Outside Inn Part 22

At eight o'clock Hitty came in to her, and roused her from the light drowse into which she had fallen at last.

"You was crying in your sleep again," she said, "your cheeks is all wet. I heard you the minute I put my key into the latch. You're as bad as Sheila, only I expect she suffers from something laying hard on her stummick. It's always something on your mind that starts you in."

"There's nothing on my mind, Hitty," Nancy said, sitting up in bed, "nothing but happiness, I mean. In some ways, Hitty dear, this is the happiest day that I've ever waked up to."

"Well, then, there's other ways that it isn't," Hitty said, opening the door to stalk out majestically.

CHAPTER XIV

BETTY

"There's a lady waiting to see you, sir," d.i.c.k's man servant informed him on his arrival at his apartment one evening when he had been dining at his club, and was putting in a leisurely appearance at his own place after his coffee and cigar.

"A lady?"

"Yes, sir, she has been here since nine. She says it's not important, but she insisted on waiting."

"The deuce she did."

d.i.c.k's quarters were not, strictly speaking, of the bachelor variety.

That is, he had a suite in one of the older apartment houses in the fifties, a building that domiciled more families and middle-aged married couples than sprightly young single gentlemen. d.i.c.k had fallen heir to the establishment of an elderly uncle, who had furnished the place some time in the nineties and when he grew too decrepit to keep his foothold in New York had retired to the country, leaving d.i.c.k in possession. Even if d.i.c.k had been a conspicuously rakish young gentleman, which he was not, the traditional dignity of his surroundings would have certainly protected him from incongruous indiscretion in their vicinity.

Betty rose composedly from the pompous red velour couch that ran along the wall under a portrait of a gentleman that looked like a Philip of Spain, but was really d.i.c.k's maternal great grandfather.

"Why, Betty," d.i.c.k said, "this isn't _convenable_ unless you have a chaperon somewhere concealed. We don't do things like this."

"I do," Betty said. "I wanted to see you, so I came. In these emanc.i.p.ated days ladies call upon their men friends if they like. It's archaic to prattle of chaperons."

"Still we were all brought up in the fear of them."

"Mine were brought up in the fear of me. I like this place, d.i.c.ky. Why don't you give us more parties in it? You haven't had a crowd here for months."

"Everybody's so busy," d.i.c.k said, "we don't seem to get together any more. I'm willing to play host any time that the rest want to come."

"You mean Nancy is so busy with her old Outside Inn."

"You are busy there, too."

"I'm not so busy that I wouldn't come here when I was asked, d.i.c.ky."

"Or even when you weren't?" d.i.c.k's smile took the edge off his obviously inhospitable suggestion.

"Or even when I wasn't," Betty said impudently. "Won't you sit down, Mr. Thornd.y.k.e?"

"Can't I call you a cab, Miss Pope?"

"I don't wish to go away."

"Betty, be reasonable," d.i.c.k said, "it's after ten o'clock. It is not usual for me to receive young ladies alone here, and it looks badly. I don't care for myself, of course, but for you it looks badly."

"If it's only for me--I don't care how it looks. Come and sit down beside me, and talk to me, d.i.c.ky, and I'll tell you really why I came."

d.i.c.k folded his arms and looked down at her. Betty's piquant little face, olive tinted, and pure oval in contour, was turned up to him confidently; under the close seal turban the soft brown hair framed the childish face, while the big dark eyes danced with mischief. She patted the couch by her side invitingly.

"I'll go away in fifteen minutes, d.i.c.ky dear. It certainly wouldn't look well if you put me out immediately, after all your establishment knowing that I waited here an hour for you."

d.i.c.k took out his watch.

"Fifteen minutes, then," he said. "What's your trouble, Betty?"

"Well, it's a long sad story," she temporized. "Perhaps I had better not begin on it now that our time is so short. You wouldn't like to hold my hand, would you, d.i.c.ky?"

"I'm not going to, at any rate."

"I thought you'd say that," she sighed. "Have you seen Nancy lately?"

"Yesterday."

"She's looking better, don't you think so?"

"Yes."

"Preston Eustace is back."

"Is that so? I didn't know he was here yet. I knew he was coming."

"He's to be here six months, or so."

"Have you seen him?"

"No, Caroline told me." Her voice was carefully steadied but d.i.c.k noticed for the first time the shadows etched under the big brown eyes, and the flush of excitement splotched high on her cheek-bones.

She had been engaged to Preston Eustace for three months succeeding her twentieth birthday.

"On second thoughts I think I will hold your hand, Betty," he said, covering that childlike member with his own rather brawny one. "You are not a very big little girl, are you, Betty?"

"My mother used to tell me that I was a very destructive child."

"I shouldn't wonder if you were that yet."

"Don't let's talk about me. Let's talk about you, d.i.c.ky."

"About me?"

"Yes, please. I think you're a very interesting subject."