The Laughing Girl. Chambers Robert William

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      "Please be just, Mr. O'Ryan. I minded my own business until you tempted me."

      That was perfectly true but I denied it.

      "You know," she said, "when a man finds a girl attractive the girl always knows it, even when she's a servant… And certain circumstances made it much more amusing than you realize… I mean to be respectful. I am your servant… But you know very well that it is funny."

      "What is funny?"

      "The circumstances. You found me attractive. It mortified you. And the way you took it was intensely amusing to me."

      "Why?"

      "Because you are you; and I am I. Because the fact that you found your cook attractive horrified you. That was intensely funny to me. And when, waiving the degradation, you actually attempted to kiss your own cook – "

      Laughter burst from her lips in a silvery shower of rippling notes which enchanted and infuriated me at the same time.

      I waited, very red, to control my voice; then I got up and set a chair for her. And she dropped onto it without protest.

      "What are you doing in my household?" I asked drily.

      At that her laughter ceased and she gave me a straight sweet look.

      "Don't you really know?"

      "Of course not. You're an agent of some sort. That's evident. Are you here to watch me?"

      "Dear Mr. O'Ryan," she said lightly, "have I been at any pains to deceive you? I'm not really a servant; you learned that very easily. And I let you learn it – " She laughed: – "and it was a very pretty compliment I paid you when I let you learn it."

      "I don't understand you," I said.

      "It's very simple. My name really is Thusis; I wish to remain in your employment. So do my friends. We will prove good servants. You shall be most comfortable, – you and your amusing friend, Mr. Smith —the Norwegian."

      I smiled in spite of my suspicion and perplexity, and Thusis smiled too, such a gay little confidential smile that I could not resist the occult offer of confidence that it very plainly implied.

      "You are not here to keep tabs on me?" I demanded.

      "You very nice young man, of course not!"

      "Do you really think I'm nice, Thusis?"

      "I think you're adorable!"

      The rush of emotion to the head made me red and dizzy. I had never been talked to that way by a young girl. I didn't know it was done.

      And another curious thing about this perfectly gay and unembarrassed eulogy of hers, she said it as frankly and spontaneously as she might have spoken to another girl or to an attractive child: there was absolutely no sex consciousness about her.

      "Are you going to let us remain and be your very faithful and diligent servants?" she asked, mischievously amused at the shock she had administered.

      "Thusis," I said, "it's going to be rather difficult for me to treat you as a servant. And if your friends are of the same quality – "

      "It's perfectly easy," she insisted. "If we presume, correct us. If we are slack, punish us. Be masculine and exacting; be bad tempered about your food – " She laughed delightfully – "Raise the devil with us if we misbehave."

      I didn't believe I could do that and said so; and she turned on me that bewildering smile and sat looking at me very intently, with her white hands clasped in her lap.

      "You don't think we're a band of robbers conspiring to chloroform you and Mr. Smith some night and make off with your effects?" she inquired.

      We both laughed.

      "You're very much puzzled, aren't you, Mr. O'Ryan," she continued.

      "I am, indeed."

      "But you're so nice – so straight and clean yourself – that you'd give me the benefit of any doubt, wouldn't you?"

      "Yes."

      "That's because you're a sportsman. That's because you play all games squarely." Her face became serious; her gray eyes met mine and seemed to look far into them.

      "Your country is neutral, isn't it?" she said.

      "Yes."

      "You are not."

      "I have my ideas."

      "And ideals," she added.

      "Yes, I have them still, Thusis."

      "So have I," she said. "I am trying to live up to them. If you will let me."

      "I'll even help you – "

      "No! Just let me alone. That is all I ask of you." Her youthful face grew graver. "But that is quite enough to ask of you. Because by letting me alone you are incurring danger to yourself.

      "Why do you tell me?"

      "Because I wish to be honest with you. If you retain me as your servant and accept me and my friends as such, – even if you live here quietly and blamelessly, obeying the local and Federal laws and making no inquiries concerning me or my three friends, – yet, nevertheless, you may find yourself in very serious trouble before many days."

      "Political trouble?"

      "All kinds of trouble, Mr. O'Ryan."

      There was a silence; she sat there with slender fingers tightly interlocked as though under some sort of nervous tension, but the faint hint of a smile in the corners of her mouth – which seemed to be part of her natural expression – remained.

      She said: "And more than that: if you let us remain as your servants, we shall trust to you and to Mr. Smith that neither one of you by look or word or gesture would ever convey to anybody the slightest hint that I and my friends are not exactly what we appear to be – your household servants."

      "Thusis," said I, "what the deuce are you up to?"

      "What am I up to?" She laughed outright: – "Let me see! First – " counting on her fingers, "I am trying to find a way to live up to my ideals; second, I am going to try to bring happiness to many, many people; third, I am prepared to sacrifice myself, my friends, my nearest and dearest." … She lifted her clear eyes: "I am quite ready to sacrifice you, too," she said.

      I smiled: "That would cost you very little," I said.

      There was another short silence. The girl looked at me with a curious intentness as though mentally appraising me – trying to establish in her mind any value I might represent to her – if any.

      "It's like an innocent bystander being hit by a bullet in a revolution," she murmured: "it's a pity: but it is unavoidable, sometimes."

      "I represent this theoretical and innocent bystander?"

      "I'm afraid you do, Mr. O'Ryan; the chances are that you'll get hurt."

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