Читать книгу Little Lost Sister - Virginia Brooks - Страница 15

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Patience Welcome shared all the prejudices of her employer, John Price, against “city chaps.” Her observation of those who had presented themselves in Millville had not raised her estimate of them. As a class she found them overdressed and underbred. They came into her small town obsessed with the notion of their superiority. Patience had been at some pains in a quiet way to puncture the pretensions of as many as came within scope of her sarcasm. She was not, like many girls of Millville, so much overwhelmed by the glamour of Chicago that she believed every being from that metropolis must be of a superior breed. She had penetration enough to estimate them at their true value. In her frankness, she made no effort to conceal her sentiments toward them.

But recently there had come into her acquaintance a product of Chicago whom she could not fit into Mr. Price’s city chap category. This was Harry Boland.

Young Boland, the son of Chicago’s “electrical king,” was himself president of his father’s Lake City Electrical Company. He was good looking, quiet, competent and totally lacking in the bumptiousness that Patience found so offensive in other Chicago youths. Toward him Patience had been compelled to modify her usual attitude of open aversion to mere cold reserve. She did not quite comprehend him and until conviction of his merits came she was determined to occupy the safe ground of suspicion.

Patience and Harry Boland had first met on a basis that could scarcely have been more formal. The young man, early in his business career, had been his father’s collector. Part of his duties had consisted of collecting the rents of a large number of workmen’s cottages which the elder Boland owned at Millville. The Welcomes occupied one of these cottages. As Tom Welcome not infrequently was unable to pay the rent when it was due, Boland had had numerous opportunities for seeing Patience, who was treasurer of the Welcome household.

Her attitude toward him had at first amused, then annoyed and finally interested him. When he began to understand what was back of her coldness a respect, such as he had felt for no other girl, developed in him. The more she held him off the more eager he became for a better acquaintance. This desire was fed by her repulses. Long ago he had made up his mind that he loved her. Now, in spite of the social chasm that yawned between them, he was determined to win her. His intentions toward her were honor itself. He was determined to marry her.

When Harvey Spencer drove off, after having introduced Patience to Grogan, the girl started toward her home. She had gone only a short distance when a quick step behind her appraised her that she was followed. A moment later Harry Boland appeared at her side, hat in hand.

“How do you do, Miss Welcome?”

“I’m very well, thank you,” replied Patience, primly.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” demanded Harry inanely.

“Yes,” agreed Patience, “I love the spring and even Millville is beautiful now.”

“I think it the most beautiful place in the world,” declared Harry enthusiastically.

Patience looked at him in surprise, then colored and laughed. “Do you?” she said with the accent on the first word.

“I hope,” said Harry, “that you don’t mind if I smoke.”

“Not at all.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Patience,” Harry used the girl’s name for the first time with deliberation, “why don’t you speak to me?”

Patience did not resent the familiarity. “I am thinking,” she replied.

“You act as though you do not like me. What have I done?”

“It’s not that,” replied Patience shortly.

“Then you are trying to avoid me.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you know?” She turned and looked at him squarely. She was determined to dispose of his attentions then and there.

“I’m not good at riddles.”

“Think a moment, then. You are Harry Boland, only son of the richest and most powerful man in Chicago. I am Patience Welcome, daughter of a broken inventor, tenant in a cottage which you own, where I cannot pay the rent. Can there be anything in common between us?”

Harry ignored the question. “You have forgotten one fact,” he said. There was determination in his voice. “Or don’t you know it?”

“What is that?” asked Patience over her shoulder, for she had turned from him.

“That Harry Boland is in love with Patience Welcome.”

“What an absurdity!”

“You don’t believe me?”

“How can you talk like that to me?” said the girl, now agitated. “Look at me. You know we are in arrears for rent.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

She turned on him defiantly and looked into his eyes. Then her glance fell under his more burning one. She flushed and turned away.

“I suppose,” she said, huskily with humiliation, “that you have paid the rent yourself.” She was almost in tears.

“Now don’t take it like that,” pleaded Harry. “No one but you and me will ever know. And if you will let me I will take you away from all this.”

Patience raised her head. She had recovered her composure.

“All men come to that finally,” she said coldly. “Even in my slight experience I have learned the phrase almost by heart. All men say that. They offer—”

“Just a moment.” Harry put out his hand emphatically. “Wait! All the men in your slight experience may have said it, but all have not meant it. I mean that if I take you away from all this I shall take you as Mrs. Harry Boland—as my wife.”

“Harry!” His name was wrenched from the girl’s very heart by her surprise.

“Do you believe that I love you now?” demanded Boland.

“Yes. I didn’t know, I didn’t understand. I have wronged you ever since I have known you. Forgive me. But your father?”

“Let me call your attention to the fact,” said Harry, planting himself firmly before her, “that I am many years past the age of seven—and can choose a wife for myself.”

“But your father?” insisted Patience.

“Oh, he may rage and fume,” retorted Harry, “but I have a standing of my own. I am president of the Lake City Electric Company that controls dad’s patent light.”

“My father was interested in electricity, too—before—”

But Harry interrupted her. “Never mind our fathers,” he said. “We are the chief characters in this romance, you know.”

They had reached the path leading to the Welcome cottage. Patience, eager to end the interview which had thrown her into a state of consternation, such as she had never experienced before, seized the present opportunity.

“Harry,” she said, “please go. We are expecting father home and—I’m afraid—it won’t be pleasant.”

“You haven’t answered me. I’m off to Chicago tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” Patience caught her breath quickly.

“Yes, in my new car. I’m going to drive back. I’ve overstayed my time and there are business calls which I simply cannot ignore. I’ll not insist on an answer tonight, but will you write me?”

The girl put out her hand which Harry grasped. Her lips quivered and she breathed, “Yes.”

He lifted the hand to his lips, but the girl drew it from him, whispered “goodby” and darted away. He stood watching her until she disappeared. Patience hurrying toward the cottage was roused from her tumult of emotion by the sound of voices. Once she heard the words “eight o’clock,” without recognizing the speaker. When they were spoken again she knew the voice as that of Martin Druce. She disliked Druce. The thought of his being alone with Elsie chilled her.

She came toward him swiftly but in silence. Her question: “What did you say was going to happen at eight o’clock, Mr. Druce?” was a complete surprise.

“Eh—why—” stammered Druce, off his guard.

“Why Patience, how late you are,” interrupted Elsie to conceal Druce’s confusion.

“Just a little, dear,” replied Patience, now confused herself. “I have been busy at the store.” Then she turned to Druce again. “What is it about eight o’clock—is it something concerning Elsie?” she persisted.

“O, I was just saying that I had to meet a man at the hotel at eight,” returned Druce, full of assurance again.

“Ah!” said Patience, “well, you’ll catch him all right—if you start now.”

Druce laughed. “Here’s your hat—what’s your hurry, eh?”

“Patience, how can you?” demanded Elsie.

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” retorted Patience serenely, “only I wouldn’t have him miss that man.”

“Oh, I can take a hint.” Druce started for the gate. As he reached it he turned back to the two girls and added:

“I sure hope that man keeps his appointment to meet me at eight o’clock.”