The White Shadow | Page 5

to move unless Sweetheart would take him out into our garden and show him the solitary goldfish which lurked in the fountain under the almond trees. But Sweetheart, apparently fascinated by the mysteries of packing, turned a deaf ear to Cliff3rd's blandishments and Rowden's discords.
"I imagined," said Clifford, somewhat hurt, "that you would delight in taking upon yourself the duties of a hostess. I should be pleased to believe that I am not an unwelcome guest."
"So should I," echoed Rowden; "I'd be pleased too."
"What a shame for you to bother, Jack! she said. "Mr. Clifford shall go and make some tea directly. Mr. Rowden, you may take a table out by the fountain--and stay there."
Clifford, motioning Elliott to take the other end of the Japanese table, backed with it through the hallway and out to the gravel walk, expostulating.
"The sugar is there in that tin box by the model stand," she said, when he reappeared, "and the extra spoons are Lying in a long box on Jack's big easel."
When Rowden, reluctantly relinquishing the zitherine, followed Clifford, bearing the cups and alcohol lamp, I raised my head and wiped the dust from my forehead. I believe I swore a little in French. Sweetheart looked startled. She knew more French than I supposed she did.
"What is it, Jack?"
"Mais--rien, cì§a m'embeì?te--cette espeì€ce de malle--"
"Then why won't you let me help you, Jack? I can at least put in my gowns."
"But I must pack my colour box first, and the gun case, and the box of reels, and the pastel case, and our shooting boots, and the watercolour box, and the cartridge belt, and your golf shoes, and--"
"O dear!" said Sweetheart with a shudder.
I stood up and scowled at the trunk.
"To look at you, Jack," murmured Sweetheart, "one might think you unhappy."
Unhappy! At the thought our eyes met across the table.
"Unhappy!" I whispered.
Then Clifford came stumbling in, wearing a pair of Joseph's sabots, and, imitating that faithful domestic in voice and manner, invited us to tea under the lilacs and almond blossoms.
"In a moment," cried Sweetheart impatiently. "Go and pour the tea."
Clifford looked aghast. "No, no!" he cried; "it's impossible--I won't believe that you two are deliberately getting rid of me so you can be alone to spoon! And your honeymoon already a year old, and--"
Sweetheart frowned, and tapped her foot.
Clifford retired indignant.
Then she raised her eyes to mine, and a delicate colour stained her cheeks and neck.
"Yes," I said, "we have been married nearly a year, Sweetheart."
We looked at our white shadows on the floor.
V.
Sweetheart sat under the lilac blossoms pouring out tea for Clifford, Elliott, and Row-den. She was gracious to Clifford, gentle to Elliott, and she took Rowden under her wing in the sweetest way possible, to which Clifford stated his objections.
"Mr. Rowden is younger than you are," she said gravely. "Monsieur Clifford, I do not wish you to torment him."
"Rowden's no baby; he's as old as Jack is, and Jack doesn't murder music."
"I am glad to see you acknowledge Jack's superiority in all matters," said Sweetheart with a dangerous smile.
"I don't," cried Clifford laughing; "and I don't see what you find to care about in a man who clips his hair like a gendarme and paints everything purple."
"Everything is purple--if Jack paints it so," said Sweetheart, smiling at her reflected face in the water. She stood at the rim of the little stone fountain with her hands clasped behind her back. Elliott and Clifford were poking about in the water plants to dislodge the solitary goldfish, while Rowden gathered dewy clusters of lilacs as an offering.
"There he goes!" said Elliott.
"Poor fellow, living there all alone!" said Sweetheart. "Jack must leave word with Joseph to get him a little lady fish to pay his court to."
"Better put in another gentleman fish, then, if you're following Nature," said Clifford, with an attempt at cynicism which drew the merriest laugh from Sweetheart.
"Oh, how funny is Monsieur Clifford when he wants to be like Frenchmen!" she murmured.
"Jack," said Elliott, as I came from the studio and picked up a cup of tea grown cold, "Clifford's doing the world-worn disenchanted roueì."
"And--and I fear he will next make love to me!" cried Sweetheart.
"You'd better look out, Jack," said Clifford darkly, and pretended to sulk until Sweetheart sent him off to buy the bonbons she would need for the train.
"They're packed," I said, "every trunk of them!"
Sweetheart was enchanted. "All my new gowns, and the shoes from Rix's--O Jack, you didn't forget the shoes--and the bath robes-- and--"
"All packed," I said, swallowing the tea with a wry face.
"Oh," she cried reproachfully, "don't drink that! Here, I will have some hot tea in a moment," and she ran over and perched on the arm of the garden bench while I lighted the alcohol lamp and then a cigarette.
Rowden