From a room at the end of the hall young Randall appeared in his shirt
sleeves, with his dark hair ruffled and his face flushed.
“Mildred!” he cried.
The fair-haired fellow disappeared.
“Mildred!” said Randall again.
She tried to speak, but she could not. She stood there just outside the
door, with the book under her arm, only looking at him.
He came down the hall to her. He, too, was silent. From the room at the
back she could hear laughter and the rattle of chips, and the air was
heavy with tobacco smoke.
“Come in!” he said.
She shook her head mutely, but he took her hand, drew her into the
little sitting room at the right, and closed the door after him.
A terrible despair filled her. She had done this incredible thing, come
here after him, and now he would despise her!
“Sit down!” he said.
She was glad to do so, for her knees were trembling.
“I couldn’t--” she said unsteadily. “I couldn’t go--I was afraid.”
“Oh, _darling_!” he cried. He was on his knees beside her chair, with
his dark head bent on her arm. “Oh, my darling girl!”
“Douglas!” she breathed, amazed, incredulous.
“I’m so sorry!” he said in a muffled voice. “My darling girl! For you to
come here--you little angel! I’m so sorry!”
“I just thought--” she faltered.
“I’m so sorry!” he cried again. “I wish I could tell you! You’re such an
angel, and I’m not fit to speak to you!”
She laid her hand on his head. He caught it in his own and raised it to
his lips in reverence.
“Mildred,” he said, “you don’t know how I feel. I mean it when I say I’m
at your feet.”
“But--” she began, and stopped, struggling with a new idea. “Is it like
this?” she thought. “If I’m just kind to him, and generous--”
If she stooped in love and pity--if she came down from her
pedestal--would he worship her? She put her arm around his neck.
“I do love you, Douglas!” she whispered.
He rose to his feet.
“Mildred,” he said, “you’ll see--I’ll do _anything_ for you! I’m not
half good enough, but, Mildred, I’ll try. I don’t care how long you want
me to wait. I’ll do anything you tell me!”
When she had given him an inch, he had taken an ell; but when she was
reckless in her giving, he stood before her like this, utterly humble.
“Just tell me what you want,” he said.
She was silent for a moment.
“I’d like you to come out to Hartford and see my father and mother,” she
said gravely.
“All right!” he said. “I’ll get my hat and coat.”
He left the door of the room open, and she could hear his curt voice in
the back room.
“I’m going, boys.”
“You can’t break up the party!” protested an indignant voice.
“I’ve got to go,” he said. “My--the girl I’m engaged to--wants me to go
out to see her people.”
“Henpecked already!” observed the same indignant voice.
“Good-by!” said Randall. “You can take my chips, Fry. We’ll settle up
later.”
When she had been dignified and reserved, he had been angry and
unmanageable. When she ran after him, at such a cost to her pride, she
became his sovereign lady, whose least word he obeyed.
“Men are queer!” thought Mildred.