The Ne'er-Do-Well Part 33

"Wait." The face disappeared. There was a sound from behind the twisted tree-trunk, a twig fell, then a piece of bark, and the next instant the girl herself stepped into view.

"I was afraid you'd gone for good," acknowledged the young man, gravely. He took up his gun and stepped out upon the crest of the dam.

"You must look where you go," she admonished, "or you will fall-- splas.h.!.+" She laughed delightedly at the thought, and he saw that her eyes had a way of wrinkling almost shut in the merriest fas.h.i.+on. He balanced upon the slippery surface of the waterway with the stream up to his ankles.

"Will you promise not to whisk yourself away if I look down?" he asked.

"Yes."

But even with this a.s.surance he found it difficult to remove his eyes from her even for the brief instant necessary for a safe pa.s.sage; and when at last he stood beside her he felt an irresistible desire to seize her gently so that she could not escape.

"Well?" she said at length, and he found he had been standing stock-still staring at her for several seconds.

"Excuse me! I really took you for a wood-nymph. I'm not sure yet-- you see the place is so well suited. It--it was a natural mistake."

She dropped her eyes shyly and turned away at his look.

"It is only our swimming-pool. There have been no fairies here since I was a very little girl. But once upon a time there were many--oh, a great many." It was impossible to describe the odd, sweet sound her tongue gave to the English words. It was not a dialect, hardly an accent, just a delicious, hesitating mannerism born of unfamiliarity.

"Did you ever see them?"

"N-no! I arrived always a little too late. But there are such things."

He nodded. "Everybody knows that since 'Peter Pan.'"

Another shy glance told her that he was still regarding her with his look of wondering admiration. She pointed to a path, saying:

"This way will bring you to the road, sir, if you wish."

"But--I don't wish--not yet." He sought wildly for an excuse to stay, and exclaimed: "Oh, the orchid. I must get it for you."

"That will be very nice of you, sir. For two years I have awaited its blooming. If you had not arrived I would have got it, anyhow."

"Girls shouldn't climb trees," he said, severely. "It tears their dresses."

"Oh, one cannot tear a dress like this." She glanced down at her skirt. Allowing his eyes to leave her face for a moment, Kirk saw that she was clad, oddly enough, in a suit of denim, which was b.u.t.toned snugly clear to her neck. It struck him as most inappropriate, yet it was extremely well made, and he could not complain of the effect.

He broke his gun and removed the sh.e.l.ls; then, leaving it beside the bath-house, went to the tree where he had first seen her. With one hand resting upon the trunk, he turned to say:

"Promise you won't disappear while I'm up there, or change into a squirrel, or a bird, or anything like that."

"What a funny man you are!"

"Do you promise?"

"Yes, yes."

"Do you live around here?"

"Of course."

"Why do you want this orchid?"

"To put it in the house."

Instead of beginning his climb, the young man lounged idly against the tree.

"Funny how I found you, wasn't it?" he remarked. "I mean it's funny I should have stumbled right on you this way--there's only one of you and one of me, and--er--this country is so big! I might have gone some other way and then perhaps we'd never have met." He contemplated this contingency for an instant. "And if you hadn't spoken I'd never have seen you, either."

"But I had to speak. You could not cross above."

"Awfully nice of you. Some people would have let me go away."

"But the orchid, senor. Do you fear to climb so high?" she inquired, with the faintest gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt at his obvious effort to prolong the conversation.

"Oh no!"

He cast about for something further to talk about, but, failing to find it, began slowly to clamber upward, supporting himself upon the natural steps afforded by the twining vine and the protuberances of the trunk itself.

When he had reached the first fork, he turned and seated himself comfortably, peering downward through the leaves for a sight of her.

"Not gone yet!" he exclaimed. "That's good."

"Are you out of breath that you stop so soon?"

He nodded. "I need to rest a minute. Say, my name is Anthony--Kirk Anthony." Then, after a pause, "I'm an American."

"So am I, at least I am almost. My mother was an American."

"You don't say!" The young man's face lighted up with interest, and he started eagerly down the tree-trunk, but she checked him promptly.

"The orchid!"

"Oh yes!" He reseated himself. "Well, well, I suppose your mother taught you to speak English?"

"I also attended school in Baltimore."

Anthony dangled his legs from his perch and brushed aside a troublesome p.r.i.c.kly pod that depended in such a position as to tickle his neck. "I'm from Yale. Ever been to New Haven? What are you laughing at?"

"At you. Do you know what it is which you are fighting from your neck?"

"This?" Kirk succeeded in locating the nettle that had annoyed him.

"Yes. It is cow-eetch. Wait! By-and-by you will scratch like everything." The young lady laughed with the most mischievous, elf-like enjoyment of this prospect.

"All right. Just for that, I will wait."

Now that the first surprise of meeting was over, Kirk began a really attentive scrutiny of this delightful young person. So far he had been conscious of little except her eyes, which had exercised a most remarkable effect upon him from the first. He had never cared for black eyes--they were too hard and sparkling, as a rule--but these--well, he had never seen anything quite like them.

They were large and soft and velvety, like--like black pansies!