Part 40 (1/2)

”I have always asked for her, but I understood she was busy,” said Tom, ”and that was the reason why I saw her so seldom.”

”Oh,” said Eliza, ”busy!” She said it with an indescribable tone.

”If,” supplemented Imogen, ”there was system, there would be no need of any one of us being too busy to see our friends.”

”Then she has not been busy? She has not wanted to see me?” said Tom. ”I think I understand at last. I have been a fool not to before. You girls have broken it to me as well as you could. Much obliged, I am sure. Good night.”

”Won't you come in?” asked Imogen.

”We might have some music,” said Eliza.

”And there is an orange cake, and I will make coffee,” said Susan.

Annie reflected rapidly how she herself had made that orange cake, and what queer coffee Susan would be apt to concoct.

”No, thank you,” said Tom Reed, briskly. ”I will drop in another evening. Think I must go home now. I have some important letters. Good night, all.”

Annie made a soft rush to the gate, crouching low that her sisters might not see her. They flocked into the house with irascible murmurings, like scolding birds, while Annie stole across the gra.s.s, which had begun to glisten with silver wheels of dew. She held her skirts closely wrapped around her, and stepped through a gap in the shrubs beside the walk, then sped swiftly to the gate. She reached it just as Tom Reed was pa.s.sing with a quick stride.

”Tom,” said Annie, and the young man stopped short.

He looked in her direction, but she stood close to a great s...o...b..ll-bush, and her dress was green muslin, and he did not see her.

Thinking that he had been mistaken, he started on, when she called again, and this time she stepped apart from the bush and her voice sounded clear as a flute.

”Tom,” she said. ”Stop a minute, please.”

Tom stopped and came close to her. In the dim light she could see that his face was all aglow, like a child's, with delight and surprise.

”Is that you, Annie?” he said.

”Yes. I want to speak to you, please.”

”I have been here before, and I rang the bell three times. Then you were out, although your sisters thought not.”

”No, I was in the house.”

”You did not hear the bell?”

”Yes, I heard it every time.”

”Then why--?”

”Come into the house with me and I will tell you; at least I will tell you all I can.”

Annie led the way and the young man followed. He stood in the dark entry while Annie lit the parlor lamp. The room was on the farther side of the house from the parsonage.

”Come in and sit down,” said Annie. Then the young man stepped into a room which was pretty in spite of itself. There was an old Brussels carpet with an enormous rose pattern. The haircloth furniture gave out gleams like black diamonds under the light of the lamp. In a corner stood a what-not piled with branches of white coral and sh.e.l.ls. Annie's grandfather had been a sea-captain, and many of his spoils were in the house. Possibly Annie's own occupation of it was due to an adventurous strain inherited from him. Perhaps the same impulse which led him to voyage to foreign sh.o.r.es had led her to voyage across a green yard to the next house.

Tom Reed sat down on the sofa. Annie sat in a rocking-chair near by. At her side was a Chinese teapoy, a nest of lacquer tables, and on it stood a small, squat idol. Annie's grandmother had been taken to task by her son-in-law, the Reverend Silas, for harboring a heathen idol, but she had only laughed,