It was disrespectful, but it was also true and, though I felt as if a
hot wind had been blowing on my face, there was such a note of
comradeship in her voice that it cheered me to the point of joining in
her merriment. Our laugh seemed to sweep away many of the years that
stood between us and the old thrill of anticipation passed through me.
We found many other things to talk about, for I searched every crook and
cranny of my old brain for bits of any sort with which to interest her.
The last turn in the path leading back to the house found us friendly
and with a taste or two in common.
Once, seeing something near by she wanted to sketch, she whispered to
me as familiarly as if I were the same age, "For the love of Mike! hold
my hat while I put that on paper."
I had no acquaintance with "Mike" and she was bareheaded, but so
infectious was her eagerness that I felt about twenty.
What she wanted to sketch was only a small girl in a gay kimono and a
big red umbrella, but the tiny mite made a vivid spot of color as she
stood motionless to watch a great brown moth hovering over a bed of
iris. Before I could explain that the child was a waif temporarily
housed with me, shy and easily frightened, Zura whipped from somewhere
out of the mysteries of a tight dress a pad and pencil and, with
something like magic, the lines of the little maid's figure and face
were transferred to the white sheet.
"How Daddy would have loved her," said Zura, softly, as she covered her
work. I was silent.
Later my guest and I went into the house and I showed her my treasures.
They were few, but precious in their way: Some rare old prints, a piece
of ivory, and an old jewelry box of gold lacquer, all from grateful
pupils. Zura's appreciation of the artistic side of her mother's country
was keen. In connection with it she spoke of her father's great gift
and how he had begun teaching her to paint when he had to tie her to a
chair to steady her and almost before her hand was big enough to hold a
brush. She referred to their close companionship. Mother wanted to rest
very often and seldom joined them. Father and daughter would prepare
their own lunch and go for a long day's tramping and sketching. Once
they were gone for a week and slept out under the trees. Daddy was the
jolliest chum and always let her do as she pleased. He trusted her and
never had corrected her. Her voice was low and sweet as she dwelt upon
the memories of her father, and when I saw her round white throat
contract with the effort for control, I found something else to talk
about.
Altogether it was a smooth day and to me a very happy one. Jane had been
absent since noon. Her occupations were unquestioned, but when she
joined us at the evening dinner it was good to see how her tired face
brightened at Zura's girlish way of telling things.
Our guest thanked Jane for the cakes. Said she simply adored bear and
tiger cookies, and as for gingerbread Johnnies she couldn't live without
them. "It was so good of you to think of me," she told Jane.
"Not at all," replied Miss Gray. "I was as glad to make them as I am to
have you with us. Two lone women in one house are bound to get stale. We
need young sweet things about to keep us enthusiastic and poetical."
At this Zura's eyes sparkled, but the sincerity of Jane's welcome
appealed to her better part and she suppressed a laugh.
* * * * *
My house possesses one small guest-room. Without mentioning it, I
disposed of a few curios and with the proceeds I ransacked the shops for
things suitable for girls. My morning had been spent in arranging my
purchases. It was a very sweet moment to me when, after I had ushered in
my guest, she stood for a second taking it all in; then putting out her
hand she said, "It's like a picture and you are very kind."
Afterwards Jane Gray, looking like a trousered ghost in her outdoor
sleeping garments, crept into my study and interrupted the work I was
trying to make up.
"Oh, Miss Jenkins," she whispered mysteriously, "I've just thought it
all out--a way to make everybody happy, I mean. Wouldn't it be truly
splendid if dear Page Hanaford and Zura were to fall in love? It's a
grand idea. She has the mares and anners of a duchess and so has he."
Excitement invariably twisted Jane's tongue.
"For Heaven's sake, Jane, do you mean airs and manners?"
"Yes, that's what I said," went on Jane undisturbed. "And oh! can you
think of anything more sweetly romantic?"
I laid down my pen and asked Miss Gray to look me straight in the eyes.
Then I put the question to her: "Will you tell me what on earth romance,
sweet or otherwise, has to do with a young fellow struggling not only
with poverty, but with something that looks like mystery, and a wild,
untamed, wilful girl?"
To which my companion replied: "But just think what love would do to
them both!"
I guess the difference in Jane's sentiment and mine is the same as
between a soft-shell crab and a hard-shell one.