Tramping on Life Part 105

"And you haven't acted so very much like a grown woman, have you, Hildreth?" It was the first time I had called her by her first name.

"Can you, or anyone else, tell me just how grown women do act? I myself don't know, yet I'm a woman."

I drew closer to her as if drawn by some attractive power. A stray wisp of her hair lit across my cheek stingingly. Then the wind blew a perfumed strand of it across my lips and over my nostrils.

It made me rub my lips, it tickled so. Hildreth noticed it.

"Wait," she bade playfully, "I'll bet I can make you rub your lips again."

"No, you can't."

"Hold still!" she leaned toward me; I could look down into her bosom.

She just touched my lips with her forefinger.

"Now!" she exclaimed triumphantly.

"--think you've tickled me, do you?"

"--just wait!"

I forgot myself. My lips tickled and I rubbed them with the length of a finger ... Hildreth laughed....

"Hildreth!"

I leaned toward my friend's wife, calling her again by her first name.

I lay in a half-reclining posture, my head almost against her hip. I was looking up into her face. She glanced down at me with a quick start at the tone of my voice. She looked gravely for a moment into my face. I observed an enigmatic something deep in her eyes ... which sank slowly back as the image of a face does, in water,--as the face itself is withdrawn. She moved apart a little, with a motion of slow deliberation.

"Hildreth!" I heard myself calling again, with a deep voice, a voice that sounded alien in my own ears....

"Come, boy!" and she pulled back her hand from my grasp, and catching mine in hers a moment, patted the back of it lightly--"come, don't let's be foolish ... we've had such a happy afternoon together, don't let's spoil it ... now let's start home."

As soon as I was on my feet and away from her, she became playful again.

She reached up her hand for me.

"Help me up!"

I brought her to her feet with a strong, quick pull, and against my breast. But I did not dare do what I desired--take her in my arms and try to kiss her. She paused a second, then thrust me back.

"Look, the sun's almost gone down ... and Mubby and Darrie will be home a long time by this time ... and Mubby will be getting fidgety."

The sun's last huge shoulder of red was hulking like a spy behind a distant, bare knoll ... separate blades of gra.s.s stood up in microscopic yet giant distinctness, against its crimson background.

Our walk home was a silent, pa.s.sively happy one that went without incident....

Penton and Darrie were indeed home before us.

"Where have you two been all this time," Penton asked, a slight touch of querulousness in his voice.

"Oh, Johnnie and I have been out for a walk, too!" replied Hildreth in an even voice.

At lunch, the next day,--a day when Penton was called in to Philadelphia on business--while Darrie, Ruth, Hildreth and I sat talking together peacefully about our outdoor board, Hildreth suddenly threw a third of a gla.s.s of milk on Darrie's shirt-waist front.

We were astounded.

"Why, Hildreth, what does this mean?" I asked.

"I won't stop to explain," she said, "but from now on I won't stay in the same house with her ... I'm going to move this afternoon, down to Penton's house" (meaning the little cottage but a few steps from my tent).... Ruth rose to intercede ... "Don't Ruth, don't! I want to be let alone." And Hildreth hurried away.

"What in the world could be the matter with Hildreth?" I asked of Ruth.

Darrie had also departed, to the big house, to rub her blouse quickly, so that no stain would remain.

"Hildreth's capricious," answered Ruth, "but the plain explanation is downright jealousy."

"Jealousy?"

"Yes ... even though Hildreth no longer loves Penton, she's jealous of him ... the fact is, Hildreth doesn't know what she wants."

"But Darrie--Darrie is her friend?"

"Of course ... and remains her friend. Darrie doesn't want Penton. She only pities him."

I quoted the line about pity being akin to love ... "they do a lot of strolling together."

"Yes. But there's nothing between them ... not even a kiss ... of that I'm certain. Darrie is as cool as a cuc.u.mber ... and Penton is as shy with women as--you are!"

I smiled to myself. If Ruth had seen us that preceding afternoon!

"Of course the fault could not all be on Hildreth's side."

"No, they're both a couple of ninnies ... but there's this to be said for Penton, he's trying to get something done for the betterment of humanity ... while Hildreth's only a parasite."

"And Darrie--how about her? What does she do but loaf around in a more conventional manner, talking about her social prestige, the dress of one of her ancestresses in the Boston Museum, her aristocratic affiliations ... how many and how faithful those negro servants of hers are, down South ... between the two, Hildreth has the livest brain, and puts on less."

"Take care! You'll be falling in love with Penton Baxter's wife yet!"

Our talk was halted by Darrie's re-appearance. Hildreth came furtively back, too, from the little cottage, like a guilty child. She apologized to Darrie, and her apology was accepted, and, in a few minutes we were talking ahead as gaily as before....

We rehea.r.s.ed Hildreth in her part as t.i.tania ... for that was the part she was to play in _The Mid-Summer Night's Dream_, that the Actors'

Guild of the colony was to put on in their outdoor theatre, a week from that afternoon ... Hildreth insisted on dressing for the part ... in her green, skin tights ... letting her black hair flow free ... wearing even her diadem, as fairy queen. She had a good, musical voice ... a way of speaking with startled shyness that was engaging.

But Hildreth stuck to her original intention of moving to the cottage.

She had Mrs. Jones move her things for her.

As I sat in the library of the big house reading Tolstoy's _Anna Karenina_, I overheard Darrie telling Ruth in the bathroom that Hildreth would not have insisted on donning her tights, if she had not been proud of her symmetrical legs, and had not wanted to show them off to me.