CHAPTER XXX. GWYN'S AWAKENING
"Wall, wall," it was Silas Warner who entered the parlor five momentslater, rubbing his hands and smiling his widest, "this here looks like acelebration or some sech. 'Tain't anybody's birthday, is it, Jenny-gal,that yer givin' a party for?"
"Oh, don't I wish it were, though," Harold exclaimed, "then Grandma Suewould make one of her famous mountain chocolate cakes." He looked aroundthe group beseechingly. "Say, can't one of you raise a birthday withinthe next fortnight. It will be worth the effort."
Lenora flashed a smile across the room at her brother. "Charles can," sheannounced. "He will be twenty-one on the twenty-fifth of June."
"Great!" Then turning to the smiling old woman who sat near Jenny in themost comfortable rocker the room afforded, "Grandma Sue, I implore thatyour heart be touched! Will you make us a cake twenty-one layers high,with chocolate in between an inch thick? I'll bring the candles and theice cream."
Jenny, who for the first time was surrounded by young people, caughtHarold's holiday spirit and clapping her hands impulsively, she cried,"Won't that be fun! Grandma Sue, you'll let us have a real party forCharles' birthday, won't you?"
Of course the old woman was only too happy to agree to their plans. Whileshe and Jenny were talking, Harold sat back and looked at the two girls,the "unlike sisters" as he found himself calling them. Gwynette sat onthe edge of a slipper haircloth chair, the stiffest in the room. Therewas an unmistakable sneer in the curve of her mouth, which was quite assensitive as Jenny's but lacking the sweet cheerful upturn at thecorners. Nor was Harold the only one who was thinking about this veryevident likeness, or unlikeness.
Farmer Si, chewing a toothpick (of all plebeian things!), stood warminghis back at the nickel-plated parlor stove, hands back of him, teeteringnow and then from heel to toe and ruminating. "Wall," was hisself-satisfied conclusion, "who wants her can have 'tother one. Ma and megot the best of that little drawin' deal."
"But that birthday is a whole week away," Harold was saying, "and here isa perfectly good evening to spend. The question before the house is, howshall we spend it?"
"O, I know," Lenora leaned forward eagerly. "Let's make popcorn balls.Brother and I used to call that the greatest kind of treat when we werechildren."
Gwynette's cold voice cut in with: "But _we_ are _not_ children."
Harold leaped up exclaiming, "Maybe you are not, Gwyn, but the rest of usare. Grandma Sue, may we borrow your kitchen if we leave it as spotlessas we find it?"
Gwynette rose, saying coldly, "I am very tired. I think I will go homenow." Harold was filled with consternation. He, of course, would have toaccompany his sister, but, before he could speak, Charles was saying: "Iwill walk over with you, Miss Gwynette, if you will permit me to do so. Ihaven't had nearly my usual amount of outdoor exercise today, and I'd beglad to do it."
Gwynette flashed a grateful glance at him, and, wishing to appear well inhis eyes, she actually crossed the room and held out her hand to the oldwoman, who, with the others, had risen. "Goodnight, Mrs. Warner," shebegan, then surprised herself by ending with--"I hope you will invite meto the birthday party." She bit her lip with vexation as soon as she wasoutdoors. She had not meant to say it. Why had she? It was the same asacknowledging that she considered herself an equal socially with theWarners and the Gales, who also were farmers. She knew the answer, eventhough she would not admit it.
"What a warm, pleasant evening it is," Charles said when the door of thefarmhouse had closed behind them. "Would it bore you terribly, MissGwynette, to go out on the point of rocks with me for a moment? I'd liketo see the surf closer in the moonlight."
"Oh, I'd love to." Gwynette was honest, at least, when she made thisreply. She liked to be with this good-looking young giant who carriedhimself as a Grecian god might have done.
Taking her arm, the young man assisted the slender, graceful girl fromrock to rock until they had reached the highest point. There Charlesnoted the canopied rock where Lenora and Jenny sat on the first day oftheir visit to the point together.
"Is it too cool, do you think, to sit here a moment?" Gwynette askedsomewhat shyly. For answer, the lad drew off his outer coat, folded itand placed it on the stone. "Oh, I don't need it," he said, when sheprotested. "This slipover sweater of mine is all that I usually wear, butI put on the coat tonight in honor of the ladies." Then, folding hisarms, he stood silently near, watching the truly inspiring scene. Onegreat breaker after another rolled quietly in, lifting a foaming crest asit neared the shore, glistening like fairy snow in the silver of themoonlight.
"The surf doesn't roar tonight, the way it does sometimes," the lad said,dropping at last to the rock at the girl's side. "Watch now when the nextwave breaks, how all of the spray glistens."
For a few moments neither spoke and, in Gwynette's starved soul somethingstirred again, this time more distinctly. It was an intense love ofnature that she had inherited, with Jenny, from a wanderingpoet-missionary father. She caught her breath when spray and mist dashedalmost up to them. "O, it is lovely, lovely!" she said, for once beingperfectly sincere and forgetting herself. "I never saw anything soexquisite."
Charles was more than pleased. Perhaps he was to find the soul of thegirl at his side. Harold did not believe that she had one. As he glanceddown at her now and then her real joy in the beauty of the scene beforethem, he concluded that she was fully as beautiful as her sister.
"I wonder where the silver path leads," she said whimsically.
"I wish I had a sailboat here," the lad exclaimed, "and if you would bemy passenger, we'd sail over that silver stream and find where it leads."
The girl looked up at him. Her new emotion had changed the expression ofher face. It was no longer cynical and cold. "Our father had a sailboat,but for years it has been hanging to the rafters of the boathouse.Perhaps Harold would like to take it down, now that he is to be here allsummer."
"Good. I'll ask him!" the lad was enthusiastic. "I suppose you wonder howI, a farmer from the inland, learned to sail. It was the year beforemother died that we all went to Lake Tahoe, hoping that the change of airwould benefit her. A splendid sailboat was one of the accessories of thecabin we rented, and how I reveled in it. I do hope Harold will loan mehis boat. It seems calm enough beyond the surf. In fact I saw severalboats today evidently racing around a buoy over toward the town."
"Yes, there is a yacht club at Santa Barbara and they have a wonderfulharbor. Harold has been invited to join the club. I would like to attendone of their dances."
The girl hesitated to ask her companion if he could dance. Probably not,having been brought up on an isolated ranch. To her relief the questionwas answered without having been asked.
"I believe I like skating better than dancing, but, when the musicpleases me and my partner, I do enjoy dancing." Gwyn found that she mustreconstruct her preconvinced ideas about Dakota farmers. Then, aftersilently watching the waves for a thoughtful moment, he turned toward heras he smilingly said: "Miss Gwynette, do you suppose that you and I couldgo to the next Yacht Club dance?"
"Oh, yes, of course." The girl's eyes were glowing. Now indeed theresemblance to Jenny was marked. "We have the entree everywhere."
As they walked side by side toward the big house. Gwyn was conscious ofbeing happier than she had ever been in all her seventeen years. Then sherealized, with a pang of regret, that in two weeks this companion whoseemed to understand her better than did anyone else, would be gone.
At the foot of the steps she turned and held out her hand. "Goodnight,Mr. Gale," she said simply. "Thank you for escorting me home."