Ethan laid aside his paddle and mopped his face with his handkerchief.
The canoe, left to its own devices, poked its nose against the meadow
bank and allowed its stern to float slowly around in the languid
current. He gazed across the fields over which the heat-waves danced
and shimmered and addressed himself to his cigarette case.
[Illustration]
“Providence,” he said, “showed great wisdom when it arranged that the
Pilgrims should land on the coast of Massachusetts. ‘From what I’ve
seen of these folks and what I’ve heard about them,’ says Providence,
‘I don’t believe they’re going to be much of an acquisition to the
New World. But I’ll give ’em a fair show. I’ll see that they land
at Plymouth and if they can survive a Massachusetts winter _and_ a
Massachusetts summer I’ll have nothing more to say. Those of them alive
a year from now will be entitled to prizes in the Endurance Test and
will have qualified to become Hardy Pioneers and build up the country.’”
He mopped his face again, lighted a cigarette and took up his paddle.
“One would think that this state might show moderation at some season
of the year,” he added disgustedly. “But not content with her Old
Fashioned Winters, Backward Springs and Early Falls she has to try and
wrest the Hot Weather blue ribbon from Arizona! No wonder they say a
Bostonian isn’t contented in Heaven; doubtless he finds the weather
frightfully equable and monotonous!”
He righted the canoe and went on, with a glance at the sky above the
hills.
“We’re probably in for a jolly good thunder-storm this afternoon,” he
muttered.
[Illustration]
By the time he had reached the entrance to the brook his forehead was
again beaded with perspiration and his thin negligée shirt showed a
disposition to cling to his shoulders. It was one of those intensely
hot and exceedingly humid days which the early summer so often visits
upon New England. Even the birds seemed to feel the heat and instead of
singing and darting about across the shadowed stream were content to
flutter and chirp drowsily amidst the branches. The hum of the insects
held a lethargic tone that somehow, like a locust’s clatter in August,
seemed to increase the heat. Ethan went slowly up the winding stream
with divided opinions on the subject of his own sanity. To sit in a
canoe in the broiling sun on a morning like this merely to talk to a
girl was rank idiocy, he told himself. Then he recalled her eyes, her
tantalizing little laugh, the soft tones of her voice, the provocative
ghost of a smile that so often trembled about her red lips, and owned
that she was worth it. After he had slipped under the stone footbridge
it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps the girl would object quite
as strongly as he to making a martyr of herself in the interests of
polite conversation! Perhaps she wouldn’t come at all! In which case
he would have had his journey for naught――and possibly a sunstroke
thrown in! The more he considered that possibility the more reasonable
it became, until, when he had shot the canoe into the little pond, and
saw that the bank was empty of aught save a pair of the swans who were
stretching their wings in the sunlight, he was not surprised.
“She certainly has more sense than I have,” he muttered.
Not a breath of air stirred the leaves of the encircling fringe of
trees. The little lake was like an artist’s palette set with all the
tender greens and pinks and whites and yellows of summer.
“I hope you like my pool?” inquired a voice.
[Illustration: “I HOPE YOU LIKE MY POOL?” INQUIRED A VOICE.]
Ethan turned from his survey of the scene and saw that the girl was
standing under the shade of a willow a little distance up the slope.
She was all in white, as yesterday, but a broad-brimmed hat of soft
white straw hid her hair and threw a shadow over her face. Ethan raised
his own less picturesque panama and bowed.
“It’s looking fine to-day, I think,” he answered. “Perhaps just a
little bit ornate, though. There’s such a thing as over-decorating even
a lotus pool.”
He turned the bow of the canoe toward the bank, swung it skilfully
and stepped ashore. The girl watched him silently. When he had pulled
the nose of the craft onto the grass and dropped his paddle he walked
toward her. A little flush crept into her cheeks, but her eyes met his
calmly.
“This is all dreadfully wrong, you know,” she said gravely. He stopped
a few feet away and fanned himself with his hat.
“Yes, very warm, isn’t it?” he agreed affably.
“In the first place,” she went on severely, “you are trespassing.”
“I beg your pardon?” he asked as though he had not comprehended.
“I said you are trespassing.”
“Oh! Yes, of course. Well, really, you couldn’t expect me to sit out
there in that hot sun, could you now? I――I have a rather delicate
constitution.”
“But you were trespassing before! Coming up here only makes it worse.”
“Better, I call it,” he answered, turning to look back unregretfully at
the pool.
“And then――then it is equally wrong for me to stay here and talk to
you.”
“Oh come now!” he objected. “Nymphs in my day were not so conventional!”
“So I shall leave you,” she continued, unheeding and turning away.
“Then I shall go with you.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” she cried.
“Why not? Really, Miss Clytie, I am fairly respectable and I know of
no reason why you shouldn’t be seen in my company. I have never done
murder and never stolen less than a million dollars at a time. To be
sure, I hope to become a practising attorney in the course of a year or
so, but as yet my honor is unsullied.”
She hesitated, her eyes turned in the direction of the house.
“Besides,” he added hastily, “I was going to tell you what I know about
you.”
“Then,” she answered reluctantly, “I’ll stay――a minute.”
“Thank you. And shall we be comfortable during that minute? ‘Come, let
us sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the death of kings.’”
She shook her head.
“Please!” he begged. “You will never be able to stand during all I have
to tell you. Besides, you forget my delicate physique; I have been
repeatedly warned against over-exertion.”
She sank gracefully to the grass in a billowing of white muslin,
smiling and frowning at once as though annoyed by his persistence,
yet too amiable to refuse. All of which produced its effect, Ethan
realizing that she was doing him a great favor and becoming duly
grateful. He followed her example, seating himself on the turf in front
of her, paying, however, less attention to the disposition of his feet.
Unconsciously his hand sought a pocket, then dropped away again. She
laughed softly.
[Illustration]
“Please do,” she said.
“You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all,” she answered. So he produced his cigarette case and
then his match-box and finally blew a breath of gray smoke toward the
motionless branches overhead.
“Feel better?” she asked sympathetically.
“Much, thank you.”
“Then you may begin.”
“Begin――――?”
“Tell me what you know about me.”
“Oh! To be sure. Well, let me see. In the first place, your name is
Laura Devereux. I am right?”
She smiled mockingly.
“I haven’t agreed to tell you that.”
“Oh! But I know I am. I haven’t asked any questions, for that would
have been taking an unfair advantage, I fancy. But I happened to
overhear yesterday afternoon at the Inn that a family by the name
of Devereux had taken The Larches. And, as I have been in Riverdell
before, I know where The Larches is――are――. Would you say is or are?”
“I am only a listener.”
“Then I shall say am, to be on the safe side; I know where The Larches
am. You are living at The Larches.”
“No, I――I am merely staying there.”
“For the summer; exactly. That’s what I meant. When you are at home
you live in Boston. I won’t tell you how I discovered that, but it was
quite fairly.”
“Do I――are you sure I am a Bostonian?”
“Hm! Now that you mention it――I am not. Perhaps your family moved to
Boston from somewhere else?”
“Yes?”
“From――let me see! Pennsylvania? But no, you don’t talk like a
Pennsylvanian. Maryland? No again. Where, please?”
“But I haven’t acknowledged the correctness of any of your premises
yet,” she objected.
“But you don’t dare tell me I’m wrong,” he challenged.
“At least, I am not going to tell you so,” she answered.
“That is as good as an admission!”
“Very well,” she replied serenely. “And now that you know so much about
me――that is all, by the way?”
“So far,” he replied.
“Then don’t you think I ought to know something about you?”
“I am flattered that you care to.” He laid a hand over his heart and
bowed profoundly.
[Illustration]
“My curiosity is of the idlest imaginable,” she responded cruelly.
“I regret that bow,” he said. “However, I shall tell you anyhow. I am
like the prestidigitateur in that I have nothing to conceal. And,” he
added ruefully, “mighty little to reveal. My name is Parmley, surnamed
Ethan. I am holding nothing back there, for I have no middle name. It
has been a custom in our family since the days of the disreputable old
Norman robber from whom we are descended to exclude middle names. I
was born in this same Commonwealth of Massachusetts of well-to-do and
honest parents, both of whom have been dead for some years. I was an
only child. Pray, Miss Devereux, consider――――”
“If you don’t mind,” she interrupted, “I’d rather you didn’t call me
that. I haven’t owned to it, you know.”
“Pardon me! I was about to ask you, Miss Clytie, to consider that fact
when weighing my faults. As a child I was intensely interesting; I
have gathered as much from my mother. I passed successfully through
the measles, mumps, scarlet fever and whooping-cough. I also had the
postage-stamp, bird-egg and autograph manias. Later I wriggled my way
through a preparatory school――a sort of hot-house for tender young
snobs――and later managed, by the skin of my teeth and a condition or
two, to enter college. As it has been the custom for the Parmleys to
go to Harvard, I went there too. I am boring you frightfully?”
“No.”
“I succeeded in completing a four-year course in five. Some chaps do
it in three, but I didn’t want to appear arrogant. I took it leisurely
and finished in five. Then, as there had never been a lawyer in the
family, I decided to study law. I entered the Harvard Law School and
graduated a few weeks ago. I am now spending a hard-earned vacation. In
September I am to enter a law firm in Providence as a sort of dignified
office-boy.
“I am the possessor of some worldly wealth, not a great deal, but
enough for one of my simple tastes. I am even a member of the landed
gentry, since I own a piece of land with a house on it. I also own an
automobile, and it is that I have to thank for this pleasant meeting.”
She smiled a question.
“I left Boston bright and early Monday morning with Farrell. Farrell
calls himself a chauffeur, in proof of which he displays a license
and a badge. If it wasn’t for that license and that badge I’d never
suspect it. Farrell’s principal duty seems to be to hand me wrenches
and screw-drivers and things when I lie on my back in the road and
take a worm’s-eye view of the machine. All went as nice as you please
until we reached a spot some two miles north of this charming hamlet.
There things happened. I won’t weary you with a detailed list of
the casualties. Suffice it to say that I walked into Riverdell and
Farrell followed an hour later leaning luxuriously back in the car
and watching that the tow-rope didn’t snap. I ate a supplementary
breakfast at the Inn while Farrell entertained the blacksmith, and
then, having nothing better to do, I dropped the canoe into the water
and paddled downstream. Ever since I stole my first apple forbidden
territory has possessed an unholy fascination for me, and that is why,
perhaps, I roamed up the brook and stumbled, as it were, into Arcady.”
[Illustration]
“What color is your machine?” she asked.
“Exceedingly blue.”
“And――isn’t it almost repaired?”
“Er――almost, yes.”
“It is taking a long while, seems to me.”
“Well, its malady was grave. I think it had tonsillitis, judging from
the sounds it made.”
“Indeed? But it seemed to go very well.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said that it seemed to go very well.”
“You have seen it?”
“Yes, it passed the house yesterday at about two o’clock.”
“There are a great many blue cars in the world,” he defended.
“Has it returned yet?” she asked, unheeding.
“No. The fact is, I was on my way to Stillhaven to visit friends there,
so I sent the car on for them to use. I have observed that, failing my
presence, the car does fairly well for my friends.”
[Illustration]
“What a pessimist! And you are staying in Riverdell?”
“For a few days, yes; at the Roadside.”
“Riverdell should feel flattered to find that you prefer it to
Stillhaven as a summer resort.” She gathered her skirts together with
one hand and started to rise. Ethan jumped to his feet and enjoyed the
intoxicating felicity of feeling her hand in his.
[Illustration]
“Thank you,” she murmured, smoothing her gown. Then, with a return of
that provoking, mocking little smile, “Would it be a terrible blow to
your vanity,” she asked, “if I were to tell you that your guesses are
all wrong?”
“Terrible,” he answered anxiously.
“Then I won’t tell you,” she said soothingly.
“But――but――they’re not wrong, are they?”
“‘Where ignorance is bliss――――’” she murmured.
“But I’d rather know! Tell me the worst, please!”
She shook her head smilingly.
“Good-bye,” she said.
“Aren’t you going to let me see you again?” he asked dolefully. Again
she shook her head.
“I have had the offer of a new pool,” she said, “one with all modern
improvements, and I think I shall move.”
“But――now, look here, it isn’t fair! What am I to do? It’s evident
you’ve never spent a holiday in Riverdell, or else you’d appreciate my
plight. There’s nothing to do save paddle around on that idiotic little
river. And every time I’m afraid the water will leak out when I’m not
watching it and leave me high and dry. If only for charity, please let
me come here and see you now and then――just for a moment! I’ll be very
good, really; I’ll even agree to stay in the canoe and frizzle before
your eyes!”
“You speak,” she answered perplexedly, “as though I had invited you
to come to Riverdell, or at least as though I were to blame for your
remaining here!”
He resisted the words that sprang to his lips.
“I beg your pardon then. I wouldn’t for the world imply anything so
absolutely criminal. But I am here and I am bored; and surely you
haven’t so many excitements, so many engagements in the mornings but
that you can spend a few moments communing with nature here at the
pool? Of course, I don’t recommend myself as an excitement; perhaps
I’m more of a narcotic; but I’ll do anything in my power to amuse you!
I’ll――I’ll even tell you fairy stories or sing to you; and I’ve never
done either in my life!”
“That is indeed an inducement then,” she laughed. “But――good-bye.”
“You won’t?”
“Do you think it likely?” she asked a trifle haughtily.
“Not when you look like that,” he answered dismally.
“Good-bye,” she said again, moving away.
“Good morning,” he answered. His eyes were on the ground where she had
been sitting. He took a step forward. From there he watched her pass
up the slope under the trees. At the last she turned back and looked
regretfully at the pool shimmering in the noontide heat.
“I shall be sorry to leave it,” she said softly, yet distinctly.
“Perhaps――I shall change my mind.”
Then she went on, passing from shadow to sunlight, until the trees hid
her. When she was quite out of sight Ethan lighted a cigarette, smiling
the while. Then he flicked aside the charred match, lifted his left
foot, stooped and picked up a little white wad which, as he gently
shook it out, became a dainty white handkerchief. He looked at it,
held it to his nose, touched it to his lips, folded it carefully and
clumsily and placed it in his pocket. Then he turned toward the pool
and the canoe.
[Illustration]
“She’s a coquette,” he muttered, “an arrant coquette. But――but she’s
simply――ripping!”