Concerning Sally Part 49

Fox laughed a little, nervously. "Hope he has a pleasant chase. He'll hardly catch Spencer." Eugene was already at the corner. "My first patient, Sally, although the Retreat is not open yet. This man is not the kind of patient I shall hope to have, but it seemed better to send him there and avoid publicity. We can take good care of him. h.e.l.lo!"

There was some kind of an uproar just around the corner. It lasted only a moment and then Eugene came driving back, alone.

"That man of yours," he said, pulling up short, "recovered very suddenly, rolled out, and the pair of them ran down the street like scared rabbits. I didn't chase them, for I thought that you would probably be glad enough to get rid of him."

"I am," Fox replied, with evident relief. "He can't be much hurt. I'm much obliged to you, Spencer."

"Shan't I take Sally home? Or there's room for both of you, if you don't mind a little crowding."

"We will walk home, thank you, Jane," said Sally, with the finality he had come to expect. "I haven't seen Fox for a long time and I have a lot to say to him."

So Eugene, muttering something under his breath, made a very short turn, in which process he very nearly tipped over, and gave his horse a cut with the whip. The animal, which was not expecting this and did not deserve it, gave a bound and they were gone.

Sally chuckled. "Display of temper on Mr. Spencer's part," Fox observed, "wholly uncalled for. Bad for the horse, too. I judge that he is not the equal of Everett as a horse trainer."

Sally's chuckling broke out afresh. "No, he's not, I'm afraid. Those displays of temper are not unusual. Now, Fox, come along."

Fox was a little surprised--just a little--to feel Sally's hand within his arm, but he did know better than to show his surprise, if there were some things that he didn't know. If he had only known, he--well--but Sally was speaking to him.

"Now, Fox," she was saying, "how in the world did you happen to turn up just at that moment? You were in the nick of time."

"Oh, I don't know about that. You would probably have left them. They were about all in, both of them. But I didn't happen to turn up. It wasn't any accident. I was looking for you."

Unconsciously, Sally tightened her hold upon his arm. "Oh," she murmured, "that was nice!"

"I only got here this afternoon," Fox continued, paying no obvious attention to her murmured remark, "and I went right to Mrs. Stump's. I found your mother a little upset and rather anxious, but I didn't succeed in finding out what it was about." He did not say--perhaps he did not know--how upset Mrs. Ladue had been. She had been torn by conflicting emotions, and she showed evidences of it. But there had been never a moment's hesitation about the course she would pursue.

Only she had raised troubled, tearful eyes to Fox, and had said--but what Mrs. Ladue had said forms no part of this chronicle. Whatever she said, she did not tell him clearly of the rumors connecting Everett's name with Sally's. He would hear those rumors soon enough, if there was anything in them; if there was not, for that matter.

Sally had been thinking. "I am afraid," she said softly, "that it was about me. I hoped she was all over it when I left."

Fox turned his head and looked at her, but he did not reply to her remark directly. "She said that you had gone for a walk, but she didn't know where. I waited a long time, thinking you might come in.

Your mother and I had a long talk."

Sally would have given a good deal to know what the long talk was about. "It--it isn't true, Fox," she began slowly.

"What! It is true, too. We talked for an hour and forty minutes, while I was waiting. I know."

Sally laughed nervously. "I--I meant that anything you may hear about me isn't true."

"Clear as mud, Sally. Well, I'll remember. Anything that I hear about you isn't true. But I'm not likely to hear the voice of rumor especially if it's about you."

Sally made no reply to this, and Fox went on. "When it began to grow dark, I made some inquiries, and I found a certain person who had seen you go out; and you had met a man at the next corner--Who was the man, Sally?"

"Everett," Sally replied briefly; and she started to say more, but thought better of it--or worse, as you like--and shut her lips tight together.

"Oh, yes, she said she thought it was Everett. I thought that, perhaps, she was mistaken."

"No," said Sally, "she was not mistaken."

"Hum!" said Fox, smiling to himself; but Sally could not see that.

"And this exceedingly well-informed person said that you and Everett evidently had a spat on the street corner, and that he went off, mad."

"Yes," said Sally, nodding. She might have known that Fox couldn't see the nod.

"Too bad!" said Fox. "Exemplary young man--especially one who has seen the world and who has as perfect manners as Everett wishes it to be thought that he has--shouldn't go off mad. Very young. It reminds one of your young friend, Spencer. We should expect him to go off mad, shouldn't we, Sally?"

Sally chuckled again. "We should."

"Well," Fox resumed, "finding that you had been last seen hiking down the street without male escort, Everett having got mad and declined to play and gone home,--it is to be hoped that he had gone home,--I put out after you, lippety-clippety. All the male inhabitants of Whitby seem to think that is their chief end in life."

"Oh, Fox," said Sally faintly, "they don't."

"They do," Fox insisted; "all except d.i.c.k." He laughed. "Speaking of d.i.c.k reminds me that I have something to tell you if you don't let me forget it. Well, loping along that way, I came to the historic corner--of what street?"

"River Street. How did you happen to come that way?"

"Followed my nose. You had gone along this street. So did I. You came to the corner. So did I, and I nearly ran into you."

She shivered a little. Fox felt it, and held his arm closer to him.

"Are you cold, Sally?"

"No." She spoke low. "But I'm glad you came, Fox. I'm very glad."

"So am I, for several reasons not to be catalogued at present." They had almost reached Mrs. Stump's. "Oh, I was going to tell you something in connection with d.i.c.k. Henrietta's engaged. She wanted me to tell you. So, it is to be presumed, is d.i.c.k."

"I'm very glad, but I'm not surprised. I don't suppose Henrietta expected me to be."

"She didn't mention it, so you don't have to be."

"I'll write to her to-night. So that accounts for d.i.c.k's mysterious disappearances."

"He's been visiting us at your old place, Sally. He was so much interested in seeing your favorite trees and in hearing about you, that Henrietta felt rather jealous."

Sally laughed derisively. They were standing at the foot of Mrs.

Stump's fine granite steps. Fox was silent for a moment, looking at Sally.

"I know," he said at last thoughtfully, "I know where there are some gynesaurus trees near Whitby."

Sally's face lighted up. "Could a person climb them, Fox?"

"A person about twenty-two years old?" asked Fox. "I should think she might if she is able."

"She is able," she returned, nodding emphatically. "Will you tell me where they are?"

"Some day," Fox answered, not looking at her, "I will show them to you."