A Husband by Proxy | Page 8

he said, handing her the box of confections. "I didn't think I'd be able to make it, till I wired. While this bit of important business lasts we must do the best we can."
He had thrown his arm about her carelessly. She moved away with a natural gesture towards the man who had opened the door.
"Oh, Jerold, this is my Uncle Sykey--Mr. Robinson," she said. "He and Aunt Jill have come to pay me a visit. We must all go upstairs to the parlor."
She was pale with excitement, but her acting was perfect.
Garrison turned to the narrow-eyed old man, who was scowling darkly upon him.
"I'm delighted to meet you," he said, extending his hand.
"Um! Thank you," said Robinson, refusing his hand. "Extraordinary honeymoon you're giving my niece, Mr. Fairfax."
His manner nettled Garrison, who could not possibly have gauged the depth of the old man's dislike, even hatred, conceived against him simply as Dorothy's husband.
A greeting so utterly uncordial made unlooked-for demands upon his wits.
"The present arrangement will not endure very long," he said significantly. "In the meantime, if Dorothy is satisfied there seems to be no occasion for anyone else to feel distressed."
"If that's intended as a fling at me----" started Robinson, but Dorothy interrupted.
"Please come upstairs," she said, laying her hand for a moment on Garrison's shoulder; and then she ran up lightly, looking back with all the smiles of perfect art.
Garrison read it as an invitation to a private confidence, much needed to put him properly on guard. He bounded up as if in hot pursuit, leaving her uncle down there by the door.
She fled to the end of the upper hall, near a door that was closed. Garrison had lost no space behind her. She turned a white, tense face as she came to a halt.
"Be careful, please," she whispered. "Some of my relatives appeared here unexpectedly this afternoon. I had to wire on that account. Get away just as soon as you can. You are merely passing through the city. You must write me daily letters while they are here--and--don't forget who you are supposed to be!"
She was radiant again with blushes. Garrison was almost dazzled by her beauty. What reply he might have made was interrupted. Dorothy caught him by the hand, like a fond young bride, as her uncle came rapidly up the stairs. The door was opened at his elbow by a white-haired, almost "bearded" woman, large, sharp-sighted, and ugly, with many signs of both inquisitiveness and acquisitiveness upon her.
"So, that's your Mr. Fairfax," she said to Dorothy. "Come in here till I see what you're like."
Dorothy had again taken Garrison's arm. She led him forward.
"This is Aunt Jill," she said, by way of introduction and explanation. "Aunty, this is my husband, Jerold."
Aunt Jill had backed away from the door to let them enter. Garrison realized at once that Dorothy's marriage had excited much antagonism in the breasts of both these relatives. A sudden accession of boldness came upon him, in his plan to protect the girl. He entered the room and faced the woman calmly.
"I'm glad to meet you," he said, this time without extending his hand. "I beg to impress upon both you and Mr. Robinson that, such as I am, Dorothy chose me of her own free will to occupy my present position."
Mrs. Robinson was momentarily speechless. Her husband now stood in the door.
Dorothy shot Garrison a look of gratitude, but her immediate desire was for peace.
"Let us all sit down, and try to get better acquainted," she said. "I'm sure we shall all be friends."
"No doubt," said her uncle somewhat offensively.
Garrison felt himself decidedly uncertain of his ground. There was nothing to do, however, but await developments. He looked about the room in a quick, comprehensive manner.
It was a large apartment, furnished handsomely, perhaps even richly, but in a style no longer modern, save for the installation of electric lights. It contained a piano, a fireplace, a cabinet, writing-desk, two settees, and the customary complement of chairs.
The pictures on the walls were rather above the average, even in the homes of the wealthy. The objects of art, disposed in suitable places, were all in good taste and expensive.
Quite at a loss to meet these people to advantage, uninformed as he was of anything vital concerning Dorothy and the game she might be playing, Garrison was rendered particularly alert by the feeling of constraint in the air. He had instantly conceived a high appreciation for Dorothy's art in her difficult position, and he rose to a comprehension of the r?le assigned to himself.
He had earlier determined to appear affectionate; he now saw the need of enacting the part of protector.
In the full illumination of the room, the glory of Dorothy's beauty was startling. His eyes sought her face with no