"Yes, your riding on the ox cart with that old farmer and that young Mr.
What's-his-name, you know. We all thought it delicious. Ah, my dear,
after all--don't be offended--if we had your people's wealth and
position we might do that sort of unconventional thing, too; but, ah, my
dear, we can't, we can't! Isn't the young painter a charming man?"
Out on the porch Hollanden was haranguing his friends. He heard a step
and glanced over his shoulder to see who was about to interrupt him. He
suddenly ceased his oration, and said, "Hello! what's the matter with
Grace?" The heads turned promptly.
As the girl came toward them it could be seen that her cheeks were very
pink and her eyes were flashing general wrath and defiance.
The Worcester girls burst into eager interrogation. "Oh, nothing!" she
replied at first, but later she added in an undertone, "That wretched
Mrs. Truscot----"
"What did she say?" whispered the younger Worcester girl.
"Why, she said--oh, nothing!"
Both Hollanden and Hawker were industriously reflecting.
Later in the morning Hawker said privately to the girl, "I know what
Mrs. Truscot talked to you about."
She turned upon him belligerently. "You do?"
"Yes," he answered with meekness. "It was undoubtedly some reference to
your ride upon the ox wagon."
She hesitated a moment, and then said, "Well?"
With still greater meekness he said, "I am very sorry."
"Are you, indeed?" she inquired loftily. "Sorry for what? Sorry that I
rode upon your father's ox wagon, or sorry that Mrs. Truscot was rude
to me about it?"
"Well, in some ways it was my fault."
"Was it? I suppose you intend to apologize for your father's owning an
ox wagon, don't you?"
"No, but----"
"Well, I am going to ride in the ox wagon whenever I choose. Your
father, I know, will always be glad to have me. And if it so shocks you,
there is not the slightest necessity of your coming with us."
They glowered at each other, and he said, "You have twisted the question
with the usual ability of your sex."
She pondered as if seeking some particularly destructive retort. She
ended by saying bluntly, "Did you know that we were going home next
week?"
A flush came suddenly to his face. "No. Going home? Who? You?"
"Why, of course." And then with an indolent air she continued, "I meant
to have told you before this, but somehow it quite escaped me."
He stammered, "Are--are you, honestly?"
She nodded. "Why, of course. Can't stay here forever, you know."
They were then silent for a long time.
At last Hawker said, "Do you remember what I told you yesterday?"
"No. What was it?"
He cried indignantly, "You know very well what I told you!"
"I do not."
"No," he sneered, "of course not! You never take the trouble to remember
such things. Of course not! Of course not!"
"You are a very ridiculous person," she vouchsafed, after eying him
coldly.
He arose abruptly. "I believe I am. By heavens, I believe I am!" he
cried in a fury.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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