"The trouble is," said Anthony Robeson, shifting his position on the step
below Juliet so that he could rest his head against her knee, "the trouble
is we're getting too popular."
Juliet laughed and ran her fingers through his thick locks, gently
tweaking them. The two were alone together in the warm darkness of a July
evening, upon their own little porch.
"It's the first evening we've had to ourselves since the big snowdrift
under the front windows melted. That was about the date Roger Barnes met
Louis Lockwood here the first time. Ye gods--but they've kept each other's
footprints warm since then, haven't they? And now Cathcart is giving
indications of having contracted the fatal malady. Can't Rachel Redding be
incarcerated somewhere until the next moon is past? I notice they all have
worse symptoms each third quarter. That girl looks innocent, but--by
heaven, Julie, I think she has it down fine."
"No, you don't," said Juliet persuasively. "I should catch her at it if
she were deliberately trying to keep two such men as Roger and Louis
pitted against each other. They're doing it all themselves. I've known her
to run away when she saw one of them coming--so that she couldn't be
found. But, Tony dear, I've a plan."
"Good. I hope it's a duel between the two principals. If it is I'm going
to tamper with the weapons and see that each injures himself past help.
I'm getting a little weary of playing the hospitable host to a trio of
would-bes."
"Listen. We'll entertain them all at once for a week, with some extra
girls, and Judith and Wayne, and then we'll announce that we're not at
home for a month."
"All at once--a house-party?" Anthony sat up and laughed uproariously.
"I've tremendous faith in you, love, but where in the name of all the
French sardines that ever were dovetailed would you put such a crowd?"
"I've a practical plan. Louis Lockwood belongs to a fishing club that
spends every August up in Canada. They have a big tent, twenty by
twenty-five, for he told me so the other day. He would get it for us; we
would put it out in the orchard, close to the river. You and Wayne, and
Roger and Louis, and Stevens Cathcart could sleep down there, and I could
easily take care of Judith and Suzanne Gerard and Marie Dresser, here in
the house. Rachel should stay here, too. And Auntie Dingley would send
down Mary McKaim to cook for us, I'm sure."
"That's not so bad. But why Rachel--when you have so little room?"
"Because I want her to have all the fun; because if I don't keep her here
she will be running away half the time; and because----"
"Now comes the real reason," observed Anthony sagely.
"I don't want the other girls thinking she has the unfair advantage of
taking a man away from the party every evening to walk down home with
her."
"Wise little chaperon. I can see Roger and Louis now, glaring at each
other as the hour approaches for her departure."
"What do you think of my plan? It's only a plan, you know, Tony--subject
to your approval."
"Diplomat!" murmured Anthony, reaching up one arm and drawing it about her
shoulders. "You know you're safe to have my approval when you put it in
that tone. Well, provided you can figure out the finances--and I know you
wouldn't propose it if you hadn't done that already--I don't see any
objection. On one condition, though, Julie, mind you--on one condition."
"Name it."
"Of course, I can only be here evenings during your house party. So my
condition is that I have you and the home all to myself for my vacation
afterward. Not a wooer nor a chum admitted. No overdressed women out from
town, taking afternoon tea--no invitations to lonesome husbands out to
dinner. Just you and I. Did you ever imagine life in the rural localities
would be so gay, anyhow? I want to go fishing with you--tramping through
the woods with you--sitting out here on the porch with you--in short, have
you all to myself--and"--he turned completely about, kneeling below her on
the step, crushing her in both arms so vigorously that he stopped her
breath--"eat--you--up!"
"What a prospect," she cried softly, when she found herself partially
released. "Are you sure you need a vacation, just for that?"
"Certain of it. I've had to share you with other people all the year--and
now I've got to give you up to a jealous lovers' assemblage. So after
that, mind you, I have my satisfaction."
* * * * *
When Doctor Barnes was told of the plan he looked gloomy. "Going to ask
Lockwood?" he inquired at once.
"Of course," assented Juliet promptly.
"I don't see any 'of course' about it."
"What would Marie Dresser do to me if I didn't invite him?"
"He doesn't care for her----"
"Oh, yes, he does. Why, last winter he seemed to be on the point of asking
her to marry him. Everybody expected the announcement any day."
"Last winter and this summer are two different propositions."
"Marie doesn't think so."
"She'll get mightily undeceived, then. Whom else are you asking?"
"Stevens Cathcart."
The doctor groaned. "Is this a dose you're fixing for me? I'm going to be
too busy--I can't come."
"Very well," said Juliet placidly. She was sewing, upon the porch, and the
doctor sat on the step.
He looked up with a grimace. "I suppose you think I'll be out on the next
train after the rest arrive."
"I certainly do, Dr. Roger Williams Barnes."
"I presume you are inviting Suzanne?" he queried.
"Why not?"
"No reason why not. Cathcart admires her immensely--or did, before he
began to cultivate this place."