CHAPTER X
EXCESS BAGGAGE
Never was a young soldier so stumped by a problem in tactics asLieutenant Harry Mallory, safely aboard his train, and not daring toleave it, yet hopelessly unaware of how he was to dispose of hislovely but unlabelled baggage.
Hudson and Shaw had erected a white satin temple to Hymen in berthnumber one, had created such commotion, and departed in suchconfusion, that there had been no opportunity to proclaim that he andMarjorie were "not married--just friends."
And now the passengers had accepted them as that enormous fund ofamusement to any train, a newly wedded pair. To explain the mistakewould have been difficult, even among friends. But amongstrangers--well, perhaps a wiser and a colder brain than HarryMallory's could have stood there and delivered a brief orationrestoring truth to her pedestal. But Mallory was in no condition forsuch a stoic delivery.
He mopped his brow in agony, lost in a blizzard of bewilderments. Hedrifted back toward Marjorie, half to protect and half forcompanionship. He found Mrs. Temple cuddling her close and motheringher as if she were a baby instead of a bride.
"Did the poor child run away and get married?"
Marjorie's frantic "Boo-hoo-hoo" might have meant anything. Mrs.Temple took it for assent, and murmured with glowing reminiscence:
"Just the way Doctor Temple and I did."
She could not see the leaping flash of wild hope that lighted upMallory's face. She only heard his voice across her shoulder:
"Doctor? Doctor Temple? Is your husband a reverend doctor?"
"A reverend doctor?" the little old lady repeated weakly.
"Yes--a--a preacher?"
The poor old congregation-weary soul was abruptly confronted with theruination of all the delight in her little escapade with herpulpit-fagged husband. If she had ever dreamed that the girl who wasweeping in her arms was weeping from any other fright than the usualfright of young brides, fresh from the preacher's benediction, shewould have cast every other consideration aside, and told the truth.
But her husband's last behest before he left her had been to keeptheir precious pretend-secret. She felt--just then--that a woman'sfirst duty is to obey her husband. Besides, what business was it ofthis young husband's what her old husband's business was? Before shehad fairly begun to debate her duty, almost automatically, with theinstantaneous instinct of self-protection, her lips had uttered thedenial:
"Oh--he's--just a--plain doctor. There he is now."
Mallory cast one miserable glance down the aisle at Dr. Temple comingback from the smoking room. As the old man paused to stare at thebridal berth, whose preparation he had not seen, he was just enoughbefuddled by his first cigar for thirty years to look a trifle tipsy.The motion of the train and the rakish tilt of his unwonted crimsontie confirmed the suspicion and annihilated Mallory's new-born hope,that perhaps repentant fate had dropped a parson at their very feet.
He sank into the seat opposite Marjorie, who gave him one terrifiedglance, and burst into fresh sobs:
"Oh--oh--boo-hoo--I'm so unhap--hap--py."
Perhaps Mrs. Temple was a little miffed at the couple that had led herastray and opened her own honeymoon with a wanton fib. In any case,the best consolation she could offer Marjorie was a perfunctory pat,and a cynicism:
"There, there, dear! You don't know what real unhappiness is yet. Waittill you've been married a while."
And then she noted a startling lack of completeness in the bride'shand.
"Why--my dear!--where's your wedding ring?"
With what he considered great presence of mind, Mallory explained:"It--it slipped off--I--I picked it up. I have it here." And he tookthe little gold band from his waistcoat and tried to jam it onMarjorie's right thumb.
"Not on the thumb!" Mrs. Temple cried. "Don't you know?"
"You see, it's my first marriage."
"You poor boy--this finger!" And Mrs. Temple, raising Marjorie's limphand, selected the proper digit, and held it forward, while Mallorypressed the fatal circlet home.
And then Mrs. Temple, having completed their installation as man andwife, utterly confounded their confusion by her final effort atcomfort: "Well, my dears, I'll go back to my seat, and leave you alonewith your dear husband."
"My dear what?" Marjorie mumbled inanely, and began to sniffle again.Whereupon Mrs. Temple resigned her to Mallory, and consigned her tofate with a consoling platitude:
"Cheer up, my dear, you'll be all right in the morning."
Marjorie and Mallory's eyes met in one wild clash, and then bothstared into the window, and did not notice that the shades were down.