IX
The Poor Boy could not get Miss Jocelyn Grey out of his head, nor thatlook which she had had of belief in him. The episode was a rejuvenation,and there were days when he was steadily joyful from morning to night.
He was having luncheon one day, and he said to Martha:
"I never knew what Miss Joy believed. But ever since I saw--thought Isaw her--that time--I've been as sure as sure that she knew justice hadmiscarried."
"I'm for thinking you're right," said old Martha.
"But if she believed in me, why didn't she write and say so? We weresuch good friends until we had a sort of misunderstanding."
"You never told me about that."
"Oh, it was silly. We were both staying with the Brettons; and one dayMiss Joy turned her ankle and I wanted to carry her back to the house,and she wouldn't let me. Every step she took hurt her a lot, and memore. I was a spoiled boy. I always did what I wanted to do. It seemedto me that I wanted to carry her more than anything I'd ever wanted todo. And she wouldn't let me. So we managed to misunderstand each othervery thoroughly, and then things began to happen--things began tohappen."
The Poor Boy sighed. Then he looked up with a smile and a blush.
"I've always thought," he said, "that if she had let me carry her, Iwould have asked her to marry me. Anyway, it's the nearest I ever cameto asking any one."
"And not very near," said Martha, "since she wouldn't be bothered with alift."
"She was a good kid," said the Poor Boy. And then, more than half tohimself: "I think I'll have her up for a visit."
"Fwaat!" exclaimed Martha.
"I'll have her stay with some of my make-believe people," he said."She'll be the first person to come here that I ever knew before. Sheshall stay with--with? I have it, she's a guest of Lord Harrow'sdaughter, and they've just moved into Harrow Hall. That's the newGeorgian House, on Lilly Pond...."
"When I was in New York I saw Miss Joy."
"You did!"
"She was prettier than any picture. She come up and give me both handsand says: 'Why, _Martha_!' And then we talked.--And she never believedyou did it, never!"
"Ah! She might have written!"
"Troubles came on her poor father. He lost his money, and he died. Shelost thought for any one but him."
"Miss Joy--_poor_! How dreadful! How wrong! What is she doing?"
"She's a sort of companion and helper to a rich old woman, and she'ssaving her wages against a rainy day."
The Poor Boy was terribly troubled about his old friend. She had beenso generous, so debonair, such a gay and charming spender.
"Oh!" he cried. "Can't I do anything?"
"Once before," said old Martha, "ye tried for to give her a lift, andyou know well what came of it."
His eyes flashed.
"She shall stay at Harrow Hall," he said. "Every day I shall take herwalking, and every day she shall turn her ankle, and I shall carry herback to her house. And when I find out how poor she is I shall kill anold uncle of hers in the southwest--she never heard of him--his name isEliphalet Pomfret Grey, and he shall leave her a pot of money.--Did shesend me any message, Martha?"
"She did not."
He was sorry--inside.
Miss Joy thought that the Poor Boy was a very long time at his luncheon.She was feeling rather blue and lonely. She wanted to talk to Martha,and here it was half past two o'clock, and Martha still in thedining-room with the Poor Boy.
She could hear the sound of their voices but not the words. She couldhave heard the words by listening at the pantry door. But it neverentered her head to do so. She was working at a marble-topped tabletrying to compose a cake according to a very complicated inspiration ina cookbook that weighed seven pounds. Miss Joy had a vague idea that hercake, not a large cake, was going to weigh more. It was going to bevery dark and rich, something like a wedding-cake.
Martha came at last from the dining-room, and examined the mixture whichMiss Joy had made.
"What is that?" she asked.
"Lady Godiva."
"Lady God help us! And what is the antidote?"
"Hard work in the open air. Why were you so long?"
"We got talking!"
"What about?"
"Mostly about the dangers of falling down and hurting yourself."
"Why," asked Miss Joy innocently, "is it so slippery out?"
Martha was overjoyed, and began to execute a sort of cautious tiptoedance.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm showing ye how an old woman walks on thin ice," said Martha. Shestopped dancing. "The Poor Boy is off to his playground, and it's timeyou got ready for your walk."
"Did he say when he was coming back?"
"'Not before dark,' he said."
"Then I can go as far as the Three Beeches," said Miss Joy. She drew along breath.
"'Tis a pity ye have to walk alone."
"But it's doing me so much good. I'd hate to know what I weigh."
"Be careful you don't fall and hurt yourself," said Martha. "And becareful your red cheeks don't set the woods on fire."
"Oh, Martha, are they--_too_ red?"
"Miss Joy"--this with solemn and heartfelt faith--"unless it is for anose now and then, the Lord Gawd never made anything _too_ red in hislife--"
The Poor Boy hurried to the beautiful new Georgian home that Lord Harrowhad built on Lilly Pond, and was already occupying. As befitted a greatman he had the whole lake to himself. His house, backed by noble beechesand pines, faced south, and was a wonderful deep red, with white trim.The house opened directly on a terrace, which in turn was built out overthe lake. It was formally planted to box and roses. It was all undersnow now, but white mounds marked the positions of the box-bushes, andneat stakes and straw jackets showed where the roses would bloom.
The terrace garden would be a great show in June. And the Poor Boy hadno difficulty in closing his eyes for a moment and so seeing it.
The Poor Boy, privileged old friend that he was, entered withoutringing, and started through the ground floor of the house, stopping attimes to admire a mantel-piece, a ceiling, or a painting. Lord Harrow'snew hothouses being in full blast, there were flowers everywhere, andgreat logs of birch roared and crackled in all the fireplaces. The PoorBoy peeped into the dining-room and drew back, his eyes almost drunkwith mahogany, and gold and Spanish leather. Under a table in the hallstood a great silver punch-bowl in which water was kept for Don, thespaniel, to drink. There were stags' heads on the walls, and on eachside of the stairway stood a splendid suit of Gothic armor. One suit wasinlaid with enamel, black as ebony, and the other with red gold.
The Poor Boy lifted his voice and called up the columned wall of thestair:
"Anybody home!"
Lord Harrow's daughter leaned over the rail. She had a very white faceand very wonderful red hair. Her way of speaking always reminded thePoor Boy of pearls falling from a string one by one.
"Joy Grey's just come," she said. "She's changing into outdoor things.Do you mind waiting?"
"How is she?" asked the Poor Boy eagerly.
"Oh, she's white and tired after all she's been through, poor duck;don't let her overdo at first. Where are you going to take her?"
"Aren't you coming with us?"
Three pearls fell.
"How--you--talk!"
"But--but--"
"Nonsense," exclaimed Lord Harrow's daughter. "You're head over ears inlove with her, and she with you."
"What!" exclaimed the Poor Boy. "Do you mean that!"
"Mean it? Of course I do. And everybody knows it--except you two. I wasin the village yesterday, and the people had heard that she wascoming--to you--_to you_--and they were hanging wreaths in the windowsas if for Christmas. When we drove through the village on our way herethey lined the main street and cheered her."
"What did she do?"
"She was delighted. She thought they were cheering my father and me, andshe said she was so glad that she had been asked to visit such w
onderfuldistinguished people. The little duck!"
"The little _goat_," cried the Poor Boy. "The darling little goat!"
"Only call her that to her face--and she's yours."
"I daren't," said the Poor Boy, "now that I know that I love her--"
"Lucky I told you!" This with pearly sarcasm.
"Now that I know--I'm afraid--I'm afraid.... But I've always loved her.It began in Arcadia, that is, Central Park. You roller-skate there whenyou are little. She was knee-high to a grasshopper, and I wasshoulder-high. She wore a coat of gosling-green with facings ofprimrose-yellow, and when she fell and barked the knee of one stocking Itook her to old Martha, and old Martha mended her. Her knee itselfwasn't really hurt, but it was all rough and gritty from the asphalt.She didn't cry. And so I loved her. Why is she so long changing intooutdoor things?"
"Hush!" pearled Lord Harrow's daughter. "She's coming."
And the Poor Boy's heart echoed: "She's coming--she's coming."
At the last moment reason and experience whispered in his ear: "_Don't_be a fool--_don't_ spoil everything. If you tell her you love her andshe says she loves you, why the least you can do is to kiss her, and youknow as well as I do that _if you touch them they vanish_."
So the Poor Boy walked with Joy that day and the next and the next, andthey were never very far apart, and he got to love her more and more.And the more he loved her the more dangerous was it to tell her so, forthings got to such a point that if she had suddenly vanished, the blowwould almost have broken his heart.
If You Touch Them They Vanish Page 9