Ann Arbor Tales Part 28

JAMIE [_pa.s.sing it to her_]. Where you going?

HILDA [_after a moment's hesitation_]. I'm going to wake up the girl.

JAMIE [_attempting to restrain her_]. Oh, don't do that; I'm very sorry----

HILDA [_icily_]. There's no need of your being sorry, at all.

JAMIE. But I----

HILDA [_with arctic frigidity_]. It is quite unnecessary for us to say anything further about it, I think.

JAMIE [_pleading_]. Won't you forgive me?

HILDA. [_For answer she tosses her head._]

JAMIE [_in the same tone as before_]. Won't you--Hilda?

HILDA. [_Still no reply. She stands at his side holding the basket, not deigning even to look down at him._]

JAMIE. What are you thinking, dear? Tell me!

HILDA. Oh, nothing of much consequence; only just how mean you have been and----

JAMIE [_interposing_]. But I've asked you to----

HILDA. If I'm not mistaken I've said there is no use of our talking further about it.

JAMIE [_rising as she turns_]. Then you won't say anything to me?

HILDA. I don't think there is anything to be said.

JAMIE [_with dogged resignation_]. Very well, then--Hus.h.!.+ [_From the other porch comes the sound of light footfalls._]

HILDA [_without attending_]. It is probably the girl. [_She proceeds to the front; he follows. As they turn the corner_, MINNIE _and_ HERBERT _turn the corner, opposite, and the couples confront each other_.]

MINNIE. Hilda!

HILDA. Minnie!

MINNIE. Hilda, where in the world have you been?

HILDA. And I should like to know where in the world you have been?

MINNIE [_severely and indicating the porch behind her_]. We've been sitting on that porch all night, waiting for you.

HILDA [_mocking her severity and indicating the porch behind her_]. And we've been sitting on that porch all night, waiting for you!

JAMIE [_to_ HILDA _coldly_]. Now that you have other company, I'll go.

Good-bye! [_He rushes down the steps._]

HILDA [_running to the rail and calling after him softly_]. Jamie!

Jamie! Oh, Jamie! [_He apparently does not hear her._ HERBERT _stands by fumbling his hat and looking first at one girl then at the other, wonderingly_. HILDA _turns from the rail and gazes at_ MINNIE _who returns the gaze searchingly_. HILDA _bites her lower lip and looks down_. MINNIE _leans against the casing of the front door, her hand on the k.n.o.b. She antic.i.p.ates a scene._]

MINNIE. Good-night--Herbert!

HERBERT. Good-night--Minnie! [_They exchange one loving look and he is off. He proceeds in a direction opposite to that taken by_ JAMIE.]

MINNIE [_regarding_ HILDA _whose eyes are upon her and filled with surprise_]. Hilda--tell me--what----

HILDA [_hiding her face against the shoulder of her room-mate, who strokes her hair caressingly_]. Oh, Minnie--Minnie--he's gone--it's broken----

MINNIE [_convulsively, her grasp upon the doork.n.o.b, tightening. The k.n.o.b turns. The door swings back_]. Oh! See!

HILDA [_lifting her face_]. Oh! [_Her eyes meet_ MINNIE'S. _In the latter there is a smile which she shares weakly_.]

MINNIE. This is too absurd! Open all night!

HILDA [_trying hard not to cry_]. Oh, Minnie! I don't know what----

MINNIE [_her arm around_ HILDA]. There dear. Don't cry. It will come out all right. And to think you should have broken with Jamie while Herbert and I were---- [_They pa.s.s into the hallway._ MINNIE, _by closing the door softly behind them, renders the rest unintelligible to any one who might be pa.s.sing just at this instant_.]

A MODERN MERCURY

I

On a cool morning in mid-June two little boys, very dusty and wearing very grimy waists, sat on the turfed mound of an ancient circus ring in the old fair ground enclosure, intently watching the gaunt, half-naked figure of a man in flapping white breeches who, high-stepping, sprinted back and forth along the stretch of the old race track. Their elbows on their knees, their chins in their grimy hands, they gazed fixedly at him whom they had trudged across the lots to see. For in his day he was the small boys' G.o.d, their best-loved hero, before whom it was their greatest joy to bend the knee.

"D' you think he kin do it?" Jimmy Thurston finally inquired, as the spare, ridiculous figure of the man brought up behind the tenantless judges' stand and for an instant was lost to sight.

Willie Trigger sneered. He was very superior, was Willie.

"Sure he kin!" he exclaimed. "Sure he kin!"

"I bet he can't," Jimmy replied curtly.

"He kin too--'sides----"

"'Sides what?" the challenging Jimmy asked, contemptuously.

"My father says he kin."

"Aw----"

"He does too."