His uncle's demise cut Eddie out of the picnic with Luella; but she was
present at the funeral and gave him a wonderful smile. Uncle Loren's
final will was not discovered until the pillow-slip was sent to the
wash; and at the funeral Eddie was still the object of more or less
disguised congratulations as an important heir.
Luella solaced him with rare tact and tenderness, and spoke much of his
loneliness and his need of a helpmate. Eddie resolved to ask her to
marry him as soon as he could compose the speech.
Some days later Uncle Loren's farewell will turned up, and Eddie fell
from grace with a thump. The town laughed at him, as people always laugh
when a person--particularly so plump a person as Eddie was--falls hard
on the slippery sidewalk of this icy world.
In his dismay he hastened to Luella for sympathy, but she turned up
missing. She jilted him with a jolt that knocked his heart out of his
mouth. He stood, as it were, gaping stupidly, in the middle of the
highway.
Then Ellaphine Govers came along, picked his heart out of the road,
dusted it, and offered it back. He was so grateful that he asked her to
keep it for him. He was so pitiable an object that he felt honored even
by the support of Ellar Govers.
He went with Ellar quite a lot. He found her very comfortable company.
She seemed flattered by his attention. Other people acted as if they
were doing him a favor by letting him stand around.
He had lost Uncle Loren's money, but he still had a small job at the
factory. Partly to please Ellar and partly to show certain folks that he
was not yet dead, he took her out for a drive behind a livery-stable
horse. It was a beautiful drive, and the horse was so tame that it
showed no desire to run away. It was perfectly willing to stand still
where the view was good.
He let Ellar drive awhile, and that was the only time the horse
misbehaved. It saw a stack of hay, nearly went mad, and tried to climb a
rail fence; but Ellar yelled at it and slapped the lines at it and got
it past the danger zone, and it relapsed into its usual mood of despair.
Eddie told Ellar the horse was "attackted with haydrophobia." And she
nearly laughed herself to death and said:
"You do say the funniest things!"
She was a girl who could appreciate a fellow's jokes, and he saw that
they could have awful good times together. He told her so without
difficulty and she agreed that they could, and they were as good as
engaged before they got back as far as the fair-grounds. As they came
into the familiar streets Eddie observed a remarkable change in the
manner of the people they passed. People made an effort to attract his
eye. They wafted him salutes from a distance. He encountered such a
lifting of hats, elaborateness of smiles and flourish of hands, that he
said to Ellaphine:
"Say, Pheeny, I wonder what the joke is!"
"Me, I guess," sighed Ellaphine. "They're makin' fun of you for takin'
me out buggy-ridin'."
"Ah, go on!" said Eddie. "They've found out something about me and
they're pokin' fun."
He was overcome with shame and drove to Ellaphine's house by a side
street and escorted the horse to the livery-stable by a back alley. On
his way home he tried in vain to dodge Luella Thickins, but she headed
him off with one of her Sunday-best smiles. She bowled him over by an
effusive manner.
"Why, Eddie, you haven't been round to see me for the longest time!
Can't you come on over 'safternoon? I'd just love to see you!"
He wondered whether she had forgotten how she had ground his meek heart
under her heel the last time he called.
She was so nice to him that she frightened him. He mumbled that he would
certainly call that afternoon, and got away, wondering what the trick
was. Her smile seemed less pretty than it used to be.