Part 10 (1/2)
”Gracious, Nanette!” complained Myrna sweetly. ”What a question! How can you possibly expect me to know?”
Nanette arranged the tray perfunctorily.
”There was a man who left a message with that imbecile proprietor for mademoiselle early this morning,” she observed. ”Mademoiselle has engaged a boatman?”
”A boatman? Certainly not!” declared Myrna Bliss. ”Not without seeing the boat--and I have seen no boat!”
”But mademoiselle engages a cottage without seeing the cottage,”
murmured Nanette slyly.
”That will do, Nanette!” said Myrna severely. ”There was but one cottage; there are dozens of boats. It is quite a different matter.
What did the man say?”
”That he was obliged to go out for the four o'clock fis.h.i.+ng this morning,” said Nanette, pouting a little at the rebuke; ”but that he would go to mademoiselle at the cottage early in the forenoon.”
A row of little white teeth crunched into a piece of crisp toast.
”Very well, Nanette.” Myrna's brows pursed up thoughtfully. ”You may get out that new marquisette from Fallard's; and, I think”--she glanced out of the window--”my sunbonnet. And, Nanette”--suddenly impatient--”hurry, please--since father is waiting.”
Myrna's impatience bore fruit. In ten minutes she was ready, and, running down the stairs, went out to the street, where her father and the cure, deep in conversation--on art undoubtedly, since her father was doing most of the talking!--were pacing slowly up and down, as they waited for her.
Her sunbonnet was swinging in her hand, the big grey eyes were s.h.i.+ning, the glow of superb health was in her cheeks.
”Good morning, Father Anton!” she called out gaily. ”What a shame to have kept you waiting!”
The old priest turned toward her with unaffected pleasure, as he held out his hand.
”Good morning to you, mademoiselle”--he was smiling with eyes as well as lips. ”What a radiant little girl! It makes one full of life and young again; you are, let me see, you are--a tonic!”
She laughed as she turned to her father.
”'Morning, Dad! Sleep well?”
Henry Bliss removed his cigar to survey his daughter with whimsical reproach; then he patted her cheek affectionately.
”Fierce, wasn't it?” he chuckled. ”Those beds are the worst ever! I was telling the cure here about them.”
”It is too bad,” said Father Anton solicitously. ”It is regrettable.
I am so very sorry. But”--earnestly--”you must not think too hardly of the Fregeaus. Since no guests sleep here, I am sure they can have no idea that--”
”No; of course not!” agreed Henry Bliss heartily, and laughed. ”The hard feelings are all in the beds--and we'll let them stay there. Now, then, Myrna, are you ready to inspect this new domain of yours? And shall we walk, or take the car? Father Anton says it is not far.”
”We will walk then,” decided Myrna.
It was the walk she had taken yesterday, at least it was the same as far as the little bridge; and for that distance she walked beside her father and the cure, chatting merrily, but there she loitered a little behind them. Half impishly, half with a genuine impulse that she rather welcomed than avoided, she told herself that it was quite unfair to pa.s.s the little spot so indifferently. Was it not here that this most bizarre of adventures had begun? She had stood here by the railing, and he had stood there across on the other side, and--the red leaped suddenly flaming into her cheeks. She had never looked at a man like that before--no man had ever looked at her like that before! And it had been spontaneous, instant, like a flash of fire that had lighted up a dark and unknown pathway, which, in the momentary blaze of light, was full of strange wonder; and which, because it was an unknown way, and because the glimpse had shown so much in so brief an instant that the brain fused all into confusion and nothing was concrete, resulted, not in illuminating the way, but, the flash of light gone again, in transforming the pathway only into a bewildering maze.
She laughed a little after a while, shaking her head. Such an absurd fancy! But what an entrancing, alluring little fancy! Decidedly, it would be a new sensation to be lost in a maze like that--for a time.
She would tire of it soon enough--the thrill probably would not even last as long as she would want it to. No thrill ever did! She bit her lip suddenly in pretty vexation. It was stupid of the man to go off fis.h.i.+ng! Had he done it to pique her? The idea! He certainly could not have the temerity to imagine that it lay within his power to pique her. The sunbonnet swung to and fro abstractedly from its ribbon strings. Wasn't it strange that he had--piqued her!
She went on after her father and the cure. They were quite a way ahead now, and she hastened to catch up with them. As she drew near, she caught her father's words.