A NEW MISS COOLIDGE
They came down the narrow board walk together, Percival carefully holding
the lady's arm to prevent her tripping over the loosened planks, but
neither exchanging a word. The man was smiling, the fingers of one hand
toying with the curl of his moustache, but Natalie appeared somewhat
sobered by her visit, and West noticed that she had tied a light veil
over her face, which slightly shadowed her features. It was only as they
reached the curb that she spoke, her voice rather low and listless.
"Would you mind driving the car back?" she asked Coolidge. "Really I feel
quite unnerved."
"No wonder," he returned sympathetically, "I have never witnessed a
sadder case; the conditions were even worse than I imagined. I should
never have brought you with me, my dear."
"Oh, I am not sorry I came; but it has been a lesson to me. I do not
think before I ever realized what such poverty meant."
The words trembled from her lips, and were spoken slowly as though
chosen with care. "The sad plight of the children particularly
appealed to me."
"There are children then?" West questioned, as Coolidge assisted her
into the car. The latter cast a swift glance of inquiry into the younger
man's face.
"Children!" he exclaimed, "Of course; we spoke of them on the way down."
"I know; that was what made me wonder when one of the lads playing out
here in the street said there were no kids in the cottage."
"Oh, I see," a bit sarcastically. "So you have been amusing yourself
questioning the neighbours, have you?"
"To a very small extent," West confessed, keeping his temper. "One of the
players chased a stray ball under the automobile, and I asked him a
question or two. The cottage appeared so deserted, and you were absent
for such a length of time, I became somewhat curious."
"And what did he tell you?"
"Only that the occupants had moved in within a few days, and that he had
seen no kids about; no one in fact but a middling old woman."
"Did he mention any names?"
"No; I didn't ask. It was nothing to me."
"I should say it was not. So the kid told you there were no children,
did he? Well, you heard what Natalie said just now--which are you going
to believe?"
"The lady, of course," smilingly. "Surely this is no matter to
quarrel over."
"No, Captain West," she broke in, leaning forward in the seat, and
speaking again in the peculiar strained voice. "The boy was merely
mistaken. He had not seen the children because they were kept closely in
the house. They were turned out of their former home, and have absolutely
nothing; no furniture even; only straw to sleep on. It was most pitiful."
"Do not think of it any longer, Natalie," Coolidge insisted rather
gruffly. "They are all right now. I shall telephone for a doctor as soon
as we get back, and attend to the rent the first thing tomorrow."
"I know, Uncle, but I cannot forget so easily. Do you know anything about
poverty, Captain West?"
"Nothing very direct. Of course, in a way I have occasionally come in
contact with suffering of that nature. I have been hungry enough in
the army, but usually I have experienced little need. I regret," he
added apologetically, "that what I said was taken as criticism. I had
no such meaning."
"Criticism!" Coolidge turned the car around as he spoke. "Be as free with
that as you please; what I object to is your intruding at every
opportunity. It looks as though you were trying to find out something--is
that your game?"
"Not at all. I naturally spoke to the kid, and the only topic which
occurred to me at the moment concerned the people you were visiting. I
see no occasion for any misunderstanding."
"And there is none," she asserted cordially, her eyes meeting his own
frankly. "So let's drop the subject, and enjoy our ride. I am not going
to have the whole day spoiled because of these people. They are all right
now. What is that big building over there?"
Coolidge emitted some answer, but devoted his attention to running the
car, his jaw set. It was clear enough that West's explanation was not
altogether satisfactory, and his dislike for the younger man had in no
way lessened. The young woman, however, easily regained her vivacity, and
devoted herself to making the ride homeward as pleasant as possible. West
found her unusually entertaining, with a deep sense of humor he had not
before suspected, and an occasional lapse into slang which rather
surprised him. He had previously entertained the thought that she was
rather conventional and not particularly easy to approach, but this
conception vanished quickly in a free flow of conversation, to which
Coolidge apparently paid small attention. Indeed, there were moments when
her extreme frankness of speech rather surprised West, even her voice
striking strangely upon his ears, but the happy laugh, and swift glance
of the eyes reassured him. No doubt she was playing a part for the
benefit of Percival Coolidge in which he must co-operate. Later all would
be explained, and made clear. This belief encouraged him to keep up his
end of the conversation, ignoring Coolidge entirely, and devoting his
attention exclusively to her.
The returning ride seemed very brief, and, almost before West realized
it, the car whirled in through the Coolidge gate, and came to a stop at
the door. Coolidge by this time had recovered from his spell of
ill-nature, or else chose to so appear, and the party separated
pleasantly. Natalie disappeared somewhere within, while the two men
strolled out to the tennis court where the guests were enjoying a
spirited game. All met again at lunch, and then separated, some to motor
over to the lake, the others amusing themselves as they saw fit. Both
Coolidge and Natalie vanished, while West, finding himself alone, chose a
book from the library, and, solaced by a cigar, sought a shady nook on
the porch.
The book, however, was but a mark for his thoughts, which continually
revolved about the strange surroundings in which he found himself. He was
apparently making no progress, was no nearer a solution of the mystery
confronting him. Thus far, at least, no direct clue had presented itself.
Numerous things had occurred to strengthen suspicion, and to increase
interest in the quest. But beyond this--nothing. He liked the girl and
was completely enlisted in her service. He disliked Percival, and was
convinced the fellow was planning evil. Several incidents had already
strengthened this belief; yet there was nothing positive upon which to
build; no path of adventure for him to follow. To speculate was easy
enough, but real facts eluded him.
Yet, in spite of this feeling of failure, West's reflections centred more
upon the young woman than upon the particular problem which he had to
solve. The ride back from the city had revealed a phase of her character
he had never observed before--she had shown herself vivacious, light of
speech, a bit slangy and audacious. He was not altogether sure that this
new revealment quite pleased him, and yet it possessed a certain charm.
He had before learned to think of her as rather quiet and reserved, and
now must change his whole conception. It was difficult to adjust his mind
at once to the different standard. He found himself wondering why she had
afforded him glimpses of her nature so strangely unlike. What could have
occurred within the cottage to thus make so suddenly manifest this new
side to her character? The change in her only served to increase the
mystery, and, he confessed, his admiration also. Her very freedom
evidenced to his mind that he was really accepted, had been taken into a
new intimacy; no longer to be held and treated as an interloper, a
stranger employed for a purpose. She had deliberately cast aside the
conventional, and become natural in his presence--free to speak and act
as the spirit moved. This was a victory, and he chose to interpret it as
proof that she already really liked and trusted him. Actuated by this
feeling, she no longer deemed it necessary to dissemble in his presence.
It was a long step in advance.
He had arrived at this very pleasant conclusion, when Sexton appeared in
the door, evidently looking for some one. The man espied him there in
the shadow of the vines, and came forward.
"Miss Coolidge requests your presence, sir, for a few moments," he
said gravely.
"Why, certainly; did she say where, Sexton?"
"In the library, sir; she is waiting there now."
West hesitated an instant. There was a question he was eager to ask, but
immediately thought better of it. Interviewing servants was not in his
line, and there were other ways of learning the truth.
"Very well," he said quietly. "I will join her at once. Thank you,
Sexton," and disappeared into the cool, darkened hall.