If Nat's cry of recognition had been wondering, it was no less one of
delight. The surprise he felt was perfectly natural; Betty wasn't to
have returned until the morrow, and was therefore the last person he
had expected to see when he looked up from the telephone desk. But it
was the change in the girl that most stirred him: the change he had
prophesied, planned for, anticipated eagerly throughout the long seven
months of her absence; to have his expectations so wonderfully
fulfilled, and more than fulfilled, pleased him beyond expression. And
it's curious to speculate upon the fact that he fancied his greatest
pleasure came from the knowledge that old Sam would be so overjoyed....
It was really only a paraphrase of the old story of the grub and the
butterfly. The little, starveling drudge who had found him in the
store, that first day, had completely vanished; it was as if she had
never been. In her place he discovered a girl all grace and loveliness,
her slender figure ripening into gracious womanhood; a girl of mind and
heart and understanding, all fire and tenderness; demure, intelligent,
with a pretty pose of independence and sureness of herself moderated by
modesty and reserve. Her travelling dress of sober colouring and severe
lines became her bewitchingly. Beneath the brim of her dainty hat, with
veil thrown back, her dark hair waved back, glossy with the sheen of
perfect well-being, from a face serenely charming--the more so for her
slightly deepened flush; and the eyes that shone into Nat's danced with
the light of enjoyment, bred of his supreme astonishment....
"Nat, I'm so glad to see you again!"
He was speechless.
She laughed, put down her suit-case, and moved toward him, offering him
both her hands. He took them, stammering.
"It's such a surprise, Betty----!"
"I knew it would be. I just couldn't wait, Nat, when I found I could
get here by the night train instead of tomorrow morning. I haven't been
home, you know, but I couldn't resist the temptation to stop in here
and see--what the store looked like after all these months. Besides, I
thought that you or father----" Her eyes fell and she faltered,
withdrawing her hands.
By now he had himself in hand. "Why," he laughed, "you nearly took my
breath away. Even now I can hardly believe it..."
"Believe what, Nat?" she asked quickly.
"That you're the same little Betty Graham. I never saw such a change."
"It's a change for the better, isn't it, Nat?" she asked with a smile
half wistful.
"I should think it was. It's just marvellous!"
"Did I seem so very awful, then?"
"Nonsense. You know you didn't, only, now..."
"Then you think father will be pleased?"
"If he isn't, I'm blind!"
She looked away, embarrassed, and touched by his interest and his
feeling. "And does it make you a little proud, Nat?"
"Proud!" he exclaimed blankly.
"Because you know you've done it all. If there's any improvement in
Betty Graham to-day, it's because of you. If it hadn't been for
you----"
"Never in the world; you don't know what you're talking about, Betty.
Nobody but yourself could have brought about this change. It had to be
in you before it could come out. You know that."
She shook her head very decidedly, seating herself on one of the chairs
by the soda-fountain. "Oh, no," she contradicted calmly and sincerely.
"Why, Nat, don't you suppose I have any memory? You began making me a
better girl the very first day we met here in the store, by the things
you said to me. And ever since I've been watching you, while you were
making life a Heaven for father and me, and thinking that if I were a
man I'd try to be as near like you as I could."
"Oh, don't say that," he pleaded wretchedly.
"It's true.... And when you sent me away to school I promised myself
I'd try to repay you for the sacrifice you must be making for me; that
I'd follow your example as nearly as ever I could; that I'd work hard
and try to treat people the way you do--kindly, Nat, and considerately,
and bravely and tenderly and honestly----"
He dropped into a chair near her and buried his head in his hands.
"Don't!" he begged huskily. "Please, Betty, don't!"
But she wouldn't stop, little guessing how she was racking his heart in
her innocent desire to make him understand how deeply she appreciated
all he had done for her. "And, O Nat, it's worked so wonderfully! It's
made all the girls at school like me, and it's made me understand and
like everybody else better; and now, what's ten thousand times the best
of all, you notice an improvement the minute you see me! And I--I never
was so happy in all my life." She bent forward and took one of his
hands, patting it softly. "Nat, I think you're the very best man in the
whole world!"
"Don't!" he groaned. "Don't, for Heaven's sake!"
"Oh, I know, Nat--I know you don't like me to say this, but I must,
just the same, tell you the truth about yourself. It's so splendid to
live the life you do. You're all unconscious of it, but I want you to
realise it and know that I do, too. You've made everybody love you
and..."
But confusion silenced her, and she gently replaced his hand. For
several moments neither spoke. Then Nat broke the tension with a short,
hard laugh.
"That's right," he said inscrutably; "that was the idea...."
"Nat, what do you mean?"