The Firing Line Part 56

"You little imp!" breathed Shiela fiercely to Cecile, "if you plague me again I'll inform Mr. Hamil of what happened to you this morning."

"I don't care; Garry is part of the family," retorted Cecile, flushed but defiant and not exactly daring to add: "or will be soon." Then she put both arms around Shiela, and holding her imprisoned:

"_Are_ you in love?--you darling!" she whispered persuasively. "Oh, don't commit yourself if you feel _that_ way!... And, O Shiela, you should have seen Phil Gatewood following me in love-smitten hops when I wouldn't listen! My dear, the creature managed to plant both feet on my gown as I fled, and the parquet is _so_ slippery and the gown so flimsy and, oh, there was a dreadful ripping sound and we both went down--"

Shiela was laughing now, holding her sister's gesticulating hands, as she rattled on excitedly:

"I got to my feet in a blaze of fury, holding my gown on with both hands--"

"Cissy!"

"And he gave one horror-stricken look and ran--"

Swaying there together in the deserted dining-room, they gave way to uncontrolled laughter. Laughter rang out from the living-room, too, where Gray was informing Mrs. Cardross and Hamil of the untoward climax to a spring-time wooing; and when Shiela and Cecile came in the latter looked suspiciously at Hamil, requesting to know the reason of his mirth.

"Somebody will have to whisper it to you in rhyme," said Hamil; "it's not fit for prose, Cissy."

Mrs. Cardross retired early. Gray went for a spin in his motor. Cecile, mischievously persuaded that Hamil desired to have Shiela to himself for half an hour, stifled her yawns and bedward inclinations and remained primly near them until Gray returned.

Then the four played innocuous Bridge whist until Cecile's yawns could no longer be disguised; and finally Gray rose in disgust when she ignored the heart-convention and led him an unlovely spade.

"How many kinds of a chump can you be in one day?" asked her wrathful brother.

"Pons longa, vita brevis," observed Hamil, intensely amused. "Don't sit on her, Gray."

"O dear! O dear!" said Cecile calmly, "I'd rather be stepped on again than sat on like that!"

"You're a sweet little thing anyway," said Hamil, "even if you do fall down in Bridge as well as otherwise--"

"Shiela! You told Garret!"

"Cunning child," said Hamil; "make her dance the baby-dance, Shiela!"

And he and her sister and brother seized her unwilling hands and compelled her to turn round and round, while they chanted in unison:

"Cissy's Bridge is falling down, Falling down, Falling down, Cissy's gown is falling down, My Fair Lady!"

"Garry, stop it!... It's only an excuse to hold Shiela's hand--"

But Shiela recited very gravely:

"Father's in Manhattan town, Hunting up our money; Philip's in the music-room, Calling Cis his honey; Cissy's sprinting through the hall, Trying to be funny--"

"I _won't_ dance!" cried Cecile. But they sang insultingly:

"Rock-a-by Cissy!

Philip _will_ slop!

Cissy is angry, For Philip won't stop."

"If dresses are stepped upon, Something will fall, Down will come petticoat, Cissy, and all!"

"O Garry, how _can_ you!"

"Because you've been too gay lately; you're marked for discipline, young lady!"

"Who told you? Shiela?--and it _was_ my newest, dearest, duck of a gown!... The situation was perfectly horrid, too. What elephants men are!"

"You know, I'd accept him if I were you--just to teach him the value of gowns," suggested Hamil.

But Shiela said seriously: "Phil Gatewood is a nice boy. We all knew that he was going to ask you. You acted like a ninny, Cis."

"With my gown half off!--what would _you_ have done?" demanded the girl hotly.

"Destroyed him," admitted Shiela, "in one way or another, dear. And now I am going to bed--if everybody has had enough of Cissy's Bridge--"

"Me for the hay," observed Gray emphatically.

So they all went up the stairway together, lingering a few moments on the landing to say good night.

Cecile retired first, bewailing the humiliation of not having a maid of her own and requesting Shiela to send hers as she was too sleepy to undress.

Gray caught sight of a moth fluttering around the electric lights and made considerable noise securing the specimen. After which he also retired, cyanide jar containing the victim tucked under his arm.

CHAPTER XVIII

PERIL

Shelia, standing by the lamplit table and resting one slim hand on the edge of it, waited for Hamil to give the signal for separation.

Instead he said: "Are you really sleepy?"

"No."

"Then--"

"I dare not--to-night."

"For any particular reason?"

"For a thousand.... One is that I simply can't believe you are really going North to-morrow. Why do you?" She had asked it nearly a thousand times.

"I've got to begin Portlaw's park; and, besides, my work here is over--"

"Is that all you care about me? Oh, you are truly like the real Ulysses:

"Now toils the hero, trees on trees o'erthrown Fall crackling round him, and the forests groan!"