Jasper took dinner with us that night. He came across the lawn, freshly
shaved and in clean white flannels, just as dinner was announced, and
said he had seen a chocolate cake cooling on the kitchen porch and that
it was a sort of unwritten social law that when the Baileys happened to
have a chocolate cake at dinner they had him also.
There seemed to be nothing to object to in this. Evidently he was right,
for we found his place laid at the table. The meal was quite cheerful,
although Jasper ate the way some people play the piano, by touch, with
his eyes on Bettina. And he gave no evidence at dessert of a fondness
for chocolate cake sufficient to justify a standing invitation.
After dinner we went out on the veranda, and under cover of showing me a
sunset Jasper took me round the corner of the house. Once there, he
entirely forgot the sunset.
"Miss Lizzie," he began at once, "what have I done to you to have you
treat me like this?"
"I?" I asked, amazed.
"All three of you. Did--did Bettina's mother warn you against me?"
"The girl has to be chaperoned."
"But not jailed, Miss Lizzie, not jailed! Do you know that I haven't had
a word with Bettina alone since you came?"
"Why should you want to say anything we cannot hear?"
"Miss Lizzie," he said desperately, "do you want to hear me propose to
her? For I've reached the point where if I don't propose to Bettina
soon, I'll--I'll propose to somebody. You'd better be warned in time. It
might be you or Miss Aggie."
I weakened at that. The Lord never saw fit to send me a man I could care
enough about to marry, or one who cared enough about me, but I couldn't
look at the boy's face and not be sorry for him.
"What do you want me to do?" I asked.
"Come for a walk with us," he begged. "Then sprain your ankle or get
tired, I don't care which. Tell us to go on and come back for you later.
Do you see? You can sit down by the road somewhere."
"I won't lie," I said firmly. "If I really get tired I'll say so. If I
don't--"
"You will." He was gleeful. "We'll walk until you do! You see it's like
this, Miss Lizzie. Bettina was all for me, in spite of our differing on
religion and politics and--"
"I know all about your differences," I put in hastily.
"Until a new chap came to town--a fellow named Ellis. Runs a sporty car
and has every girl in the town lashed to the mast. He's a novelty and
I'm not. So far I have kept him away from Bettina, but at any time they
may meet, and it will be one-two-three with me."
I am not defending my conduct; I am only explaining. Eliza Bailey
herself would have done what I did under the circumstances. I went for a
walk with Bettina and Jasper shortly after my talk with Jasper, leaving
Tish with the evening paper and Aggie inhaling a cubeb cigarette, her
hay fever having threatened a return. And what is more, I tired within
three blocks of the house, where I saw a grassy bank beside the road.
Bettina wished to stay with me, but I said, in obedience to Jasper's
eyes, that I liked to sit alone and listen to the crickets, and for them
to go on. The last I saw of them Jasper had drawn Bettina's arm through
his and was walking beside her with his head bent, talking. I sat for
perhaps fifteen minutes and was growing uneasy about dew and my
rheumatism when I heard footsteps and, looking up, I saw Aggie coming
toward me. She was not surprised to see me and addressed me coldly.
"I thought as much!" she said. "I expected better of you, Lizzie. That
boy asked me and I refused. I dare say he asked Tish also. For you, who
pride yourself on your strength of mind--"
"I was tired," I said. "I was to sprain my ankle," she observed
sarcastically. "I just thought as I was sitting there alone--"
"Where's Tish?"
"A young man named Ellis came and took her out for a ride," said Aggie.
"He couldn't take us both, as the car holds only two."
I got up and stared at Aggie in the twilight. "You come straight home
with me, Aggie Pilkington," I said sternly.
"But what about Bettina and Jasper?"
"Let 'em alone," I said; "they're safe enough. What we need to keep an
eye on is Letitia Carberry and her Cousin Angeline's legacy."
But I was too late. Tish and Mr. Ellis whirled up to the door at
half-past eight and Tish did not even notice that Bettina was absent.
She took off her veil and said something about Mr. Ellis's having heard
a grinding in the differential of her car that afternoon and that he
suspected a chip of steel in the gears. They went out together to the
garage, leaving Aggie and me staring at each other. Mr. Ellis was
carrying a box of tools.
Jasper and Bettina returned shortly after, and even in the dusk I knew
things had gone badly for him. He sat on the steps, looking out across
the dark lawn, and spoke in monosyllables. Bettina, however, was very
gay.
It was evident that Bettina had decided not to take her Presbyterianism
into the Episcopal fold. And although I am a Presbyterian myself I felt
sorry.
Tish and Mr. Ellis came round to the porch about ten o'clock and he was
presented to Bettina. From that moment there was no question in my mind
as to how affairs were going, or in Jasper's either. He refused to move
and sat doggedly on the steps, but he took little part in the
conversation.
Mr. Ellis was a good talker, especially about himself.
"You'll be glad to know," he said to me, "that I've got this race matter
fixed up finally. In two weeks from now we'll have a little excitement
here."