The Cricket Part 12

"I sent her on an errand, and Isabelle got away. She can't have gone far."

"Do you share Wally's enthusiasm over the new governess?"

"I do not," replied Mrs. Bryce, adding, "Wally has become a pa.s.sionate parent."

"Whatever started him?"

"_I_ did, worse luck! You know how all the useless men in the world dote on telling a woman about her duties? Now Wally's only job is to invest money in the wrong things, but he is full of ideas about being a mother."

There was general mirth at this point, on the part of the guests.

"I was so moved by his remarks that I dumped my cares upon him for the summer. He is outrageously superior about himself as parent. _He_ has found the perfect governess, _he_ discovers that our offspring has a brain; you should hear him go on."

"I have," protested Mrs. Page. "He used to make love to me, but now he tells me his domestic problems."

"He has the entire house upset now, because she has run off, but when he finds her, he won't have backbone enough to spank her," laughed Mrs.

Wally.

"It always amuses me how parents agonize over the lost child, and spank it when it's found," said Martin Christiansen, the guest of honour at the tea.

"Not being a parent you don't realize that there is a large, well-defined body of parentisms. We all say the same things, do the same things to children, instinctively and without thought," Mrs. Page a.s.sured him.

"Puts you at such a disadvantage with your child, for the youngster thinks freshly, doesn't it, Mrs. Bryce?"

"I know mine thinks freshly--she's a brat! I keep out of her way, myself," remarked his hostess.

Presently dusk fell and still no signs of the child. Wally came back to telephone the police stations of the towns near them. He barely glanced at the laughing group on his terrace, but Mrs. Page spied him, and came to call out:

"Found her yet, Wally?"

"No."

"Better come have your tea, Wally," Mrs. Bryce suggested.

"d.a.m.n," said Wally, under his breath, as he hurried into the house without any reply.

"Had we not better go? Aren't you anxious, Mrs. Bryce?" inquired Christiansen.

"Oh, no; she'll turn up."

"Nothing will happen to her, she's too smart," commented Mrs. Page.

They took their departure shortly. Mrs. Bryce ordered the cook to hold back dinner. Then she let her vexation grow. It was outrageous that this little pest should upset things so completely. She had been especially anxious to impress this Mr. Christiansen, whom she had recently met. He was a distinguished _litterateur_ and critic, as well as a stunning giant of a man. The white lace gown had been entirely for his benefit.

And yet because of Isabelle he had been critical of her. Man-like he had convictions about woman's job. He probably thought she should have been running around the country, in hysterics, looking for her chee-ild.

At nine o'clock she heard the motor come to the door. She went into the hall. Ann got out first and helped Wally. He was carrying the heroine--asleep, in the utter relaxation of tired babyhood. She was dirty, and her best hat dangled from its elastic, crushed and dusty.

"Well," remarked Mrs. Bryce, "where was she?"

"I'll take her up to the bedroom, Miss Barnes," Wally said, and he started off.

"Really, Wally, Miss Barnes can certainly manage to get her to bed,"

protested Mrs. Bryce.

"She's rather heavy. I'll just----"

"Put her down and let her walk then. I've waited for my dinner as long as I intend to."

Wally went on upstairs with his burden, and as Ann pa.s.sed Mrs. Bryce her scorn and hatred of that lace-clad lady was as obvious as a spoken word. Mrs. Bryce went to the table and ordered her dinner. When Wally joined her he looked "all in."

"I suppose you don't care whether she gets killed or not."

"Well, but she didn't get killed, so I don't have to excite myself, do I?"

"You might show a little decent feeling before Miss Barnes."

"I don't have to please Miss Barnes--or any of my servants, if it comes to that."

"You're a brute, Max!"

"If you're going to be tiresome, I'll finish my dinner upstairs," she replied. "Heaven knows, if I'd had any idea you would be such a bore about her, I'd never have turned her over to you."

"Do you know why she ran away? She went to find some 'regular parents'--so she said."

"We don't suit then?" Mrs. Bryce laughed crisply.

"The poor little devil walked and walked, and when she was too tired to go any farther she asked a milk wagon driver to give her a lift, so she got away over to Rockville."

"Where did she get this idea about parents?"

"Miss Barnes explained to me on the way home, that she and Isabelle have a game called 'Playing Jinny.' Jinny is Miss Barnes's little sister and Isabelle pretends that she lives in the Barnes family."

"So, it is your paragon who has set her against her own parents."

"No, she didn't mean to do that. She says she had no idea that the child would take it seriously and start off to find the Barnes home."

"Do you think it desirable to have your child in the sole charge of a woman who poisons her mind against you and me?"

"But she doesn't do that, Max. Isabelle adores her. It was just a game, I tell you."

"So _she_ says."

On the way to the library, after dinner, they came upon Ann in the hall.

"May I speak to you, Miss Barnes?" Max inquired coolly.

"Certainly," the girl replied, and followed them into the room beyond.

"Just what is it that you have been telling Isabelle, which sets her off on this ridiculous jaunt?" demanded Mrs. Bryce, insolently.