SPLASHING WITH YOUR TOES
FOR the next six days Skippy was a very busy young man. He had a
reputation to sustain. The reputation was quite unjustified but that did
not alter matters. Miss Balou had given it to him and Miss Balou must
not be disappointed. In the shifting comedy of life, Skippy was now cast
for the part of the Demon Rusher. In those early ambling days before the
automobile and the aeroplane had brought their escape valves for human
energy, the steam pressure of youth sometimes found expression in what
was known as the rush. As the name implies the object of the male
participant was to carry all before him in cyclonic style, to dazzle and
overwhelm the breathless and bewildered lady by the blinding rapidity of
his showered attentions. By mutual consent nothing binding was ever
implied in this form of acrobatic sentiment and the knell was sounded
when either party paused for breath. When a rush began all bystanders
withdrew as a matter of etiquette and waited for the dust to subside,
much as, in the Simian days of the race, the lesser monkeys sat on a
branch and hugged themselves when the big monk came courting.
Skippy borrowed a bicycle and departed from the home of his chum
directly after breakfast, having likewise borrowed various brilliant
bits of manly luxury which flashed from his ankles, his neck and his
breast pocket. At exactly nine o'clock as though by accident Miss Vivi's
trim figure daintily balanced on the smartest of "Safety" bicycles
appeared from the Balou driveway and the following brilliant opening
occurred.
"Why, Jack. What are you doing up so early?"
"Can't you guess?"
"Where are you going!"
"Same place you're going."
"Who asked you?"
"You're going to."
"How d'you know."
"Somebody's eyes have told me so," said Skippy in an unmusical treble.
Vivi pretended to be immensely offended, Skippy was immensely concerned
that she should be offended. There was a long discussion whether he had
really offended, whether he should be really forgiven and whether he
really intended to renounce such airs of proprietorship in the future.
By this time the two bicycles were close together with Skippy's hands on
her handle-bars and the terms of peace were concluded by the young lady
condescending to return to his appreciative gaze from underneath the
lace brim of her hat whither she had taken refuge. They bicycled along
the beach and Skippy expressed his wonder at the extent of her wardrobe.
Vivi then remarked appreciatively upon his (or rather Snorky's) necktie.
The conversation then expanded, easily and naturally along classic
lines.
The theory was simplicity itself--who knows, perhaps it has remained the
same to this day! For the twelve hours consecrated to each other's
society each day, Skippy denied what Vivi affirmed unless it happened
that Vivi doubted what Skippy stated as a fact. There were of course
many ramifications, sometimes it was a question of you did and you
didn't, sometimes it was and it wasn't, while any future speculation was
confined to you will and you won't. As a matter of fact, nothing that
was said really mattered and each knew it. Words were only so many
verbal flourishes in the most fascinating of duels. Each played at the
undying passion with open parades and each was only secretly concerned
with bearing away the other's scalp.
They canoed together, walked together, picnicked together, making only
short public appearances at the beach for the swimming hour and the
evening hop. When they came to the club house they came late and danced
together on the porch to escape the exigencies of society. If some
unfeeling brute did arrive to claim Vivi, it was always understood that
the next dance reverted to Skippy, who meanwhile (this was de rigeur)
sat on the railing and looked dreadfully dejected. It was all very
serious business, strenuous as training for the football team--but
Skippy never relaxed. He had a reputation to sustain. Snorky gave him up
for lost. He no longer sought to warn him, but each night simply as a
matter of ceremony he passed his hand solicitously over the shock of
stubby hair which adorned Skippy's elongated cranium just to assure
himself that the scalp remained unbroken.