The Dust Flower Part 32

"'Remember,' said the witch," Allerton continued to read, "'when you have once a.s.sumed a human form you can never again be a mermaid--never return to your home or to your sisters more. Should you fail to win the prince's love, so that he leaves father and mother for your sake, and lays his hand in yours before the priest, an immortal soul will never be granted you. On the same day that he marries another your heart will break, and you will drift as sea-foam on the water.' 'So let it be,' said the little mermaid, turning pale as death.'"

Allerton lifted his eyes from the book. "Does it bore you?"

There was no mistaking her sincerity. "_No!_ I _love_ it."

"Then perhaps we'll read a lot of things. After this we'll find a good novel, and then possibly somebody's life. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Her joy was such that he could hardly hear the "Yes," for which he was listening. He listened because he was so accustomed to boring people that to know he was not boring them was a consolation.

"Is there anybody's life--his biography--that you'd be specially interested in?"

She answered timidly and yet daringly. "Could we--could we read the life of the late Queen Victoria--when she was a girl?"

"Oh, easily! I'll hunt round for one to-day. Now let me tell you about Hans Andersen. He was born in Denmark, so that he was a Dane. You know where Denmark is on the map, don't you?"

"I think I do. It's there by Germany isn't it?"

"Quite right. But let me get the atlas, and we'll look it up."

He was on his feet when she summoned her forces for a question. "Do you read like this to--to the girl you're engaged to?"

"No," he said, reddening. "She--she doesn't like it. She won't let me.

But wait a minute. I'll go and get the atlas."

"'On the same day that he marries another,' Letty repeated to herself, as she sat alone, 'your heart will break, and you will drift as sea-foam on the water.' 'So let it be,' said the little mermaid."

Chapter XVIII

On the next afternoon Allerton reported to Miss Walbrook the success of his first educational evening.

"She's very intelligent, very. You'd really be pleased with her, Barbe. Her mind is so starved that it absorbs everything you say to her, as a dry soil will drink up rain."

Regarding him with the mysterious Egyptian expression which had at times suggested the reincarnation of some ancient spirit Barbara maintained the stillness which had come upon her on the previous day.

"That must be very satisfactory to you, Rash."

He agreed the more enthusiastically because of believing her at one with him in this endeavor. "You bet! The whole thing is going to work out. She'll pick up our point of view as if she was born to it."

"And you're not afraid of her picking up anything else?"

"Anything else of what kind?"

"She might fall in love with you, mightn't she?"

"With me? Nonsense! No one would fall in love with me who----"

Her mysterious Egyptian smile came and went. "You can stop there, Rash. It's no use being more uncomplimentary than you need to be. And then, too, you might fall in love with her."

"Barbe!" He cried out, as if wounded. "You're really too absurd.

She's a good little thing, and she's had the devil's own luck----"

"They always do have. That was one thing I learnt in Bleary Street. It was never a girl's own fault. It was always the devil's own luck."

"Well, isn't it, now, when you come to think of it? You can't take everything away from people, and expect them to have the same standards as you and me. Think of the mess that people of our sort make of things, even with every advantage."

"We've our own temptations, of course."

"And they've got theirs--without our pull in the way of carrying them off. You should hear Steptoe----"

"I don't want to hear Steptoe. I've heard him too much already."

"What do you mean by that?"

"What can I mean by it but just what I say? I should think you'd get rid of him."

Having first looked puzzled, with a suggestion of pain, he ended with a laugh. "You might as well expect me to get rid of an old grandfather. Steptoe wouldn't let me, if I wanted to."

"He doesn't like me."

"Oh, that's just your imagination, Barbe. I'll answer for him when it comes to----"

"You needn't take the trouble to do that, because I don't like him."

"Oh, but you will when you come to understand him."

"Possibly; but I don't mean to come to understand him. Old servants can be an awful nuisance, Rash----"

"But Steptoe isn't exactly an old servant. He's more like----"

"Oh, I know what he's like. He's a habit; and habits are always dangerous, even when they're good. But we're not going to quarrel about Steptoe yet. I just thought I'd put you on your guard----"

"Against him?"

"He's a horrid old schemer, if that's what you want me to say; but then it may be what you like."

"Well, I do," he laughed, "when it comes to him. He's been a horrid old schemer as long as I remember him, but always for my good."

"For your good as he sees it."

"For my good as a kind old nurse might see it. He's limited, of course; but then kind old nurses generally are."

To be true to her vow of keeping the peace she forced back her irritations, and smiled. "You're an awful goose, Rash; but then you're a lovable goose, aren't you?" She beckoned, imperiously. "Come here."