The Essential Winston Churchill Collection. Winston Churchill
a meaning glance backward.
I was tempted to say:
"You and Mr. Allen should know these roads rather well, Miss Thorn."
"Every inch of them," she replied.
We must have gone a mile farther when she turned upon me.
"It is your duty to be entertaining, Mr. Crocker. What in the world are you thinking of, with your brow all puckered up, forbidding as an owl?"
"I was thinking how some people change," I answered, with a readiness which surprised me.
"Strange," she said, "I had the same thing in mind. I hear decidedly queer tales of you; canoeing every day that business does not prevent, and whole evenings spent at the dark end of a veranda."
"What rubbish!" I exclaimed, not knowing whether to be angered or amused.
"Come, sir," she said, with mock sternness, "answer the charge. Guilty or not guilty?"
"First let me make a counter-charge," said I; "you have given me the right. Not long ago a certain young lady came to Mohair and found there a young author of note with whom she had had some previous acquaintance. She did not hesitate to intimate her views on the character of this Celebrity, and her views were not favorable."
I paused. There was some satisfaction in seeing Miss Thorn biting her lip.
"Well?"
"Not at all favorable, mind you," I went on. "And the young lady's general appearance was such as to lead one to suppose her the sincerest of persons. Now I am at a loss to account for a discrepancy between her words and her actions."
While I talked Miss Thorn's face had been gradually turning from mine until now I saw only the dainty knot at the back of her head. Her shoulders were quivering with laughter. But presently her face came back all gravity, save a suspicious gleam of mirth in the eyes.
"It does seem inconsistent, Mr. Crocker; I grant you that. No doubt it is so. But let me ask you something: did you ever yet know a woman who was not inconsistent?"
I did not realize I had been side-tracked until I came to think over this conversation afterwards.
"I am not sure," I replied. "Perhaps I merely hoped that one such existed."
She dropped her eyes.
"Then don't be surprised at my failing," said she. "No doubt I criticised the Celebrity severely. I cannot recall what I said. But it is upon the better side of a character that we must learn to look. Did it ever strike you that the Celebrity had some exceedingly fine qualities?"
"No, it did not," I answered positively.
"Nevertheless, he has," she went on, in all apparent seriousness. "He drives almost as well as Uncle Farquhar, dances well, and is a capital paddle."
"You were speaking of qualities, not accomplishments," I said. A horrible suspicion that she was having a little fun at my expense crossed my mind.
"Very good, then. You must admit that he is generous to a fault, amiable; and persevering, else he would never have attained the position he enjoys. And his affection for you, Mr. Crocker, is really touching, considering how little he gets in return."
"Come, Miss Thorn," I said severely, "this is ridiculous. I don't like him, and never shall. I liked him once, before he took to writing drivel. But he must have been made over since then. And what is more, with all respect to your opinion, I don't believe he likes me."
Miss Thorn straightened up with dignity and said:
"You do him an injustice. But perhaps you will learn to appreciate him before he leaves Mohair."
"That is not likely," I replied--not at all pleasantly, I fear. And again I thought I observed in her the same desire to laugh she had before exhibited.
And all the way back her talk was of nothing except the Celebrity. I tried every method short of absolute rudeness to change the subject, and went from silence to taciturnity and back again to silence. She discussed his books and his mannerisms, even the growth of his popularity. She repeated anecdotes of him from Naples to St. Petersburg, from Tokio to Cape Town. And when we finally stopped under the porte cochere I had scarcely the civility left to say good-bye.
I held out my hand to help her to the ground, but she paused on the second step.
"Mr. Crocker," she observed archly, "I believe you once told me you had not known many girls in your life."
"True," I said; "why do you ask?"
"I wished to be sure of it," she replied.
And jumping down without my assistance, she laughed and disappeared into the house.
VOLUME 3.
CHAPTER IX
That evening I lighted a cigar and went down to sit on the outermost pile of the Asquith dock to commune with myself. To say that I was disappointed in Miss Thorn would be to set a mild value on my feelings. I was angry, even aggressive, over her defence of the Celebrity. I had gone over to Mohair that day with a hope that some good reason was at the bottom of her tolerance for him, and had come back without any hope. She not only tolerated him, but, wonderful to be said, plainly liked him. Had she not praised him, and defended him, and become indignant when I spoke my mind about him? And I would have taken my oath, two weeks before, that nothing short of hypnotic influence could have changed her. By her own confession she had come to Asquith with her eyes opened, and, what was more, seen another girl wrecked on the same reef.
Farrar followed me out presently, and I had an impulse to submit the problem as it stood to him. But it was a long story, and I did not believe that if he were in my boots he would have consulted me. Again, I sometimes thought Farrar yearned for confidences, though it was impossible for him to confide. And he wore an inviting air to-night. Then, as everybody knows, there is that about twilight and an after-dinner cigar which leads to communication. They are excellent solvents. My friend seated himself on the pile next to mine, and said,
"It strikes me you have been behaving rather queer lately, Crocker."
This was clearly an invitation from Farrar, and I melted.
"I admit," said I, "that I am a good deal perplexed over the contradictions of the human mind."
"Oh, is that all?" he replied dryly. "I supposed it was worse. Narrower, I mean. Didn't know you ever bothered yourself with abstract philosophy."
"See here, Farrar," said I, "what is your opinion of Miss Thorn?"
He stopped kicking his feet against the pile and looked up.
"Miss Thorn?"
"Yes, Miss Thorn," I repeated with emphasis. I knew he had in mind that abominable twaddle about the canoe excursions.
"Why, to tell the truth," said he, "I never had any opinion of Miss Thorn."
"You mean you never formed any, I suppose," I returned with some tartness.
"Yes, that is it. How darned precise you are getting, Crocker! One would think you were going to write a rhetoric. What put Miss Thorn into your head?"
"I have been coaching beside her this afternoon."
"Oh!" said Farrar.