Frivolous Cupid | Page 4

don't have prospects, or, anyhow, are spared
questionings thereon.
Either from impatience of this topic, or because, after all, tennis was
not to be neglected, he left her, and she sat alone for a little while,
watching him play. She was glad that she had not played; she could not
have rivaled the activity of the Vicarage girls. She got up and joined
Mrs. Sterling, who was presiding over the club teapot. The good lady
expected compliments on her son, but for some reason Mrs. Mortimer
gave her none. Very soon, indeed, she took Johnnie away with her,
leaving her husband to follow at his leisure.
In comparing Maudie Sinclair to a suet pudding, Harry had looked at
the dark side of the matter.
The suggestion, though indisputable, was only occasionally obtrusive,
and as a rule hushed almost to silence by the pleasant good nature
which redeemed shapeless features. Mrs. Mortimer had always liked
Maudie, who ran in and out of her house continually, and had made of
herself a vice-mother to the little children.
The very next day she came, and, in the intervals of playing cricket
with Johnnie, took occasion to inform Mrs. Mortimer that in her
opinion Harry Sterling was by no means improved by his new status
and dignity. She went so far as to use the term "stuck- up." "He didn't
use to be like that," she said, shaking her head; "he used to be very
jolly." Mrs. Mortimer was relieved to note an entire absence of
romance either in the regretted past or the condemned present. Maudie
mourned a friend spoiled, not an admirer lost; the tone of her criticisms

left no doubt of it, and Mrs. Mortimer, with a laugh, announced her
intention of asking the Sterlings to dinner and having Maudie to meet
them. "You will be able to make it up then," said she.
"Why, I see him every day at the tennis club," cried Maudie in surprise.
The faintest of blushes tinged Mrs. Mortimer's cheek as she chid herself
for forgetting this obvious fact.
The situation now developed rapidly. The absurd thing happened:
Harry Sterling began to take a serious view of his attachment to Mrs.
Mortimer. The one thing more absurd, that she should take a serious
view of it, had not happened yet, and, indeed, would never happen; so
she told herself with a nervous little laugh. Harry gave her no
opportunity of saying so to him, for you cannot reprove glances or
discourage pressings of your hand in fashion so blunt.
And he was very discreet: he never made her look foolish. In public he
treated her with just the degree of attention that gained his mother's
fond eulogium, and his father's approving smile; while Mr. Mortimer,
who went to London at nine o'clock every morning and did not return
till seven, was very seldom bothered by finding the young fellow
hanging about the house. Certainly he came pretty frequently between
the hours named, but it was, as the children could have witnessed, to
play with them. And, through his comings and goings, Mrs. Mortimer
moved with pleasure, vexation, self-contempt, and eagerness.
One night she and her husband went to dine with the Sterlings. After
dinner Mr. Mortimer accepted his host's invitation to stay for a smoke.
He saw no difficulty in his wife walking home alone; it was but half a
mile, and the night was fine and moonlit. Mrs. Mortimer made no
difficulty either, but Mrs. Sterling was sure that Harry would be
delighted to see Mrs. Mortimer to her house.
She liked the boy to learn habits of politeness, she said, and his father
eagerly proffered his escort, waving aside Mrs. Mortimer's protest that
she would not think of troubling Mr. Harry; throughout which
conversation Harry said nothing at all, but stood smiling, with his hat in
his hand, the picture of an obedient, well-mannered youth. There are
generally two ways anywhere, and there were two from the Sterlings' to
the Mortimers': the short one through the village, and the long one
round by the lane and across the Church meadow. The path diverging
to the latter route comes very soon after you leave the Sterlings', and

not a word had passed when Mrs. Mortimer and Harry reached it. Still
without a word, Harry turned off to follow the path. Mrs. Mortimer
glanced at him; Harry smiled.
"It's much longer," she said.
"There's lots of time," rejoined Harry, "and it's such a jolly night." The
better to enjoy the night's beauty, he slackened his pace to a very crawl.
"It's rather dark; won't you take my arm?" he said.
"What nonsense! Why, I could see to read!"
"But I'm sure you're tired."
"How absurd you are! Was it a great bore?"
"What?"
"Why, coming."
"No," said