Читать книгу Little Lost Sister - Virginia Brooks - Страница 11

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Harvey threw the reins into Grogan’s lap and strode recklessly after Elsie. His good-natured face was flushed with anger.

“Say,” he demanded, “what’s the matter?”

The girl, unwilling, halted. “Nothing,” she replied, “what makes you ask that?”

“Why,” explained Harvey, hiding his anger and attempting to take her hand, “you’re out of breath.”

“Been running,” was the girl’s laconic explanation.

“You don’t usually run home from the mill, Elsie,” Harvey’s detective instinct was showing itself.

Elsie was extremely irritated by this unwished for interview.

“Well, I—” she stammered, “I wanted to get here because it’s Monday and mother’s washing day and—” She paused, her irritation getting the better of her. “I don’t see what right you have to question me, Harvey Spencer.”

Grogan had got down from the wagon and at this moment came through the gate.

“Young man,” he began, addressing Spencer. The girl interrupted him.

“Who are you?” she demanded. “Do you come from the mill?”

“I come from no mill,” retorted Grogan, piqued by the girl’s tone, “and if you’ll excuse me I don’t want to.”

“This is Mr. Michael Grogan of Chicago,” put in Harvey placatingly. “I’ve been showing him the town.”

“And,” added Grogan quickly, “I haven’t seen much.”

“That’s not at all strange,” said Elsie, “because there’s nothing to see.”

“And in Chicago, where I come from,” said Grogan sagely, “there’s altogether too much.”

Grogan saw by his two companions’ faces that he was an intruder.

“Young man,” he said, “I don’t think I’ll wait for you. I’ve some letters to write at the hotel. I think I’ll be strolling along.”

“Why,” said Harvey, hospitable in the face of intrusion, “you’re welcome to ride. Won’t you wait?”

“No, thanks,” said Grogan, “that grocery wagon of yours wasn’t built to accommodate a man of my size.”

Harvey and the girl watched Grogan disappear in the dusk. Then the young man turned to the girl.

“Elsie—” he began tenderly.

But the girl stopped him. “Now don’t begin to question me,” she ordered. “I won’t answer.”

“You are trying to hide something from me,” said Harvey, grasping the girl’s unwilling hand. The girl drew away from him.

“That’s not true,” she said. “I don’t want you to bother me.”

“I never used to bother you,” said Harvey, his face flushing.

“That was before—” began Elsie impulsively. “I mean now,” she went on, catching herself. “I mean that you do now because you have changed.”

“No,” contradicted Harvey, “but you have.”

“What do you mean by that?” challenged the girl.

Harvey stood silent for a moment and jerked out a laugh of embarrassment. “I don’t know exactly what I mean,” he said, “but you know we were engaged.”

Elsie flushed. “We were not,” she said.

“I mean,” said Harvey miserably stumbling on, “we sort of were. We understood.” He brought one hand from his pocket. It held the box containing the ring. “Why, Elsie,” he said pleadingly, “I even bought the ring. Just a plain band of gold. I did so hope that some day, soon perhaps, you’d let me put it on your finger and take you to our home. It wouldn’t be much, but I’d love you and care for you. Why I’d work night and day just to make things easy for you. I love you. It all begins and ends with that.”

Elsie stood for a moment as though this honest appeal had touched her. Then she turned sharply.

“O, what’s the use,” she cried, “Look at this place. See how we live. And you—you want me to go on like this? No!”

Harvey stared at her stupidly.

“Don’t stare at me like that,” said the girl annoyed.

“I am wondering what has changed you so,” said Harvey apologetically.

“Nothing, I tell you.”

“Yes, there is something, or somebody.”

“Now Harvey, please don’t begin—” Elsie paused. Her glance left Harvey’s face. A young man in a brown tweed suit and carrying a light walking stick in his gloved hand was coming toward the gate.

“Hello,” he said easily, addressing Elsie and ignoring Spencer, “anybody at home?”

Elsie turned toward him with impulsive friendliness, then remembering her other suitor paused and tried to assume a manner of unconcern.

“Of course, there’s someone at home,” she said, “can’t you see there is?”

“Can’t be sure that such loveliness is real,” said the newcomer gallantly.

“You’re talking Chicagoese,” said the girl, not, however, displeased.

“Simple fact, believe me,” was the assured response.

Elsie saw that Harvey was eyeing the stranger with hostility. “Do you know Mr. Spencer, Mr. Druce?”

“Everybody in Millville knows Mr. Spencer,” replied Martin Druce, putting out his hand. “He’s a town institution.”

“Thank you,” said Harvey, mollified by what he thought a sincere compliment and shaking hands.

“Institution!” laughed Elsie.

Harvey stopped and withdrew the hand. It dawned on him that there was a secret understanding between Druce and the girl.

“Now hold on,” he asked. “Just what do you mean by that word ‘institution?’ ”

“Why you’re one of the landmarks here,” explained Druce, “the same as the bank or the opera house.” He brushed the lapel of Harvey’s coat with his gloved hand and straightened his collar. Then he soberly removed Harvey’s straw hat, fingered it into grotesque lines and replaced it on his head. He stepped back to observe the effect, adding satirically: “I’ll bet you won’t stay long in this jay town.”

“You’re dead right there,” boasted Harvey. “Millville is all right and a rising place but—”

“I knew it,” said Druce gravely. “You’ll be coming up to Chicago to show Marshall Field how to run his store.”

“Well, I may—” began Harvey proudly.

“Oh!” Elsie’s voice was pained. “Don’t do that, Mr. Druce!” Then she turned to Spencer. “Why do you let him make a joke of you?”

“Who? Me?” Harvey looked at her in astonishment. He turned to Druce savagely. “Say,” he demanded, “are you trying to kid me?”

“Not on your life,” was the reply. “I knew better than to try to kid a wise young man like you. What I’m trying to say is that you’re too big for this town. Say, what’s your ambition?”

“Oh, I’ve got one, Mr. Druce. I’m going to be a detective.”

“Well, there’s lots of room for a real one in Chicago,” said Druce, suppressing a contemptuous smile.

“I may go there some day.”

“Come along,” said Druce, “the more the merrier.”

“Say, Mr. Druce,” asked Harvey, now completely taken in by the ingratiating stranger, “what’s your business?”

“Mine, why—” The man moved toward Elsie as he spoke, gazing at her steadily.

“Yes, you’ve got one, haven’t you?” persisted Harvey.

Druce seemed confused for a moment. Then his face broke into a genial smile. Both Elsie and Spencer were watching him curiously.

“Sure, I’ve got a business. It’s a mighty profitable one, too. I’m a dealer in live stock.”

“Oh, cattle?” said Harvey.

“You got me,” was the casual response, “just cattle.”