Part 2 (2/2)
”Have you heard Thayer yet, Sally?” Bobby asked parenthetically.
”No. I have heard about him till I am weary of his name, though, and such a name! Cotton Mather Thayer!”
”Did it ever occur to you the handicap of going through life as Bobby?”
inquired the owner of that name. ”It is a handicap; but it is also a distinct advantage. n.o.body ever expects me to amount to anything. No matter how much I fizzle, they'll say 'Oh, but it's only Bobby Dane!'
Now, Cotton Mather Thayer is bound to fill a niche in the--the--”
”Lofty cathedral of fame reared by the ages.” Sally helped him out of his rhetorical abyss.
”Thanks awfully; yes. And then Beatrix will scatter her water-soaked breadcrumbs around him to coax the little sparrows to make their nests in the crown of his hat and get free music lessons for their young in exchange for keeping his head warm.”
Beatrix frowned; then she laughed. Bobby was incorrigible, and there was no use in expecting seriousness from him. He and Sally were alike; Beatrix was cast in a different mould. She could suffer and enjoy with an intensity unknown to either of the others; yet she was close kin to her cousin in her appreciation of his irresponsible fun, even though it would never have occurred to her to originate it. Moreover, even if it had occurred to her, it is doubtful whether she could have accomplished it.
”Who gets first bite at your bread, Beatrix?” Bobby asked encouragingly.
”Granted that Arlt, whoever he is, gets second nibble, who comes in ahead?”
”Mrs. Stanley.” In spite of herself, Beatrix laughed at the logical application of her metaphor. Stout, energetic Mrs. Stanley was so like a greedy young turkey snapping up the crumbs dropped from the hands of her superiors.
Sally raised her brows.
”Knowing Mrs. Stanley's appet.i.te, I only wonder that any of the loaves and fishes should be left over,” she drawled maliciously.
”Mrs. Stanley has her good points, Sally.”
Bobby interrupted.
”Not a point. She is all built in parabolic curves. Why can't you be accurate, Beatrix, as befits your higher education? You took conic sections a year before I did.”
”All the more reason I should forget them sooner. Besides, haven't I begged you not to allude to the fact that I am a year older than you?”
”But is Mr. Thayer as great a singer as they say?” Sally asked, with sudden irrelevancy.
”Greater. He is almost perfectly satisfactory.”
”Not quite?”
”Not yet; he will be, some day, if he can only have an unhappy love affair,” Beatrix answered placidly, as she rose from the tea table and crossed to the open fire.
”That is an humane speech.”
”Artistic, though. He needs just that to develop him. He strikes every note but tenderness.”
”Tenderness is generally located at _C in Alt_, Beatrix. A baritone can't soar to that height; you should be content when he growls defiance and moans resignation.”
”Besides,” Sally suggested; ”it is quite within the limits of possibility that Mr. Thayer might have a happy love affair. Would that answer your purpose, Beatrix?”
”Not in the least. It is his minor key that needs developing.”
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