The Higher Court Part 7

Reginald's ears had caught the invitation. "Come, mother dear!" he cried. "Come wight away." His glee bubbled. The uncomprehended tears of his nurse were forgotten as he placed his hand in Ned's.

"See the mischief you have wrought," said Isabel. "It is too late for Reggie to go from home--almost time for his bath and nap," she announced decidedly.

"But, mother dear," the blue eyes flashed mutiny, "But, mother dear, Reggie _must_ have a good time!" The ruling pa.s.sion of the age possessed the infant's soul; to enjoy life topped every other thought.

The child drew Hartley forward with all his strength. "Come right away,"

he coaxed. "I want to get my red coat."

"But darling," Isabel protested, "you cannot go in the machine this morning. Here comes Maggie to give you your bath; go with her at once."

A struggle was on. "You must go with nurse. You may not have a good time this morning. Another day you shall ride in the automobile if you are obedient."

The child surveyed his mother. She showed no sign of weakening. For an instant his lips trembled; a cry half escaped them, then he rushed into Maggie's arms.

"To-morrow Reggie may go, to-morrow!" he repeated with baby confidence.

Two st.u.r.dy, adorable legs went peaceably forward across the lawn. With every step the boy evoked some happy future day--a glad to-morrow.

"You're the slickest mater on record!" exclaimed Hartley. "How do you do it? I believe you might subdue a labor strike if you tried. No man could resist you long. And any fellow would be bound to do things, make something of himself, if only he might have you to keep him level." That he had known Mrs. Doan but a short time escaped his mind. Suddenly he was pus.h.i.+ng his cause with youthful ardor. "If you could only care for me!" he cried. "Only believe that I really would amount to something if you gave me the chance. Why can't I prove it to you? Indeed, I would do everything that you wished me to--be as good as Reg--upon my word!"

Isabel raised startled eyes in mute entreaty. "Let me finish," the boy implored. "I know just what you think, so please do not tell me. You have heard about the sc.r.a.pe at college, all about my getting fired, my father's anger, everything abominable. And it is true, all true,--I was an a.s.s, a perfect a.s.s. I admit it. But you see I'm different now. I can be a man, even if I didn't get through college by the skin of my teeth.

If you would only marry me father would overlook everything! set me up in any kind of business I liked. And besides, 'the mater' has much more money than dad. She's simply crazy about you--almost as crazy as I am."

"My dear boy," cried Isabel, feeling very wise and old, "you must stop.

If you say another foolish word our pleasant friends.h.i.+p will have to end right here."

"But it isn't foolish to love you, to be mad with good resolutions for your sake," he pleaded. "Of course, if you won't listen to me now I must wait. And I will wait--wait just like Reg--until to-morrow!" His whole being reflected new resolve.

"Then be reasonable. Go back to college; finish the course your position in life demands; please your father; be good." They moved slowly to the house.

"And I may hope when I get my sheepskin?"

"No! no!" she cried. "I meant nothing of the kind. I could never, never marry you. Even if----" she hesitated--"it can never be," she finished.

"Then there is some one else?"

"There is some one else," she answered in a voice so true that its cadence hurt the more.

Ned looked upon the ground; then he lifted hopeless eyes. "Of course I am an a.s.s; I always was one. But you will come out in the machine? I haven't the nerve to explain; and I'll help you find the horses--for the other man----" he choked out.

Isabel could not refuse the humble request.

CHAPTER XVI

The luxurious touring car sped away. In the tonneau Mrs. Hartley and madame chatted with no suspicion of Ned's unhappy state. The morning was glorious.

"Please come," the boy had begged; then added, "if you don't, 'the mater' will want to know the reason why."

"We must be the best of friends," Isabel whispered, as she took her place in front.

"Is ze country not de-vine?" cried the old French woman. "So like La Riviera! my southern France!"

Mrs. Hartley coughed. "The dust is a drawback," she complained.

"But it does not rise in ze nostril--drive upon ze face; there is no wind to make rough ze flesh," the other argued. "At San Francisco ze little stone rise from ze ground, hit ze eye! And in Chicago ze wind blow fierce, make sore ze throat." Mrs. Hartley tightened her veil. "Ze south California is good--dear Madame Hartley--good beyond every land but France." Madame Sabot laughed like a happy child. "Am I not blessed to stay in ze paradise? To live wis my angel children? Since ten years I have no home--only trouble. Tes grande!" she cried, "ze tree; I forget ze name."

"Eucalyptus," prompted Isabel, turning backward.

"U-ca-lip-tus," madame repeated. "Not trim like ze Lombardy poplar, but so tall! so tall!"

The giant stood by the wayside. The round, smooth trunk, expanding each year from beneath girders of loosening bark, lifted a weight of inaccessible white blossoms to the sky. Peeled to a s.h.i.+ning mauve, the mighty stalk shot up to swaying, dull green branches. From lower irregular limbs long ribbons of sloughing fiber hung in the gentle breeze, until rain or a transient gust sent them rattling to the ground.

When threatening moisture lay along the range the giant eucalyptus loved to plunge into inky clouds, to bend anon, a towering helmet of sable plumes. This every artist saw; and in her own excitable way the French woman felt the pa.s.sion of the wayside monarch.

"Tres grande!" she cried, with parting wave of her hand.

"I see no beauty in a eucalyptus," said Mrs. Hartley. "If I had a place here I should not have one of them about--such untidy trees! It would drive me distracted to see loose strings swinging overhead. Then when the fiber drops it is even more annoying. Falling leaves are bad enough, but falling bark! I could never endure that. At Lakeside--our country place--Mr. Hartley and Ned rave over dried maple leaves; but I a.s.sure you I have them raked up each morning. I really could not endure the autumn if I permitted myself to be buried under dead leaves. I should be too blue. With rheumatic gout I am miserable enough."

"But ze California will make ze cure. Not one bad head since I find ze happy land," old madame declared.

The chatter at the back of the car made rare entertainment for Isabel, who listened by reason of Ned Hartley's unsociable mood. The boy was deep in sulks. He ran the machine so carelessly that his mother began to complain.

"Don't be cross; please be nice," Mrs. Doan begged, softly.

They were skirting the foothills, headed for an upland ranch.

"Won't you prepare me a little for what I am to see--tell me about the horses?" she coaxed.

"There isn't much to tell," Ned answered, out of gloom. "I just happened to notice the span in town; then I traced their owner through a livery stable groom. You may not like them," he added, with trying unconcern.

"I am sure that I shall love them. And it was good of you to go to so much trouble." The boy's rudeness should be ignored. "Did you know that I have always been wild about horses?" He made no response and she went on. "Ever since I was a small girl I have loved to gallop over the country. Now I am going to indulge myself; have not only a carriage span, but two saddle horses--the very best ones we can find."

"I presume Reginald is about to mount?" Ned was madly jealous. The question brought a flush to Isabel's cheeks.

"I expect him to ride," she answered, "but of course on a pony."

The automobile landed in a rut, then bounded upward and onward. "Why, Ned!" cried Mrs. Hartley. "What is the matter? If you can't run the machine more evenly you had better bring Adolph when next we come out."

The rebuke was smothered in a rhapsody by madame. "Behold!" she cried, "behold ze landscape!" But the too evident attempt to allay the mother's criticism fell flat. The lady continued to suffer with every jar.

Neither the dazzling contour of the lifting range, nor a wonderful valley, sweeping from foothills to the distant, glistening sea, could distract her mind from personal complaints.

It was a relief when a sudden detour landed the machine on a cross way, leading through interlacing pepper trees, to a small but attractive bungalow. A pretty, neatly dressed young woman sat on the porch sewing.

She rose as the car stopped.

"Good morning," she said, "my husband is with the horses." She pointed to whitewashed paddocks at the left some distance beyond the peppers.

"Please keep going, the road leads straight; my husband will hear the machine."

"Thank you," said Mrs. Doan. "You are fortunate to have such a location for your home. You must enjoy living here?"