CHAPTER FIVE
_In which the double life led by the heroine is explained, andAugustus McAllister proves an alibi._
"Yes," said Miss Bentley, "I liked him. He turned out to be altogetherdifferent from my first impressions. That afternoon at the CountryClub he seemed rather stiff--nice, assured manners, of course, butunresponsive. But then the way in which we bounced in upon each otherwas enough to break any amount of ice." She laughed at the recollection,clasping her hands behind her head.
Instead of the little grey hat jammed down anyhow, she wore this morningthe most bewitching and frivolous of boudoir caps upon her bright head,and a shimmery, lacy empire something, that clung caressingly about her,and fell back becomingly from her round white arms. Miles and miles awayfrom the Candy Wagon was Margaret Elizabeth, who had so recentlyhobnobbed down the avenue with Uncle Bob.
Mrs. Gerrard Pennington, in a similar garb, leaned an elbow on her desk,a dainty French trifle, and gazed, perhaps a bit wistfully, at MargaretElizabeth's endearing young charms. "I am delighted that you likeAugustus. He is a young man of sterling qualities. His mother and I werewarm friends; I take a deep interest in him. Of course he is not showy;perhaps he might be called a little slow; but he is substantial, andwhile I should be the last to place an undue emphasis upon wealth, oneneed not overlook its advantages. Augustus has had unusualopportunities."
"Is Mr. McAllister rich?" Margaret Elizabeth dropped her arms in asurprise which in its turn stirred a like emotion in her aunt's breast,for Miss Bentley put rather a peculiar emphasis, it would seem, upon theword rich. "I should never have guessed it," she added.
If Mrs. Pennington had been perfectly honest with herself, she wouldhave perceived that her own surprise indicated a suspicion that minushis wealth the aforesaid sterling qualities were something of a deadweight, but not for worlds would she have owned this. It would be agreat thing for Margaret Elizabeth, if she liked him. If she could bethe means of establishing dear old Richard's child in a position suchas the future Mrs. Augustus would occupy, she would feel she had doneher full duty. Mrs. Pennington was strong in the matter of duty.
"I should never have guessed it," Margaret Elizabeth repeated, after aminute spent in a quick review of that talk in the summer house.
"It is not always possible, surely, to gauge a person's bank account inthe course of one conversation," her aunt suggested.
"I don't mean that; but don't you think, Aunt Eleanor, you can usuallytell very rich people? They are apt to be limited, in a way. Not always,of course, but often. I can't explain it exactly. Perhaps it isover-refined."
"If to be refined is to be limited, I prefer to be limited," Mrs.Pennington remarked.
It was plain that unless Margaret Elizabeth went to the length ofretailing the whole of that Sunday morning conversation, which was outof the question, she could not hope to make her meaning clear.
"What surprises me," her aunt went on, "is that you should have metAugustus in a public park. It is very unlike him. I wonder what hethought of you?"
This brought out Miss Bentley's dimples, as she owned he had seemed notdispleased to meet her. "I explained that I was waiting for Dr. Prue,who had gone in to see one of the superintendent's children." Shefurther assured her aunt that River Bend Park was a delightful place inwhich to enjoy nature, on Sunday morning or any other time.
"I confess I do not choose a public park when I wish to enjoynature--except for driving, of course. Perhaps," added Mrs. Pennington,"that is what you call over-refined."
Margaret Elizabeth considered this thoughtfully. "Perhaps it is," shesaid. "Not being able to enjoy things that are free to everybody."
But Margaret Elizabeth in that frivolously-becoming cap was an antidoteto her own remarks. Mrs. Pennington smiled indulgently. Richard'sdaughter came honestly by some eccentricities, not to mention thoseVandegrifts, whose influence she greatly deplored.
"You will outgrow these socialistic ideas, my dear," she said. "ButI am still puzzled, the more I think of it, at your meeting Augustus onSunday morning. Was it two weeks ago? I am under the impression he leftfor New York that very day."
"He didn't mention it, but there are afternoon trains," answeredMargaret Elizabeth. "He merely said something about a sick boy he wasgoing to see at St. Mary's."
This again was very unlike Augustus, but Mrs. Pennington said no more.Meanwhile the faintest shadow of a doubt was dawning in her niece'smind; so shadowy she was scarcely aware of it, until, glowing from herwalk across the park, she entered the drawing-room that afternoon.
There is, by the way, a difference between walking in Sunset Park, theabode of the elect, with a huge St. Bernard in leash, and taking thesame exercise at River Bend, unchaperoned save by a chance guard. Anyright-minded person must see this.
A young man, who sat talking to Mrs. Gerrard Pennington before the fire,rose at her entrance.
"I am glad you have come, Margaret Elizabeth," her aunt exclaimed."I think you know Mr. McAllister? But we have rather a good joke onyou, for August says he was never in his life in River Bend Park."
"How do you do, Miss Bentley. Awfully glad to see you. That is, exceptto motor through, don't you know, Mrs. Pennington."
Miss Bentley's brown eyes met Mr. McAllister's blue ones, and in theperiod of one brief glance she experienced almost as many sensations,and reviewed as much past history, as the proverbial drowning man.The casual resemblance was striking. But the eyes--these were not thefriendly, merry eyes to which she had confided the fairy godmothernonsense. Fancy so much as mentioning fairy godmothers in the presenceof these steely orbs.
Margaret Elizabeth was game, however.
"I was mistaken, of course," she owned lightly, as she shook hands."I have met so many people, and am stupid at connecting names and faces.I recall Mr. McAllister perfectly." And straightway she plunged intoNew York and what was going on there. Had he seen "Grumpy" and wasn't itdear? And so on, and so on. Margaret Elizabeth could talk, and more thanthis she could look bewitching, and did, when she slipped out of herlong coat, and with many graceful upward motions, removed her hat andfluffed her hair.
She would make tea, she loved to, in fact she seemed bent upon luringAugustus away from the fire and Mrs. Pennington. This young gentleman,whose mental processes were not rapid, and who habitually overworked anyidea that found lodgment in his mind, was disposed to dwell upon RiverBend Park and Miss Bentley's strange mistake in thinking she had seenhim there, when actually, don't you know, he was on his way to New York.It was just as well not to have the situation complicated by thepresence of her more alert relative, whose amused glances kept the glowon Margaret Elizabeth's cheek at a most becoming pitch. Perhaps, too,the subconscious thinking concerning that same queer mistake, which wenton while she chatted so gaily, so skilfully leading the way to saferground, had something to do with it.
Augustus, unaware that he was led, was as clay in her hands. He warmedto her expressions of pleasure in the proposed dinner dance, which wereindeed entirely genuine. A dance was a dance, and Miss Bentley wasyoung. As she poured tea her curling lashes rested now on her cheek,were now lifted in smiling glances at the complacent Augustus, much aswhen on a certain Sunday morning, while softly laying bloom againstbloom, her eyes had now and again met the eyes of the Candy Man. Therewere other callers, other tea drinkers, but to none did Mr. McAllistersurrender his place of vantage.
"If she keeps on like this, Augustus is hers--if she wants him,"Mr. Gerrard Pennington remarked to his wife later in the evening.
"If I could have her all to myself," Mrs. Pennington sighed; "but anyimpression I may make is neutralised by her association with thoseVandegrifts. It is an absurd arrangement, spending half her time downthere."
"I think you are rather in the lead, aren't you, my dear?"
Mrs. Pennington shrugged her shoulders, but there was some triumph inher smile. "She is a dear child, in spite of some absurd notions, andI long to see her well and safely settled. I don't quite know in whather c
harm most lies, but she has it."
"Oh, it's her youth, and the conviction that it is all so jolly wellworth while. She is so keen about everything." There was an odd twinklein Mr. Pennington's eyes, usually so piercing beneath their bushy greybrows. Margaret Elizabeth called him Uncle Gerry. It was amusing. Heliked it, and enjoyed playing the part of Uncle Gerry. "Of course she'sbound to get over that. Still, I shouldn't be in any haste to settleher."
His wife thought of her brother, the Professor of Archaeology, now inthe Far East. "It is queer, but Dick never has," she said, answeringthe first part of his sentence. But when she spoke again, it was tosay energetically: "The Towers needs a mistress, and August isirreproachable. Really, I am devoted to the boy."
Mr. Pennington found this amusing.
"If only it were a colonial house. It is handsome, but I prefer simplerlines," Mrs. Pennington continued meditatively.
The Towers was a combination of feudal castle and Swiss chalet erectedthirty years before by the parents of Augustus, and occupying acommanding position on Sunset Ridge. The irreverent sometimes referredto it as the Salt Shakers.
Margaret Elizabeth meanwhile, in the solitude of her own room, wasasking herself questions, for which she found no answers.
"Who--oh, who was this person with the nice friendly eyes that led oneon to talk about fairy godmothers?"
She considered it in profound seriousness for a time, then suddenlybroke into unrestrained laughter.
The Little Red Chimney: Being the Love Story of a Candy Man Page 6