Apron-Strings Part 13

"Mother dear," returned Sue, "did you ever see anything like smilax to get all over the place?" Her voice trembled like the voice of a child caught in wrongdoing. "One little bit here--one little bit there----"

"Get up," ordered her mother, curtly. And as Sue rose, "What's the matter with you, Mr. Farvel? Are you sick?"

"Mother!"--it was a low appeal.

Farvel rose, a trifle wearily. "No," he answered, meeting the angry look of the elder woman calmly. "I am not sick."

Mrs. Milo turned to vent her wrath upon Sue. "I declare I don't know what to think of you," she scolded. "Down on the carpet, making an exhibition of yourself!"

Sue's look beseeched Farvel. "Don't stay for rehearsal," she said.

"Find another clergyman."

"That's best," he answered; "yes."

Mrs. Milo broke in upon them, not able to control herself. "Where's your dignity?" she demanded of Sue. "Acting like a romantic schoolgirl--a great, overgrown woman."

Farvel bowed to Sue with formality, ignoring her mother. "You're very kind," he said. "I'm grateful." With Wallace following, he went out by the door leading to the Church.

Instantly Mrs. Milo grew more calm. She seated herself with something of a judicial air. "Now, what's this all about?" she asked. "You know that I don't like a mystery."

Sue came to stand before her mother. And again her att.i.tude was not that of one woman talking to another, but that of a child, anxious to excuse a fault. "Well,--well," she began haltingly, "someone he cared for--disappeared."

"Cared for," repeated Mrs. Milo, instant relief showing in her tone.

"Ah, indeed! A girl, I suppose?"

"Y-y-yes."

Still more pleased, her mother leaned back, smiling. "And she disappeared, did she? Well, I don't wonder he's so secret about it.

Ha! ha!"--that well-bred, rippling laugh.

Sue stared down at her. "You mean----" she asked; "you mean----"

Mrs. Milo lifted her eyebrows. "My daughter," she answered, "don't you know that there's only one reason why a girl drops out of sight?"

In amazement Sue fell back a step. "Mother!" she cried. Then turned abruptly, and went out into the Close.

Mrs. Milo stood up, on her face conscious guilt for her suspicion and her lack of charity. But she was appalled--almost stunned. Never in all her life before had her daughter left her in such a way. "I declare!" burst forth the elder woman. "I declare!" Then following Sue a few steps, and calling after her through the open door, "Well, what fills that basket out there? And what fills our Orphanage?" And more weakly, but still in an effort to justify herself, "What--what other reason can you suggest, I'd like to know! And--and it's just plain, common sense!" She came back to stand alone, staring before her. Then she sank to a chair.

Wallace returned. "Where's Sue, mother?" he asked.

"What?--Oh, it's you, darling? She--she stepped out."

"Out?"

"Into the Close."

"Oh." He hurried across the room.

Mrs. Milo fluttered to her feet. "I--I can't have that choir in the library any longer," she declared decisively. And left the room.

Sue entered in answer to her brother's call, and came straight to him.

She had forgotten her anger by now; her look was anxious.

"Sue, let's go ahead with the rehearsal," he begged.

"Wallace,"--she gripped both of his wrists, as if she were determined to hold him until she had the answers she sought--"you knew her--that girl?"

He averted his eyes. "Why, yes."

She spoke very low. "Was she--sweet?"

"Yes; sweet,"--with a note of impatience.

"Light--or dark?"

"Rather dark." Again he showed irritation.

"Was she--was she pretty?"

"She was beautiful."

Her hands fell. She turned away. "And she dropped right out of his life," she said, as if to herself. Then coming about suddenly, "Why, Wallace? You don't know?"

"I--do--not--know." He dragged at his hair with a nervous hand.

She lowered her voice again. "Wallace,--she--she didn't have to go?"

Her brother made a gesture of angry impatience. "Oh, I'm disappointed in you!" he cried. "I thought you were different from other women.

But you're just as quick to think wrong!"

She brought her hands together; and a look, wistful and appealing, gave to her face that curiously childlike expression. "Well, influence of the basket," she admitted ruefully, and hung her head.

He thrust his hands into his pockets sulkily, and turned his back.

Mrs. Balcome came puffing in. "Say, you know dear Babette is getting very tired," she announced pettishly. "And I wish----"

As if in answer to her complaining, there came a burst of song. The library door swung wide. And forward, with serene and uplifted faces, came the choir, singing the wedding-march. Each cotta swayed in time.

Balcome and Hattie followed the procession, the former scolding.

"Well, are we rehearsing at last, or what are we doing?" he demanded as he pa.s.sed Sue.

Mrs. Balcome shook with laughter. "Fancy anybody being such a dolt as to rehea.r.s.e without a minister!" she scoffed.

The choir filed out, and their song came floating back from the Close.

Miss Crosby entered and went to Sue. "Miss Milo, don't I sing before the ceremony?" she asked.

Sue roused herself with a shake of the head and a helpless laugh.

"Well, you see how much _I_ know about weddings," she answered. "Now, I'm going to introduce the bridegroom." Wallace was beside Hattie, leaning over her with anxious devotion, and whispering. Sue pulled at his sleeve. "Wallace," she said, "you haven't met Miss Crosby." And to Miss Crosby as he turned, a little annoyed at being interrupted, "This is the lucky man."