Part 8 (2/2)
”And I know you could.” He rose and stood without his crutch, looking down on her. ”And you're not 'too long drawn out,' are you? See? You only come up to--about--here on me.” He measured with his hand a little below his chin.
”I don't care. You're not so awfully tall.”
”Very well, have it so. That only makes you the shorter.”
”I tell you I don't care. You'd better stop staring at me, if I'm so little, and read your letter. The man's waiting for it. That's why I ran all the way up here.” By this it may be seen that Betty had lost all her awe of the young soldier. Maybe it left her when he doffed his uniform. ”Here's your crutch. Doesn't it hurt you to stand alone?” She reached him the despised prop.
”Hurt me to stand alone? No! I'm not a baby. Do you think I'm likely to grow up bow-legged?” he thundered, taking it from her hand without a thank you, and glaring down on her humorously. ”You're a bit cruel to remind me of it. I'm going to walk with a cane hereafter, and next thing you know you'll see me stalking around without either.”
”Why, Peter Junior! I'd be so proud of that crutch I wouldn't leave it off for anything! I'd always limp a little, even if I didn't use it.
Cruel? I was complimenting you.”
”Complimenting me? How?”
”By reminding you that you had been brave--and had been a soldier--and had been wounded for your country--and had been promoted--and--”
But Peter drowned her voice with uproarious laughter, and suddenly surprised himself as well as her by slipping his arm around her waist and stopping her lips with a kiss.
Betty was surprised but not shocked. She knew of no reason why Peter should not kiss her even though it was not his custom to treat her thus. In Betty's home, demonstrative expressions of affection were as natural as sunlight, and why should not Peter like her? Therefore it was Peter who was shocked, and embarra.s.sed her with his sudden apology.
”I don't care if you did kiss me. You're just like my big brother--the same as Richard is--and he often used to kiss me.” She was trying to set Peter at his ease. ”And, anyway, I like you. Why, I supposed of course you liked me--only naturally not as much as I liked you.”
”Oh, more! Much more!” he stammered tremblingly. He knew in his heart that there was a subtle difference, and that what he felt was not what she meant when she said, ”I like you.” ”I'm sure it is I who like you the most.”
”Oh, no, it isn't! Why, you never even used to see me. And I--I used to gaze on you--and be so romantic! It was Richard who always saw me and played with me. He used to toss me up, and I would run away down the road to meet him. I wonder when he's coming back! I wish he'd come. Why don't you read your father's letter? The man's waiting, you know.”
”Ah, yes. And I suppose Dad's waiting, too. I wonder why he wrote me when he can see me every day!”
”Well, read it. Don't stand there looking at it and staring at me. Do you know how you look? You look as if it were a message from the king, saying: 'You are remanded to the tower, and are to have your head struck off at sundown.' That's the way they did things in the olden days.” She turned to go.
”Stay here until I see if you are right.” He dropped on the divan and made room for her at his side.
”All right! That's what I wanted to do, but I thought it wouldn't be polite to be curious.”
”But you wouldn't be polite anyway, you know, so you might as well stay. M-m-m. I'm remanded to the tower, sure enough. Father wants me to meet him in the director's room as soon as banking hours are over.
Fine old Dad! He wouldn't think of infringing on banking hours for any private reasons unless the sky were falling, and even then he would save the bank papers first. See here--Betty--er--never mind. I'll tell you another time.”
”Please tell me now! What is it? Something dreadful, Peter Junior?”
”I wasn't thinking about this; it--it's something else--”
”About what?”
”About you.”
”Oh, then it is no consequence. I want to hear what's in the letter.
Why did you tell me to stay if you weren't going to tell me what's in it?”
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