That goodnight's kiss should have brought Dorian back to Carlia sooner
than it did; but it was nearly a month before he saw her again. The fact
that it was the busiest time of the year was surely no adequate excuse
for this neglect. Harvest was on again, and the dry-farm called for much
of his attention. Dorian prospered, and he had no time to devote to the
girls, so he thought, and so he said, when occasion demanded expression.
One evening while driving through the city and seeing the lights of the
moving picture theatre, he was reminded of his promise to Carlia. His
conscience pricked him just a little, so the very next evening he drove
up to Farmer Duke's. Seeing no one choring about, he went into the house
and inquired after Carlia. Mrs. Duke told him that Carlia had gone to
the city that afternoon. She was expected back any minute, but one could
never tell, lately, when she would get home. Since this Mr. Lamont had
taken her to the city a number of times, she had been late in getting
home.
"Mr. Lamont?" he inquired.
"Yes; haven't you met him? Don't you know him?"
"No; who is he?"
"Dorian, I don't know. Father seems to think he's all right, but I don't
like him. Oh, Dorian, why don't you come around oftener?"
Mrs. Duke sank into a chair and wiped away the tears from her eyes with
the corner of her apron. Dorian experienced a strange sinking of the
heart. Again he asked who this Mr. Lamont was.
"He's a salesman of some kind, so he says. He drives about in one of
those automobiles. Surely, you have seen him--a fine-looking fellow with
nice manners and all that, but--"
"And does Carlia go out with him?"
"He has taken her out riding a number of times. He meets her in the city
sometimes. I don't know what to make of it, Dorian. I'm afraid."
Dorian seemed unable to say anything which would calm the mother's
fears. That Carlia should be keeping company with someone other than
himself, had never occurred to him. And yet, why not? she was aid enough
to accept attention from young men. He had certainly neglected her, as
the mother had implied. The girl had such few opportunities for going
out, why should she not accept such as came to her. But this stranger,
this outsider! Dorian soon took his departure.
He went home, unhitched, and put up his horse; but instead of going into
the house, he walked down to the post office. He found nothing in his
box. He felt better in the open, so he continued to walk. He had told
his mother he was going to the city, so he might as well walk that way.
Soon the lights gleamed through the coming darkness. He went on with his
confused thoughts, on into the city and to the moving picture show. He
bought a ticket and an attendant led him stumbling in the dark room to a
seat.
It was the first time he had been there. He and Carlia were going
together. It was quite wonderful to the young man to see the actors
moving about lifelike on the white screen. The story contained a number
of love-making scenes, which, had they been enacted in real life, in
public as this was, they would certainly have been stopped by the
police. Then there was a comic picture wherein a young fellow was
playing pranks on an old man. The presentation could hardly be said to
teach respect for old age, but the audience laughed uproariously at it.
When the picture closed and the lights went on, Dorian turned about to
leave, and there stood Carlia. A young man was assisting her into her
light wraps. She saw him, so there was no escape, and they spoke to each
other. Carlia introduced her escort, Mr. Lamont.
"Glad to know you," said Mr. Lamont, in a hearty way. "I've known of you
through Miss Duke. Going home now?"
"Yes," said Dorian.
"Drive?"
"No; I'm walking."
"Then you'll ride with us. Plenty of room. Glad to have you."
"Thank you, I--"
"Yes, come," urged Carlia.
Dorian hesitated. He tried to carry an independent manner, but Mr.
Lamont linked his arm sociably with Dorian's as he said:
"Of course you'll ride home with us; but first we'll have a little ice
cream."
"No thanks," Dorian managed to say. What more did this fellow want of
him?
However, as Dorian could give no good reason why he should not ride home
with them, he found no way of refusing to accompany them to a nearby
ice-cream parlor. Mr. Lamont gave the order, and was very attentive to
Carlia and Dorian. It was he who kept the flow of conversation going.
The other two, plainly, were not adept at this.
"What did you think of the show, Mr. Trent?"
"The moving pictures are wonderful, but I did not like the story very
much."
"It was rotten," exclaimed the other in seeming disgust. I did not
know what was on, or I should not have gone. Last week they had a fine
picture, a regular classic. Did you see it?
"No; in fact, this is my first visit."
"Oh, indeed. This is Miss Duke's second visit only."
Under the bright lights Carlia showed rouge on her cheeks, something
Dorian had never seen on her before. Her lips seemed redder than ever,
and he eyes shone with a bright luster. Mr. Lamont led them to his
automobile, and then Dorian remembered the night when this same young
man with the same automobile had stopped near Carlia's home. Carlia
seated herself with the driver, while Dorian took the back seat. They
were soon speeding along the road which led to Greenstreet. The cool
night air fanned Dorian's hot face. Conversation ceased. Even Carlia
and the driver were silent. The moon peeped over the eastern hills. The
country-side was silent. Dorian thought of the strange events of the
evening. This Mr. Lamont had not only captured Carlia but Dorian also.
"If I were out with a girl," reasoned Dorian, "I certainly wouldn't want
a third person along if I could help it." Why should this man be so
eager to have his company? Dorian did not understand, not then.
In a short time they drove up to Carlia's gate, and she and Dorian
alighted. The driver did not get out. The machine purred as if impatient
to be off again and the lamps threw their streams of light along the
road.
"Well, I shall have to be getting back," said Mr. Lamont. "Goodnight,
Miss Duke. Thanks for your company. Goodnight, Mr. Trent; sure glad to
have met you."
The machine glided into the well-worn road and was off. The two stood
looking at it for a moment. Then Carlia moved toward the house.
"Come in" she said.
He mechanically followed. He might as well act the fool to the end of
the chapter, he thought. It was eleven by the parlor clock, but the
mother seemed greatly relieved when she saw Dorian with her daughter.
Carlia threw off her wraps. She appeared ill at ease. Her gaiety was
forced. She seemed to be acting a part, but she was doing it poorly.
Dorian was not only ill at ease himself, but he was bewildered. He
seated himself on the sofa. Carlia took a chair on the other side of the
room and gazed out of the window into the night.
"Carlia, why did you--why do you," he stammered.
"Why shouldn't I?" she replied, somewhat defiantly as if she understood
his unfinished question.
"You know you should not. It's wrong. Who is he anyway?"
"He at least thinks of me and wants to show me a good time, and that's
more than anybody else does."
"Carlia!"
"Well, that's the truth." She arose, walked to the table in the middle
of the room and stood challengingly before him. "Who are you to find
fault? What have you done to--"
"I'll admit I've done very little; but you, yourself."
"Never mind me. What do you care for me? What does anybody care?"
"Your mother, at least."
"Yes, mother; poor, dear mother.... Oh, my God, I can't stand it, I
can't stand it!" With a sob she broke and sank down by the table, hiding
her face in her arms. Dorian arose to go to her. The door opened, and
the mother appeared.
"What is it, Carlia," she asked in alarm.
The girl raised her head, swiftly dashed the tears from her eyes, then
with a sad effort to smile, said:
"Nothing, mother, nothing at all. I'm going to bed. Where's father?"
"He was called out to Uncle Zed's who is sick. Dorian's mother is there
with him too, I understand."
"Then I'd better go for her," said the young man. "I'll say goodnight.
Poor Uncle Zed; he hasn't been well lately. Goodnight Sister Duke,
goodnight Carlia."
Carlia stood in the doorway leading to the stairs. "Goodnight, Dorian,"
she said. "Forgive me for being so rude."
He stepped toward her, but she motioned him back, and than ran up the
carpetless stairs to her room. Dorian went out in the night. With a
heavy heart he hurried down the road in the direction of Uncle Zed's
home.