Part 31 (2/2)

”You are wet too,” I said, looking at him for the first time.

”Yes,” he returned; ”luckily I got off my coat and vest as I ran, so I saved my watch, but everything else is wet fast enough.”

”How did it happen?” I asked.

”She was trying to get sugar-pears from those trees by the water,”

George answered; ”and I suppose she lost her balance. I was going along the road and heard her scream.”

”Along the road?” I echoed; for I knew Davis Cove is too far from the road for him to have heard a cry.

”She fell in just by the old s.h.i.+pyard on the point,” he said.

”The boys were in swimming in the cove,” Kathie explained, in a way which was of course unintelligible to George.

”Well,” George commented, after a moment in which he seemed to clear up her meaning, ”the next time you want sugar-pears you'd better get them when the boys are out of the way, so you needn't go in swimming yourself.”

We had been walking along the road as we talked, and by this time had reached the Foot-bridge. I told George he must go home and get on dry clothing, and I would see to Kathie. He demurred at first, but I insisted, so he left us to cross the bridge alone. We walked in silence almost across the bridge, and then I asked her what kept b.u.mping against me as I held her up.

”It's rocks in my pocket,” she answered, quite in a matter-of-fact way.

”I put 'em there to sink me.”

I could have shaken her on the spot, so uncharitable was my mood, but I managed to answer her in a perfectly cool tone.

”Then you had better take them out,” I said.

She got her hand into her pocket and fished out three or four pebbles, which all together wouldn't have sunk a three-days-old-kitten; and when these had been thrown over the bridge we proceeded on our drabbled way.

My doubts of the genuineness of the whole performance grew in spite of me. I do not know exactly why I am coming so strongly to feel that Kathie is not wholly ingenuous, but I cannot get rid of the idea.

”Kathie,” I asked, ”did you see Mr. Weston coming when you jumped in?”

She looked up at me with eyes so honest I was ashamed of myself, but when she answered unhesitatingly that she had seen him, I went on ruthlessly to ask if she did not know he would save her.

”I thought if he was coming I'd got to hurry,” she returned, as simply as possible.

I was more puzzled than ever, and I am puzzled still. Whether she really meant to take her life, or whether she only thought she meant it, does not, I suppose, make any great difference; but I confess I have been trying to make out ever since I left her. I would like to discover whether she is consciously trying to fool me or endeavoring as much to cheat herself, or is honest in it all; but I see no way in which I am ever likely to be satisfied.

I asked her to say nothing at home about how her ducking happened, and I satisfied her mother by repeating what George had said. To-morrow I must have it out with Mr. Thurston somehow or other; although I am still completely in the dark what I shall say to him. I hope the old fairy-tales are right when they say ”the morning is wiser than the evening.”

August 21. The morning is wiser than the evening, for I got up to-day with a clear idea in my mind what I had better do about Kathie. It is always a great comfort to have a definite plan of action mapped out, and I ate my breakfast in a cheerful frame of mind, intending to go directly to see Mr. Thurston while I should be fairly sure of finding him. I reckoned without Kathie, however, who presented herself at the dining-room window before I had finished my coffee, and begged me to come out.

”I can't come in without breaking my word,” she said.

I could not argue with the absurd chit in that situation, so I went out into the garden with her and sat down on the bench by the sun-dial. The big red roses Father was so fond of are all in blossom, and in the morning air were wonderfully sweet. It was an enchanting day, and the dew was not entirely dried, so the garden had not lost the freshness it has when it first wakes up. I was exhilarated by the smell of the roses and the beauty of everything, and the clearness of the air. Rosa held baby up to us at the nursery window above, and I waved my hand to her, smiling from pure delight in everything. Kathie watched me with her great eyes, and when I sat down on the bench she threw herself at full length on the gra.s.s, and burst out sobbing.

”You do love her better than me!” she wailed. ”I came to say how sorry I was, but I'm sorry now that I didn't stay in the water.”

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