Apron-Strings Part 39

"Dear me, aren't we concerned about Mr. Farvel's breakfast!" exclaimed Mrs. Balcome, mockingly.

"We are."

"But not a word for this poor boy. One would think you were going to marry Farvel instead of Wallace."

"But--am I going to marry Wallace?"

Wallace swayed toward her. "Oh, you can't--you _can't_ turn me down!"

"Ah, Wallace!" she said sadly.

"Mrs. Balcome, _you_ don't think I deserve this?"

"Now don't be hasty, Hattie," advised her mother. "Everything's ready.

Our friends are coming. Are you going to send them away?"

"Messages have gone--to tell everyone not to come."

"Oh!" Wallace turned away, his head sunk between his shoulders.

"What will Buffalo think of you!" cried Mrs. Balcome.

"Buffalo," answered Hattie, "will have a chance to chatter about me, and that will give you and dad a rest."

"Are you going to send back all those beautiful wedding presents?"

Balcome, relieved of his worry over Hattie, had been strolling about, pulling at a cigar. Now he greeted this last question with a roar of laughter. "Oh, Hattie, can you beat it! Oh, that's a good one!"

Mrs. Balcome fixed him with an angry eye. "Doesn't he show what he is?" she inquired. "To laugh at such a time!"

"Beautiful wedding presents!" went on Balcome. "Oh, ha! ha! ha!"

"No sentiment!" added his wife. "No feeling!"

Hattie appealed to Wallace. "Oh, haven't I had my share of quarreling?" she asked plaintively.

"But we wouldn't quarrel!"

"Oh, yes, we would. I'd remember--and then trouble. I'd always feel that you and----"

"Hattie!" warned her mother. "You can't discuss that matter."

"Why not?"

"You ask that! Doesn't your good taste--your modesty--tell you that it's not proper?"

"Oh!--I mustn't discuss it. But if Wallace and I were to marry at twelve o'clock today, we could discuss it at one o'clock--and quarrel!"

"Mr. Balcome!" entreated Wallace.

Balcome deposited his cigar ashes on the sun-dial. "My boy," he said, "if a man has to dodge crockery because his wife's jealous about nothing, what'll it be like if she's got the goods on him?"

"There he goes!" triumphed Mrs. Balcome. "It's just what I expected!"

And to Hattie, who was admiring the Kewpie, "Put that down!" Then to Wallace, "Oh, she gets more like her father every day! Now drop that!"--for Hattie, having let fall the Kewpie, had picked up the flaxen-haired doll. "Wallace, she never came to this decision alone!"

"Alan Farvel!" accused Wallace, hotly.

Hattie turned on him. "You--you dare to say that!"

"Oh, I knew you'd stick up for him! You like him."

"He's good! He's fine, and big! He's a man!--and a clean man."

"_I_ meant Sue Milo." Mrs. Balcome interposed her bulk between them.

"She's not to blame!" defended Hattie. "On the contrary--she wouldn't let me decide quickly. We talked about it 'way into the night."

Balcome twitched a rose voile sleeve. "Don't mind her, Hattie," he counseled. "That's the kind of wild thing she says about me."

"Can you deny that Susan has influenced you?" persisted Mrs. Balcome.

"Can you truthfully say--_Oh_!" For over the wall, and over the little white door, had come a large, gay-striped rubber ball. It Struck the gra.s.s, bounced, and came rolling to Mrs. Balcome's feet.

"Here she is!" whispered Balcome.

"_Sneaking_ in!" accused his wife.

Now, the white door swung wide to the sound of motor chugging, and a hop came trundling across the lawn. Next, Sue appeared, backing, for her arms were full of bundles. She dropped one or two as she came.

"Oh, there you go again!" she laughed. "Oh, b.u.t.ter-fingers!"

"Goo-oo-ood-morning!" began Mrs. Balcome, portentously.

Sue turned a startled face over a shoulder. And at once she was only a small girl caught in naughtiness. "Oh,--er--ah--good-morning," she stammered. "I--er--I've got everything but the kitchen stove." She made to a bench and let all her purchases fall. "Mrs.

Balcome,--how--how is mother?"

"You care a lot about your poor mother!" retorted Mrs. Balcome.

"You'll send her gray hairs in sorrow to the grave!"

Balcome winked at Sue. "Hebrews, ten, thirty-six," he reminded roguishly. "'For ye have need of patience.'"

"Well, dear lady, just what have I done?" Sue sank among the packages.

"I say you're responsible for this--this unfortunate turn of affairs."

"If you'd only let things alone yesterday," broke in Wallace; "if you'd stayed at home, and minded your own affairs."

"So you could have deceived Hattie."

"No! You've no right to call it deception. That's one of your new-woman ideas. This is something that happened long ago, before I ever met Hattie--and it's sacred----"