A customer came and went, and then Nat noticed that twilight was
beginning to darken the store. Though the hour wasn't late and the
evenings were long at that season, the windows faced the east, and
there were huge, overshadowing elms outside--just then heavy with
luxuriant foliage; so dusk was always early in the room.
It was one of Nat's axioms that a store, to be successful, should be
always brilliantly lighted. It was a bit expensive, perhaps, but in the
long run it paid. For that reason he installed electric light as soon
as he felt the business could afford it.
Now he moved to the windows and switched on the bulbs behind the huge
glass jars filled with tinted water. Returning, he was about to connect
up the remainder of the illuminating system, when Josie, entering,
stayed him. Later he was glad of this.
"Nat..."
He knew that voice. "Why, Josie!" he exclaimed in surprise, swinging
about to discover her standing on the threshold--very dainty and
fetching, indeed, in one of the summery frocks she had brought back
from New York.
She moved over to him, holding out her hand. He took it with disguised
reluctance. "Where's Tracey?" she asked with a look that first held his
eyes, then reviewed the store.
"This is his afternoon off," Nat reminded her.
"Then you're all alone?" she deduced archly.
"Oh, quite...."
"I'm so glad." She sighed and dropped into a chair by the soda-water
counter. "I wanted to see you--to talk to you alone."
He bit his lip in his annoyance, shivering with a presentiment. "What
about, Josie?"
"About Wednesday night--after prayer meeting. Why didn't you wait for
me?"
"Why--ah--I had to get back to the store, you know--there were some
cheques to be made out and sent off, and I'd forgotten them. Besides,"
he added on inspiration, "you were talking with Roland and I didn't
want to interrupt you."
"So you left me to go home with him?"
"Why, what else--"
"You're making me awful' unhappy." Her voice trembled.
"_I_, Josie?"
"Yes. You knew I didn't want to walk home with Roland."
"How could I know that?"
"I should think you ought to know it, Nat, unless you're blind.
Besides, I told you once."
"True," he fenced desperately, "but that was a long time ago; and how
could I be sure you hadn't changed your mind? Besides, you know, I
mustn't monopolise you. If I do...."
"Well?" she inquired sweetly as he paused on the lip of a break.
"Why, if I do--ah--"
"If you're afraid people will talk about us, seeing us so much
together, you needn't worry. They're doing that now."
"Why, Josie!"
"Yes, they are. We've been going together so long, and then suddenly
you don't seem to care about--care to be alone with me at all. This
is the first chance I've had to talk to you, when there wasn't somebody
else round, for I don't know how long. And even now you don't seem glad
to see me."
"You should _know_ I am...."
"You don't act like it."
"It's so unexpected," he muttered wretchedly.
"You didn't really think I wanted Roland Barnette to go home with me
Wednesday night, did you, Nat?"
"It seemed so, but ... that's all right. Why shouldn't you?"