by Anne Warner
CHAPTER THREE - INTRODUCING JACK
It has been previously stated that Aunt Mary's nephew, Jack, was ascapegrace, and as delightful as scapegraces generally are. It goeswithout saying that he was good-looking; and of course he must have beenjolly and pleasant or he wouldn't have been so popular. As a matter offact, Jack was very good-looking, unusually jolly, and uncommonly popular.He was one of the best liked men in each of the colleges which he hadattended. There was something so winning about his smile and his eternalgood humor that no one ever tried to dislike him; and if anyone ever hadtried he or she would not have succeeded for very long. It is probablyvery unfortunate that the world is so full of this type of young man, butthat which should cause us all to have infinite patience with them is thereflection of how much more unfortunate it would be if they were suddenlyeliminated from the general scheme of things.
Like all college boys, Jack had a chum. The chum was Robert Burnett,another charming young fellow of one-and-twenty, whose education had beenso cosmopolitan in design and so patriotic in practice that he always said"Sacre bleu" and "Donnerwetter" when he thought of it, and "Great Scott"when he didn't. He and Jack were as congenial a pair as ever existed, andthey had just about as much in common as the aunt of the one and thefather of the other had had to pay for.
In the February of the year of which I write, Washington, celebrating hisbirthday as usual, gave all American students their usual chance tocelebrate with him. Celebrations were temptations incarnate to Jack, andhe was feeling frowningly what a clog Aunt Mary's latest epistle was uponhis joys, when his friend came to the rescue with an invitation to spendthe double holiday (it doubled that year--Sunday, you know) at thebrand-new ancestral castle which Burnett _pere_ had just finished buildingfor his descendants. It may be imagined that Jack accepted the invitationwith alacrity, and that his never-very-downcast heart bounded gleefullyhigher than usual over the prospect of two days of pleasure in thecountry.
It is not necessary to state where the castle of the Burnetts was erected,but it was in a beautiful region, and the monthly magazines had written itup and called it an architectural triumph. The owner fully agreed with themonthly magazines, and his pride found vent in a house-warming whichfilled every guest chamber in the place.
The festivities were in full swing before the youngest son and his friendarrived; and when the dog-cart, which brought them from the station, drewup under the mighty porte-cochere with its four stone lions, rampant infour different directions, Jack felt one of those delicious thrills whichrun through one under particularly hopeful and buoyant circumstances.
"It's like walking in a novel," his friend said; as they entered undersome heavy draperies which the footman pushed aside and found a tinyspiral staircase, which wound its way aloft in a style that Jack likedimmensely and the latter agreed with all his heart.
The staircase led them to the third floor and when they emerged therefromthey found themselves in a big semi-circular billiard room, with afireplace at each end large enough to put one of the tables in, and cuesand counters and stools and divans and smoking utensils sufficient for aregiment.
"I tell you, this is the way to do things," exclaimed Burnett; "isn't itjolly? Time of your life, old man, time of your life!--And, oh, by theway," he said, suddenly interrupting himself, "I wonder if my sister's gothere yet!"
"Which sister?" Jack inquired; for his friend was one of a very largefamily, and he had met several of them on their various visits to town.
"Betty--the one who beats all the others hollow,"--but just there theconversation was broken off by the servants coming up with the luggage andsetting two doors open that showed them two big rooms, both exquisitelyfurnished, and both with windows that looked out, first on to a stonebalustrade, and secondly on to a superb view over the river and themountains beyond.
The men unstrapped the things and went away, leaving such a plenitude ofcomfort behind them as led Jack to fling himself into the most luxuriouschair in the room and stretch his arms and legs far and wide in uttercontentment.
Burnett was fishing for his key ring.
"It's a great old place, isn't it?" he remarked parenthetically. "GreatScott! but I'll bet we have fun these two days! And if my sister Betty ishere--" He paused expressively.
"Doesn't she live at home?" Jack asked.
"She's just come home; she's been in England for three years. Oh, but Itell you she's a corker!"
"I should think--"
The sentence was never completed because a voice without thenot-altogether-closed door cried:
"No, don't think, please; let me come in instead." And in the same instantBurnett made one leap and flung the door open, crying as he did so:
"Betty!"
Then Jack, bunching somewhat his starfish attitude, looked across the roomand realized instantly that it was all up with him forever after.
Because--
Because she who stood there in the door was quite the sweetest, theloveliest, the most interesting looking girl whom he had ever laid eyeson; and when she was seized in her brother's arms, and kissed by herbrother's lips, and dragged by her brother's hands well into the room, sheproved to be a thousand times more irresistible than at first.
"I say, Betty, you're absolutely prettier than ever," her brotherexclaimed, holding her a little off from him and surveying her critically;and then he seemed to remember his friend's existence, and, turning towardhim, announced proudly:
"My sister Bertha."
Jack was standing up now and thinking how lovely her eyes were just atthat instant when they were meeting his for the first time, thinking muchelse too. Thinking that Monday was only two days away (hang it!); thinkingthat such a smile was never known before; thinking that he had _years_ahead at college; thinking that the curl on her forehead was simplydistracting (whereas all other like curls were horrid); thinking that hemight cut college and--
"My chum, Jack Denham," Burnett continued, proving in the same instant howrapidly the mind may work since his friend had compassed his encyclopediaof sentiment and probability between the two halves of a formalintroduction.
"Oh, I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Denham," she said, putting out herhand--and he took and held it just long enough to realize that he reallywas holding it, before she took it away to keep for her own again. "I'veoften heard of you, and often wished I might know you."
"I'm awfully glad to hear you say that," he said, "and if I should havethe royal luck to be next to you at dinner, it doesn't seem to me that Ishall have the strength to keep from telling you why."
She clapped her hands at this, just as a very little girl might have done.
"If that is so, I hope that they will put you next to me at dinner," shesaid gayly; "but if they don't, you'll tell me some other time, won't you?I'm always _so_ interested in what people have to tell me about myself."
Burnett began to laugh.
"Jack," he said, "I see that we'd better have a clear and above-boardunderstanding right in the beginning and so I'll just tell you that thissister of mine, who appears so guileless, is the very worst flirt ever.She looks honest, but she can't tell the truth to save her neck. She meanswell, but she drives folks to suicide just for fun. She'd do anything foranybody in general, but when it's a case of you individually she won't doa thing to you, and you must heed my words and be forewarned and forearmedfrom now on. Mustn't he, Betty?"
At this the sister laughed, nodding quite as gayly as if it were alaughing matter, instead of the opening move in a possiblyserious--tremendously serious--game of life.
"It's awful to have to subscribe to," she said, with dancing eyes; "butI'm afraid it's true. I'm really quite a reprobate, and I admit itfrankly. And everyone is so good to me that I never get a chance toreform. And so--and so--"
"But then, I suppose I ought to warn her about you, too," said Burnett,turning suddenly toward his friend. "It isn't fair to show her up and notshow you up, you know. And really, Betty, he's almost as bad as you areyourself. I may t
ell you in confidence--in strict confidence (for it's onlybeen in a few newspapers)--that he hasn't got his breach-of-promise suitall compromised yet. Ask him to deny it, if he can!"
The sister looked suddenly startled and curious and Jack felt himself tobe blushing desperately.
"I don't look as if he was lying, do I?" he asked smiling; "be honest now,for you can see that Burnett and I both are."
"No, you don't," she said. "You look as if it was a very true bill."
"It is," he said; "and it's going to be an awfully big one, too, I'mafraid."
"I wouldn't have thought you were such a bad man," said the sister ever sosweetly; "but I like bad men. They interest me. They--"
"There!--I see your finish," said Burnett. "That's one of her favoriteopening plays. It's all up with you, Jack, and your aunt will have to togo down for another damage suit when you begin to perceive that you havehad enough of our family. But you'll have to get out now, Betty, and lethim get dressed for dinner. You needn't cry about it either for he's evenmore attractive in his glad rags than he is in his railway dust--my word ofhonor on it."
"I look nice myself when I'm dinner-dressed," said the sister, "so Isympathize with him and I'll go with pleasure. Good-bye."
She sort of backed toward the door and Jack sprang to open it for her.
"You can kiss her hand, if you like," Burnett said kindly. "They do inGermany, you know. I don't mind and mamma needn't know."
"May I?" Jack asked her; and then he caught her eye over her brother'sbent head and added, so quickly that there was hardly any break at allbetween the words: "Some other time?"
"Some other time," she said, with a world of meaning in the promise; andthen she flashed one wonderful look straight into his eyes and was gone.
"Isn't she great?" Burnett asked, unlocking his suit-case in the mostprovokingly every-day style, as if this day was an every-day sort of dayand not the beginning and end of all things. "Oh, I tell you, I'm almostdotty over that sister myself."
"Do you suppose that I could manage to have her for dinner?" Jack asked,feeling desperately how dull any other place at the table would be now.
"I don't know. When I go down to my mother I'll try to manage it; shallI?"
"I wish you would."
"I reckon I can; but, great loads of fire, fellow! don't think you canplay tag with her, and feel funny at the finish. She'll do you upcompletely, and never turn a hair herself. She's always at it. She don'tmean to be cruel, but she's naturally a carnivorous animal. It's herlittle way."
Jack did not look as dismal as he should have done; he smiled, and lookedout of the window instead.
"She'll have to marry someone some day, you know," he said thoughtfully.
"Have to marry someone some day!" Burnett cried. "Why, she is married.Didn't you know that?" and he unbuckled the shirt portfolio as he spokejust as if calamities and tragedies and shooting stars might not follow onthe heels of such a simple statement as that last.
It was an awful moment, but poor Jack did manage to continue looking outof the window. If any greater demand had been made upon him he might havesunk beneath the double weight.
"No," he said at last, his voice painfully steady; "I didn't know it."
Burnett laughed heartlessly, hauling forth his apparel with a refinedcruelty which took careful heed of possible interfolded shoes or cravats.
"She married an Englishman when she was nineteen years old," he said."That was when they sent me to Eton that little while,--until I drove thehorse through the drug shop. The time I told you about, don't you know?"
"Yes, I remember," said Jack. He observed with sickening distinctness thatthe night had begun to fall, the river's silver ribbon had become a blacksnake, and that the mountain range beyond loomed chill and dark andcheerless. "I guess I ought to be getting into my things," he said, movingtoward his own door.
"There's a bath in here," his friend called after him. "We're to divideit."
"Sure," was the reply. It sounded a trifle thick.
"I don't think that she ought to," said the brother to himself, as hebegan to draw out his stick-pin before the mirror, "I don't care if she ismy favorite sister--I don't think that she ought to."
Then he went on to make ready for the securing of his half of the bath,and forthwith forgot his sister and his friend.