Betty Trevor Part 24

"Oh, please come in! It's nothing. I only felt rather--upset.

Something vexed me, but it's nothing of any importance. Can I do anything for you? Are you expecting Miles? He said he would be home quite early. Were you going out together?"

"Yes, we have some calls to pay, but there's still half an hour to spare. He will be up to time, I'm sure. Miles is always punctual."

Mr Gerard seated himself, and looked with concern at Betty's face, on which the signs of her mental conflict were clearly printed. It was almost the first time that they had been alone together, for _tete-a- tetes_ were of rare occurrence in the doctor's busy household, and there was a perceptible hesitation on both sides.

"No, thank you! You can do nothing for me, but I wish I could help you," said Gerard. "Can't I pummel somebody? Miles will tell you I have a good fighting arm. If anyone has been annoying you--"

That made Betty laugh, with a quick wonder as to what Mr Gerard would say if he knew the ident.i.ty of his proposed opponent.

"No, no, thank you! I must fight my own battles. As a matter of fact, it's more temper than anything else. I have a most intrusive temper.

It is always pus.h.i.+ng itself forward--"

She expected the usual polite disclaimer, but it did not come. Will Gerard looked at her for a minute, as if thoughtfully weighing her in the balance, and then the delightful irradiating smile pa.s.sed over his features.

"And it is more difficult to fight now than in the old days, when you could let yourself go, have a grand rampage, and trust to time and the aroma of roast chestnuts to make the peace!" he said mischievously; and when Betty started in dismay--

"Oh, I know all about it! The subject of home is very attractive when one is alone in exile. I could hardly know more about you if I'd been a member of your schoolroom party. I used to lure Miles on to talk of old days. It kept us both occupied. Do you remember the occasion when you decided to starve yourself to death, because you imagined that you had been unjustly treated, and then got up in the middle of the first night to raid a cold chop from the larder? Or the time you vowed vengeance on Miles for cutting off the ends of your hair to make paint brushes, repented after you went to bed, and went to make it up, when he concluded you were playing ghosts, and nearly throttled you as a welcome?"

Betty laughed, undecided between amus.e.m.e.nt and vexation.

"It's too bad! He seems to have given me away all round. If he was going to tell tales, he might have told flattering ones. I am sure I was often very nice, or I was always sorry if I wasn't. I used to roast chestnuts and m.u.f.fins, and eat oranges and peppermints with the door wide open to lure him back. They were dear old days! I am glad he remembered them, but it must have been boring for you. Did he--did he tell you--more things about me?"

"Many more!"

"Princ.i.p.ally about me? More than about the others?"

"You were his special chum. It was natural that he should speak most of you."

"And--er--my letters! Did he read those aloud?"

"Parts of them. I never saw them, of course, except--"

"Except when?"

"When he was ill. He could not read himself, and was anxious to hear the news. Three letters from you arrived during that time. He said it did not matter. That there would be no secrets in them--nothing you would not wish me to know."

Betty flushed, cast an agonised thought back through the years, to try to remember the gist of those three missives, failed completely, and nervously twisted her fingers together.

"There was one thing they would show you pretty plainly, which I'd rather have kept secret."

"Yes?"

"Myself?"

She looked across the room with a flickering glance, and met Will Gerard's steady gaze.

"Yes," he said slowly. "They showed me yourself!"

That was all. Not another word, either of praise or blame. Did he hate her then--think her altogether flighty and contemptible, or had the letters been by chance good specimens of their number, and did he like them, and think her "nice"? The face told her nothing in its grave impenetrability. She felt herself blus.h.i.+ng more deeply than ever, rallied all her powers with the determination that she would _not_ be stupid, and cried gaily--

"Well, after all, the confidence was not all on one side! We heard enough about you. 'My chum Gerard' has been a household word among us for years past. You were such a paragon that we were quite bored with the list of your perfections." She raised her hands and began checking off his characteristics on the different fingers in charming, mischievous fas.h.i.+on. "My chum Gerard is so clever,--so industrious,--so far-seeing,--so thoughtful,--so generous,--so kind,--so helpful--no! I am not going to stop; I've not half-finished yet.--All that he does is wise; all that he tries, succeeds; all that he has, he shares; and when he speaks, let no dog bark! When we read about impossible heroes in books we called them 'Gerard'; when we wanted to express the acme of perfection, we called a thing 'Gerardy.' Jill read aloud the _Swiss Family Robinson_ to Pam, and called the good proper papa 'Mr Gerard'

all the way through. So now!"

"Now, indeed!" echoed the real Mr Gerard, laughing. "You are certainly revenged, Miss Trevor. I don't know anything more trying than to be preceded by an impossibly exaggerated character! The reality is bound to be a disappointment. Miles has credited me with his own virtues, for in reality I am a very faulty person; not in the least like that paragon, Robinson Papa, of whom I have a vivid remembrance. He would have been a useful person out in Mexico, all the same. That convenient habit of discovering every necessity for the table or the toilet on the nearest bush would have helped us out of many a dilemma."

They laughed together over the old-time memory, and then, suddenly sobering, Mr Gerard continued--

"At any rate, Miss Trevor, the fact remains, that by 'good report or ill,' even by sight, so far as photographs can reproduce us, we have been intimately acquainted with each other for the last six years. Six years is a long time. It ought to enable us to meet as friends rather than acquaintances?"

The last sentence was uttered more as a question than a fact, and Betty answered with eager acquiescence.

"Oh yes, as friends, quite old friends. It is far better so--"

"Yet there are times when you treat me like the veriest stranger! It must be my own fault. Have I done or said anything since my arrival which has displeased you?"

"Oh no! Please don't think so. It was nothing at all, not a thing, except only that--"

She could not say, "Except that you seemed to prefer Jill's society to mine," and so complete the sentence; so she subsided into blus.h.i.+ng silence, and Mr Gerard tactfully forbore to question.

"Don't let there be any more 'excepts' or 'buts,' please! Take me on trust as Miles' friend and--if you will allow me--your own. That is all I request."

At this interesting moment the sound of a latchkey was heard in the front door, followed by voices and footsteps in the hall. Mr Gerard muttered something under his breath. What the exact words were Betty did not know, but they were certainly not indicative of pleasure. Then the door opened, and Miles entered, followed by Jill, who had met her brother soon after starting for her walk, and had escorted him back to the house.

She raised her eyebrows at the sight of Mr Gerard. Had he not refused to go out with her a few minutes before, on the score of letters to be written? Yet here he was, talking to Betty, with never a pretence of paper or ink in the room.

Jill came down to dinner an hour or two later, attired in her prettiest dress, with the little curl, which Jack naughtily termed the "War Cry,"

artlessly displayed on her forehead. She did not care two pins about her brother's partner, but it was her nature to wish to reign supreme with any man with whom she was brought into contact, so she was her most captivating self all the evening, and Will Gerard laid his hand on his heart and bowed before her, laughed at her sallies, and applauded her songs, as he had done every evening since his arrival, and Betty laughed and applauded in her turn, without a trace of the old rankling jealousy.

"He talks to her, but he looks at me. He wants _me_ to be his friend!"

she told herself with a proud content.

For the first time for many a long year her dreams that night were in the present, instead of in the past.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

A MOONLIGHT WALK.

Cynthia wrote to beg that Betty would soon come down to see her, and bring her old pupil to be reintroduced to his mentor, but time pa.s.sed by, and one day after another was vetoed by Miles himself. Betty was nonplussed. It seemed as if he did not want to go. Yet she could hardly believe that such could be the case, when she recalled to memory the tone of his voice, the look on his face when, for the first and last time since his return, Miles had voluntarily mentioned Cynthia's name.

"It is quite an easy journey. We can get there in less than two hours by an express train, stay for lunch and tea, and get home again in time for dinner. I've been down twice this spring, and it is quite easily managed," she protested; but Miles would do nothing but grunt, and refuse a definite answer. To spend three or four hours in Franton, a large proportion of which would be taken up in eating meals, and talking to other people--this was not his idea of a first visit to Cynthia after six years of absence. He continued to grunt and make objections for the next few weeks, and then one night at dinner he announced airily--

"I've taken rooms at the Grand at Franton for a week from Friday. I thought, as we were going down in any case, we might as well do the thing comfortably, and have a breath of sea-air. Awfully stuffy in town this last week! They say the Grand is the best hotel, and we shall be fairly comfortable there. Four bedrooms, and a private sitting-room for you, mater, in case you want to be quiet. Gerard's coming along; and you'll come too--over Sunday, at least--I hope, father?"

"Over Sunday, certainly. I can manage that very well; and perhaps Horton can take on my work for a few days. There are no very serious cases on at present, and a rest would be very delightful!" said the tired doctor with a sigh. His wife brightened instantly at the thought of his pleasure, while Betty and Jill flushed with excitement.

Rooms at the Grand! The best hotel, where perchance they might be "comfortable"! They had never before stayed in an hotel; lodgings, and cheap lodgings into the bargain, had been their portion on the occasion of their rare holiday-makings. The grandeur of the prospect drove out every other thought, and, to his own immense relief, Miles escaped embarra.s.sing comments on his sadden change of front.