Part 14 (2/2)

”You have such a lovely way of doing your hair. Is that the way to do hair nowadays--with two long curls hanging down from one side of the coil? You wind one side around the back knot, and then you pin the other up and let the ends hang down in two long curls, don't you? I'm going to try mine that way; may I?”

”Of course, darling! I'll help you.”

”What's his name, Martha? I couldn't quite catch it, and I did not want to let him know I thought it queer, so wouldn't ask over.”

”His name is Lucien Thurbyfil. It's not so queer, Betty.”

”Oh, you p.r.o.nounce it T'urbyfil, just as if there were no 'h' in it.

You know I thought father said Mr. Tubfull--or something like that, when he introduced him to mother, and that was why mother looked at him in such an odd way.”

The two girls laughed merrily. ”Betty, what if you hadn't been a dear, and had called him that! And he's so very correct!”

”Oh, is he? Then I'll try it to-morrow and we'll see what he'll do.”

”Don't you dare! I'd be so ashamed I'd sink right through the floor.

He'd think we'd been making fun of him.”

”Then I'll wait until we are out in the woods, for I'd hate to have you make a hole in the floor by sinking through it.”

”Betty! You'll be good to-morrow, won't you, dear?”

”Good? Am I not always good? Didn't I scrub and bake and put flowers all over the ugly what-not in the corner of the parlor, and get the grease spot out of the dining room rug that Jamie stepped b.u.t.ter into--and all for you--without any thought of any Mr. Tubfull or any one but you? All day long I've been doing it.”

”Of course you did, and it was perfectly sweet; and the flowers and mother looked so dear--and Janey's hands were clean--I looked to see.

You know usually they are so dirty. I knew you'd been busy; but Betty, dear, you won't be mischievous to-morrow, will you? He's our guest, you know, and you never were bashful, not as much as you really ought to be, and we can't treat strangers just as we do--well--people we have always known, like Peter Junior. They wouldn't understand it.”

But the admonition seemed to be lost, for Betty's thoughts were wandering from the point. ”Hasn't he ever--ever--made love to you?”

Martha was was.h.i.+ng her face and neck at the washstand in the corner, and now she turned a face very rosy, possibly with scrubbing, and threw water over her naughty little sister. ”Well, hasn't he ever put his arm around you or--or anything?”

”I wouldn't let a man do that.”

”Not if you were engaged?”

”Of course not! That wouldn't be a nice way to do.”

”Shouldn't you let a man kiss you or--or--put his arm around you--or anything--even when he's trying to get engaged to you?”

”Of course not, Betty, dear. You're asking very silly questions. I'm going to bed.”

”Well, but they do in books. He did in 'Jane Eyre,' don't you remember? And she was proud of it--and pretended not to be--and very much touched, and treasured his every look in her heart. And in the books they always kiss their lovers. How can Mr. Thurbyfil ever be your lover, if you never let him even put his arm around you?”

”Betty, Betty, come to bed. He isn't my lover and he doesn't want to be and we aren't in books, and you are getting too old to be so silly.”

Then Betty slowly disrobed and bathed her sweet limbs and at last crept in beside her sister. Surely she had not done right. She had let Peter Junior put his arm around her and kiss her, and that even before they were engaged; and all yesterday afternoon he had held her hand whenever she came near, and he had followed her about and had kissed her a great many times. Her cheeks burned with shame in the darkness, not that she had allowed this, but that she had not been as bashful as she ought. But how could she be bashful without pretending?

”Martha,” she said at last, ”you are so sweet and pretty, if I were Mr. Thurbyfil, I'd put my arm around you anyway, and make love to you.”

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