Part 7 (1/2)
”I never think over my mistakes,” said Bambi. ”I just live up to them.”
”I agree with your father that you risk a good deal.”
”Risks are exciting.”
”If you don't like it, you can divorce me the next time I am in a work fit. I'll never know it, so it will be painless.”
”Jarvis, that's unfair.”
He came back quickly.
”That was intended for humour,” he explained.
”I so diagnosed it,” she flashed back at him.
He looked down at her diminutive figure with its well-shaped, patrician head, its sensitive mouth, its wide-set, s.h.i.+ning eyes.
”Star-s.h.i.+ne,” he smiled.
She poked him with a sharp ”What?”
”You don't think I ought to--to--kiss you, possibly, do you?”
”Mercy, no!”
”Good! I was afraid you might expect something of me.”
”Oh, no. Think what you have done for the girl,” she quoted, and he heard her laugh down the hall and out into the garden. He took a step as if to follow her. Then, with a shake of his shoulders, he climbed the stairs to his new workshop with a smile on his lips.
III
The Professor was working in his garden. It was one of his few relaxations, and he took it as seriously as a problem. He had great success with flowers, owing to what he called his system. He was methodical as a machine in everything he did, so the plants were fed with the regularity of hospital patients, and flourished accordingly.
To-day he was in pursuit of slugs. He followed up one row, and down the next, slaying with the ruthlessness of fate.
The general effect of his garden was rather striking. He laid out each bed in the shape of an arithmetical figure. The pansy beds were in figure eights, the nasturtiums were pruned and ordered into stubby figure ones, while the asters and fall flowers ranged from fours to twenties.
The Professor carried his arithmetical sense to extremes. He insisted that figures had personality, just as people have, and it was a favourite method of his to nickname his friends and pupils according to a numeral. He was watching the death-throes of a slug, with scientific indifference, as his son-in-law approached him, carrying a wide-brimmed hat.
”Professor Parkhurst, your daughter desires you to put on your hat. You forgot it.”
”Oh, yes. Thank you!”
”I should like the opportunity of a few words with you, sir, if you can spare the time.”
”Well, I cannot. My time is very precious. If you desire to walk along with me while I destroy these slugs, I will listen to what you say.”
He pursued his course, and Jarvis, perforce, followed.