The Haunted Pajamas Part 48

And I screwed my monocle tight and let her have smile for smile, determined to chirp her up and make her feel our oneness--that sort of thing, you know. And I succeeded! For of a sudden her head went back and the joyous peal of her canary laugh started off the jolly birds in the trees above us.

"Oh, you--" A stare, and then another burst as she bent forward, face buried in her hands. Then it lifted sharply, flame-dyed--her lips tremulous, her eyes shining like sapphire stars. "Oh!" she gasped, and how I envied the little hand she pressed against her waist; but the windows--dash the windows! "That's--that's _it_--Frances--just that much! But, do you know, I don't--don't believe you really know my full name. I remember now several th--" She bent toward me witchingly, her wide blue eyes challenging my candor. "_Honestly_, now--_do_--you?"

So it was _that_ thought that was tickling her! Well, by Jove, I had her there, for I had heard the judge mention her name in full. I would surprise her!

"Oh, _don't_ I?" I exclaimed, winking as I polished my gla.s.s. "Well, how about Frances Leslie Billings?" I let her have it slowly, distinctly, and with yet a note of triumph I could not altogether hide. And then remorseful for her amazed expression, I explained frankly: "Got it from your father this morning, don't you know, during our long talk about you in the library."

"Wh--"

Then she swallowed and her face fell perfectly blank. By Jove, I could have kicked myself for a jolly a.s.s for breaking it to her so raw! Of course, she would know that if her father talked of her, it would be nothing for me to hear that was true or kind--nothing she could wish might be said to the man she loved.

I hastened to rea.s.sure her:

"But I don't believe a dashed word of anything he said about you"--I spoke hotly--"and I don't care a jolly hang for what the others said, either--so there you are!"

"Oh, you _don't_?" Could tell how I had touched her by her expression, don't you know; and she fell to looking at me the queerest way. "And would you mind telling me who the 'others' are?"

I eyed her gloomily, sympathetically. As _if_ she didn't know already!

"Well--oh, dash it, my mind has been filled with--er--just anything!" I began cautiously.

"_I_ know,"--she murmured it as if to herself--"one can _see_ that!" And she bit her lip.

"In the first place, you know"--and there I pulled up. No, dash it, I wasn't going to say a jolly word about poor Jack--no, _sir_! But then, about the other one--well, _she_ was just a treacherous snake in the what's-its-name, and she ought to be exposed. By Jove, she should be!

"It's the frump, you know," I said indignantly.

"The--the _what_?"

Her pretty teeth flashed like the keyboards of a tiny organ--you could even hear a little gurgly, musical quiver somewhere behind. And then I remembered that, of course, she wouldn't know whom I meant.

"Oh, your guest, you know--your friend from school," I went on, trying to tread cautiously and yet feeling myself growing red. "Oh, see here now, I don't like to say things, but--er--"

"Oh, _go_ on!" she trilled, her sweet face shining wistful.

"Well, I mean this--er--Miss Kirkland; came out with us this morning, don't you know. _I_ think of her as _the frump_--little idea--er--nickname of mine, you know, she's so _awful_!" And I screwed my gla.s.s with a chuckle.

For an instant I thought she wouldn't catch it, she stared at me so blankly. _Then_ the joke of it--the jolly aptness, so to speak--got her full and square, and she just lifted a scream, hugging her knee and rocking back and forth, her face suffused, her laughter pealing like a chime of bells.

And I just rocked, too, keeping her company. Really, I don't think I ever laughed so much since some chap plunked down on the hard crown of my new tile last winter. At least I _wanted_ to laugh--in church, you know, and it's so awful how you feel there when something--oh, _you_ know! And if you could have seen that poor fellow's face!

By Jove, how glad I was for her jolly sense of humor that could see the point of things so quickly, and think them _clever_. Always had so dashed little patience with stupid people, don't you know. And just here another little thing came to me and I let her have it:

"Oh, I say!"--I leaned nearer, chuckling--"your father pretends to think her a most beautiful and winning girl--_fancy_!" And my face stretched itself in such a jolly grin that I could hardly hold my gla.s.s.

She bent toward me, smiling adorably. "You mean this--er--'Miss Kirkland'?"

I nodded chortlingly.

She peered at me through her long what-you-call-'ems--oh, _such_ a way!

"But _you_ don't think so, _do_ you?" How sweetly, how fetchingly she said it!

"Me?" I gasped. By Jove, in my horror, I lost my grip upon my jolly grammar. "Oh, I say now! _I_ think the frump--this Miss Kirkland, you know--is a fright--regular freak, dash it! I told the judge so!"

"You--you--"

"Of _course_!" And I shrugged disgustedly, making the ugliest grimace I possibly could. "Why, dash it, if I were a woman and had a face like hers, I never would have left China, or England--or wherever her jolly home was--_no, sir_!"

She caught her breath with a little gasp--then she was off again! This time she rested her arms upon the rail behind and buried her head in them, her lovely shoulders jiggling up and down, her sobbing laughter sending her off at last into a spell of coughing.

"Oh!" she breathed, lifting at last her gloriously blushing face and dabbing at it with her ridiculous little handkerchief, "oh, you'll _kill_ me--I know you will!"

I certainly had stirred her up, and I was delighted. It _was_ funny to think of any one calling the frump beautiful--it must seem funnier still to her, of course--to Frances, I mean. Why, dash it, _she_ seemed to find a funny side to it that I didn't, don't you know!

"Tell me, now"--she clasped her knee, lifting her lovely face coaxingly--"tell me all that she said about me--_everything_!"

And I did--every word, by Jove!

And no one could look into that sweet, ingenuous face as I proceeded, and doubt that the slanders were new to her. Never a jolly one touched her--only you could see their absurdity amused her. Several times I had to pause as she bent under a gale of laughter.

Only once was she brought up, shocked.

"Oh!" she uttered faintly, as I came to the intimation about her being hail-fellow-well-met with the footmen and her drinking and carousing with them and other men-servants until three in the morning. I realized that it wasn't the matter of the drinking that feazed her and drew from her little gasps as I came to this--knew _that_ didn't bother her, don't you know, for I knew she did drink--_could_ drink, I mean to say; for I had not forgotten the two full whisky gla.s.ses of high-proof Scotch she had tossed off that night in my rooms. Why, no, dash it, she was _able_ to drink--it went in the family! I could never forget with what pride she had told me of putting her brother Jack under the table two nights running. _That_ was all right--it was the other part of the frump's scandal that brought her up, standing, so to speak.

For _now_ she really looked embarra.s.sed, despite another lapse to laughter. Her face and neck were dyed a lovely crimson.

"Oh, dear!" she said finally; and she wiped her eyes. "_What_ you must think of me!"--and she looked away, a pretty frown contracting her face; then the jolly dimple deepened once again and she choked into her handkerchief. "Oh, _dear_!" she repeated, biting her lip to hold her quivering mouth corners. "Oh, it's a shame," I heard her mutter; "I _mustn't_ let him--it's too--" She wheeled upon me, her lips tightened.

"Oh!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed sharply, almost petulantly, and her foot struck smartly on the boards. "I wonder how much you think--think--"

"Think _lots_," I said simply, watching her little toe as it tapped.

"Well, _I_ should think as much!" And this time her laugh was short--oddly constrained. She looked away off down the slope to the river. "_Oh!_" This time it was a tiny gasp as of dismay. And the toe tapped like an electric what's-its-name.

"Yes," I said, watching it musingly, "I suppose it's because you're the only girl, don't you know, that I ever _did_ think of before--oh, ever at all, dash it!"

The toe stopped. I could _feel_ her looking at me sidewise, but I did not glance up, that I remember; was looking down, trying to get hold of a dashed idea I wanted to express.

"Don't know," I continued, boring away at her toe, yet hardly seeing it, "but suppose that's the reason I knew all the time she was _lying_; but still, somehow that doesn't seem to be the _real_ reason I knew. I think the real reason I knew it couldn't be and wasn't true was"--I sighed heavily--"oh, dash it, it's _so_ hard to get hold of the jolly thing!"

And there was a pause.

"The real reason?" her voice coaxed gently.

"Was because--" Then she moved the toe and it put me out--"I think just because--oh, yes, I _know_ now!" And I looked up eagerly. "Just because I knew that you--are _you_!" I finished beamingly.

"Oh, I see!" She said it musingly, her finger lightly pressing upon her lips, her beautiful eyes studying me with the oddest, keenest side-glance.