CHAPTER VIII.
A MIXTURE.
In poetry and painting and fiction we see Such praise for the Dawn of the Day, We've long since been convinced that a sunrise must be All Glorious and Golden and Gay.
But we find there are mornings quite foggy and drear, With the clouds in a low-hanging pall; Till the grey light of daylight can hardly make clear That the sun has arisen at all.
Dr. Richard Hale left his brood of temporary orphans without reallyexpecting for them any particular oversight from Andrew Dykeman; butthe two were sufficiently close friends to well warrant the latter inmoving over to The Monastery--as Jimmie Saunders called it.
Mr. Dykeman was sufficiently popular with the young men to be welcome,even if he had not had a good excuse, and when they found howsuper-excellent his excuse was they wholly approved.
To accommodate Miss Orella was something--all the boys liked MissOrella. They speculated among themselves on her increasing youth andgood looks, and even exchanged sagacious theories as to the particularacting cause. But when they found that Mr. Dykeman's visit was to makeroom for the installation of Mrs. St. Cloud, they were more thanpleased.
All the unexpressed ideals of masculine youth seemed centered in thispalely graceful lady; the low, sweet voice, the delicate hands, thesubtle sympathy of manner, the nameless, quiet charm of dress.
Young Burns became her slave on sight, Lawson and Peters fell on thesecond day; not one held out beyond the third. Even Susie'sattractions paled, her very youth became a disadvantage; she lackedthat large considering tenderness.
"Fact is," Mr. Peters informed his friends rather suddenly, "youngwomen are selfish. Naturally, of course. It takes some experienceto--well, to understand a fellow." They all agreed with him.
Mr. Dykeman, quiet and reserved as always, was gravely polite to thenewcomer, and Mr. Skee revolved at a distance, making observations.Occasionally he paid some court to her, at which times she was cold tohim; and again he devoted himself to the other ladies with hisimpressive air, as of one bowing low and sweeping the floor with aplumed hat.
Mr. Skee's Stetson had, as a matter of fact, no sign of plumage, andhis bows were of a somewhat jerky order; but his gallantry wassweeping and impressive, none the less. If he remained too far awayMrs. St. Cloud would draw him to her circle, which consisted of allthe other gentlemen.
There were two exceptions. Mr. James Saunders had reached the stagewhere any woman besides Susie was but a skirted ghost, and Morton was bythis time so deeply devoted to Vivian that he probably would not havewavered even if left alone. He was not wholly a free agent, however.
Adela St. Cloud had reached an age when something must be done. Hermysterious absent husband had mysteriously and absently died, andstill she never breathed a word against him. But the Bible Class inBainville furnished no satisfactory material for further hopes, theplace of her earlier dwelling seemed not wholly desirable now, and theWest had called her.
Finding herself comfortably placed in Mr. Dykeman's room, and judgingfrom the number of his shoe-trees and the quality of his remainingtoilet articles that he might be considered "suitable," she decided toremain in the half-way house for a season. So settled, why, for athousand reasons one must keep one's hand in.
There were men in plenty, from twenty year old Archie to the uncertaindecades of Mr. Skee. Idly amusing herself, she questioned thatgentleman indirectly as to his age, drawing from him astoundingmemories of the previous century.
When confronted with historic proof that the events he described wereover a hundred years passed, he would apologize, admitting that he hadno memory for dates. She owned one day, with gentle candor, to beingthirty-three.
"That must seem quite old to a man like you, Mr. Skee. I feel veryold sometimes!" She lifted large eyes to him, and drew her filmy scarfaround her shoulders.
"Your memory must be worse than mine, ma'am," he replied, "and workthe same way. You've sure got ten or twenty years added onsuperfluous! Now me!" He shook his head; "I don't remember when I wasborn at all. And losin' my folks so young, _and_ the family Bible--Idon't expect I ever shall. But I 'low I'm all of ninety-seven."
This being palpably impossible, and as the only local incidents hecould recall in his youth were quite dateless adventures among theIndians, she gave it up. Why Mr. Skee should have interested her atall was difficult to say, unless it was the appeal to hisuncertainty--he was at least a game fish, if not edible.
Of the women she met, Susie and Vivian were far the most attractive,wherefore Mrs. St. Cloud, with subtle sympathy and engaging frankness,fairly cast Mr. Saunders in Susie's arms, and vice versa, asopportunity occurred.
Morton she rather snubbed, treated him as a mere boy, told tales of hischildhood that were in no way complimentary--so that he fled from her.
With Vivian she renewed her earlier influence to a great degree.
With some inquiry and more intuition she discovered what it was thathad chilled the girl's affection for her.
"I don't wonder, my dear child," she said; "I never told you ofthat--I never speak of it to anyone.... It was one of the--" sheshivered slightly--"darkest griefs of a very dark time.... He was abeautiful boy.... I never _dreamed_----"
The slow tears rose in her beautiful eyes till they shone likeshimmering stars.
"Heaven send no such tragedy may ever come into your life, dear!"
She reached a tender hand to clasp the girl's. "I am so glad of yourhappiness!"
Vivian was silent. As a matter of fact, she was not happy enough tohonestly accept sympathy. Mrs. St. Cloud mistook her attitude, orseemed to.
"I suppose you still blame me. Many people did. I often blame myself.One cannot be _too_ careful. It's a terrible responsibility,Vivian--to have a man love you."
The girl's face grew even more somber. That was one thing which wastroubling her.
"But your life is all before you," pursued the older woman. "Yourdream has come true! How happy--how wonderfully happy you must be!"
"I am not, not _really_," said the girl. "At least----"
"I know--I know; I understand," Mrs. St. Cloud nodded with tenderwisdom. "You are not sure. Is not that it?"
That was distinctly "it," and Vivian so agreed.
"There is no other man?"
"Not the shadow of one!" said the girl firmly. And as her questionerhad studied the field and made up her mind to the same end, shebelieved her.
"Then you must not mind this sense of uncertainty. It always happens.It is part of the morning clouds of maidenhood, my dear--it vanisheswith the sunrise!" And she smiled beatifically.
Then the girl unburdened herself of her perplexities. She couldalways express herself so easily to this sympathetic friend.
"There are so many things that I--dislike--about him," she said."Habits of speech--of manners. He is not--not what I----"
She paused.
"Not all the Dream! Ah! My dear child, they never are! We are giventhese beautiful ideals to guard and guide us; but the real is neverquite the same. But when a man's soul opens to you--when he loves--thesesmall things vanish. They can be changed--you will change them."
"Yes--he says so," Vivian admitted. "He says that he knows that heis--unworthy--and has done wrong things. But so have I, for thatmatter."
Mrs. St. Cloud agreed with her. "I am glad you feel that, my dear. Menhave their temptations--their vices--and we good women are apt to behard on them. But have we no faults? Ah, my dear, I have seen goodwomen--young girls, like yourself--ruin a man's whole life by--well,by heartlessness; by lack of understanding. Most young men do thingsthey become ashamed of when they really love. And in the case of amotherless boy like this--lonely, away from his home, no good woman'sinfluence about--what else could we expect? But you can make a new manof him. A glorious work!"
"That's what he says. I'm not so sure--" The girl hesitated.
"Not sure you can? Oh, my child, it is the most beautiful work onearth! To se
e from year to year a strong, noble character grow underyour helping hand! To be the guiding star, the inspiration of a man'slife. To live to hear him say:
"'Ah, who am I that God should bow From heaven to choose a wife for me? What have I done He should endow My home with thee?'"
There was a silence.
Vivian's dark eyes shone with appreciation for the tender beauty ofthe lines, the lovely thought. Then she arose and walked nervouslyacross the floor, returning presently.
"Mrs. St. Cloud----"
"Call me Adela, my dear."
"Adela--dear Adela--you--you have been married. I have no mother. Tellme, ought not there to be more--more love? I'm fond of Morton, ofcourse, and I do want to help him--but surely, if I loved him--Ishould feel happier--more sure!"
"The first part of love is often very confusing, my dear. I'll tellyou how it is: just because you are a woman grown and feel yourresponsibilities, especially here, where you have so many men friends,you keep Morton at a distance. Then the external sort of cousinlyaffection you have for him rather blinds you to other feelings. But Ihave not forgotten--and I'm sure you have not--the memory of that hot,sweet night so long ago; the world swimming in summer moonlight andsyringa sweetness; the stillness everywhere--and your first kiss!"
Vivian started to her feet. She moved to the window and stood awhile;came back and kissed her friend warmly, and went away without anotherword.
The lady betook herself to her toilet, and spent some time on it, forthere was one of Miss Peeder's classes that night.
Mrs. St. Cloud danced with many, but most with Mr. Dykeman; no womanin the room had her swimming grace of motion, and yet, with all thethrong of partners about her she had time to see Susie's bright headbobbing about beneath Mr. Saunders down-bent, happy face, and Vivian,with her eyes cast down, dancing with Morton, whose gaze never lefther. He was attention itself, he brought her precisely the supper sheliked, found her favorite corner to rest in, took her to sit on thebroad piazza between dances, remained close to her, still talkingearnestly, when all the outsiders had gone.
Vivian found it hard to sleep that night. All that he had said of hisnew hope, new power, new courage, bore out Mrs. St. Cloud's brightpromise of a new-built life. And some way, as she had listened and didnot forbid, the touch of his hand, the pressure of his arm, grewwarmer and brought back the memories of that summer night so long ago.
He had begged hard for a kiss before he left her, and she quite had totear herself away, as Susie drifted in, also late; and Aunt Orella saidthey must all go to bed right away--she was tired if they were not.
She did look tired. This dance seemed somehow less agreeable to herthan had others. She took off her new prettinesses and packed themaway in a box in the lower drawer.
"I'm an old fool!" she said. "Trying to dress up like a girl. I'mashamed of myself!" Quite possibly she did not sleep well either, yetshe had no room-mate to keep her awake by babbling on, as Susie did toVivian.
Her discourse was first, last and always about Jimmie Saunders. He hadsaid this, he had looked that, he had done so; and what did Vivianthink he meant? And wasn't he handsome--and _so_ clever!
Little Susie cuddled close and finally dropped off asleep, her armsaround Vivian. But the older girl counted the hours; her head, or herheart, in a whirl.
Morton Elder was wakeful, too. So much so that he arose with awhispered expletive, took his shoes in his hand, and let himselfsoftly out for a tramp in the open.
This was not the first of his love affairs, but with all his hot youngheart he wished it was. He stood still, alone on the high stretches ofmoonlit mesa and looked up at the measureless, brilliant spaces abovehim.
"I'll keep straight--if I can have her!" he repeated under his breath."I will! I will!"
It had never occurred to him before to be ashamed of the variousescapades of his youth. He had done no more than others, many others.None of "the boys" he associated with intended to do what was wrong;they were quite harsh in judgment of those who did, according to theirstandards. None of them had been made acquainted with the social orpathological results of their amusements, and the mere "Zutritt istVerboten" had never impressed them at all.
But now the gentler influences of his childhood, even the narrowmorality of Bainville, rose in pleasant colors in his mind. He wishedhe had saved his money, instead of spending it faster than it came in.He wished he had kept out of poker and solo and barrooms generally. Hewished, in a dumb, shamed way, that he could come to her as clean asshe was. But he threw his shoulders back and lifted his headdeterminedly.
"I'll be good to her," he determined; "I'll make her a good husband."
In the days that followed his devotion was as constant as before, butmore intelligent. His whole manner changed and softened. He began toread the books she liked, and to talk about them. He was gentler toeveryone, more polite, even to the waitresses, tender and thoughtfulof his aunt and sister. Vivian began to feel a pride in him, and inher influence, deepening as time passed.
Mrs. Pettigrew, visiting the library on one of her frequent errands,was encountered there and devotedly escorted home by Mr. Skee.
"That is a most fascinating young lady who has Mr. Dykeman's room;don't you think so, ma'am?" quoth he.
"I do not," said Mrs. Pettigrew. "Young! She's not so young as youare--nothing like--never was!"
He threw back his head and laughed his queer laugh, which looked souproarious and made so little noise.
"She certainly is a charmer, whatever her age may be," he continued.
"Glad you think so, Mr. Skee. It may be time you lost a fourth!"
"Lost a fourth? What in the--Hesperides!"
"If you can't guess what, you needn't ask me!" said the lady, withsome tartness. "But for my own part I prefer the Apaches. Goodafternoon, Mr. Skee."
She betook herself to her room with unusual promptness, and refused tobe baited forth by any kind of offered amusement.
"It's right thoughtful of Andy Dykeman, gettin' up this entertainmentfor Mrs. St. Cloud, isn't it, Mrs. Elder?" Thus Mr. Skee to MissOrella a little later.
"I don't think it is Mr. Dykeman's idea at all," she told him. "It'sthose boys over there. They are all wild about her, quite naturally."She gave a little short sigh. "If Dr. Hale were at home I doubt if hewould encourage it."
"I'm pretty sure he wouldn't, Ma'am. He's certainly down on the fairsex, even such a peacherino as this one. But with Andy, now, it'sdifferent. He is a man of excellent judgment."
"I guess all men's judgment is pretty much alike in some ways," saidMiss Orella, oracularly. She seemed busy and constrained, and Mr. Skeedrifted off and paid court as best he might to Dr. Bellair.
"Charmed to find you at home, Ma'am," he said; "or shall I say atoffice?"
"Call it what you like, Mr. Skee; it's been my home for a good manyyears now."
"It's a mighty fine thing for a woman, livin' alone, to have abusiness, seems to me," remarked the visitor.
"It's a fine thing for any woman, married or single, to my mind," sheanswered. "I wish I could get Vivian Lane started in that kindergartenshe talks about."
"There's kids enough, and goodness knows they need a gardener! What'slackin'? House room?"
"She thinks she's not really competent. She has no regularcertificate, you see. Her parents would never let go of her longenough," the doctor explained.
"Some parents _are_ pretty graspin', ain't they? To my mind, MissVivian would be a better teacher than lots of the ticketed ones. She'sgot the natural love of children."
"Yes, and she has studied a great deal. She just needs an impetus."
"Perhaps if she thought there was 'a call' she might be willing. Idoubt if the families here realize what they're missin'. Aint theresome among your patients who could be stirred up a little?"
The doctor thought there were, and he suggested several names from hisapparently unlimited acquaintance.
"I believe in occupation for the young. It take
s up their minds," saidMr. Skee, and departed with serenity. He strolled over to Dr. Hale'sfence and leaned upon it, watching the preparations. Mr. Dykeman, inhis shirt-sleeves, stood about offering suggestions, while the youngmen swarmed here and there with poles and stepladders, hanging Chineselanterns.
"Hello, Elmer; come in and make yourself useful," called Mr. Dykeman.
"I'll come in, but I'll be switched if I'll be useful," he replied,laying a large hand on the fence and vaulting his long legs over itwith an agility amazing in one of his alleged years. "You all are sureputting yourself out for this occasion. Is it somebody's birthday?"
"No; it's a get-up of these youngsters. They began by wanting Mrs. St.Cloud to come over to tea--afternoon tea--and now look at this!"
"Did she misunderstand the invitation as bad as that?"
"O, no; just a gradual change of plan. One thing leads to another, youknow. Here, Archie! That bush won't hold the line. Put it on thewillow."
"I see," said Mr. Skee; "and, as we're quotin' proverbs, I mightremark that 'While the cat's away the mice will play.'"
Mr. Dykeman smiled. "It's rather a good joke on Hale, isn't it?"
"Would be if he should happen to come home--and find this hen-partyon." They both chuckled.
"I guess he's good for a week yet," said Mr. Dykeman. "Those medicalassociations do a lot of talking. Higher up there, George--a gooddeal higher."
He ran over to direct the boys, and Mr. Skee, hands behind him,strolled up and down the garden, wearing a meditative smile. He andAndrew Dykeman had been friends for many long years.
Dr. Bellair used her telephone freely after Mr. Skee's departure,making notes and lists of names. Late in the afternoon she foundVivian in the hall.
"I don't see much of you these days, Miss Lane," she said.
The girl flushed. Since Mrs. St. Cloud's coming and their renewedintimacy she had rather avoided the doctor, and that lady had keptherself conspicuously out of the way.
"Don't call me Miss Lane; I'm Vivian--to my friends."
"I hope you count me a friend?" said Dr. Bellair, gravely.
"I do, Doctor, and I'm proud to. But so many things have beenhappening lately," she laughed, a little nervously. "The truth is, I'mreally ashamed to talk to you; I'm so lazy."
"That's exactly what I wanted to speak about. Aren't you ready tobegin that little school of yours?"
"I'd like to--I should, really," said the girl. "But, somehow, I don'tknow how to set about it."
"I've been making some inquiries," said the doctor. "There are six oreight among my patients that you could count on--about a dozen youngones. How many could you handle?"
"Oh, I oughtn't to have more than twenty in any case. A dozen would beplenty to begin with. Do you think I _could_ count on them--really?"
"I tell you what I'll do," her friend offered; "I'll take you aroundand introduce you to any of them you don't know. Most of 'em come hereto the dances. There's Mrs. Horsford and Mrs. Blake, and that littleMary Jackson with the twins. You'll find they are mostly friends."
"You are awfully kind," said the girl. "I wish"--her voice took on asudden note of intensity--"I do wish I were strong, like you, Dr.Bellair."
"I wasn't very strong--at your age--my child. I did the weakest ofweak things--"
Vivian was eager to ask her what it was, but a door opened down oneside passage and the doctor quietly disappeared down the other, asMrs. St. Cloud came out.
"I thought I heard your voice," she said. "And Miss Elder's, wasn'tit?"
"No; it was Dr. Bellair."
"A strong character, and a fine physician, I understand. I'm sorry shedoes not like me."
Mrs. St. Cloud's smile made it seem impossible that anyone shoulddislike her.
Vivian could not, however, deny the fact, and was not diplomatic enoughto smooth it over, which her more experienced friend proceeded to do.
"It is temperamental," she said gently. "If we had gone to schooltogether we would not have been friends. She is strong, downright,progressive; I am weaker, more sensitive, better able to bear than todo. You must find her so stimulating."
"Yes," the girl said. "She was talking to me about my school."
"Your school?"
"Didn't you know I meant to have a sort of kindergarten? We planned iteven before starting; but Miss Elder seemed to need me at first, andsince then--things--have happened----"
"And other things will happen, dear child! Quite other and differentthings."
The lady's smile was bewitching. Vivian flushed slowly under her gaze.
"Oh, my dear, I watched you dancing together! You don't mind mynoticing, do you?"
Her voice was suddenly tender and respectful. "I do not wish tointrude, but you are very dear to me. Come into my room--do--and tellme what to wear to-night."
Mrs. St. Cloud's clothes had always been a delight to Vivian. Theywere what she would have liked to wear--and never quite have dared,under the New England fear of being "too dressy." Her own beauty waskept trimly neat, like a closed gentian.
Her friend was in the gayest mood. She showed her a trunkful ofdelicate garments and gave her a glittering embroidered scarf, whichthe girl rapturously admired, but declared she would never have thecourage to wear.
"You shall wear it this very night," declared the lady. "Here--show mewhat you've got. You shall be as lovely as you _are_, for once!"
So Vivian brought out her modest wardrobe, and the older woman chose agown of white, insisted on shortening the sleeves to fairy wings oflace, draped the scarf about her white neck, raised the soft,close-bound hair to a regal crown, and put a shining star in it, andadded a string of pearls on the white throat.
"Look at yourself now, child!" she said.
Vivian looked, in the long depths of Mr. Dykeman's mirror. She knewthat she had beauty, but had never seen herself so brilliantlyattired. Erect, slender, graceful, the long lines of her young bodydraped in soft white, and her dark head, crowned and shining, poisedon its white column, rising from the shimmering lace. Her colordeepened as she looked, and added to the picture.
"You shall wear it to-night! You shall!" cried her admiring friend."To please me--if no one else!"
Whether to please her or someone else, Vivian consented, the twoarriving rather late at the garden party across the way.
Mr. Dykeman, looking very tall and fine in his evening clothes, was acordial host, ably seconded by the eager boys about him.
The place was certainly a credit to their efforts, the bare roomsbeing turned to bowers by vines and branches brought from themountains, and made fragrant by piled flowers. Lights glimmeredthrough colored shades among the leaves, and on the dining table youngPeters, who came from Connecticut, had rigged a fountain by means ofsome rubber tubing and an auger hole in the floor. This he had madebefore Mr. Dykeman caught him, and vowed Dr. Hale would not mind. Mr.Peters' enjoyment of the evening, however, was a little dampened byhis knowledge of the precarious nature of this arrangement. He dancedattendance on Mrs. St. Cloud, with the others, but wore a preoccupiedexpression, and stole in once or twice from the lit paths outside tomake sure that all was running well. It was well to and during suppertime, and the young man was complimented on his ingenuity.
"Reminds me of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon," said Mr. Skee,sentimentally.
"Why?" asked Mrs. Pettigrew.
"Oh, _why_, Ma'am? How can a fellow say why?" he protested. "Becauseit is so--so efflorescent, I suppose."
"Reminds me of a loose faucet," said she, _sotto voce_, to Dr. Bellair.
Mr. Peters beamed triumphantly, but in the very hour of his gloryyoung Burns, hastening to get a cup of coffee for his fair one,tripped over the concealed pipe, and the fountain poured forth itscontributions among the feet of the guests.
This was a minor misadventure, however, hurting no one's feeling butMr. Peters', and Mrs. St. Cloud was so kind to him in consequence thathe was envied by all the others.
Mr. Dykeman was attentive to his guests,
old and young, but Mrs.Pettigrew had not her usual smile for him; Miss Orella declined todance, alleging that she was too tired, and Dr. Bellair somewhat drylytold him that he need not bother with her. He was hardly to be blamedif he turned repeatedly to Mrs. St. Cloud, whose tactful sweetness wasalways ready. She had her swarm of young admirers about her, yet neverfailed to find a place for her host, a smile and a word ofunderstanding.
Her eyes were everywhere. She watched Mr. Skee waltzing with theyoungest, providing well-chosen refreshments for Miss Orella,gallantly escorting Grandma to see the "Lovers' Lane" they had made atthe end of the garden. Its twin lines of lights were all outside;within was grateful shadow.
Mrs. St. Cloud paced through this fragrant arbor with each and every oneof the receiving party, uttering ever-fresh expressions of admirationand gratitude for their kind thoughtfulness, especially to Mr. Dykeman.
When she saw Susie and Mr. Saunders go in at the farther end, sheconstituted herself a sort of protective agency to keep every one elseout, holding them in play with various pleasant arts.
And Vivian? When she arrived there was a little gasp from Morton, whowas waiting for her near the door. She was indeed a sight to make alover's heart leap. He had then, as it were, surrounded her. Vainlydid the others ask for dances. Morton had unblushingly filled out acard with his own name and substituted it for the one she handed him.She protested, but the music sounded and he whirled her away beforeshe could expostulate to any avail.
His eyes spoke his admiration, and for once his tongue did not spoilthe impression.
Half laughing and half serious, she let him monopolize her, but quitedrove him away when Mr. Dykeman claimed his dance.
"All filled up!" said Morton for her, showing his card.
"Mine was promised yesterday, was it not, Miss Lane?" said the big man,smiling. And she went with him. He took her about the garden later,gravely admiring and attentive, and when Susie fairly rushed into herarms, begging her to come and talk with her, he left them both in asmall rose-crowned summer-house and went back to Mrs. St. Cloud.
"Oh, Vivian, Vivian! What do you think!" Susie's face was buried onVivian's shoulder. "I'm engaged!"
Vivian held her close and kissed her soft hair. Her joyous excitementwas contagious.
"He's the nicest man in the world!" breathed Susie, "and he loves me!"
"We all supposed he did. Didn't you know it before?"
"Oh, yes, in a way; but, Vivian--he kissed me!"
"Well, child, have you never in all your little life been kissedbefore?"
Susie lifted a rosy, tearful face for a moment.
"Never, never, never!" she said. "I thought I had, but I haven't! Oh,I am so happy!"
"What's up?" inquired Morton, appearing with a pink lantern in hishand, in impatient search for his adored one. "Susie--crying?"
"No, I'm _not_," she said, and ran forthwith back to the house, whenceJimmy was bringing her ice cream.
Vivian started to follow her.
"Oh, no, Vivian; don't go. Wait." He dropped the lantern and took herhands. The paper cover flared up, showing her flushed cheeks andstarry eyes. He stamped out the flame, and in the sudden darknesscaught her in his arms.
For a moment she allowed him, turning her head away. He kissed herwhite shoulder.
"No! No, Morton--don't! You mustn't!"
She tried to withdraw herself, but he held her fast. She could feelthe pounding of his heart.
"Oh, Vivian, don't say no! You will marry me, won't you? Some day,when I'm more worth while. Say you will! Some day--if not now. I loveyou so; I need you so! Say yes, Vivian."
He was breathing heavily. His arms held her motionless. She still kepther face turned from him.
"Let me go, Morton; let me go! You hurt me!"
"Say yes, dear, and I'll let you go--for a little while."
"Yes," said Vivian.
The ground jarred beside them, as a tall man jumped the hedgeboundary. He stood a moment, staring.
"Well, is this my house, or Coney Island?" they heard him say. Andthen Morton swore softly to himself as Vivian left him and came out.
"Good evening, Dr. Hale," she said, a little breathlessly. "We weren'texpecting you so soon."
"I should judge not," he answered. "What's up, anyhow?"
"The boys--and Mr. Dykeman--are giving a garden party for Mrs. St.Cloud."
"For whom?"
"For Adela St. Cloud. She is visiting us. Aren't you coming in?"
"Not now," he said, and was gone without another word.
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