waitress, was perturbed, alarmed!

Sam followed up his advantage royally. ”I can work 'em both to onct!”

he exclaimed triumphantly. And did so. ”There! They was a boy in our school onct that could work his airs one at a time, but I never did see no one else but me that could work 'em both to onct. Look a-here!” He waggled his ears ecstatically. The reserve of Nora oozed, waned, vanished.

Even, the sternest fibre must at length succ.u.mb under prolonged Herculean endeavour. No man may long continuously wag his ears, even alternately; therefore Sam perforce paused in time. Yet by that time--in what manner it occurred no one may know--Nora was seated on the chair next to him at the table. They were alone. Silence fell.

Nora's hand moved nervously among the spoons. Upon it dropped the mutilated one of Sam.

”Nory,” said he, ”I'd--I'd work 'em all my life--fer you!” And to Nora, who turned away her head now, not for the purpose of hiding a smile, this seemed always a perfectly fit and proper declaration of this man's regard.

”I know I'm no good,” murmured Sam. ”I'm a awful coward. I-I-I've l-l-loved you ever sence the fust time that I seen you, but I was such a coward, I--I couldn't--couldn't--”

”You're not!” cried Nora imperiously.

”Oh, yes, I am,” said Sam.

”Look at them,” said Nora, almost touching his crippled fingers.

”Don't I know?”

”Oh, that,” said Sam, hiding the hand under the droop of the tablecloth. ”Why, that? I got froze some, a-drivin'.”

”Yes, and,” said Nora accusingly, ”how did you get froze? A-drivin'

'way down there, in the storm, after folks. No one else'd go.”

”Why, yes. Cap Franklin, he went,” said Sam. ”That wasn't nothin'.

Why, o' _course_ we'd go.”

”No one else wouldn't, though.”

Sam wondered. ”I was always too much a coward to say a word to you,”

he began. And then an awful doubt sat on his soul.

”Nory,” he resumed solemnly, ”did ever any feller say anything to you about my--I-I-I--well, my lovin' you?”