From the Car Behind. Eleanor M. Ingram

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ quietly, "and of you. If you take Mr. Gerard home, she will see a great deal of him."

      Astonished, he regarded her. After a moment he again looked toward the man opposite, his expression sober.

      "It's like you to think of me," he acknowledged, with slow gratitude. "But that's all right. If any one else can get her, I'd better know it now. Of course he'll want her, she's just the kind of girl he'd like, such a sport herself about cars and things. If she likes him better than me, why I'll have to stand it, that's all."

      "Then, I shall be very glad to have Mr. Gerard stay with us, dear; don't you and I always like the same things?"

      "We sure do, Other Fellow?"

      The childhood "play name" brought their cordial glances together, as Mr. Rose dropped into his seat.

      "Game's over, Corwin B.; better run get your friend," he notified, cheerily imperious. "Hurry along."

      Half-smiling, half-anxious, Corrie lingered on the verge of compliance.

      "I—I feel a chill at the idea," he avowed. "I believe, after all, I'm shy of Gerard!"

      "Now what's the matter?" Mr. Rose ejaculated, staring after his son. "Shy; and I've been trying ever since he was born—without succeeding—to teach him that there were one or two people on earth bigger than he is."

      "Papa!"

      "Isn't it so, then?"

      She laughed with him, mutinously unanswering.

      Whatever diffidence Corrie had felt promptly vanished when Gerard turned from the group of players and met him. Flushed with vigorous exercise and recent conquest, his smiling eyes warming to recognition as they fell upon the breathless young motorist, there certainly was nothing intimidating in the late pitcher's aspect.

      "I'm Corrie Rose—you haven't forgotten? Come meet my father and sister, won't you?" was Corrie's eager greeting.

      It was not at all the dignified self-introduction and invitation he had planned as he ran across the field, but Gerard had the gift of drawing sincerity to meet his own, like to like.

      "You haven't forgotten me," countered the other, giving his hand. "And I should be delighted to meet your father and Miss Rose, if I were fit. Perhaps you'll give me another chance."

      "Fit? Why, we've been watching you play ball! A fellow don't play ball in a frock coat. We want you to come home to dinner, now, and stay with us over the race. You know I'm practising for it, too. Don't say no," as Gerard moved. "We want you."

      The impulsive, italicized speech was very compelling.

      "Thank you; I'll come over to your car, anyway," Gerard accepted. "But——What is it, Rupert?"

      "I guess you'd call it a raincoat," was the drawled reply. "I'd feel bad to find you'd brought out your pajamas, for there ain't anything to do except wear it, now."

      "I'm not cold."

      The mechanician nodded a brief return to Corrie's laughing salute, and directed his sardonic black eyes to Gerard's right arm, which the rolled-back sleeve left bare to the elbow.

      "I ain't specially timid," he submitted. "If rheumatism is part of the racing equipment you like to have with you, I'll just hurry home and make my will before we start."

      With an impatient shrug Gerard slipped into the garment.

      "Thanks; you're worse than a wife. Rose, you know Jack Rupert, who's sheer nerve when we're racing and sheer nerves when we're not."

      "I surely do," Corrie warmly confirmed. "You rode with Mr. Gerard at the Beach when he drove my car for me. I'm not likely to forget that."

      The small, malignly intelligent mechanician contemplated him, unsmiling, although far from unfriendly.

      "I ride with Gerard," he acquiesced.

      And only Gerard himself knew the history of service in the face of death comprehended in the simple statement.

      Thomas Rose, repeatedly millionaire and genially absolute dictator in his circle of affairs, was not easy to gainsay. And he chose to assume prompt possession of Gerard, almost before the introduction was over.

      "Get right in," he commanded. "Never mind anything, get in; and we'll talk about keeping you after we've had dinner. We'll stop at your hotel for your things, if you want them."

      "You're very good," Gerard began, and stopped, encountering Flavia's eyes. Neither had spoken of their former meeting, indeed they had been given no opportunity for speech, yet the acute recollection was a bond between them.

      "We do not wish to be insistent, Mr. Gerard," she said now, in her fresh, soft tones. "But we should be very glad to have you."

      Gerard continued to look at her, gravely attentive as she herself. She was as exquisitely dressed as when he had caught her in his arms on the stairs of the Beach grand-stand, the fragile hand she laid on the car door carried the vivid flash of jewels. Somehow he divined that her father exacted this, that in his pride of self-made millionaire he would insist upon extravagance as other men might upon economy. And she would yield. He remembered her playful speech at their first meeting: "I am the only passive member of a strong-willed family." His impression was of her most feminine softness that was not in the least weak.

      "Thank you," he answered. "I should have liked above all things to be your guest. But it happens that I have brought my mechanician with me and that I cannot desert him at the hotel. It does not matter at all about relative social position; we are down here together. Moreover, I have a ninety Mercury racing machine to look after, and I should be a most unrestful visitor, up at dawn and out until dark."

      "If that's all," decided Mr. Rose, "this is a seven-passenger car and an architect said my house had ninety-five rooms. There's standing room in the garage, I guess, for a car or two. Corrie, turn loose your horn."

      Corrie promptly put his finger on the button of the electric signal, and a raucous wail shattered the sunset hush.

      "That's your man, looking this way? I like your sticking to him, Gerard. Here he comes. We're all fixed, then; get in."

      Gerard got in, beside Flavia, who laughingly drew her velvet skirts to give him place.

      "I think this bears a perilous resemblance to a kidnapping," she doubted. "Is it quite safe, I wonder? Shall you summon rescue when we reach a populated place?"

      "If kidnapping means being taken against one's will, I haven't any case," he returned as seriously. "I don't believe I could be dislodged from here, now, if you tried."

      "I had not contemplated the attempt—yet."

      "Please do not! I look like a tramp, I know, but I will be exceedingly good."

      "Not immoderately good; we are a frivolous family," she deprecated.

      They looked at each other, and their eyes laughed together.

      Radiant, Corrie was already behind the steering-wheel, an СКАЧАТЬ