New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Women -- Suffrage -- United States -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Five minutes later Mr. Sewall suggested that we walk back
together to the people gathered on the lawn. But I had no intention
of appearing in public with a celebrated person like Breckenridge
Sewall, without having first been properly introduced. Besides, my
over-eager sister-in-law would be sure to pounce upon us. I
remembered my scarf. I had left it by my empty cup on the cedar
table. It seemed quite natural for me to suggest to this stranger
that before rejoining the party I would appreciate my wrap. It had
grown a little chilly. He willingly went to get it. When he
returned he discovered that the owner of the bit of lavender silk
that he carried in his hand had mysteriously disappeared. Thick,
close-growing vines and bushes surrounded the bench, bound in on
both sides the shaded path. Through a network of thorns and
tangled branches, somehow the owner of that scarf had managed to
break her way. The very moment that Mr. Sewall stood blankly
surveying the empty bench, she, hidden by a row of young firs, was
eagerly skirting the west wall of her hostess's estate.
CHAPTER III
EPISODE OF A SMALL DOG
During the following week Miss Vars often caught a fleeting glimpse of
Mr. Sewall on his way in or out of town. She heard that he attended a
Country Club dance the following Saturday night, at which she chanced
not to be present. She was told he had actually partaken of refreshment
in the dining-room of the Country Club and had allowed himself to be
introduced to several of her friends.
It was very assuming of this modest young girl, was it not, to imagine
that Mr. Sewall's activities had anything to do with her? It was rather
audacious of her to don a smart lavender linen suit one afternoon and
stroll out toward the Country Club. Her little dog Dandy might just as
well have exercised in the opposite direction, and his mistress avoided
certain dangerous possibilities. But fate was on her side. She didn't
think so at first when, in the course of his constitutional, Dandy
suddenly bristled and growled at a terrier twice his weight and size,
and then with a pull and a dash fell to in a mighty encounter, rolling
over and over in the dirt and dust. Afterward, with the yelping terrier
disappearing down the road, Dandy held up a bleeding paw to his
mistress. She didn't have the heart to scold the triumphant little
warrior. Besides he was sadly injured. She tied her handkerchief about
the paw, gathered the dog up in her arms, turned her back on the Country
Club a quarter of a mile further on, and started home. It was just then
that a gray, low, deep-purring automobile appeared out of a cloud of
dust in the distance. As it approached it slowed down and came to a full
stop three feet in front of her. She looked up. The occupant of the car
was smiling broadly.
"Well!" he ejaculated. "At last! Where did you drop from?"
"How do you do," she replied loftily.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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