Bird of Paradise Part 36

"Rather. So I have. You mustn't think it's cheek, you know, if I call your mother by her Christian name in the poetry. It's only for the rhyme."

Blushing and apologetically he read aloud in his gruff, shy voice:

"'_Geraldine, Geraldine, She has the nicest face I have ever seen, She did not say Until the other day That I might call her Geraldine, And I think she is like a Queen._'

"As a matter of fact she never said it at all," said the boy, folding it up. "That's only because it's poetry. And I only used her name for the rhyme."

"Yes, I see. You're very clever!"

"Don't you see any faults in it? I wish you'd tell me straight out exactly what you think, if you see anything wrong," said Clifford, like all young writers who think they are pining for criticism but are really yearning for praise. "I would like," he said, "for you to find any fault you possibly could! Say exactly what you really mean."

He really thought he meant it.

"Well, I don't see _one_ fault! I think it's perfect," replied Cissy, like all intelligent women in love with the writer. Her instinct warned her against finding any fault. Had she found any it would have been the only thing Clifford would have thought she happened to be wrong about.

As it was, his opinion of her judgment and general mental capacity went up enormously, and he decided that she was a very clever kid. A decent little girl too, and not at all bad looking.

"But aren't they a little short, Cissy?" he asked.

"Perhaps they are. But you can easily make them longer, can't you?"

"Oh yes, rather, of course I can."

"Don't you want mummy to see them?"

"Oh no, I don't think I do; wouldn't she laugh at me?"

"Oh no, I'm sure she wouldn't, Clifford. She's coming to have tea with us to-night."

"Well, mind you don't tell," he said threateningly.

"Of course, I won't. You can trust me. I say, Clifford."

"Well?"

"What do you think I used to want to do?"

"Haven't the slightest idea."

She hesitated a moment. "Shall I tell you?"

"If you like."

"Well, I used to want to marry Henry Ainley!"

"Did you, though," said Clifford, not very interested.

"Yes. But I don't now."

"Don't you, though?"

"No, not the least bit."

"Did he want to marry you?" asked Clifford. This idea occurred to him as being conversational, but he was still not interested.

"Oh, good gracious, no!" she exclaimed. "Of course not! rather not! Why, he doesn't know me. And if he did he would think I was a little girl."

"Well, so you are," said Clifford.

"I know. Shall I tell you why I don't want to marry Henry Ainley any more?"

"You can if you want to." These matrimonial schemes seemed to bore him, but he thought he ought to endure them as a matter of fair play, as she had listened to his poetry.

"Well, I don't care so much about marrying him now, because I should like to marry you!"

"Me! Oh, good Lord, I don't want to be engaged, thanks."

"Oh, Clifford, do!"

"None of the chaps at school are engaged. It isn't done. Being engaged is rot. Pickering isn't engaged."

"Yes; but I don't see why we shouldn't," she said, pouting.

"Well, I do, and I sha'n't be."

"But mightn't you later on, when we're older?" she implored.

"Why, no, I shouldn't think so. Why, your mother would be very angry.

You're only twelve. You're not out. You can't be engaged before you're out. Your mother would think it awful cheek of me."

"Well, I won't say anything more about it now," she said. "But, Clifford, will you, _perhaps_, _when_ I am out?"

"Oh, good Lord! What utter bosh. How do I know what I'll do when you're out?"

She began to look tearful.

"Oh, well, all right. I'll see. Perhaps I may. Mind, I don't promise."

He was thinking that if he refused her irrevocably and unconditionally he might not be asked to the house again. And he liked going on account of Pickering, Mrs. Pickering, and the house.

"Look here," he said after a moment's pause. "Let's forget all about this. I don't think your mother would like it."

"You think so much of my mother," she answered.

"Well, I should think so, don't you?"

"Oh yes, Clifford, I love her, of course."

"Well, then, don't you want me to like her?"