The Apple of Discord. Earle Ashley Walcott

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      "Here. He isn't a hodman, but he's just as good. He's a drayman with a voice like a fog-horn and a gift of tongue."

      "And the brains?"

      "I carry them under my hat," said Parks.

      "What's his name?"

      "Mr. Kearney–Mr. Hampden," said Parks, raising his voice and introducing me gravely. Then, taking the arm of his new-found treasure, Parks walked out of the saloon.

      CHAPTER III

      A GLIMPSE OF SUNSHINE

      My watch-hands pointed to eight o'clock as I was ushered into Wharton Kendrick's library. It was a handsome room, with handsome books and handsome solid leather-covered furniture to match the leather-covered volumes that lined its walls, but the effect of dark walls, dark ceilings, and dark bindings was a trifle gloomy. I made up my mind that my library should be a light and cheerful room with white and gold trimmings, and was trying to decide whether it should be in the southwest or southeast corner of my château in Spain, when my architectural studies were interrupted by the opening of a door.

      I rose in the expectation of meeting my employer; but it was not my employer who entered. Instead of Wharton Kendrick I found myself facing a young woman, who halted, irresolute and surprised, a pace or two from the door. Had it not been for her trailing dress I should at first glance have thought her but a young girl. She was short of stature and slender of figure, and for an instant I had the idea that the long gown and the arrangement of the yellow hair that crowned her head were part of a masquerade. But when I looked in her face I saw that she was a woman grown, and her years might have reached twenty.

      "Why, I didn't know you were here," said the startled intruder. Her voice was even-pitched, but it had a curious piquant quality about it.

      As I hesitated in surprise, she repeated her thought in more positive form: "I didn't know that any one was here."

      "I was waiting for Mr. Kendrick. I was told to wait here," I said apologetically.

      The gas-light fell on her face and I saw that she was pretty. Her head was small, but well shaped. Her color was that of the delicate blonde type, but her large eyes were of a deep brown.

      "I don't believe you know me, after all," she said, with a sudden mischievous look.

      I wanted to lie, but my tongue refused its office.

      "You'd better not tell any stories," she added.

      "I'm afraid–" I began.

      "Oh, if you're afraid I shall go away. I was going to read a book, but it doesn't matter."

      "I'm sure it does matter," I said. "If you go away I shall certainly feel as though I'm the one who ought to have gone."

      "I don't believe I ought to stay here talking with a man who thinks he doesn't know me."

      "I'm a very stupid person, I fear," I said.

      "I'm afraid some people would say so," she said with another mischievous look, though her face was perfectly grave; "but I shouldn't dare."

      "I'm on the lookout for a good bargain," I said desperately. "I should like very much to exchange names with you."

      "Oh, that wouldn't be a fair exchange at all," said the girl, shaking her head gravely. "I know Mr. Hampden's name already. You must offer a better bargain than that."

      "Then I must sue for pardon for a treacherous memory," I said.

      "It's a very serious matter," said the girl, "but I'll give you three chances to guess. If that's not enough, you'll have to ask uncle."

      "Miss Laura–Miss Kendrick!" I exclaimed.

      "Oh, did I tell you, after all?" she cried in dismay. "I said uncle, didn't I? Now, you see, I'm quite as stupid as other people."

      "Indeed, no," I said. "It's quite unpardonable that I should have forgotten."

      "It ought to be, but I'm afraid I shall have to forgive you," she said, dropping into a chair. "It's a longish time."

      "How many years has it been?" I asked.

      "I'm afraid you're adding to your offenses," she said, with a shake of the head. "You should certainly remember that it was five years ago this summer."

      "Have you been away so long?" I exclaimed.

      "Oh, dear! what shall I do with such a man? First he doesn't remember me at all, and then he doesn't know how many years I've been gone, and then he has no idea it was so long."

      "But you were only a little girl then," I urged.

      "And not worth noticing, would you say if you dared? I used to think I was quite grown up in those days."

      "You didn't–er–quite give the impression."

      "I see I didn't make one," she said. "It's a very good lesson for one's vanity, isn't it?"

      "And haven't you been back in all these years?"

      "'All these years' sounds better," she said. "I believe you are learning. I've been back twice, if you want your question answered."

      "It was kept quite a secret."

      "Oh, dear, no! Everybody knew who cared anything about knowing."

      "And where have you been, and what doing?"

      "I was in the East. First I finished the seminary."

      "And then?"

      "Then I went through college."

      "Indeed?"

      "Oh, you needn't be so surprised. It's nothing so very wonderful. You didn't suspect it from my looks?"

      "You certainly don't look like a blue-stocking."

      "I'm afraid I'm not. I never could get enough into my head at one time to be worthy of such a title. I believe a blue-stocking is a lady who has a great deal of learning."

      "Or at least," I said, "is very fond of showing it."

      "Oh, I think I have her main characteristic then," laughed my companion. "If I know anything I can't rest till I let somebody else know about it, too."

      "I believe you're not alone. They say that failing has descended to all the daughters of Mother Eve. How long are you to be here?" I asked.

      "Ages, I'm afraid," said Miss Kendrick. "Six months at least–maybe a year."

      "Then I can hope for the pleasure of seeing you sometimes?" I said.

      "I don't know," she answered, appealing to a bust of Homer on a book-shelf. "Do you think a man with such an uncertain memory could be trusted to keep it in mind that such a person is here?"

      "I can vouch for him," I said.

      "If you're quite sure–" she said.

      "Quite sure," I repeated positively.

      "Then СКАЧАТЬ