The screen-door slammed once, and Girt looked up hopefully, but decided
it was a breeze. She should have known better, for there had been no
breeze in Santa Fé for a week. But she was deep in the latest copy of
“Screenland” and could spare time only for the paper bag of chocolates
next to her.
The door slammed three times, and Teddy called out indignantly, “Anybody
home?”
“Teddy!” she squealed joyfully, and jumped up. “I was just wondering
when you’d come back. Come in and tell me about it. Where did you go and
what happened? You’ve got a swell sunburn.”
He stepped inside and kissed her perfunctorily. “I want some lemonade,”
he said. “Have you got any? If you haven’t I’m going down to the plaza,
and I wish you’d tell Blake when he comes——”
“I can make some in a minute,” she said. “Sit down and cool off. How did
you know I wasn’t out of town?”
“Passed by La Fonda and Margaret told me. Where are the cigarettes?”
“On the mantel,” she called from the kitchen, and began to chop ice
vigorously. “Now tell me about the Navajo country. What happened?”
“Not much. Blake can tell you when he comes: I’m meeting him here. We
got home late last night—Mrs. Saville-Sanders wanted to stop overnight
in Albuquerque and they were having the Masonic Convention and all the
hotels were full. You should have seen her!” He giggled. “She stood up
and insisted on having rooms for all of us, and it didn’t do the
slightest bit of good, naturally. So then she was crushed and wouldn’t
speak for two hours on the way up, and we were all very tactful and
didn’t say anything.” She could hear him roaming about the room,
stopping here and there to pick things up and put them down again. When
she came back with a pitcher and glasses, he was staring disgustedly at
a small oil painting on the wall.
“Why do you keep that kind of stuff around?” he asked.
“It’s Flo, and she said it’s worth a lot of money. Here’s your
lemonade.”
“Well, here’s to luck.”
“Is there any left for me?” Blake came in and sat down, panting from the
heat. He held out his hand pleadingly for a glass.
“Did you like it?” Gin asked him. “The Reservation, I mean.”
“It was grand,” said Teddy. “We took a private jaunt into the country
and learned how to trade. We made plans to take out a license and start
a post of our own. Oh, but the really important plan....”
“Look here,” Blake interrupted, “you’re _not_ going around talking about
that, are you?”
“Gin’s safe,” Teddy argued.
“She’s not. Nobody’s safe. Are you trying to ruin it? We promised we
weren’t going to speak of it at all, to anyone. He’s been in town four
hours,” he added despairingly to Gin, “and everybody has heard all about
it!”
“No, they haven’t. I swear they haven’t, Blake,” Teddy said. “Don’t get
all worked up. I just thought she’d be interested: she’s perfectly safe,
honestly.”
“Go on, Blake,” said Gin. “I won’t tell. I never tell anything.”
Sulkily, he answered, “Well, it isn’t very much. We’re running away.”
She had a sudden pang of fear. “Running away? Where? When?”
“We’re not sure about anything: it’s all very nebulous,” Teddy
explained. “That’s why we’re not telling. It will probably be after
Fiesta, just before Blake has to go back to school. We’re aiming for
Mexico, and of course Mrs. Lennard mustn’t have any idea of it. You will
be careful, won’t you?”
“Certainly I will. But....” She hesitated, her mind struggling against
despair. “You make me sick. What’ll I do without you?”
“Come along,” Teddy said easily. “The more the merrier.”
“Madden!” Blake was outraged again. “You don’t really take it seriously
at all. I don’t think you mean to come.”
She leaned forward eagerly. “But why can’t I come? I’d be useful, really
I would. I’d do the cooking for you. I’ll try to save up something
before we start. Please! Honest, Blake, I’m serious. I am. Couldn’t I
come? Would it really spoil it all if I came?”
“It’s all right with _me_,” said Teddy. “Why not, Blake?”
“Because....”
“Oh, you don’t want me,” she cried. “You _are_ afraid I’ll spoil it. Let
me come. If it looks as if I’ll spoil it, I’ll take the next train back.
But let me try. _Please_. If you don’t, I’ll get up another expedition
by myself, and I’ll probably be killed. Go on, Blake. Say yes.”
“Oh,” he said, relenting, “I guess it doesn’t make much difference if we
keep it down to three. You’re not joking?” He searched her face
seriously, and she tried to look as intense as possible. “All right,” he
decided, “we’ll all go. But remember if anyone hears about it it’s all
off.”
“I promise faithfully,” she said.
Teddy stood up and reached for his racket. “It’s time we’re shoving off.
Coming along, Gin? You can watch us play.”
“Not this trip. Don’t you want another round of lemonade to pledge the
business?”
“I’m full up,” Blake said, and Teddy added, “Better not; we’ll splash
when we play. Never mind.”
“Well then, we’ll just shake on it.”
They clasped hands and she watched them from the side windows as they
drove away. After they were out of sight she stood there, staring at a
most uninteresting house across the street and thinking so deeply that
she didn’t hear Flo come in. “What on earth are you looking at?” Flo
said in her ear, and she jumped.
“Are you here already? It must be late.”
“No, I’m early. Oh, goody. Lemonade! You’re an angel. Did anyone call
me?”
“Call? Well, let’s see if I can remember....”
“You imbecile,” Flo said pleasantly. “Did Russell call?”
“Oh, Russell. Of course he did, constantly, all the time, perpetually.
_I_ wish you’d tell him to phone the office instead. I get all excited
when the phone rings, and it’s always Russell for you.”
“Why not?” Flo went over to the mirror and started to comb her hair.
“Don’t you like him?”
“Oh, he’s all right, I guess. Are you going to marry him?”
“I don’t know. What do you think about it?” She sat down on the couch
and put her arms around her knees. “I guess I could if I tried. He’s
doing pretty well at the office. What do you think?”
Gin said promptly, “Oh, marry him. You said you wanted to be married. I
don’t know why, but you said so.”
“All right. I’ll marry him.” Flo laughed suddenly and picked up the
phone. “I’ll tell him now.” Just then it rang, and she picked up the
receiver. “Hello. Just a minute, I’ll see.” Covering the transmitter
with her hand, she whispered to Gin, “It’s for you; it sounds like
Harvey. What’ll I say?”
“Let me talk to him.... Hello!”
“Hello, Gin. Say, listen....”
“How are you, Harvey?”
“I’m all right. Listen, can’t we talk this thing over? I miss you a lot.
Let’s have dinner tonight.”
Suddenly, happily indifferent to all quarrels that had any connection
with Santa Fé, she answered, “All right. Come along at six-thirty.”
“Well,” Flo cried, “When did all this happen?”
“Just now.” She handed the phone over. “Now call your Russell.” She went
into the kitchen and started to clean up, throwing away the lemon-peels.
She sang loudly and happily, until her roommate called through the door
in protest.
“Sing me a song of a lad that is gone:
Say, could that lad be I?...”
On a sudden impulse, she shouted to Flo, “When you get married would you
want this apartment?”
“Me? I’m not really getting married. Did you take me seriously?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d like to keep it.” She emptied a
plate into the garbage pail, clattering it cheerfully.
“Russell can’t get married yet anyway: he hasn’t enough money. Why do
you ask? Are you thinking of moving anywhere?”
“Not at all,” Gin said, and threw the dish-towel against its hook on the
wall. “Not in the _least_.”