Although Noble had saluted the old couple so crossly, thus unconsciously
making them, as he made the sidewalk, proxy for Mr. Atwater, so to
speak, yet the sight of them penetrated his outer layers of
preoccupation and had an effect upon him. In the midst of his suffering
his imagination paused for a shudder: What miserable old gray shadows
those two were! Thank Heaven he and Julia could never be like that! And
in the haze that rose before his mind's eye he saw himself leading Julia
through years of adventure in far parts of the world: there were
glimpses of himself fighting grotesque figures on the edge of Himalayan
precipices at dawn, while Julia knelt by the tent on the glacier and
prayed for him. He saw head-waiters bowing him and Julia to tables in
"strange, foreign cafés," and when they were seated, and he had ordered
dishes that amazed her, he would say in a low voice: "Don't look now,
but do you see that heavy-shouldered man with the insignia, sitting
with that adventuress and those eight officers who are really his
guards? Don't be alarmed, Julia, but I am here to _get_ that man!
Perhaps you remember what your father once said of me? Now, when what I
have to do here is done, perhaps you may wish to write home and mention
a few things to that old man!" And then a boy's changing voice seemed to
sound again close by: "He said he just could stand the smell of _some_
cigarettes, but if you burned any more o' yours on his porch----" And
Noble came back miserably to town again.
From an upper window of a new stucco house two maidens of nineteen
peered down at him. The shade of a striped awning protected the window
from the strong sun and the maidens from the sight of man--the latter
protection being especially fortunate, since they were preparing to take
a conversational afternoon nap, were robed with little substance, and
their heads appeared to be antlered; for they caught sight of Noble just
as they were preparing to put silk-and-lace things they called "caps" on
their heads.
"Who's that?" the visiting one asked.
"It's Noble Dill; he's kind of one of the crowd."
"Is he nice?"
"Oh, sort of. Kind of shambles around."
"Looks like last year's straw hat to me," the visiting one giggled.
"Oh, he tries to dress--lately, that is--but he never did know how."
"Looks mad about something."
"Yes. He's one of the ones in love with that Julia Atwater I told you
about."
"Has he got any chance with her?"
"Noble Dill? Mercy!"
"Is he much in love with her?"
"'Much'? _Murder!_"
The visiting one turned from the window and yawned. "Come on: let's lie
down and talk about some of the nice ones!"
The second house beyond this was--it was the house of Julia!
And what a glamour of summer light lay upon it because it was the house
of Julia! The texture of the sunshine came under a spell here; glowing
flakes of amber were afloat; a powder of opals and rubies fell silently
adrizzle through the trees. The very air changed, beating faintly with a
fairy music, for breathing it was breathing sorcery: elfin symphonies
went tinkling through it. The grass in the next yard to Julia's was
just grass, but every blade of grass in her yard was cut of jewels.
Julia's house was also the house of that person who through some
ungovernable horseplay of destiny happened to be her father: and this
gave the enchanted spot a background of lurking cyclone--no one could
tell at what instant there might rise above the roseate pleasance a
funnel-shaped cloud. With young Herbert's injurious narrative fresh in
his mind, Noble quickened his steps; but as he reached the farther fence
post, marking the southward limit of Mr. Atwater's property, he halted
short, startled beautifully. Through the open front door, just passed, a
voice had called his name; a voice of such arresting sweetness that his
breath stopped, like his feet.
"Oh, Noble!" it called again.
He turned back, and any one who might have seen his face then would have
known what was the matter with him, and must have been only the more
sure of it because his mouth was open. The next instant the adequate
reason for his disorder came lightly through the open door and down to
the gate.
Julia was kind, much too kind! She had heard that her Aunt Harriet and
her Uncle Joe were frequently describing Mr. Atwater's most recent
explosion to other members of the extensive Atwater family league; and
though she had not discovered how Aunt Harriet and Uncle Joe had
obtained their material, yet, in Julia's way of wording her thoughts, an
account of the episode was "all over town," and she was almost certain
that by this time Noble Dill had heard it. And so, lest he should
suffer, the too-gentle creature seized the first opportunity to cheer
him up. That was the most harmful thing about Julia; when anybody liked
her--even Noble Dill--she couldn't bear to have him worried. She was the
sympathetic princess who wouldn't have her puppy's tail chopped off all
at once, but only a little at a time.
"I just happened to see you going by," she said, and then, with an
astounding perfection of seriousness, she added the question: "Did you
_mind_ my calling to you and stopping you, Noble?"
He leaned, drooping, upon the gatepost, seeming to yearn toward it; his
expression was such that this gatepost need not have been surprised if
Noble had knelt to it.
"Why, no," he said hoarsely. "No, I don't have to be back at the office
any particular time. No."
"I just wanted to ask you----" She hesitated. "Well, it really doesn't
amount to anything--it's nothing so important I couldn't have spoken to
you about it some other time."
"Well," said Noble, and then on the spur of the moment he continued
darkly: "There might not be any other time."
"How do you mean, Noble?"
He smiled faintly. "I'm thinking of going away." This was true;
nevertheless, it was the first time he had thought of it. "Going away,"
he repeated in a murmur. "From this old town."
A shadowy, sweet reproach came upon Julia's eyes. "You mean--for good,
Noble?" she asked in a low voice, although no one knew better than she
what trouble such performances often cost her, later. "Noble, you don't
mean----"
He made a vocal sound conveying recklessness, something resembling a
reckless laugh. "I might go--any day! Just as it happens to strike me."
"But where to, Noble?"
"I don't----Well, maybe to China."
"China!" she cried in amazement. "Why, Noble Dill!"
"There's lots of openings in China," he said. "A white man can get a
commission in the Chinese army any day."
"And so," she said, "you mean you'd rather be an officer in the Chinese
army than stay--here?" With that, she bit her lip and averted her face
for an instant, then turned to him again, quite calm. Julia could not
help doing these things; she was born that way, and no punishment
changed her.
"Julia----" the dazzled Noble began, but he stopped with this beginning,
his voice seeming to have exhausted itself upon the name.
"When do you think you'll start?" she asked.
His voice returned. "I don't know _just_ when," he said; and he began to
feel a little too much committed to this sudden plan of departure, and
to wonder how it had come about. "I--I haven't set any day--exactly."
"Have you talked it over with your mother yet, Noble?"
"Not yet--exactly," he said, and was conscious of a distaste for China
as something unpleasant and imminent. "I thought I'd wait till--till it
was certain I _would_ go."
"When will that be, Noble?" And in spite of herself, Julia spoke in the
tone of one who controls herself to ask in calmness: "Is my name on the
list for the guillotine?"
"Well," he said, "it'll be as soon as I've made up my mind to go. I
probably won't go before then; not till I've made up my mind to."
"But you might do that any day, mightn't you?"
Noble began to feel relieved; he seemed to have hit upon a way out.
"Yes; and then I'd be gone," he said firmly. "But probably I wouldn't go
at all unless I decided to." This seemed to save him from China, and he
added recklessly: "I guess I wouldn't be missed much around this old
town if I did go."
"Yes, you would," Julia said quickly. "Your family'd miss you--and so
would everybody."
"Julia, _you_ wouldn't----"