Part 11 (1/2)
”What hill you going to climb, Ford?” was his manner of exploding his bomb. ”Bald pinnacle? I can climb that hill myself.”
”I don't know as I'm going to climb any hills at all,” Ford said indulgently, accepting another helping of potato salad from Mrs. Kate.
”You told dad before he went to gran'ma's house you was going to climb a big, long hill, and he was more sure than sensible.” He giggled and showed where two front teeth were missing from among their fellows. ”Dad told him he'd make it, but he'd have to dig in his toes and hang on by his eye-winkers,” he added to the two women. ”Gee! I'd like to see Ford hang onto a hill by his eye-winkers. Jo could do it--she's got winkers six feet long.”
Miss Josephine had been looking at Ford's face going red, as enlightenment came to him, but when she caught a quick glance leveled at her lashes, she drooped them immediately so that they almost touched her cheeks. Bud gave a squeal and pointed to her with his fork.
”Jo's blus.h.i.+ng! I guess she's ashamed because she's got such long winkers, and Ford keeps looking at 'em all the time. Why don't you shave 'em off with dad's razor? Then Ford would like you, maybe. He don't now.
He told dad--”
”Robert Chester Mason, do you want me to get the hairbrush?” This, it need not be explained, from Mrs. Kate, in a voice that portended grave disaster.
”I guess we can get along without it, mamma,” Buddy answered her, with an ingratiating smile. Even in the first seven years of one's life, one learns the elementary principles of diplomacy. He did not retire from the conversation, but he prudently changed the subject to what he considered a more pleasant channel.
”d.i.c.k likes you anyway, Jo,” he informed her soothingly. ”He likes you, winkers and all. I can tell, all right. When you go out for a ride he gives me nickels if I tell him where--”
”Robert Ches--”
”Oh, all right.” Buddy's tone was wearily tolerant. ”A man never knows what to talk about to women, anyway. I'd hate to be married to 'em--wouldn't you, Ford?”
”A little boy like you--” began his mother, somewhat pinker of cheeks than usual.
”I guess I'm pretty near a man, now.” He turned his eyes to Ford, consciously ignoring the feminine members of his family. ”If I had a wife,” he stated calmly, ”I'd snub her up to a post and then I'd talk to her about anything I d.a.m.n pleased!”
Mrs. Kate rose up then in all the terrifying dignity of outraged motherhood, grasped Buddy by the wrist, and led him away, in the direction of the hairbrush, if one would judge by Buddy's reluctance to go.
”So you are going to climb the--Big Hill, are you?” Miss Josephine observed, when the two were quite alone. ”It is to be hoped, Mr.
Campbell, that you won't find it as steep as it looks--from the bottom.”
Ford was not an adept at reading what lies underneath the speech of a woman. To himself he accented the last three words, so that they overshadowed all the rest and made her appear to remind him where he stood--at the bottom.
”I suppose a hollow does look pretty high, to a man down a well,” he retorted, glancing into his teacup because he felt and was resisting an impulse to look at her.
”One can always keep climbing,” she murmured, ”and never give up--” Miss Josephine, also, was tilting her teacup and looking studiously into it as if she would read her fortune in the specks of tea leaves there.
”Like the frog in the well--that climbed one jump and fell back two!” he interrupted, but she paid no attention, and went on.
”And the reward for reaching the top--”
”Is there supposed to be a reward?” Ford could not tell why he asked her that, nor why he glanced stealthily at her from under his eyebrows as he awaited her reply.
”There--might--there usually is a reward for any great achievement--and--” Miss Josephine was plainly floundering where she had hoped to float airily upon the surface.
”What's the reward for--climbing hills, for instance?” He looked at her full, now, and his lips were ready to smile.
Miss Josephine looked uneasily at the door. ”I--really, I never--investigated the matter at all.” She gave a twitch of shoulders and met his eyes steadily. ”The inner satisfaction of having climbed the hill, I suppose,” she said, in the tone of one who has at last reached firm ground. ”Will you have more tea, Mr. Campbell?”
Her final words were chilly and impersonal, but Ford left the table, smiling to himself. At the door he met d.i.c.k, whom Buddy had mentioned with disaster to himself. d.i.c.k saw the smile, and within the room he saw Miss Josephine sitting alone, her chin resting in her two palms and her eyes fixed upon vacancy.
”h.e.l.lo,” Ford greeted somewhat inattentively. ”Do you want me for anything, d.i.c.k?”