Mrs. Duds Sister | Page 4

her.
"You have rheumatism! And you sat all the time on that damp grass!"
she cried reproachfully. "I thought at first it was the craziest thing to do,
but I didn't dare say so."
He ignored the charge but smiled at the confession.
"And now you're not afraid?"
She blushed again. It was very becoming.
"It seems--it seems foolish to act like strangers when it's been so
long--we remember so well--" She sighed a little. He studied her
face--so like her sister's and so utterly different. The same gray eyes,
but calm and drooped; the same clear white skin, but a fuller, yes, a
more matronly face, a riper, sweeter, more restful curve. The soft dark
shadows that accentuated Mrs. Dudley's eyes were lacking; a group of
tiny wrinkles at the corners gave her instead a pleasant, humorous
regard that her sister's literal directness missed utterly.
Nervous under his scrutiny, she rose hastily, and before he could
prevent her she had brought him a roomy arm-chair from the house.
"At our age there's no use in running risks," she said simply, "you
ought not to sit on the grass; leave that for the young folks."

Again he winced, but dropped with relief into the chair.
"Oh, one must keep up with the procession, you know!" he said lightly.
She made no reply; and as she lifted the bottle and began to beat the
yellow mass again, it occurred to him that the remark was exceptionally
silly.
"Does it have to go in slowly like that--the whole bottleful?" he
inquired lazily.
She nodded. "Or it curdles," she explained. "The cook sprained his
wrist yesterday. He never allows anybody to make the mayonnaise--he
can't trust them--and I was glad to do it for him. He says mine is as
good as his. Did you ever see him?"
"Well, no," Varian returned. "But he doesn't need to be seen to be
appreciated."
A strange suspicion crept over him.
"Do you often--Do you do much--How is it that you--" He could not
say it properly. Was it possible that Mrs. Dud---- It was unworthy of
her!
She caught his meaning, and her cool gray eyes met his with their
uncompromising directness. He seemed convicted of unnecessary
shuffling.
"Oh, Lizzie asked me not to do anything," she said quietly. "She
wanted me to enjoy myself with her friends. But I'm not used to so
much society, and I don't want to be any hinderance. I'm not so young
as I used to be. I'd have liked the gayety well enough when I was a girl,
but I guess it tires me a little now. There seems to be so much going on
all the time. Lizzie says she's resting, but it wouldn't rest me. Do you
find it so?"
He recalled his yesterday's programme: driving a pulling team all the

morning; carrying Mrs. Dud's heavy bag over the links all the
afternoon--she preferred her friends to caddies; prompting for the
dramatics rehearsal, with a poor light, all the evening, while the actors
gossiped and squabbled and flirted contentedly.
"It is not always restful," he admitted.
"It makes my head ache," she remarked placidly. "I like to see the girls
enjoy themselves. I'm glad they're happy--some of those visiting Lizzie
are so pretty!--but I'm glad I haven't got to run about so much. I'm very
fond of driving myself, if I have a good quiet horse that won't shy and
doesn't go fast, and Lizzie has one for me--a white one that's
gentle--and I drive about in the phaëton a great deal. The doctor that
came that night--were you here?--when Mrs. Page fainted and they
couldn't bring her to (it seems she was in the habit of taking some
medicine to make her sleep, and it weakened her heart) asked me if I
wouldn't like to take out some patients of his, and so I called for a very
nice lady--a Mrs. Williams; you probably don't know her?--and after
that a young girl with spinal trouble, and--and several others. They
seemed to enjoy it, and I'm sure I did. Once I took a young girl that's
staying here--she had a bad headache. She was a sweet girl, and I liked
her. She said the drive helped her a great deal. It's astonishing"--her
eyes met his wonderingly--"how much trouble you can have, with all
the money you want! I--I was sorry for her," she added, half to herself.
Before he thought he leaned forward, took her hand with the silver
tablespoon in it, and kissed it gently. He admired her as he would
admire some charming soft pastel hung in a cool white room.
"How sweet and good you are!" he said warmly; and then, to cover her
deep embarrassment and his own sudden emotion, he continued quickly,
"Are