Flood Tide Part 24

Madam Lee, with her unerring intuition, had probed his heart and read his destiny aright.

His future lay not with this pampered daughter of a great house whose selfishness he had repeatedly excused and refused to recognize; nor would he purchase worldly prosperity at the price of his soul. Casting aside the easier way, he would follow the rough path that mounted upward to the star of his desire. Before the waning of another moon both of these women who had come into his world should know his intentions and have the opportunity to accept or reject that which he had to offer them. He hoped Cynthia would understand and forgive; he was fond of Cynthia. And he hoped, prayed, implored Heaven that Delight Hathaway would not turn a deaf ear to his entreaties, for without the prize on which his hopes were set life's race would not be worth the running.

Well, he would not allow the thought of failure any place in his mind.

Victory should be his--it would be, _must_ be! See how all the world smiled on the vow he registered. The sky had never stretched more cloudlessly above his head; the air had never been sweeter, the dancing ripples of the bay gladder in their golden scintillations. The whole universe throbbed with youth and its dauntless supremacy. Something told him he would conquer and with a high heart he alighted at the door of the dear, familiar gray cottage.

Willie came to meet him.

"Well, son," said he, reaching forth his hands, "If I ain't glad to see you flitting home again! I've missed you like as if the two days was two weeks. I reckon your aunt has, too. Anyhow, she took to her bed quick as you was out of sight an' ain't been seen since."

"Aunt Tiny ill!"

"No, not sick exactly," explained Willie, as arm in arm they proceeded up the walk. "She's just struck of a heap with a lame shoulder such as she has sometimes. She can't move a peg, poor soul!"

"Great Scott! That's hard luck! Then since you're short-handed, I shall be more bother than I'm worth round here. I'd better have stayed where I was. You won't want any extra people to look out for and feed now, I fancy."

"Oh, law, I ain't doin' the cookin'!" grinned the little inventor, as if the bare notion of such a thing amused him vastly. "Why, I could no more cook a dish that was fit to eat than a mariner could run a pink tea. I'd die of starvation if the victuals was left to me. Let alone the cookin', we'd 'a' had to have help anyhow, 'cause Tiny's too miserable to do much for herself. So we've got in one of the neighbors."

"It's a shame!"

"Oh, we'll pull through alive," smiled Willie, cheerfully. "We've piloted our way through many a worse channel. This spell of Tiny's ain't nothin' she's goin' to die of, thank the Lord! She takes cold sudden sometimes, an' it always makes straight for that shoulder of hers, stiffenin' up every muscle in it. She'll admire to see you home again, I know. The sight of you will probably make her better right away. You can run up to her room now if you choose to. I'll be round in the shop when you want me."

With a beaming countenance the old man turned away.

Robert Morton opened the screen door diffidently, speculating as to whom he would confront in the kitchen; then he stopped, arrested on the doorsill.

At the wooden table near the pantry window stood Delight Hathaway, her sleeves rolled to the elbow, and her slender figure enveloped in a voluminous gingham pinafore that covered her from chin to ankle and was tied in place at the back by a pert bow. She was sifting flour into a mammoth yellow bowl, and as she stirred the mixture the sweep of her round white arm brought a flood of color into her cheeks and wreathed her brow with tiny, damp ringlets.

Bob held his breath, hungrily devouring her with his eyes, but a quick breeze brought the door to with a bang and the girl glanced over her shoulder.

"All hail!" she cried, the dimple darting out of hiding with her smile.

"You have a new cook, monsieur."

"My word!" was all the young man could stammer.

"Is it as bad as all that?" she laughed.

"No--but--Great Hat--this is--is awful, you know."

"What is awful?" returned she, turning to face him.

"Why, having you come here and cook for us two men."

"Oh, I'm always cooking for somebody," was the matter-of-fact retort.

"Why not you?"

"Well, it makes me feel like a--it doesn't seem right, somehow."

"It's as right as possible. I rather like it," said she, darting him a roguish look, then bending over the bowl before her.

"Well, you must let me help you, anyway. Can't I--I b.u.t.ter something?"

"b.u.t.ter something!"

"Yes, things are always having to be b.u.t.tered, aren't they--pans, and dishes, and cups--" he paused vaguely.

Her laugh echoed like a chime of miniature bells.

"I am sorry to say the pan is already b.u.t.tered," replied she. "What other accomplishments have you?"

"Oh, I can do anything I am told," came eagerly from Bob.

"That's something, anyway. Then fetch me some flour, please."

"Flour?"

"It's in the barrel. No, that's the sugar bowl. The barrel under the shelf."

"The barrel! To be sure. Barrel ahoy! How could I have mistaken its sylph-like form? How much flour do you want?"

"Just a little."

She pa.s.sed the sieve to him and went to inspect the oven.

Bob caught up the sifter, filled it to the brim, and came toward her, turning the handle as he approached.

"I say, this is great, isn't it?" he observed, so intent on the mechanism of the device that he did not notice the track of whiteness which he was leaving behind him. "It is like winding up a victrola."

Whistling a random strain from _Faust_ he turned the handle faster.

"Oh, Bob!" burst out Delight. "Look what you're doing."

Obediently he looked but did not comprehend. Her slip of the tongue had banished every other idea from his mind.

"Say it again, please."

"What?"

"Say _Bob_ again as you did just now."

"I--didn't know I did," faltered the girl. "I--I--forgot."

"Forgot."

He dropped the sifter into the bowl and his hand closed firmly over the one that now rested on its yellow rim.

"Oh, see what you've done!" cried she. "You have spilled all that flour into the cake."