Paradise Garden. George Gibbs

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      In the afternoon Bishop Berkeley's book called me again and it was not until late that I realized that the boy had been gone from the house for four hours. His rod, creel and fly-book were missing from their accustomed places but even then I suspected nothing. It was not until the approach of the dinner hour when, Jerry not having returned, I began to think of yesterday's visitor.

      After waiting dinner for awhile, I dined alone, expecting every minute to hear the sound of his step in the hall or his cheery greeting but there was no sign of him and I guessed the truth. The minx had come in again and Jerry was with her.

      The events which followed were the first that cast the slightest shadow over our friendship, a shadow which was not to pass, for, from the day when Eve entered our garden, Jerry was changed. It wasn't that he loved me any the less or I him. It was merely that his attitude toward life and toward my point of view had shifted. He had begun to doubt my infallibility.

      It was this indefinable difference in our relations which delayed Jerry's confession, and not until some days later did he tell me how it all happened. He didn't think she would really come back, he said, and I chose at the time not to doubt him, but the fact was that he made his way directly upstream after leaving the house, and catching no fish, sat down on a rock near the iron grille. That the girl returned was not Jerry's fault, he said, because he didn't ask her to. But the fact that he was there awaiting her when she arrived shows that the wish was the father to the thought with Jerry. He had been sitting there alone fifteen or twenty minutes "listening for bird calls," as he explained it and had already identified twenty distinct notes when he heard the twenty-first.

      It was human. "Hello, Jerry," it said.

      It came from the iron railing, behind which the female Una was standing, grinning at him. He got up and walked toward her.

      "Hello!" he returned.

      "You didn't think I'd come, did you, Jerry?" she asked, though how she could have arrived at that conclusion with the boy sitting there waiting for her is more than I can imagine.

      "No, I didn't," he replied, already learning to prevaricate with calm assurance. "Are you coming in?"

      "I will if you ask me to."

      "I can't do that," he laughed. "You know the rules. But I don't see what I could do to stop you."

      "Please invite me, Jerry."

      "No, I won't invite you. But I won't put you out if you come."

      "Please!"

      "Why do you insist?"

      "Because—I think you ought to, you know. Just to make me feel comfortable."

      "You seemed very comfortable yesterday."

      "I think you're horrid."

      "Horrid! Because I won't break my promise?"

      "But you've made no promise."

      "It's understood. See here. I'll turn my back and walk away. If you come in it's not my fault."

      "You needn't bother. I'm not coming." She turned and made as though to go.

      "Una," he called. "Please. Come in."

      She reappeared miraculously, her vanity appeased by Jerry's downfall, bobbed through the bent irons, and rose smiling decorously as Eve must have smiled when she watched Adam first bite the apple.

      "Thanks," she laughed, clambering up the rocks. "It's awfully nice of you. I knew you would. I couldn't have come else."

      "It doesn't really make much difference, I suppose," said Jerry dubiously.

      "What doesn't?"

      "Whether I ask you or whether you just come."

      "I wouldn't have come if you hadn't."

      "Are you sure?"

      "Positive. I was just passing this way and I saw you sitting here. I hadn't the slightest intention of coming in. Of course, when you invited me, that made things different."

      He laughed and motioned to a rock upon which she sank.

      "Tell me," he said, "how you happen to be up here in the mountains alone. You don't belong around here. You didn't know about the wall, or about me, did you?"

      "Of course not; not yesterday. But I do now. I asked last night."

      "Who did you ask?"

      "The people I'm staying with."

      "And what did they tell you?"

      "They weren't very polite. It doesn't do to ignore one's neighbors. They said you were a freak."

      "What's a freak?"

      "Something strange, unnatural."

      "And do you think I'm strange or unnatural?" he asked soberly.

      She looked at him and laughed.

      "Unnatural! If nature is unnatural."

      "What else do they say?" Jerry asked after a thoughtful pause.

      "That your precious Roger is a dealer in magic and spells; that you've already learned flying on a broomstick and practice it on nights when the moon is full; that you're hideously ugly; that you're wonderfully beautiful; that you live in a tree; that you sleep in a coffin; that you're digging for gold; that you've found the recipe for diamonds; that you've—"

      "Now you're making fun of me," he laughed as she paused for lack of breath.

      "I'm not. If there's anything that you are or aren't that I haven't heard, I can't imagine what it is. In other words, Jerry, you're the mystery of the county. Aren't you glad?"

      "Glad? Of course not. It's all such utter rot."

      "Of course. But doesn't it make you feel mysterious?"

      "Not a bit."

      "Doesn't it ever occur to you how important a person you are?"

      "How—important?"

      "To begin with, of course, you're fabulously wealthy. You knew that, didn't you?"

      "Oh, I suppose I've got some money, but I don't let it worry me."

      "Do you know how much?"

      "No, I haven't the slightest idea."

      "Not that you've got millions—millions!"

      "If my millions are as impalpable as my broomstick they won't hurt me much," he laughed. And then soberly: "Say, Una, you seem to know a lot more about me than I know СКАЧАТЬ