A Thoughtless Yes Part 6

"Sh--said she again, looking at him with a good deal of emphasis in her eyes.

"Well, it is too bad, isn't it?" acquiesced he, in a much lower voice, and one from which every vestige of the tone of protest had vanished.

"It _is_ too bad that these summer cottages are built so close together that you can't tie your shoes without being overheard by the folks next door? It makes me nervous. I feel as if I had to sit up straight all the time and smile like a crocodile, or else run the risk of being misunderstood."

"It _is_ trying, dear," she said, "and destroys a good deal of the comfort and ease of one's outing."

"Nothing of the kind," began he, so explosively as to make my wife jump.

"Sh--," whispered the lady next door, but he went on.

"Nothing of the kind. I don't let it bother me in the least. They can attend to their own affairs, and I----"

"Sh--," said his wife; "suppose we walk down to the beach." She began to adjust her wrap.

"It is a good deal more comfortable here," he protested, "and besides I'm tired."

"So you are, of course," she said, regretfully. "I forgot. Such unusual work for a man would tire him;" and she loosened the lace veil she had drawn over her head and reseated herself.

"Well, are you ready?" questioned he, clapping on his hat and suddenly starting down the steps.

"Ready for what?" asked she, in surprise.

"The deuce, Margaret. I thought you said that you were going to the beach!"

She got up, readjusted her veil, took her wrap on her arm, and ran lightly after him.

"I wonder if I shall need this wrap?" she said as she pa.s.sed our gate.

"Heavens! no," he replied, "and it will heat you all up to carry it.

Here, give it to me. I don't see what on earth you brought it for. I'm certainly hot enough without loading me up with this."

"I will carry it," she said, cheerfully; "I don't feel the heat on my arm as you do--or I'll run back and leave it on the porch. You walk slowly. I can easily catch up."

She started; but he took the shawl from her, threw it lightly over his shoulder, and, pulling her hand through his arm, said gayly, and in the most compliant tone: "It isn't very warm. I won't notice this little thing and, besides, you'll need it down there, as like as not."

When they were out of hearing my wife drew a long breath and said: "I wonder if we ever sound like that to other people?--and yet, they seem to be devoted to each other," she added hastily.

"They are, no doubt," said I, "only he appears to be a chronic kicker."

"A comic what?" said my wife, in so loud a tone that I involuntarily exclaimed "Sh--!"

We both laughed. Then she said: "But really, dear, I didn't understand what you said he was. There doesn't seem to me to be anything comic about him, though. And----"

"Comic! Well, I should think not," said I. "I should think it would be anything but comic to that little woman to go through that sort of thing every time she opened her mouth. What I said was that he seems to be a chronic kicker, and I might add--with some show of fairness--that he impresses me as the champion of Kicktown at that."

"Sh--," laughed my wife, "they're coming back."

"I don't agree with you at all. There is no need to do anything of the kind," were the first words we heard from a somewhat distant couple, and my wife concluded that our new neighbors were not very far off. "It would be no end of trouble for you. You'd get all tired out; and besides, what do we owe to the Joneses that makes it necessary for you to disturb all our little comforts to ask them down here?" he continued.

We could not hear her reply; but his protest and evident deep dissatisfaction with the whole scheme went bravely on.

She pa.s.sed into the house and left him on the steps. When she came out a few moments later he said, sweetly: "As I was just saying, it will be quite a diversion for you to see the girls, and I'd enjoy the old man hugely. He's a jolly old c.o.o.n; and then we owe it to them after all they did for you."

"What girls? What old man is a jolly c.o.o.n?" asked she, in an utterly bewildered tone.

"Margaret! The Joneses, of course. Whom have we been talking about for the last half-hour?" exploded he.

"Oh," said she, having evidently quite given over asking the Joneses, and become occupied with other thoughts, "I thought the idea did not please you. But I'm so glad. It will do you good to have him here, and I shall be delighted."

"Do me good!" exploded he. "Do me good! Tiresome old bore, if there ever was one. Women are queer fish to deal with, but I'm sure I don't care whom you invite here."

Our neighbors withdrew for the night and we sighed with relief. About two o'clock my wife touched me to find if I was asleep. The movement was so stealthy that I inferred at once that there were burglars in the house. I was wide awake in an instant.

"What is it?" I whispered.

"Well, I'm glad you're awake. I want to know what that was you called the man next door. I forgot what it was, and I couldn't sleep for trying to remember."

I laughed. "I believe I said that he impressed me as one so addicted to the reprehensible habit of protest--on general principles, as it were--that it had now become the normal condition of his mental const.i.tution."

"You didn't say any such thing," said she. "You--"

"I believe that at the time of which you speak I allowed myself to be guilty of a habit you do not wholly admire; but I really had no idea it would keep you awake. I used slang. I said that he was a chronic kicker, and--"

"That's it! That's it!" exclaimed she, with deep satisfaction. "He's a 'chronic kicker.' Well, if you'll believe me, he hasn't stopped kicking long enough to say his prayers decently since we went to bed. First about what time it was; then about which room they'd sleep in; then there was too much cover; then the windows were wrong; then--oh, heavens!--I wonder if he kicks in his sleep? He always comes around to reason in time; but if there was ever anything more maddening to meet than that constant wall of protest--for the sake of protest--I don't know what it could be."

"Nor--I," said I, half asleep.

Presently her hand grasped mine vigorously, and I sprang up startled, for I had been sound asleep again. "What's the matter?" I said, in a loud tone.

"Sh--," whispered my wife. "Don't speak in that tone. I'd rather people would think you stayed out nights, than to suppose you stayed at home and nagged me. He's at it again. I'd most gone to sleep and his voice nearly scared the life out of me. She wanted to close the window. He objected, of course; said he'd smother--sh--"

Just then we heard our neighbor's wife ask sleepily: "What are you doing, dear?"

"Closing this detestable window. Lets in too much salt air. 'Fraid you'll get chilled. I am. Where's another blanket?"

The window went down with a bang, and we heard no more of our neighbors that night. But the next morning the same thing began again, and I do not believe that during that entire summer he ever agreed with his wife the first time she spoke, nor failed to come around to her view after he took time to think it over. I remember when I was introduced to him, a week later, his wife said: "This is our nearest neighbor, you know, Thomas, and--"

"No, he isn't, Margaret; the people back of us are nearer," he said.

Then to me: "Pleased to meet you. I believe our wives have become quite good friends. I'm very glad for Margaret's sake, too. It's dull for her with only an old fellow like me to entertain her, and she not very well.

And then, as she says, you are our nearest neighbor, and we really ought not to be too ceremonious at such a place as this."

"I thought, Thomas," suggested his wife, "that you said one could not be too particular. Why, you quite bl.u.s.tered when I first told you I had made advances to some of the other--"

"Nonsense! I did nothing of the kind," broke in he. "What on earth ever put such an idea into your head, Margaret? You know I always say that without pleasant neighbors, and friendly relations with them, a summer cottage is no place for a white man to live."

My wife hastened to change the subject. Nothing on earth is more distasteful to her than a family contest, of even a very mild type, especially when the tones of voice seem to express more of indignation and a desire to override, than a mere difference of opinion. She thought the surf a safe subject.

"Was not the water lovely to-day? You were in, I suppose?" she inquired of our neighbor's wife.