The Madness of May Part 5

With nice calculation he tossed the book into the open bag on the further side of the room, rose, and stretched himself. Deering stifled an impulse to scoff at his silk pajamas as hardly an appropriate sleeping garb for one who professed to have taken vows of poverty. Hood noted his glance.

"Found these in some nabob's house at Bar Harbor last fall. Went up in November, after all the folks had gone, to have a look at the steely blue ocean; camped in a big cottage for a few days. Found a drawer full of these things and took the pink ones. Wrote my thanks on the villa's stationery and pinned 'em to the fireplace. I hate to admit it, son, but I verily believe I could stand a little breakfast."

"We're going out for breakfast," Deering remarked with affected carelessness. "I accepted an invitation for you last night. A girl up there at the bungalow asked me; I told her about you, and she seemed willing to stand for it."

"The thought pleases me! You are certainly doing well, my boy!" Hood replied, dancing about on one foot as he drew a sock on the other.

He explained that a man should never sit down while dressing; that the exercise he got in balancing himself was of the greatest value as a stimulus to the circulation.

"She's a very nice girl, I think," Deering continued, showing his lathered face at the bathroom door.

He hadn't expected Hood to betray surprise, and he was not disappointed in the matter-of-course fashion in which his companion received the invitation.

"Breakfast is the one important meal of the day," Hood averred as he executed a series of hops in his efforts to land inside his trousers.

"All great adventures should be planned across breakfast tables; centrepiece of cool fruits; coffee of teasing fragrance, the toast crisp; an egg perhaps, if the morning labors are to be severe. I know a chap in Boston who cuts out breakfast altogether. Most melancholy person I ever knew; peevish till one o'clock, then throws in a heavy lunch that ruins him for the rest of the day. What did you say the adorable's name was?"

"Pierrette," Deering spluttered from the tub.

"Delightful!" cried Hood, flourishing his hair-brushes. "Then you met the dancing-girl! I must say----"

"She had hung a moon in a tree! I followed the moon and found the girl!"

"Always the way; it never fails," Hood commented, as though the finding of the girl had fully justified his philosophy of life. "But we can't fool away much time at the bungalow; we've got a lot to do to-day."

"Time!" cried Deering, "I'm going to stay forever! You can't expect me to find a girl whose post-office address is the Little Dipper, and then go coolly off and forget about her!"

"That's the right spirit, son," Hood remarked cautiously; "but we'll see.

I'll have a look at her and decide what's best for you. My business right now is to keep you out of trouble. You can't tell about these moon girls; she may have a wart on her nose when you see her in daylight."

Deering hooted.

"And she probably has parents who may not relish the idea of having two strange men prowling about the premises looking for breakfast. There are still a few of those old-fashioned people left in the world. It may be only a backdoor hand-out for us, but I've sawed wood for breakfast before now. I'll wait for you below; I want to see how old Ca.s.sowary's standing the racket. The boy seemed a little cheerfuller last night."

They walked to the bungalow which, to Deering's relief, was still perched on the ridge as he had left it. He was beset with misgivings as they entered the gate and followed a hedge-lined path that rose gradually to the house; it might be a joke after all; but Hood's manner was rea.s.suring. He swung his stick and praised the landscape, and when they reached the veranda banged the knocker noisily. A capped and ap.r.o.ned maid opened the door immediately.

Deering, struck with cowardice, found his legs quaking and stepped back to allow Hood to declare their purpose.

"We have come for breakfast, la.s.s," Hood announced, "and have brought our appet.i.tes with us if that fact interests you."

"You are expected," said the maid; "breakfast will be served immediately."

She led the way across a long living-room to the dining-room beyond, where a table was set for three. The tangible presence of the third plate caused Deering's heart to thump.

"The host or hostess--?" Hood inquired as the girl waited for them to be seated.

"The lady of the house wished me to say that she would be here--in spirit! Pressing duties called her elsewhere."

Deering's spirits sank. Pierrette, then, was only a dream of the night, and had never had the slightest intention of meeting him at breakfast!

The maid curtsied and vanished through a swing door.

Hood, accepting the situation as he found it, expressed his satisfaction as a bowl of strawberries was placed on the table, and as the door ceased swinging behind the maid, laid his hand on Deering's arm. "Don't worry; mere shyness has driven our divinity away: you can see for yourself that even a girl who hangs moons in trees might shrink from the shock of a daylight meeting with a gentleman she had found amusing by starlight. Let it suffice that she provided the breakfast according to schedule--that's highly encouraging. With strawberries at present prices she has been generous. This little disappointment merely adds zest to the adventure."

The hand of the maid as she changed his plate at once interested Deering.

It was a slender, supple, well-kept hand, browned by the sun. Her maid's dress was becoming; her cap merely served to invite attention to her golden-brown hair. Her coloring left nothing for the heart to desire, and her brown eyes called immediately for a second glance. She was deft and quick; her graceful walk in itself compelled admiration. As the door closed upon her, Hood bent a look of inquiry upon his brooding companion.

"Perhaps she's the adorable--the true, authentic Pierrette," he suggested.

Deering shook his head.

"No; the other girl was not so tall and her voice was different; it was wonderfully sweet and full of laughter. I couldn't be fooled about it."

"There's mystery here--a game of some kind. Mark the swish of silken skirts; unless my eyes fail me, I caught a glimpse of silken hose as she flitted into the pantry."

When an omelet had been served and the coffee poured (she poured coffee charmingly!) Hood called her back as she was about to leave them.

"Two men should never be allowed to eat alone. If your mistress is not returning at once, will you not do us the honor to sit down with us?"

"Thank you, sir," she said, biting her lip to conceal a smile.

Deering was on his feet at once and drew out the third chair, which she accepted without debate. She composedly folded her arms on the edge of the table as though she were in nowise violating the rules set down for the guidance of waitresses. Hood, finding the situation to his taste, blithely a.s.sumed the lead in the conversation.

"It is perfectly proper for you to join us at table," he remarked, "but formal introductions would not be in keeping. Still, your employer doubtless has some familiar name for you, and you might with propriety tell us what it is, so we won't need to attract your attention by employing the vulgar 'Say' or 'Listen'!"

"My mistress calls me Babette," she answered, her lashes drooping becomingly.

"Perfect!" cried Hood ecstatically. "And we are two outlaws whose names it is more discreet for us to withhold, even if it were proper to exchange names with a mere housemaid."

Deering winced; it was indecent in Hood to treat her as though she were a housemaid when so obviously she was not.

"My friend doesn't mean to be rude," he explained; "the morning air always makes him a little delirious."

"I hope I know my place," the girl replied, "and I'm sure you gentlemen mean to be kind."

"You needn't count the spoons after we leave," said Hood; "I a.s.sure you we have no professional designs on the house."

"Thank you, sir. Of course, if you stole anything, it would be taken out of my wages."

Deering's interest in her increased.

She rested her chin on her hand just as his sister often did when they lingered together at table. He was a good brother and Constance was his standard. He was sure that Constance would like Pierrette's maid. He resented Hood's patronizing att.i.tude toward the girl, but Hood's spirits were soaring and there was no checking him.

"Babette," he began, "I'm going to trouble you with a question, not doubting you will understand that my motives are those of a philosopher whose whole life has been devoted to the study of the human race. May I ask you to state in all sincerity whether you consider apple sauce the essential accompaniment of roast duck?"

"I do not; nor do I care for jelly with venison," she answered readily.

"Admirable! You are clearly no child of convention but an independent thinker! May I smoke? Thanks!"

He drew out his pipe and turned beaming to the glowering Deering.