The Haunted Pajamas Part 7

I mumbled something jolly idiotic--some acknowledgment. But I was pink about the ears, and I knew it, while she was cool and serene as a lily of the what-you-call-it, don't you know. I was trying not to see the pajamas, trying to pretend not to notice them, but dashed if I didn't only make it worse!

For she looked down at herself with a laugh--rather an embarra.s.sed laugh, I thought; and her little shrug and glance directed attention to her attire.

"I see you're looking at the pajamas," she said smiling.

And her eyes looked at me through those drooping lashes--oh, such a way!

"Oh, no--I a.s.sure--certainly not," I stammered hastily. Dash it, I never was so rebuked and mortified in all my life. What an a.s.s I had been to seem to notice at all!

She looked troubled. "Say, do you mind my wearing them?" she inquired.

"I? Certainly not--well, I should say not!" I retorted, almost with indignation.

"Sure?" By Jove, what ripping eyes she had!

"Of course not!" emphatically.

Her sunny head nodded satisfaction. "That's all right, then. I was afraid you wouldn't like it--afraid you would think I was acting a little _free_. But your man Jenkins--isn't that his name?--said he thought you would _like_ for me to wear them."

I gasped.

"Jen--what's _that_?" I was amazed, indignant at Jenkins' effrontery.

"He--he suggested that you wear--er--these?"

She nodded, her glorious eyes shining wistfully.

"You see, I went to a frat dance last night in Cambridge," she explained; "and in the hurry this morning, somehow, one of my bags--a suit-case--was left behind. And when I got here to-night and began piling the things out of my other bag--well, I saw I was up a tree. Not a thing to slip into, you know--not so much as a dressing-gown or even a bathrobe. Then your man saved my life--suggested these pajamas. See?"

"Oh, I see!"

I said so; but, dash it, I wasn't sure I did, for I knew so devilish little about girls. But I got hold of this much: I understood that this delicately reared creature had missed the restfulness and luxury of a shift to some sort of dressing-robe after her day of travel. Probably one of those ribbony, pinky-white fripperies one sees in the windows of the Avenue shops, rosy, foamy dreams like the--well, like the crest of a soda c.o.c.ktail, don't you know. And the pajamas had been adopted as a comfortable makeshift.

By Jove! And here she was sitting, calmly telling me all about it--just as she might to Jack--never thinking a thing about it! My, how charming, how innocent she was! But, dash it, that was the reason she was so beautiful--of course, that was it--and I had never seen anybody like her in all the world before. I knew jolly well I never should again, either.

But I knew I ought to go--and at once.

"I must cut along now," I thought; "infernal shame to be taking advantage of her this way!" And then I thought I would just wait a wee minute longer.

Just then she turned toward me, her elbow on the arm of the wicker chair, her dainty, manicured finger-tips supporting her chin.

"You know, Mr. Lightnut, I wasn't sure you would remember me at all,"

she said. "I was such a kid when you saw me last."

"Oh, yes," I said, trying to recall the rather hoydenish children I had seen on the motor trip to Billings' home five years before. "I remember you were quite a little girl--weren't you?"

I thought her face darkened a little; then her smile flashed through, like sunshine through a cloud. Her laugh came on top, like the mellow ripple of a tiny brook--that sort of thing--oh, you know!

"Oh, I say now, Mr. Lightnut, cut out the josh," she remonstrated; and I thought she grew a little red. "No more for mine those sissy, girlie ways--I've got well over all of that!"

She tossed one knee over the other and threw herself back in the chair.

She seemed a little piqued. She went on:

"I just tell you what--there's nothing like a couple of years off at college for toughening you! Gets all those mamma's baby ways out of you, you bet your life, and all the slushiness you get from trying to be like your sisters. Shucks!"

I caught my breath. Of course, she had no idea how it sounded--this sort of talk; it was just her innocent frankness, her--what d'ye call it?--her _ingenuousness_--dash it!

She continued musingly: "Gee, but I was soft when I first went away--a regular pie-faced angel-child!" Her voice had in it a sneer. Then she straightened up, whirled her chair facing me, and gave me a sounding slap on the knee. "Say, maybe the fellows I met didn't educate that out of me mighty quick! Well, I reckon yes!" And she nodded, eying me sidewise, her pretty chin in the air.

But, dash me, I was so aghast I couldn't get out a word. Just sat there batting at her and turning hot and cold by turns. Came devilish near losing consciousness, by Jove, that's what!

Of course, I knew she didn't know what she was talking about. Hadn't any sisters myself, don't you know, and never had learned much about other fellows' sisters; but, dash it, I knew something about _faces_, and I would have staked my life on hers. You can nearly always tell, you know.

But, anyhow, I thought I had better go now.

I got up. "I say, you want to just make yourself at home," I said. "And if you don't mind, I'll see you at the boat in the morning."

She stood up, too, looking rather surprised. "You're not going away?"

"Oh, no; not out of town." I thought that was what she meant. I added: "And as I go out, I'll stop down-stairs and have some one come up and stay with you."

She dropped to the arm of the chair, her pretty face showing dismay.

"Oh, but see here! I'm running you off--I know I am. Say, Mr. Lightnut, I don't want to do that. I thought sure you were going to be here.

Brother insisted you would be."

Brother! Nice brother, indeed, for her--poor little thing!

"Oh, you'll be all right," I said rea.s.suringly. "I'm just going over to the club, don't you know--not far away."

She came right up to me and placed a hand on each shoulder.

"Honest Injun, now," she said--and her smile was ravishing. "Honest, now, Mr. Lightnut, you're going just because I'm here. Say now, own up!"

And, dash it, there was nothing to do but admit it.

"All right," she said; and I thought her eyes flashed a little. "Then I go to a hotel--that's all!"

"A hotel! Why, you can't do that--oh, I say!"

"Why can't I?" She was downright angry--I could see it; and how distractingly lovely she was with that flame in her cheeks!

But she was just a child--an innocent little child; and how the deuce could I ever make her understand?

I stammered: "Why--er--not in New York, you know. They won't take a lady in at this time of night. They--"

She snapped her fingers. "Oh, I say, Mr. Lightnut, play easier on that girlie and lady pedal; cook up a fresh gag! I tell you, I've put all that behind me. Say, wait till you've known me a little, and I'll bet a purse you never call _me_ a lady again! Lady! Say, that's _funny_!"

And it certainly seemed to strike her sense of humor. She gave me a sudden punch in the side that fairly left me breathless, and her laughter rang out birdlike, joyous. Of a sudden I felt devilish awkward and foolish.

"Oh, _please_ stop stringing me, Mr. Lightnut--don't treat me like a kid. I want to get acquainted." Then her bright face sobered. "Say, was that on the level--that about your going to leave me? See here, I'm not bothering you, am I, Mr. Lightnut?"