THE GIRL FROM RADCLIFFE
"Long distance call from Mr. Billings, sir," said Jenkins, lifting the
receiver.
By Jove, he had just caught me as I was about to leave.
"Hello! That you, Lightnut?" came his voice. "Say, old chap, you
remember you said you wouldn't mind putting up the kid overnight on the
way home from college. Remember? Wants to rest over and come up the
river on the day line."
Yes, I remembered, and said so.
"All right, then; it's to-night. Be there about nine from Boston. Don't
go to any trouble, now, nor alter any plans. The kid will probably be
dead tired and off to bed before you get home from your dinner."
"That's all right, old chap; Jenkins will look after the young one."
I heard Billings chuckle--I remembered that chuckle afterward.
"Not much of the young one there. Eighteen, you know. Never off to
school, though, until last year--and by George, it was time! Between my
mother and my sister the kid was being absolutely ruined--petted,
mollycoddled, and was getting soft and silly--oh, something to make you
sick. Well, so much obliged, Dicky. You know what these hotels are.
Good-by."
I explained to Jenkins. "All right, sir," he said. "I won't go out until
after nine. It'll be time enough."
And so I went off. I returned early, about ten, and sat reading. Jenkins
was still away, and the door of my guest room was open.
"Good evening!"
The voice behind me was soft, musical, delicious.
I whirled about, and there, within the door, leaning against the frame,
was the most beautiful creature I ever saw in all my life.
A girl! But oh, by Jove, _such_ a girl! A lovely, rosy blonde, dash it!
Golden-haired angel--long, droopy kind of lashes, don't you know--eyes
like dreamy sapphire seas--oh, that sort of thing--a peach!
The leap that brought me to my feet sent my chair thudding backward.
"Why--er--good evening," I managed to stammer. Just managed, you know,
for, give you my word, I never was so bowled over in my life--never! And
on the instant I guessed what it meant. The "kid" that Billings referred
to wasn't a kid brother at all, but was a kid sister--girl, by Jove!
"Are you busy?" I saw the flash of her perfect little teeth as her lips
parted in a smile. "If not, may I talk to you a while?"
I mumbled something designed to be pleasant--dash me if I know what--and
managed to summon sense enough to lift toward her a wicker arm-chair.
Then I dashed into my bedroom to chuck the smoking-jacket and get into a
coat. And all the while I was thinking harder than I ever had thought it
possible.
Just the thing to have expected of an ass like Billings--a fellow with
no sense of the proprieties! His kind of mind had never got any further
than the fact that I had a guest-room and a quiet apartment. The further
fact that it was in a bachelor apartment house and I a bachelor--and not
yet out of my twenties, dash it--would never have presented itself to a
chump like Billings as having any bearing on the matter.
"Of course, I must get right over to the club and leave her in
possession--it's the only thing left to do." This was my thought as I
slipped into my coat and gave my hair a touch--just a touch, don't you
know. The thing to do was to carry it off as naturally as possible for a
few minutes, and then slip away. Probably she hadn't counted upon my
being in town at all--had taken it for granted it was some sort of
family apartment--with housekeeper, servant maids, all that sort of
thing.
"Never mind," I thought, as I kicked off my half-shoes and jerked on the
first things at hand. "Thing to do now is to keep that child's mind
from being distressed. She'll have a good sleep and get off early in the
morning on the Albany boat. Don't suppose she'd understand,
anyhow--sweet, innocent, unsophisticated thing like that. What a fool
Billings is!"
And I jammed in savagely the turquoise matrix pin with which I was
replacing the pearl, because it went better with my tie.
"Now, just a few minutes of conversation to put her at her ease," I
reflected, "and then I'm off. I'll get the janitor's wife to come up and
stay near her."
And I dashed back, murmuring some jolly rubbish of apology. And then I
just brought up speechless--almost fell over backward. For as she stood
there under the light, I saw that what I had taken for a dress of black
silk was not a dress at all, but a suit of pajamas--black, filmy
pajamas, whose loose elegance concealed but could not wholly deny the
goddess-like figure within.
"I'd have known you anywhere, Mr. Lightnut." And then I found that we
were shaking hands, my fingers crushed in a grasp I never could have
thought possible from that tiny hand. "From hearing Jack talk, your name
is a sort of household word in the Billings family."
I mumbled something jolly idiotic--some acknowledgment. But I was pink
about the ears, and I knew it, while she was cool and serene as a lily
of the what-you-call-it, don't you know. I was trying not to see the
pajamas, trying to pretend not to notice them, but dashed if I didn't
only make it worse!
For she looked down at herself with a laugh--rather an embarrassed
laugh, I thought; and her little shrug and glance directed attention to
her attire.
"I see you're looking at the pajamas," she said smiling.
And her eyes looked at me through those drooping lashes--oh, such a way!
"Oh, no--I assure--certainly not," I stammered hastily. Dash it, I never
was so rebuked and mortified in all my life. What an ass I had been to
seem to notice at all!
She looked troubled. "Say, do you mind my wearing them?" she inquired.
"I? Certainly not--well, I should say not!" I retorted, almost with
indignation.
"Sure?" By Jove, what ripping eyes she had!
"Of course not!" emphatically.
Her sunny head nodded satisfaction. "That's all right, then. I was
afraid you wouldn't like it--afraid you would think I was acting a
little _free_. But your man Jenkins--isn't that his name?--said he
thought you would _like_ for me to wear them."
I gasped.
"Jen--what's _that_?" I was amazed, indignant at Jenkins' effrontery.
"He--he suggested that you wear--er--these?"
She nodded, her glorious eyes shining wistfully.
"You see, I went to a frat dance last night in Cambridge," she
explained; "and in the hurry this morning, somehow, one of my bags--a
suit-case--was left behind. And when I got here to-night and began
piling the things out of my other bag--well, I saw I was up a tree. Not
a thing to slip into, you know--not so much as a dressing-gown or even a
bathrobe. Then your man saved my life--suggested these pajamas. See?"
"Oh, I see!"
I said so; but, dash it, I wasn't sure I did, for I knew so devilish
little about girls. But I got hold of this much: I understood that this
delicately reared creature had missed the restfulness and luxury of a
shift to some sort of dressing-robe after her day of travel. Probably
one of those ribbony, pinky-white fripperies one sees in the windows of
the Avenue shops, rosy, foamy dreams like the--well, like the crest of a
soda cocktail, don't you know. And the pajamas had been adopted as a
comfortable makeshift.
By Jove! And here she was sitting, calmly telling me all about it--just
as she might to Jack--never thinking a thing about it! My, how charming,
how innocent she was! But, dash it, that was the reason she was so
beautiful--of course, that was it--and I had never seen anybody like her
in all the world before. I knew jolly well I never should again, either.
But I knew I ought to go--and at once.
"I must cut along now," I thought; "infernal shame to be taking
advantage of her this way!" And then I thought I would just wait a wee
minute longer.
Just then she turned toward me, her elbow on the arm of the wicker
chair, her dainty, manicured finger-tips supporting her chin.
"You know, Mr. Lightnut, I wasn't sure you would remember me at all,"
she said. "I was such a kid when you saw me last."
"Oh, yes," I said, trying to recall the rather hoydenish children I had
seen on the motor trip to Billings' home five years before. "I remember
you were quite a little girl--weren't you?"
I thought her face darkened a little; then her smile flashed through,
like sunshine through a cloud. Her laugh came on top, like the mellow
ripple of a tiny brook--that sort of thing--oh, you know!
"Oh, I say now, Mr. Lightnut, cut out the josh," she remonstrated; and I
thought she grew a little red. "No more for mine those sissy, girlie
ways--I've got well over all of that!"
She tossed one knee over the other and threw herself back in the chair.
She seemed a little piqued. She went on:
"I just tell you what--there's nothing like a couple of years off at
college for toughening you! Gets all those mamma's baby ways out of you,
you bet your life, and all the slushiness you get from trying to be like
your sisters. Shucks!"
I caught my breath. Of course, she had no idea how it sounded--this sort
of talk; it was just her innocent frankness, her--what d'ye call
it?--her _ingenuousness_--dash it!
She continued musingly: "Gee, but I was soft when I first went away--a
regular pie-faced angel-child!" Her voice had in it a sneer. Then she
straightened up, whirled her chair facing me, and gave me a sounding
slap on the knee. "Say, maybe the fellows I met didn't educate that out
of me mighty quick! Well, I reckon yes!" And she nodded, eying me
sidewise, her pretty chin in the air.
But, dash me, I was so aghast I couldn't get out a word. Just sat there
batting at her and turning hot and cold by turns. Came devilish near
losing consciousness, by Jove, that's what!
Of course, I knew she didn't know what she was talking about. Hadn't any
sisters myself, don't you know, and never had learned much about other
fellows' sisters; but, dash it, I knew something about _faces_, and I
would have staked my life on hers. You can nearly always tell, you know.
But, anyhow, I thought I had better go now.
I got up. "I say, you want to just make yourself at home," I said. "And
if you don't mind, I'll see you at the boat in the morning."
She stood up, too, looking rather surprised. "You're not going away?"
"Oh, no; not out of town." I thought that was what she meant. I added:
"And as I go out, I'll stop down-stairs and have some one come up and
stay with you."
She dropped to the arm of the chair, her pretty face showing dismay.
"Oh, but see here! I'm running you off--I know I am. Say, Mr. Lightnut,
I don't want to do that. I thought sure you were going to be here.
Brother insisted you would be."
Brother! Nice brother, indeed, for her--poor little thing!
"Oh, you'll be all right," I said reassuringly. "I'm just going over to
the club, don't you know--not far away."
She came right up to me and placed a hand on each shoulder.
"Honest Injun, now," she said--and her smile was ravishing. "Honest,
now, Mr. Lightnut, you're going just because I'm here. Say now, own up!"
And, dash it, there was nothing to do but admit it.
"All right," she said; and I thought her eyes flashed a little. "Then I
go to a hotel--that's all!"
"A hotel! Why, you can't do that--oh, I say!"
"Why can't I?" She was downright angry--I could see it; and how
distractingly lovely she was with that flame in her cheeks!
But she was just a child--an innocent little child; and how the deuce
could I ever make her understand?
I stammered: "Why--er--not in New York, you know. They won't take a
lady in at this time of night. They--"
She snapped her fingers. "Oh, I say, Mr. Lightnut, play easier on that
girlie and lady pedal; cook up a fresh gag! I tell you, I've put all
that behind me. Say, wait till you've known me a little, and I'll bet a
purse you never call _me_ a lady again! Lady! Say, that's _funny_!"
And it certainly seemed to strike her sense of humor. She gave me a
sudden punch in the side that fairly left me breathless, and her
laughter rang out birdlike, joyous. Of a sudden I felt devilish awkward
and foolish.
"Oh, _please_ stop stringing me, Mr. Lightnut--don't treat me like a
kid. I want to get acquainted." Then her bright face sobered. "Say, was
that on the level--that about your going to leave me? See here, I'm not
bothering you, am I, Mr. Lightnut?"
"Bothering me!" I ejaculated. "Bothering _me_? I should say not!"
I think I must have said it heartily and convincingly, don't you know,
for her lovely face looked pleased.
"Because if I am," she said earnestly, "I'll fade away into my own
little room there." Her glance ranged toward her door. "It's sure some
swell, that room."
"So jolly glad you like it," I said.
"Well, I should say!" Then her beautiful eyes looked at me full.
"You know, I didn't expect this--I mean having a room all to myself.
Never."
And then, while I gasped, she went on, sweetly and calmly:
"Why, Mr. Lightnut, Brother Jack would throw seventeen thousand fits if
I went to a hotel, because--" She laughed deliciously. "Well, I promised
him that if he would let me come home by New York I would stay right
here with you and behave myself."
"Behave yourself!" I echoed indignantly. "Why, look here, do you mean to
say Jack Billings--your own brother, you know--thought you
wouldn't--er,--do that at a hotel?"
"_Thought?_" Her laugh this time was explosive. "No, he never thought
it; he _knew_ I wouldn't! He knew I would be tearing around all night
with the boys--_that's_ what!"
And dash me, if she didn't throw herself back with a kind of swagger, by
Jove!
"Why, you--you wouldn't do such a thing!" I uttered faintly.
"Wouldn't I?" She straightened suddenly, and her lovely blue eyes
narrowed at me. "Say, Mr. Lightnut, I don't want you to get me sized up
wrong. I'm none of your little waxy gardenias--not much! When I'm in New
York, it's the bright lights and the Great White Way for mine--yes, sir,
every time!"
And she gave me a blow on the shoulder that was like a stroke from a
man's arm. It sent me down into my chair.
"If you don't believe me," she added, her face shining with excitement,
"just you ask Jack about last summer when I came through--about that joy
ride to Coney with three Columbia fellows, and how we got pinched. Oh,
mamma, but didn't Jack swear at me!"
I heard a noise by the door. Jenkins stood there, his eyes sticking out
like hard boiled eggs.
"I--I'm back, sir," he said rather falteringly. "Beg pardon, sir; just
thought you'd want to know. I didn't know you--h'm!" And with an odd
look and a little cough Jenkins slipped away. But I scarcely noticed him
at all.
Poor misguided girl!
My brain was buzzing like a devilish hive of bees, don't you know. By
Jove, this was something _awful_!
And yet--and yet--Her frank, sweet face met mine with a clear light that
there was no mistaking. There was no going behind it--she was a
thoroughbred, a queen--a _lady_, dash it! I _knew_ it! And I just
settled on that, and was ready to die right then and there if anybody
dared to dispute it. I didn't care a jolly hang how she talked; it was
just nothing--just the demoralizing swagger of a little boarding-school
girl trying to show off like her brothers. And her language? Why, just
the devilish, natural result of having a coarse, slangy brute like
Billings for a brother. Poor little girl! It was a beastly shame.
She was watching me curiously, smilingly, as she sat there, her
devilishly pretty mouth puckered into a cherry as she softly whistled
and drummed her shining nails upon the chair arm.
"I'm afraid I've shocked you," she said. "Jack says you're so good."
Dash it, somehow I felt humiliated! She said it in a way that made me
feel like a silly ass, you know.
But she wasn't thinking about me any more. Her eye fell on the tabouret,
and her little hand stretched toward it.
"May I?" she said with an arch inquiring glance. "Your cigarettes look
good to me. I emptied my case an hour ago."
And I proffered them with a show of alacrity. "Pray, pardon me," I said.
"I--I never thought of you smoking." A chuckle came through the tiny
teeth grasping the cigarette. "Thought I was too goody-goody, eh?"
I stammered something--dashed if I know what--and blinked a little
gloomily as she drew a brisk fire from the flame I tendered.
Odd thing, by Jove; here I had been going to dinners, world without end,
where fellows' wives and girls and sisters smoked cigarettes, and I
never had thought a thing about it. But now, somehow, I didn't like it
for _her_. Sort of thing well enough for other chaps' girls and
sisters, you know, but--well, this was _different_, by Jove! Devilish
queer thing, that, what a lot of things seem the caper for them that we
don't like for "our own," eh?
And yet--oh, I say, she certainly did look fetching about it--downright
bewitching, you know! I think maybe it was because she didn't fumble the
thing as if she was afraid of it--as if it was just a red hot coal and
going to burn her. Most of them do, you know. No, this girl really
seemed to enjoy it. Inhaled the whole thing at three draws and reached
for another.
"Do--er--you smoke much?" I ventured anxiously. "Cigarettes, you know?"
She pulled a sparkling half-inch as she shook her little head. I felt
awfully relieved. "Not for me," she remarked carelessly. "I prefer a
pipe."
"_Pipe!_" I repeated feebly.
The golden head inclined. "Bet you! Good old, well-seasoned brier for
mine--well-caked and a little strong." Puff-puff. "Oh, damn your patent
sanitary pipes, I say!"
And as backward I collapsed upon the cushions, she threw her leg over
the arm of her chair and shot two long cones of smoke from her dainty
nostrils.