Part 48 (1/2)
”Tell me, Bunnie, is she pretty?”
”Very pretty, indeed,” he said, lamely.
”What's she like? Quick! Tell me all about her. This is the wickedest thing I ever heard of and I'm _perfectly_ delighted.”
It was Bernie's turn to look shocked. He arose indignantly. ”Myra Nell! You paralyze me. Have you no moral--”
”Rats!” interrupted Miss Warren, inelegantly. ”I've let you preach to me in the past, but never again. We've the same blood in us, Bunnie.
If I were a man I dare say I'd do the most terrible things--although I've never dreamed of anything so fiercely awful as this.”
”I should hope not,” he gasped.
”So come now, tell me everything. Does she pet you and call you funny names and ruffle your hair the way I do?”
Bernie a.s.sumed an att.i.tude of military erectness. ”It's bad enough for me to be a reprobate in secret,” he said, stiffly, ”but I sha'n't allow my own flesh and blood to share my shame and gloat over it.”
The girl's essential innocence, her child-like capacity for seeing only the romance of a situation in which he himself recognized real dishonor, made him feel ashamed, yet he was grateful that she took the matter, after all, so lightly. His respite, however, was of short duration. Failing to draw him out on the subject which held her interest for the moment, Myra Nell followed the beckoning of a new thought. Fixing her eyes meditatively upon him, she said, with mellow satisfaction:
”It seems we're both being gossiped about, dear.”
”You? What have _you_ been doing?” he demanded, in despair.
”Oh, I really haven't done anything, but it's nearly as bad. There's a report that Norvin Blake is paying all my Carnival bills, and naturally it has occasioned talk. Of course I denied it; the idea is too preposterous.”
Bernie, who had in a measure recovered his composure, felt himself paling once more.
”Amy Cline told me she'd heard that he actually bought my _dresses_, but Amy is a catty creature. She's mad over Lecompte, you know; that's why I encourage him; and she wanted to be Queen, too, but la, la, she's so skinny! Well, I was furious, naturally--” Miss Warren paused, quick to note the telltale signs in her brother's face.
”Bernie!” she said. ”Look me in the eye!” Then--”It is true!”
Her own eyes were round and horrified, her rosy cheeks lost something of their healthy glow; for once in her capricious life she was not acting.
”I never dreamed you'd learn about it,” her brother protested. ”When Norvin asked me if you'd like to be Queen I forbade him to mention it to you, for I couldn't afford the expense. But he told you in spite of me, and when I saw your heart was set on it--I--I just couldn't refuse. I allowed him to loan me the money.”
”Bernie! Bernie!” Myra Nell rose and, turning her back upon him, stared out of the window into the dusk of the evening. At length she said, with a strange catch in her voice, ”You're an anxious comfort, Bernie, for an orphan girl.” Another moment pa.s.sed in silence before he ventured:
”You see, I knew he'd marry you sooner or later, so it wasn't really a loan.” He saw the color flood her neck and cheek at his words, but he was unprepared for her reply.
”I'll never marry him now; I'll never speak to him again.”
”Why not?”
”Can't you understand? Do you think I'm entirely lacking in pride?
What kind of man can he be to _tell_ of his loan, to make it public that the very dresses which cover me were bought with his money?” She turned upon her half-brother with clenched hands and eyes which were gleaming through tears of indignation. ”I could _kill_ him for that.”
”He didn't tell,” Bernie blurted out.
”He must have. n.o.body knew it except you--” Her eyes widened; she hesitated. ”You?” she gasped.
It was indeed, the hour of Bernie's discomfiture. Myra Nell was his divinity, and to confess his personal offense against her, to destroy her faith in him, was the hardest thing he had ever done. But he was gentleman enough not to spare himself. At the cost of an effort which left him colorless he told her the truth.