I lay in a half-reclining posture, my head almost against her hip. I
was looking up into her face. She glanced down at me with a quick start
at the tone of my voice. She looked gravely for a moment into my face. I
observed an enigmatic something deep in her eyes ... which sank slowly
back as the image of a face does, in water,--as the face itself is
withdrawn. She moved apart a little, with a motion of slow deliberation.
"Hildreth!" I heard myself calling again, with a deep voice, a voice
that sounded alien in my own ears....
"Come, boy!" and she pulled back her hand from my grasp, and catching
mine in hers a moment, patted the back of it lightly--"come, don't let's
be foolish ... we've had such a happy afternoon together, don't let's
spoil it ... now let's start home."
As soon as I was on my feet and away from her, she became playful again.
She reached up her hand for me.
"Help me up!"
I brought her to her feet with a strong, quick pull, and against my
breast. But I did not dare do what I desired--take her in my arms and
try to kiss her. She paused a second, then thrust me back.
"Look, the sun's almost gone down ... and Mubby and Darrie will be home
a long time by this time ... and Mubby will be getting fidgety."
The sun's last huge shoulder of red was hulking like a spy behind a
distant, bare knoll ... separate blades of grass stood up in microscopic
yet giant distinctness, against its crimson background.
Our walk home was a silent, passively happy one that went without
incident....
* * * * *
Penton and Darrie were indeed home before us.
"Where have you two been all this time," Penton asked, a slight touch of
querulousness in his voice.
"Oh, Johnnie and I have been out for a walk, too!" replied Hildreth in
an even voice.
* * * * *
At lunch, the next day,--a day when Penton was called in to Philadelphia
on business--while Darrie, Ruth, Hildreth and I sat talking together
peacefully about our outdoor board, Hildreth suddenly threw a third of a
glass of milk on Darrie's shirt-waist front.
We were astounded.
"Why, Hildreth, what does this mean?" I asked.
"I won't stop to explain," she said, "but from now on I won't stay in
the same house with her ... I'm going to move this afternoon, down to
Penton's house" (meaning the little cottage but a few steps from my
tent).... Ruth rose to intercede ... "Don't Ruth, don't! I want to be
let alone." And Hildreth hurried away.
"What in the world could be the matter with Hildreth?" I asked of Ruth.
Darrie had also departed, to the big house, to rub her blouse quickly,
so that no stain would remain.
"Hildreth's capricious," answered Ruth, "but the plain explanation is
downright jealousy."
"Jealousy?"
"Yes ... even though Hildreth no longer loves Penton, she's jealous of
him ... the fact is, Hildreth doesn't know what she wants."
"But Darrie--Darrie is her friend?"
"Of course ... and remains her friend. Darrie doesn't want Penton. She
only pities him."
I quoted the line about pity being akin to love ... "they do a lot of
strolling together."
"Yes. But there's nothing between them ... not even a kiss ... of that
I'm certain. Darrie is as cool as a cucumber ... and Penton is as shy
with women as--you are!"