Nobody's Child Part 20

Carter lunched him royally at his club when the morning's business was ended, and invited him for the afternoon and for Sunday to his palatial new home in Spring Valley, but Baird had other plans; he meant to go to Westmore that evening.

"An attraction on the Ridge, I suppose," Carter said, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yes," Baird confessed, but with the air of the man who meant to say no more.

Carter turned to business. "Dempster says the first thing for us to do is to get out a new model that's something ahead of anything on the market yet."

"We have to compete with the French machines," Baird said. "If we can evolve a model that offers the qualities of the best French traveler, we'll have accomplished something. And there's a big future for the truck, too.... I went into the g.a.y.l.o.r.d factories after I came back from South America, worked eight months there, on purpose to get ideas for a model car and truck I've had in mind ever since I first saw a motor chugging along in Chicago. It was the trial trip of the orneriest excuse for a car man ever invented. I bought my way on her second trip just to study her. Then I took up mechanical engineering, or, rather, I went on with it. Except for the two years I spent on a ranch in Wyoming, I was always knocking around machine shops; my father couldn't keep me out of them."

Carter was thinking. "You've had a course in engineering, then?" he asked.

"Four years in Chicago University. That's what took me out to South America. I saw a chance to make money there and I made it, fifty thousand in one year--the next year I dropped it, partly because I hadn't experience enough, and partly because I had the Brazilian government against me.... But I've told you that story before."

Carter had followed his line of thought to a conclusion. "How would you like to go to France for a few months, go this autumn, and go the rounds of the factories there, while Dempster is enlarging the plant, and bring us back your ideas?"

It was the thing Baird desired most. He had puzzled over some means of getting to Europe and still keeping in close touch with the company.

Here was his opportunity, nevertheless his instant thought was, "If I do you'll pay me well for it--and you won't get my best ideas, either, not unless I get a lion's share of the profits." To Carter he said, "It wouldn't be a bad scheme--it would pay the company in the end, I think."

"I'll suggest it to Dempster when he comes in." Carter relaxed into chuckles then. "I've got a word to say to him about the present Dempster car, too. Spring Valley is duly impressed by the shining thing, which was my object in having it sent on, and I've gladly spent a hundred dollars or so on coats and bonnets and veils for Mrs. Carter and Christine, but, lord, Baird, every d.a.m.ned thing that could go wrong with an engine and four wheels has happened to that thing! I meant to run it myself and take a little quiet joy in doctoring its ills, but no, thank you! I'm done! I've advertised for a first-cla.s.s chauffeur who'll take charge of it and swear to all the neighbors that the beast is an angel.

It probably will sell Dempster cars, but I'll own to you that I'm sorry for the man who buys one."

"They're no good," Baird agreed, "but no make on the market is satisfactory, for that matter. We've simply got to get out a better machine." Then he laughed. "Garvin Westmore is having his trials, too, and keeping quiet about it. Every man will keep as quiet as possible about his engine troubles, keep a debit and credit sheet--debit, temper and money--credit, the envy of his neighbors and the possession of a high-priced convenience. And the credit sheet will win out every time.

The craze is on and will go the lengths--until we begin to travel the air."

"I suppose you'll be advocating a flying-machine annex to the factory next," Carter said.

Baird did not say that he had given a great deal of thought to aerial navigation. He bid Carter a laughing good-by and took the first train to the Ridge.

He settled quickly into the gravity that had held him ever since he had parted from Judith.... Judith would enjoy Europe. She had never been to Europe; neither had he.... And when they returned they would have to go west to live; he would have to be near the factory. He thought, with something of a glow, that Judith would be a queen anywhere, beautiful and capable--and a pa.s.sionately loving woman--her kiss had told him that.

He pondered Judith a little. She was no longer a mystery to him; just a splendid sort of woman who had plenty of will, will enough to have devoted herself to Westmore through the hard years, but, throughout, a woman desirous of love. He had wanted to discover her, and it had led to this. He couldn't ask for a better helpmate than Judith; she was a deal too fine for him, in fact; he would have to live up to Westmore ideals.... There was a lot of planning to do for the future.... It was almost four o'clock--he would fill in the time till evening, then go to Judith.

XXII

IMPRESSIONS

So Baird had decided when he alighted from the train and went down into the village for his horse which he always left at one of the village stables while he was in the city. He stopped at the little store-post-office for his mail, then rode up the Post-Road, across the railroad track and past the station. A short distance away he noticed a shining new buggy drawn close to the edge of the road, and his next glance told him that the girl in the buggy was Ann Penniman. He had not recognized her at first, in her red coat and big white hat; he had not immediately connected her with the new buggy and capable horse, either.

Baird was in a mood to be regretful for past misdemeanors; never in his life had he felt so solemnly retrospective for so many consecutive hours. He rode directly up to Ann, undeterred by the way in which she looked through him, much as Judith had looked through her on the day before.

Baird brought his horse to a stop beside her. "How do you do?" he said gravely.

Ann's beautiful brows lifted. "I am well, thank you." Baird could not have imagined a more icy greeting.

"Will you endure my presence long enough for me to say something?" he asked with unabated gravity.

"Why--certainly--" Ann's brows were still raised.

"I want to apologize humbly, for the way in which I repaid your kindness the other day. I behaved abominably."

Ann paused an instant for a choice of words. "I reckon I was too--pleasant to a stranger--an' you behaved the way that's natural to you. I haven't thought much about it, so it doesn't matter at all."

"I guess you're right about my being an ill-mannered brute--it's about time I reformed," Baird returned with perfect sincerity. "I'm very sorry I did what I did.... You see, Miss Ann, you're very sweet and pretty, the prettiest girl I've ever seen, I think, and I clean forgot myself--was just abominably natural, as you say."

Baird would not have been Baird had he not added this codicil to his apology and signed it by the look he gave Ann, an appreciative study of the water-lily hat and the flower-like face it framed. Her red coat became her wonderfully, made her clear skin still more white, intensified the gray in her hazel eyes, deepened the black in her hair.

She was a study in contrasts, and really very beautiful. And it struck Baird that she looked much more mature. There were shadows beneath her eyes, and her mouth looked firmer, like that of a girl grown rather suddenly into womanhood.

Ann increased the impression by the way in which she disposed of his speech. She shrugged slightly, shelving both his apology and his admiration with utter indifference. "I am waiting for my father--I reckon he must have missed the last train. Do you know what time it is?"

Baird looked at his watch. "The next train will be along in ten minutes."

"As soon as that? I'm glad.... I don't like to go any nearer the station, for we don't know yet whether this horse is train-broke."

Baird repeated his stock phrase. "You ought to have an automobile--it wouldn't take fright."

Ann smiled involuntarily at the thought of a Penniman's investing in an automobile, and also at Baird's business alertness; she had heard much of Baird from Garvin. "You ought to talk to father," she said. When she smiled she looked more like the mischievous child Baird had seen playing in the barn; her eyelids drooped and the corners of her mouth lifted.

"I will," Baird returned promptly. "I'll wait here and meet him, if you don't mind."

Ann decided to offer no objection. She had brought it on herself, but she felt quite capable of enduring his presence with equanimity. And if her father treated him with scant courtesy, so much the better. She settled back in the buggy, and Baird also chose a more negligent att.i.tude. He sat sidewise and surveyed Ann.

She was certainly worth looking at as she sat there, relaxed and with eyes down, an air of self-absorption that was tantalizing. Apparently, she was quite indifferent whether there was any conversation or not.

"Have you seen Garvin Westmore driving his new machine?" he asked at random.

"No," Ann answered, without raising her eyes. She was thinking of Garvin and the night before; she had thought of little else all day.

Baird noted her manner, and launched into an account of Garvin's trial trip down the Post-Road. He exaggerated the dangers they encountered, and Ann woke to new interest, even to terror, when he a.s.sured her that it was all a man's life was worth to drive a car over some of the Ridge roads.

"An' Garvin's so reckless--about drivin'," she said, wide-eyed, and added severely, "You ought to tell him to be careful--you sold him the horrid thing."

"He'd pay more attention if you told him, don't you think?" Baird suggested tentatively.

Ann flushed deeply enough, but not so deeply as she did a moment later, when she saw Edward Westmore within a few yards of them. He was riding up from the village, and neither of them had noticed until he was almost upon them, for the soft dirt road had dulled sound. He had seen them as soon as he had crossed the railroad track; looked at them closely and observantly as he came on.

The change in Ann was instantaneous. She grew crimson and sat up abruptly, her whole aspect, for the brief moment until Edward smiled, uncertain and appealing. Then, as if she had won pardon for some fault, the smile that vivified her was sweeter than the May sunshine. Baird thought she was the loveliest thing he had ever seen, with her lips a little apart, her eyes shining. No wonder Edward looked at her as if he were absorbing her. Baird felt a sudden envy of Edward; no girl had ever looked at him like that!... But there were not many girls who could look like Ann.

Baird also had straightened, for the look Edward had given him was somewhat coolly level; Baird felt that Edward's smile was entirely for Ann. But it was to him Edward spoke: "Just out from town, Baird?"

"Yes. I'm waiting now to talk Dempsters to Mr. Penniman--Miss Ann thinks I can sell him one." Baird did not know why he explained his presence so promptly; perhaps because Edward's manner made him uncomfortable.

"I thought I would like to see you try," Ann said with an indifference that had nothing to do with the way in which she was looking at Edward.

"I'm waiting for father to come on the next train," she explained, and told Edward about the horse. "Ben Brokaw says he's afraid Billy's a runaway horse."

"You ought not to be driving him, then," Edward said with concern.