The Twins of Suffering Creek Part 27

"Well," continued the smiling girl, "then there's their manners an'

things."

Toby nodded vaguely.

"You'll need to give 'em bed at sundown," Birdie hurried on. "An' up at sunrise. Clothes needs washin' at least once a month--with soap.

See they says their prayers, an' bath 'em once a week reg'lar--with soap. But do it Sundays. An' after that give 'em a Bible talk for an hour. Then I dessay they'll need physic once a week--best give it Sat.u.r.day nights. Don't fix 'em that way same as a horse, their stummicks ain't made of leather. You got all that?"

Toby gave a bewildered nod.

"How 'bout when they're sick?" he asked.

"Sick? Why, see they don't muss their clothes," Birdie answered cheerfully. "Guess that's put you wise to most everything."

"Sure." Toby slid from the table, feeling dazed. Nor had he the courage to ask any more questions. He was trying hard to fix the salient points of the information in his whirling brain, but all he could remember was that all washing must be done with soap, and the children must have bones to keep their teeth right. He clung to these things desperately, and felt that he must get away quickly before they, too, should slip through the sieve of his memory.

"Guess I'll git along an'--an' see to things," he murmured vaguely, without glancing in Birdie's direction. "You said beef bones?" he added, pa.s.sing a hand perplexedly across his forehead.

"Sure," smiled the girl.

"Good. Thanks." Then he moved heavily off. "Beef bones and soap--bath an' Bible talk; beef bones an' soap--"

The girl watched him vanish behind the closing door, muttering as he went to "see to things."

She stood for some moments where he had left her. The smile was still in her eyes, but its humor had died out. She was unfeignedly sorry he had gone. He was such a good-natured simpleton, she thought. A real good-hearted sort. Just the sort to make a husband worth having. Ah, well, he had gone! Better luck next time.

She turned away with a deep, sentimental sigh, and crossed over to the cupboard. She drew out her work once more and again spread out the crumpled paper pattern upon the gossamer lawn.

Yes, Toby would have suited her well. She heaved another sigh. He had remittances from home, too. And he wouldn't be difficult to manage.

His head was rather a funny shape, and his face didn't suggest brightness, but then--

She began to snip at the material with her rusty scissors. But just as her mind had fully concentrated upon her task a sudden sound startled her. She looked up, listening, and the next moment the door was flung wide, and Sandy Joyce stood framed in the opening.

CHAPTER XIV

BIRDIE GIVES MORE ADVICE

The ordinary woman would probably have resented this second interruption, taking into consideration the nature of Birdie's occupation, and the fact that Toby's visit had hardly proved a success from her point of view. But Birdie was only partially ordinary. Her love and admiration for the opposite s.e.x was so much the chief part of her composition that all other considerations gave way before it. Her heart thrilled with a sickly sentiment at all times. To her men were the G.o.ds of the universe, and, as such, must be propitiated, at least in theory. In practice it might be necessary to flout them, to tease them, even to snub them--on rare occasions. But this would only come after intimacy had been established. After that her att.i.tude would be governed by circ.u.mstances, and even then her snubs, her floutings, her teasing, would only be done as a further lure, a further propitiation.

She loved them all with a wonderful devotion. Her heart was large, so large that the whole race of men could have been easily lost in its mysterious and obscure recesses.

Again her work was bundled into the cupboard, the poor flimsy pattern further suffering. But beyond a casual wonder if the garment would eventually be wearable, cut from so mangled a pattern, she had no real care.

Her smiling eyes turned readily upon the newcomer the moment her secret labors had been hidden from prying male eyes. And there was no mistaking her cordiality for this cold-eyed visitor.

"Sakes alive! but you do look fierce," she cried challengingly. "You sure must be in a bad temper."

But Sandy's expression was simply the outcome of long and difficult consideration. As a matter of fact, in his hard way, he was feeling very delighted. His past married experience had brought him to the conviction that here was the only person in Suffering Creek who could help him.

And, furthermore, he was well satisfied to think that only his experience as a married man could have suggested to him this means of gaining the information required by their president, and so shown him the way to surpa.s.s his comrades in his efforts on behalf of the Trust.

But his knowledge of womankind warned him that he must not be too hasty. He must not show his hand until he had established himself in a favorable position in the susceptible Birdie's heart. With this object in view he set himself to offer his blandishments in characteristic fashion. He did not suffer from Toby's complaint of bashfulness.

Married life had cured him of that. In consequence, his method, if crude, was direct.

"I can't say the same of you, Birdie," he declared unsmilingly.

"You're bloomin' as--as a kebbige."

"Kebbige?" sniffed the girl.

"Kebbige, sure," nodded the man of married experience. "Guess mebbe it ain't a bokay fer smell. But fer taste--with corned beef? Gee!"

Birdie took no umbrage.

"You got to it--after awhiles," she remarked slyly. Then she added, with a gush, "D'you know, I'm allus most scared to death of you men.

You're that big an' strong, it makes me feel you could well-nigh eat me."

Sandy availed himself of the invitation.

"A tasty mouthful," he declared. And without more ado he pa.s.sed round the table, caught her quickly in his arms, and, without the smallest expression of interest, kissed her. If interest were lacking, his movements were so swift that, had the girl the least idea of avoiding the embrace--which she hadn't--she would have found it difficult to do so.

"You men are ones!" she declared, with a little gasp, as his arms fell from about her.

"How's that?"

"I never did--the cheek of some of you!"

"A feller needs cheek," replied the self-satisfied widower.

"'Specially with pretty gals around," he added condescendingly.

Birdie eyed him archly.

"Gals?" she inquired.

"I should have said 'gal.'"

The laughing nod that rewarded him a.s.sured Sandy that he was well on the right track, and at once he took the opportunity of introducing the object of his visit.

"Say," he began, "guess you never tho't o' gettin' hitched up to a feller?"

Birdie lowered her eyelids and struggled for a blush, which somehow defied her best efforts. But her subtleties were quite lost upon Sandy, and in his eagerness he waited for no reply.

"No, course you hain't. You got so many beaus to choose from. 'Sides,"

he added thoughtfully, "gettin' married sure needs special savvee.

What I mean," he explained, seeing the amused wonder in the girl's now wide eyes, "you kind o' need eddicatin' to git married. Y'see, when you get fixed that way you sort of, in a manner of speakin', got to unlearn things you never learnt, an' learn them things what can't never be taught. What I mean is, marriage is a sort of eddication of itself, wot don't learn you nuthin' till you git--unmarried. Savee?"

The girl shook her head in bewilderment.