The Danger Mark Part 87

"Is it very horrid of me, Duane?" she asked anxiously, "to find excitement in this sort of thing? Besides, we do need meat, and the game must be kept thinned down by somebody. And Scott won't."

"Whatever you do is all right," said Duane, laughing, "even when you jeer at my gymnastics on skis. Oh, Lord! but I'm hungry. Scott, are you going to take all those sausages and m.u.f.fins, you bespectacled ruffian!

Kathleen, heave a plate at him!"

Kathleen was too scandalised to reply; Scott surrendered the desired m.u.f.fins, and sorted the morning mail, which had just been brought in.

"Nothing for you, Sis, except bills; one letter for Duane, two for Kathleen, and the rest for me"--he examined the envelopes--"all from brother correspondents and eager aspirants for entomological honours....

Here's your letter, Duane!" scaling it across the table in spite of Kathleen's protest.

They had the grace to ask each other's permission to read.

"Oh, listen to this!" exclaimed Scott gleefully:

"DEAR SIR: Your name has been presented to the Grand Council which has decided that you are eligible for members.h.i.+p in the International Entomological Society of East Orange, N.J., and you have, therefore, been unanimously elected.

"Have the kindness to inform me of your acceptance and inclose your check for $25, which includes your dues for five years and a free subscription to the society's monthly magazine, _The Fly-Paper_----"

"Scott, don't do it. You get one of those kind of things every day!"

exclaimed Geraldine. "They only want your $25, anyway."

"It's an innocent recreation," grinned Duane. "Why not let Scott append to his signature--'M.I.E.S.E.O.N.J.'--Member International Entomological Society, East Orange, New Jersey. It only costs $25 to do it----"

"That's all right," said Scott, reddening, "but possibly they may have read my paper on the Prionians in the last Yonkers _Magazine of Science_. It wasn't a perfectly rotten paper, was it, Kathleen?"

"It was mighty clever!" she said warmly. "Don't mind those two scoffers, Scott. If you take my advice you will join this East Orange Society.

That would make six scientific societies he has joined since Christmas,"

she continued, turning on Duane with severe pride; adding, "and there's a different coloured ribbon decoration for his b.u.t.tonhole from each society."

But Duane and Geraldine were very disrespectful; they politely offered each other members.h.i.+ps in all sorts of societies, including one yard of ribbon decoration, one sleigh-bell, and five green trading stamps, until Scott hurled an orange at Duane, who caught it and blew a kiss at him as recompense.

Then they went outside, on Scott's curt invitation, and wrestled and scuffled and scrubbed each other's faces with snow like schoolboys, until, declaring they were hungry again, they came back to the breakfast-room and demanded more m.u.f.fins and sausages and coffee.

Kathleen rang and, leaning over, handed Geraldine a brief letter from Rosalie Dysart:

"Do you think Geraldine would ask me up for a few days?" it began.

"I'm horribly lonesome and unhappy and I'm being talked about, and I'd rather be with you wholesome people than with anybody I know, if you don't mind my making a refuge of your generosity. I'm a real victim of that dreadful sheet in town, which we all have a contempt for and never subscribe to, and which some of us borrow from our maids or read at our modistes--the sheet that some of us are genuinely afraid of--and part of our fear is that it may neglect us! You know, don't you, what really vile things it is saying about me? If you don't, your servants do.

"So if you'd rather not have me, I won't be offended, and, anyway, you are dear and decent people and I love you.

"ROSALIE DENE."

"How funny," mused Geraldine. "She's dropped Jack Dysart's name already in private correspondence.... Poor child!" Looking up at Kathleen, "We must ask her, mustn't we, dear?"

There was more of virginal severity in Kathleen. She did not see why Rosalie, under the circ.u.mstances, should make a convenience of Geraldine, but she did not say so; and, perhaps, glancing at the wistful young girl before her, she understood this new toleration for those in dubious circ.u.mstances--comprehended the unusual gentleness of judgment which often softens the verdict of those who themselves have drifted too near the danger mark ever to forget it or to condemn those still adrift.

"Yes," she said, "ask her."

Duane looked up from the perusal of his own letter as Kathleen and Scott strolled off toward the greenhouses where the latter's daily entomological researches continued under gla.s.s and the stimulous artificial heat and Kathleen Severn.

"Geraldine," he said, "here's a letter from Bunny Gray. He and Sylvia Quest were married yesterday very quietly, and they sailed for Cape Town this morning!"

"What!"

"That's what he writes. Did you ever hear of anything quicker?"

"How funny," she said. "Bunny and Sylvia? I knew he was attentive to her but----"

"You mean Dysart?" he said carelessly. "Oh, he's only a confirmed debutante chaser; a sort of social measles. They all recover rapidly."

"I had the--social measles," said Geraldine, smiling.

Duane repressed a s.h.i.+ver. "It's inevitable," he said gaily.... "That Bunny is a decent fellow."

"Will you show me his letter?" she asked, extending her hand as a matter of course.

"No, dear."

She looked up surprised.

"Why not? Oh--I beg your pardon, dear----"

Duane bent over, kissed her hand, and tossed the letter into the fire.

It was her first experience in shadows cast before, and it came to her with a little shock that no two are ever one in the prosier sense of the theory.

The letter that Duane had read was this:

"Sylvia and I were married quietly yesterday and she has told me that you will know why. There is little further for me to say, Duane. My wife is ill. We're going to Cape Town to live for a while. We're going to be happy. I am now. She will be.

"My wife asked me to write you. Her regard for you is very high.

She wishes me to tell you that I know everything I ought to have known when we were married. You were very kind to her. You're a good deal of a man, Duane.

"I want to add something: her brother, Stuyve, is out of the hospital and loose again. He's got all the virtues of a Pomeranian pup--that is, none; and he'll make a rotten bad fist of it. I'll tell you now that, during the past winter, twice, when drunk, he shot at his sister. She did not tell me this; he did, when in a snivelling condition at the hospital.

"So G.o.d knows what he may do in this matter. It seems that the blackguard in question has been warned to steer clear of Stuyvesant. It's up to them. I shall be glad to have Sylvia at Cape Town for a while.

"Delancy Grandcourt was witness for me, Rosalie for Sylvia. Delancy is a brick. Won't you ask him up to Roya-Neh? He's dying to go.

"And this is all. It's a queer life, isn't it, old fellow? But a good sporting proposition, anyway. It suits me.

"Our love to you, to the little chatelaine of Roya-Neh, to her brother, to Kathleen.

"Tell them we are married and off for Cape Town, but tell them no more.

"B. Gray."

"It isn't necessary to say burn this scrawl."

Geraldine, watching him in calm speculation, said: