CHAPTER XI.
_"When I Lift My Eyebrows This Way."_
"Oh, where have you been, Billy boy, Billy boy? Oh, where have you been, charming Billy?"
Somewhere behind him a daring young voice was singing. Billy turnedwith a real start, and when he saw her coming gayly down a little,brush-hidden path and knew that she was alone, the heart of him turneda complete somersault--from the feel of it.
"My long friend, Dilly, was busy, and so I--I went to look after myhorse," he explained, his mind somewhat in a jumble. How came she tobe there, and why did she sing those lines? How did she know that was_his_ song, or--did she really care at all? And where was the Pilgrim?
"Mr. Walland and I tried the swing, but I don't like it; it made mehorribly dizzy," she said, coming up to him. "Then I went to find MamaJoy--"
"Who?" Billy had by that time recovered his wits enough to know justexactly what she said.
"Mama Joy--my stepmother. I call her that. You see, father wants me tocall her mama--he really wanted it mother, but I couldn't--and she'sso young to have me for a daughter, so she wants me to call her Joy;that's her name. So I call her both and please them both, I hope. Didyou ever study diplomacy, Mr. Boyle?"
"I never did, but I'm going to start right in," Billy told her, andhalf meant it.
"A thorough understanding of the subject is indispensable--when youhave a stepmother--a _young_ stepmother. You've met her, haven't you?"
"No," said Billy. He did not want to talk about her stepmother, but hehated to tell her so. "Er--yes, I believe I did see her once, come tothink of it," he added honestly when memory prompted him.
Miss Bridger laughed, stopped, and laughed again. "How Mama Joy would_hate_ you if she knew that!" she exclaimed relishfully.
"Why?"
"Oh, you wait! If ever I tell her that you--that _anybody_ ever mether and then forgot! Why, she knows the color of your hair and eyes,and she knows the pattern of that horsehair hat-band and the size ofyour boots--she _admires_ a man whose feet haven't two or three inchesfor every foot of his height--she says you wear fives, and you don'tlack much of being six feet tall, and--"
"Oh, for Heaven's sake!" protested Billy, very red and uncomfortable."What have I done to yuh that you throw it into me like that? My handsare up--and they'll stay up if you'll only quit it."
Miss Bridger looked at him sidelong and laughed to herself. "That's topay you for forgetting that you ever met Mama Joy," she asserted. "Ishouldn't be surprised if next week you'll have forgotten that youever met _me_. And if you do, after that chicken stew--"
"You're a josher," said Billy helplessly, not being prepared to sayjust all he thought about the possibility of his forgetting her. Hewished that he understood women better, so that he might the bettercope with the vagaries of this one; and so great was his ignorancethat he never dreamed that every man since Adam had wished the samething quite as futilely.
"I'm not going to josh now," she promised, with a quick change ofmanner. "You haven't--I _know_ you haven't, but I'll give you a chanceto dissemble--you haven't a partner for the dance, have you?"
"No. Have you?" Billy did have the courage to say that, though hedared not say more.
"Well, I--I could be persuaded," she hinted shamelessly.
"Persuade nothing! Yuh belong to me, and if anybody tries to throwhis loop over your head, why--" Billy looked dangerous; he meant thePilgrim.
"Thank you." She seemed relieved, and it was plain she did not readinto his words any meaning beyond the dance, though Billy was secretlyhoping that she would. "Do you know, I think you're perfectly lovely.You're so--so _comfortable_. When I've known you a little longerI expect I'll be calling you Charming Billy, or else Billy Boy. Ifyou'll stick close to me all through this dance and come every time Ilift my eyebrows this way"--she came near getting kissed, right then,but she never knew it--"and say it's _your_ dance and that I promisedit to you before, I'll be--_awfully_ grateful and obliged."
"I wisht," said Billy pensively, "I had the nerve to take all this forsudden admiration; but I savvy, all right. Some poor devil's going toget it handed to him to-night."
For the first time Miss Bridger blushed consciously. "I--well, you'llbe good and obliging and do just what I want, won't you?"
"Sure!" said Billy, not trusting himself to say more. Indeed, he hadto set his teeth hard on that word to keep more from tumbling out.Miss Bridger seemed all at once anxious over something.
"You waltz and two-step and polka and schottische, don't you?" Hereyes, as she looked up at him, reminded Billy achingly of that timein the line-camp when she asked him for a horse to ride home. They hadthe same wistful, pleading look. Billy gritted his teeth.
"Sure," he answered again.
Miss Bridger sighed contentedly. "I know it's horribly mean andselfish of me, but you're so good--and I'll make it up to you sometime. Really I will! At some other dance you needn't dance with meonce, or look at me, even--That will even things up, won't it?"
"Sure," said Billy for the third time.
They paced slowly, coming into view of the picnic crowd, hearingthe incoherent murmur of many voices. Miss Bridger looked at himuncertainly, laughed a little and spoke impulsively. "You needn't doit, Mr. Boyle, unless you like. It's only a joke, anyway; I mean,my throwing myself at you like that. Just a foolish joke; I'm oftenfoolish, you know. Of course, I know you wouldn't misunderstand oranything like that, but it _is_ mean of me to drag you into it by thehair of the head, almost, just to play a joke on some one--on MamaJoy. You're too good-natured. You're a direct temptation to people whohaven't any conscience. Really and truly, you needn't do it at all."
"Yuh haven't heard me raising any howl, have yuh?" inquired Billy,eying her slantwise. "I'm playing big luck, if yuh ask me."
"Well--if you _really_ don't mind, and haven't any one else--"
"I haven't," Billy assured her unsmilingly. "And I really don't mind.I think I--kinda like the prospect." He was trying to match her moodand he was not at all sure that he was a success. "There's onething. If yuh get tired uh having me under your feet all the time,why--Dilly's a stranger and an awful fine fellow; I'd like to haveyou--well, be kinda nice to him. I want him to have a good time, yousee, and you'll like him. You can't help it. And it will square upanything yuh may feel yuh might owe me--"
"I'll be just lovely to Dilly," Miss Bridger promised him withemphasis. "It will be a fair bargain, then, and I won't feel so--sosmall about asking you what I did. You can help me play a little joke,and I'll dance with Duly. So," she finished in a tone of satisfaction,"we'll be even. I feel a great deal better now, because I can pay youback."
Billy, on that night, was more keenly observant than usual and therewas much that he saw. He saw at once that Miss Bridger lifted hereyebrows in the way she had demonstrated as _this way_, whenever thePilgrim approached her. He saw that the Pilgrim was looking extremelybloodthirsty and went out frequently--Billy guessed shrewdly that hissteps led to where the drink was not water--and the sight cheeredhim considerably. Yet it hurt him a little to observe that, when thePilgrim was absent or showed no sign of meaning to intrude upon her,Miss Bridger did not lift her eyebrows consciously. Still, she was atall times pleasant and friendly and he tried to be content.
"Mr. Boyle, you've been awfully good," she rewarded him when itwas over. "And I think Mr. Dill is fine! Do you know, he waltzesbeautifully. I'm sure it was easy to keep _my_ side of the bargain."
Billy noticed the slight, inquiring emphasis upon the word _my_, andhe smiled down reassuringly into her face. "Uh course mine was prettyhard," he teased, "but I hope I made good, all right."
"You," she said, looking steadily up at him, "are just exactly what Isaid you were. You are comfortable."
Billy did a good deal of thinking while he saddled Barney in the grayof the morning, with Dill at a little distance, looking taller thanever in the half light. When he gave the saddle its final, littletentative shake and pulled the stirrup around so that he could
stickin his toe, he gave also a snort of dissatisfaction.
"Hell!" he said to himself. "I don't know as I care about being too_blame_ comfortable. There's a limit to that kinda thing--with _her!_"
"What's that?" called Dill, who had heard his voice.
"Aw, nothing," lied Billy, swinging up. "I was just cussing my hoss."