A Court of Inquiry | Page 8

walked away.
* * * * *
The Skeptic got the pillar between himself and the departing pair. His face was convulsed with mirth. He slapped his knee. "I said he'd soon know," he chuckled, holding himself in with an effort, "but I didn't think he'd find out quite so soon. Smoke and ashes--but that was quick work!"
He turned about and looked up at the Gay Lady. "Will you go fishing?" he inquired, still chuckling.
"No, thank you," responded the Gay Lady, smiling at her embroidery without looking up.
"Will you go fishing?"
The inquiry was directed at me.
I shook my head.
The Skeptic fell into an attitude of mock despair. Then he sat up. "I'm going to go down and hide behind the big tree at the bend," he declared. "I want to see Philo when she----"
The Gay Lady spoke to me. "Do you think I'm getting that K too heavy?" she asked.
The Skeptic laughed, and strolled away--not in the direction of the trout stream.
Dahlia and the Philosopher came back just as luncheon was served. Dahlia was looking pinker than ever, and I thought the Philosopher's tan had rather a pinkish hue, also. I felt obliged to ask Dahlia to stay to luncheon and she promptly accepted. Throughout the meal she was very gay, sitting at my round table between the Philosopher and the Skeptic, and plying both with attentions. It is a singular phrase to use, in speaking of a girl, but I know no other that applies so well--in Dahlia's case.
After luncheon the Philosopher bolted. His movements are usually deliberate, but I never saw a quicker exit made from a dining-room which has only two doors. One door leads into the hall, the other to the pantry. The rest of us went out the hall door. When we reached the porch the Philosopher was missing. There is no explanation except that he went out by the pantry door.
On the porch the Skeptic said, "I must run down to the barn and look after Skylark's foot. He cut himself when I was out on him yesterday."
He hastened away down the driveway.
Dahlia looked after him.
"Is Skylark here?" she asked. "Oh, how I want to see the dear thing! And he's cut his foot!--I'm going to run down to the barn, too, and see him."
And she hurried away after the Skeptic.
"I think I'll go in and sleep a while," said the Gay Lady to me. Her expressive lips had a curious little twist of scorn.
"I should, too, if I hadn't a new guest," said I.
We tried not to smile at each other, but we couldn't quite help it.
The Gay Lady went away to her room. I heard her close the blinds on the side that looked off toward the barn, and, glancing up, saw that she had turned down the slats tightly.
* * * * *
I think it must have been well on toward four in the afternoon when the white sunbonnet at last disappeared through the gap in the hedge. The Skeptic came back up the garden path at the pace of an escaping convict, and went tearing up the stairs to his room. I heard him splashing like a seal in his bath. Presently he came out, freshly attired and went away down the road, in the opposite direction from that in which lay the house beyond the hedge.
Dahlia came over at twilight that evening--to bring me a great bunch of golden-glow. She was captivatingly arrayed in blue. She remained for an hour or so. When she went away the Skeptic walked home with her. He was forced to do it. The Philosopher had disappeared again, quite without warning, some twenty minutes earlier.
She came over the next afternoon. On the day following she practically took up her residence with us. I thought of inviting her to bring a trunk and occupy the white room. On the fourth night I accidentally overheard a brief but pregnant colloquy which took place just inside the library door, toward the last of the evening.
"You've got to take her home to-night, old man."
"I won't." It was the Philosopher.
"You've got to. It's your turn. No shirking."
"I'll be hanged if I will."
"I'll be hanged if I will. There's a limit."
"I'd always supposed there was. There doesn't seem to be."
"Come along--stand up to it like a man. It's up to you to-night. She can't carry you off bodily."
"I'm not so sure of that." The Philosopher's tone was grim.
So far I had been transfixed. But now I hurried away. I was consumed with anxiety during the next ten minutes, lest they come to blows in settling it. But when they appeared I could tell that they had settled it somehow.
When Dahlia arose and said that she positively must go they both accompanied her. The transit occupied less time than it had done on