"Your wicked fiddlesticks, Kathie!" I said. "Don't talk nonsense. What
time has been settled on for the church fair?"
She was so taken aback that she had no defense ready, and after a sort
of gasp of amazement she answered my question, and said no more about
her wickedness. Baby came in with Rosa, and Kathie behaved as usual,
only I remember now that she did not offer to touch Tomine. I went
upstairs for a moment with Rosa and baby to see if everything was right,
and when I went back to the parlor my guest had taken herself off. She
had gone without her supper as she had said she should. I confess my
first feeling was that she needed to be soundly shaken; but after all
when a child is morbidly wrong in her feelings the particular way in
which she shows it is not of much consequence. Perhaps she had better be
expending her distempered mood on jealousy of baby than on religion. The
question is what I had better do; and I confess I do not know how to
answer it.
July 28. Mr. Saychase has made his purpose and his ideas entirely clear,
and I wish I could think of them with less inclination to laugh. If he
could for a single minute know how funny he was, it would do him more
good than anything I can think of as likely to happen to him.
He came to call to-night, and so evident was his air of excitement that
even Rosa must have noticed it; she was all significant smiles when she
ushered him in. I tried to talk about commonplace things, but could get
practically no response. For half an hour by the clock we went stumbling
on with intervals of silence when I could think of nothing except that I
must say something. At last he cleared his throat with a manner so
desperate and determined that I knew something dreadful was coming.
"Miss Privet," he said, "I thought I would mention to you that I came
to-night for a particular purpose."
It came over me with a sickening sense that old lady Andrews was right,
and that it was too late to stop him. I did make a desperate effort to
interpose, but he had at last got started, and would not be stayed.
"You must have noticed," he went on, as if he were repeating a lesson,
"that I entertain a great respect for your character."
"Indeed, Mr. Saychase," I responded, with a laugh which was principally
nerves, "you evidently mean to make me unbearably vain."
"That you could never be," he returned with an air of gallantry I should
not have thought him capable of. "Your modesty is one of your greatest
charms."
The girl who can hear her modesty praised and not be amused must be
lacking in a sense of humor. I laughed aloud before I realized what I
was doing. Then, as he looked hurt, I apologized humbly.
"It's no matter," he said graciously; "of course you wouldn't be modest
if you knew how modest you are."
This sounded so ambiguous and so like comic opera that in spite of
myself I laughed again.
"Come, Mr. Saychase," I begged him, "don't say any more about my
modesty, please. We'll take it for granted. Have you seen Aunt Naomi
this week? She has had a little return of her bad cold."
"I came over to-night," he broke out explosively, not in the least
diverted by my question, "to ask you to marry me."
All I could do was to blurt out his name like an awkward schoolgirl.
"I dare say you are surprised, Miss Ruth," he went on, evidently
relieved to have got the first plunge over with, "but that, as we were
saying, may be laid to modesty."
I respect Mr. Saychase,--at least I think he means well, and I hated to
be the means of making him uncomfortable; but this return to my modesty
was too funny, and nearly sent me off into laughter again. My sense of
the fun of the situation brought back, however, my self-control.
"Mr. Saychase," I said, as gravely as I could, "I am not so dull as not
to feel the honor you have done me, but such a thing is entirely
impossible. We had better talk of something else."
"But I am in earnest, Miss Privet," he urged.