Nobody's Child. Dejeans Elizabeth

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СКАЧАТЬ But at Judith's reproof he came up standing:

      "I beg your pardon, Cousin Judith," he said, in his old-fashioned, florid manner. "Edward's hospitality has been a little too much fo' me – my tongue has run a little too loose. That happens to me sometimes, as you know. I beg yo' pardon. What I really think is that you are a woman in a million, Judith – a very splendid woman, my dear. Westmo' owes everything to you – we all know that, and I'm on my knees to you – I always have been."

      Judith Westmore was not demonstrative, so her answer to his apology surprised and vastly pleased the colonel. She framed his tanned face with her hands and kissed his cheek. "You are a dear," she said brightly. "Now go in to Edward and be nice to him. He's worried over Garvin – and a number of things… I'm going in now to talk to Cousin Mary, and after that I'll have to go up-stairs. If any one wants to see me, just say I'm busy."

      The colonel did as he was bidden; Judith was usually obeyed. She had her own methods with each member of the clan, and it was a rare thing for one of them to venture upon criticism of Judith. The colonel had been, as he said, a little overcome by Edward's hospitality.

      IX

      A FEMININE PROCEDURE

      But Judith did not go up-stairs.

      After nearly an hour spent in the drawing-room, she left her elder cousins engrossed in whist, saying that she was going up until time for supper. She went to the foot of the stairs, then half-way up, to where the stairs made a turn, and stood for a time, listening. Everything was quiet above. In the dining-room the men were still talking, and the drawing-room was silent except for an occasional remark. Smothered by the intervening walls, the music and the stir in the ballroom seemed distant.

      Judith listened to the conclusion of a waltz, then to the chatter on the veranda – until it was drawn back again into the ballroom by the less rhythmic measure of a square dance. Then she crept down, went quickly through the hall and out to the veranda.

      Baird was there, waiting for her. He sprang up from a bench. "I hoped you'd come!" he said. "I didn't like to go in and ask for you."

      They stood for a moment. "Have you been enjoying yourself?" Judith asked.

      "No, you didn't come back."

      Judith laughed softly. "You are not polite to my party, suh."

      "Never mind." He touched her bare arm. "Where can I get something to put around you?"

      "My cape is in the hall – behind the stairs – and my overshoes… It is so warm – we might go down to the walk."

      "Down to the terraces," Baird said with the quickness of the man alert to every advantage.

      Possibly Judith had the terraces in mind, but she demurred. "Oh, no – the ground is too damp."

      Baird's answer was to dive into the hall. When he came out he had Judith's cape on his arm and a pair of overshoes in each hand. He held up the larger pair. "I've jumped some one's claim!.. Think any one will want these before we get back?"

      "They'll certainly not guess where to look for them… You know how to surmount a difficulty, don't you?" She had planned for this adventure, and her cheeks were warm.

      "By helping myself to some one else's belongings – if there is no other way… Sit down and let me make sure you will be dry."

      Baird had also planned for an hour on the terraces, and was elated. He knelt and put on Judith's overshoes with much care, a caressing clasp for each foot before he planted it on the floor. "They are so small," he said. "There are not many women whose feet are kissable." Then dashed by his temerity, he added quickly, "You must descend on me if I talk – nonsense. I am apt to be forward – I need training badly. I'm in your hands, you know."

      Judith thought, as she looked down at his massive jaw with its suggestion of animal force, that undoubtedly he spoke from much predatory experience; his air of deference sat oddly on him; he was most attractive when presumptuous. Her reflections caused her a pang. Retrospective jealousy over affairs that were none of her concern? She shrugged mentally. She was foolish! For the first time in her life she was deliberately tampering with forces which she knew were dangerous.

      She thought it best to say gravely, "You are a little – assured, Mr. Baird."

      "I'm afraid I am," he assented ruefully; then added with native shrewdness and candor combined, "I suppose because I've usually found it paid."

      "I suppose it does – with some people," Judith returned with instant hauteur. She was glad he could not see her flush.

      Baird got to his feet. "May I help you with your cape?" he asked so humbly that the prick of his previous remark ceased to smart. Why take offense at his candor; his respect for her was apparent enough.

      She regained her usual manner as Baird helped her down the steps and, on reaching the walk, dropped her arm, and vented his discomfort by criticizing the moon. "The stars are doing their best – why doesn't the silly thing choose the end of the month to be full in?" he complained. "I'm afraid you will stumble."

      Judith did stumble a few moments afterward, and, as a matter of course, Baird took possession of her arm. Judith judged that he had been sufficiently rebuked and also that she had proved that she needed guidance and yet was not eager to accept it, a truly feminine procedure.

      And Baird was evidently bent upon gaining the terraces without offending her by too much urgency. They had come to the verge of the first terrace, and he tested the ground. "It's not muddy," he announced. "The sod is too heavy… Shan't we go down?"

      "I ought not to go so far away – some one will be wanting me," Judith objected.

      "That is one reason you should go," Baird said decidedly. "You've been on duty all evening. Come, shunt it all for a few minutes." Baird had regained his assurance; it never deserted him for long.

      "I should like to," Judith confessed, and her sigh was genuine enough.

      "Of course you would. Isn't there a bench down there – somewhere?"

      "On the edge of the last terrace – under those two cedars."

      "Let's go to it – please, Wonder-woman! They'll all be out after that dance and I won't have a moment with you. Come!"

      He pleaded a little masterfully, Judith thought, but as long as he did not suspect that it was his forcefulness that attracted her, all was well. "I suppose I can hear down there, if any one called," she said doubtfully.

      "Certainly you can."

      They went down to where the two cedars loomed, a dark mass, and groped their way to the bench. It was dark beneath the trees and quite dry. Below them was a hollow and beyond it a steep slope crowned by a group of trees, their outlines distinct against the sky. In every direction but this the country dropped away from the house, affording views for miles. Except for the music in the house behind them and the occasional snort or stamp of a horse in the stables, it was very still.

      "This is splendid," Baird said, "but are you warm enough? You have nothing on your head – there's a hood to your cape … may I?"

      He drew it up over her hair, restraining his impulse to touch her cheek as he did so. The cape reminded him of Ann Penniman and his afternoon's adventure, and he smiled a little to himself. That had been so natural a performance, and this enforced deference was so entirely a new experience. СКАЧАТЬ