CHAPTER XVII
A WEDDING RING IT WAS HARD TO REMEMBER
It was a grilling hot August afternoon. The young Holidays were keepingcool as best they could out in the yard. Ruth lay in the canopied hammockagainst a background of a hedge of sweet peas, pink and white andlavender, looking rather like a dainty, frail little flower herself. Tonyin cool white was seated on a scarlet Navajo blanket, leaning against theapple tree. Around her was a litter of magazines and an open box ofbonbons. Ted was stretched at his ease on the grass, gazing skyward, acigarette in his lips, enjoying well-earned rest after toil. Larryoccupied the green garden bench in the lee, of the hammock. He wasunsolaced either by candy or smoke and looked tired and not particularlyhappy. There were dark shadows under his gray eyes which betrayed that hewas not getting the quota of sleep that healthy youth demands. His eyeswere downcast now, apparently absorbed in contemplation of a belateddandelion at his feet.
"Ruth, why don't you come down to the dance with us tonight?" demandedTony suddenly dropping her magazine. "You are well enough now and Iknow you would enjoy it. It is lovely down on the island where thepavilion is--all quiet and pine-woodsy. You needn't dance if you don'twant to. You could just lie in the hammock and listen to the music andthe water. We'd come and talk to you between dances so you wouldn't belonesome. Do come."
"Oh, I couldn't." Ruth's voice was dismayed, her blue eyes filled withalarm at the suggestion.
"Why couldn't you?" persisted Tony. "You aren't going to just hide awayforever are you? It is awfully foolish, isn't it, Larry?" she appealed toher brother.
He did not answer, but he did transfer his gaze from the dandelion toRuth as if he were considering his sister's proposition.
"Sure, it's foolish," Ted replied for him, sitting up. "Come on down anddance the first foxtrot with me, sweetness. You'll like it. Honest youwill, when you get started."
"Oh, I couldn't" reiterated Ruth.
"That is nonsense. Of course, you could," objected Tony. "It is just yournotion, Ruthie. You have kept away from people so long you are scared.But you would get over that in a minute and truly it would be lots betterfor you. Tell her it would, Larry. She is your patient."
"I don't know whether it would or not," returned Larry in his deliberateway, which occasionally exasperated the swift-minded, impulsive Tony.
"Then you are a rotten doctor," she flung back. "I know better than thatmyself and Uncle Phil agrees with me. I asked him."
"Ruth's my patient, as you reminded me a moment ago. She isn't UnclePhil's." There was an unusual touchiness in the young doctor's voice. Hewas not professionally aggressive as a rule.
"Well, I wouldn't be a know-it-all, if she is," snapped Tony. "MaybeUncle Phil knows a thing or two more than you do yet. And anyway you areonly a man and I am a girl and I know that girls need people and fun anddancing. It isn't good for anybody to hide away by herself. I believe youare keeping Ruth away from everybody on purpose."
The hot weather and other things were setting Tony's nerves a bit onedge. She felt slightly belligerent and not precisely averse topicking a quarrel with her aggravatingly quiet brother, if he gave herhalf an opening.
Larry flushed and scowled at that and ordered her sharply not to talknonsense. Whereupon Ted intervened.
"I'm all on your side, Tony. Of course it is bad for Ruth not to seeanybody but us. Any fool would know that. Dancing may be the very thingfor her anyhow. You can't tell till you try. Maybe when you arefoxtrotting with me, goldilocks, you'll remember how it seemed to havesome other chap's arm around you. It might be like laying a fuse."
"I'm glad you all know so much about my business," said Larry testily."You make me tired, both of you."
"Oh," begged Ruth, her blue eyes full of trouble. "Please, please, don'tquarrel about me."
"I beg your pardon," apologized Larry. "See here, would you be willing totry it, just as an experiment? Would you go down there for a little whiletonight with us?"
The blue eyes met the gray ones.
"If you--wanted me to," faltered the blue-eyes.
"Would you mind it very much?" Larry leaned forward. His voice was low,solicitous. Tony, listening, resented it a little. She didn't see whyLarry had to keep his good manners for somebody outside the family. Hemight have spoken a little more politely to herself, she thought. She hadonly been trying to be nice to Ruth.
"Not--if you would take care of me and not let people talk to me toomuch," Ruth answered the solicitous tone.
"I will," promised Larry. "You needn't talk to a soul if you don'twant to. I'll ward 'em off. And you can dance if you want to--onedance anyway."
"With me," announced Ted complacently from the grass. "My bid was infirst. Don't you forget, Miss Peaseblossom." Ted had a multitude of petnames for Ruth. They slipped off his tongue easily, as water fallingover a cliff.
"No, with me," said his brother shortly.
"Gee, I wish I were a doctor! It gives you a hideous advantage."
"But I haven't anything to wear," exclaimed Ruth, coming next to thereally sole and only supreme woman question.
"We'll fix that easy as easy," said Tony, amicable again now. "I've adarling blue organdy that will look sweet on you--just the color of youreyes. Don't you worry a minute, honey. Your fairy godmother will see toall that. All I ask is that you won't let that old ogre of an M.D. changehis mind and say you can't go. It isn't good for Larry to obey him someekly. He is getting to be a regular tyrant."
A moment later Doctor Holiday joined the group, dropped on the benchbeside Larry and was informed by Tony that Ruth was to go on an adventuredown the Hill; to Sue Emerson's dance in fact.
"Isn't that great?" she demanded.
"Superb," he teased. Then he smiled approval at Ruth. "Good idea, Larry,"he added to his nephew. "Glad you thought of it."
"I didn't think of it. Tony did. You really approve?" The gray eyes werea little anxious. Larry was by no means a know-it-all doctor, as hissister accused him. He had too little rather than too much confidence inhis own judgment in fact.
"I certainly do. Go to it, little lady. May be the best medicine in theworld for you."
"Now you are talking," exulted Ted. "That's what Tony and I saidand Larry wanted to execute us on the spot for daring to have anopinion at all."
"Scare you much to think of it?" Doctor Holiday asked Ruth, prudentlyignoring this last sally.
"A good deal," sighed Ruth. "But I'll try not to be too much scared ifLarry will go too and not let people ask questions."
The young doctor had long since become Larry to Ruth. It was tooconfusing talking about two Doctor Holidays. Everybody in Dunbury saidLarry or Doctor Larry or at most, respectfully, Doctor Laurence.
"I'll let nobody talk to you but myself," said Larry.
"There you are!" flashed Tony. "You might just as well keep her penned uphere in the yard. You want to keep her all to yourself."
She didn't mean anything in particular, only to be a little disagreeable,to pay Larry back for being so snappy. But to her amazement Ruth wassuddenly blushing a lovely but startling blush and Larry was bending overto examine the hammock-hook in obvious confusion.
"Good gracious!" she thought in consternation. "Is that what's up? Itcan't be. I'm just imagining it. Larry wouldn't fall in love with any onewho wore a wedding ring. He mustn't."
But she knew in her heart that whether Larry must or must not he had. Athousand signs betrayed the truth now that her eyes were open. PoorLarry! No wonder he was cross and unlike himself. And Ruth was sosweet--just the girl for him. And poor Uncle Phil! She herself washurting him dreadfully keeping her secret about Alan and nobody knew whatTed had up his sleeve under his cloak of incredible virtue. And now herewas Larry with a worse complication still. Oh dear! Would the three ofthem ever stop getting into scrapes as long as they lived? It was badenough when they were children. It was infinitely worse now they weregrown up and the scrapes were so horribly serious.
"I suppose you can't tear yourself
away from your studies to attend amere dance?" Doctor Holiday was asking of his younger nephew with atwinkle in his eyes when Tony recovered enough to listen again.
Ted sent his cigarette stub careening off into the shrubbery and grinnedback at his uncle, a grin half merry, half defiant.
"Like fun, I can't!" he ejaculated. "I'm a union man, I am. I've done mystunt for the day. If anybody thinks I'm going to stick my nose inbetween the covers of a book before nine A.M. tomorrow he has a wholeorchard of brand new little thinks growing up to stub his toes on,that's all."
"So the student life doesn't improve with intimate acquaintance?" Thedoctor's voice was still teasing, but there was more than teasing behindhis questions. He was really interested in his nephew's psychology.
"Not a da--ahem--darling bit. If I had my way every book in existencewould be placed on a huge funeral pyre and conflagrated instantly.Moreover, it would be a criminal offence punishable by the death sentencefor any person to bring another of the infernal nuisances into the world.That is my private opinion publicly expressed." So saying Ted pickedhimself up from the grass and sauntered off toward the house.
His uncle chuckled. He was sorry the boy did not take more cordially tobooks, since it looked as if there were a good two years of them ahead atthe least. But he liked the honesty that would not pretend to anythingit did not feel, and he liked even better the spirit that had kept thelad true to his pledge of honest work without a squirm or grumble throughall these weeks of grilling summer weather when sustained effort of anysort, particularly mental effort, was undoubtedly a weariness andabomination to flesh and soul, to his restless, volatile, ease-addicted,liberty loving young ward. The boy had certainly shown more grit andgrace than he had credited him with possessing.
The village clock struck six. Tony sprang up from her blanket and beganto gather up her possessions.
"I never get over a scared, going-to-be-scolded feeling running down myspine when the clock strikes and I'm not ready for supper," she said."Poor dear Granny! She certainly worked hard trying to make truly properpersons out of us wild Arabs. It isn't her fault if she didn't succeed,is it Larry?" She smiled at her brother--a smile that meant in Tonylanguage "I am sorry I was cross. Let's make up."
He smiled back in the same spirit. He rose taking the rug and magazinesfrom his sister's hand and walked with her toward the house.
Ruth sat up in her hammock and smoothed her disarrayed blonde hair.
"I am glad you are going down the Hill," said the doctor to her. "It is afine idea, little lady. Do you lots of good."
"Doctor Holiday, I think I ought to go away," announced Ruth suddenly. "Iam perfectly well now, and there is no reason why I should stay."
"Tired of us?"
"Oh no! I could never be that. I love it here and love all of you. Butafter all I am only a stranger."
"Not to us, Ruthie. Listen. I would like to explain how I feel aboutthis, not from your point of view but from ours."
Tony would be going away soon. They needed a home daughter very much,needed Ruth particularly as she had such a wonderful way with thechildren, who adored her, and because Granny loved her so well, thoughshe did not love many people who were not Holidays. And he and Larryneeded her good fairy ministrations. They had not been unmindful, thoughperhaps manlike they had not expressed their appreciation of the wayfresh flowers found their way to the offices daily, and they were keptfrom being snowed under by the newspapers of yester week. In short DoctorHoliday made it very clear that, if Ruth cared to stay she was wanted andneeded very much in the House on the Hill. And Ruth touched and gratefuland happy promised to remain.
"If you think it is all right--" she added with rather sudden blush, "forme to stay when I am married or not married and don't know which."
Whereupon Doctor Holiday, who happened not to observe the blush, remarkedthat he couldn't see what that had to do with it. Anyway she seemed likesuch a child to them that they hardly remembered the wedding ring at all.
Ruth blushed again at that and wished she dared confess that she wasafraid the wedding ring had a good deal to do with the situation in theeyes of one Holiday at least. But she could not bring herself to speakthe fatal word which might banish her from the dear Hill and from Larry,who had come to be even dearer.
A dozen times, while she was dressing for the dance later, Ruth felt likecrying out to Tony in the next room that she could not go, that she darednot face strangers, that it was too hard. But she set her lips firmlyand did nothing of the sort. Larry wanted her to do it. She wouldn'tdisappoint him if it killed her.
Oh dear! Why did she always have to do everything as a case, never justas a girl. She couldn't even be natural as a girl. She had to be maybemarried. She hated the ring which seemed to her a symbol of bondage to apast that was dead and yet still clutched her with cold hands. She had achildish impulse to fling the ring out of the window where she couldnever--never see it again. If it wasn't for the ring--
She interrupted her own thoughts, blushing hotly again. She knew she hadmeant to go on, "If it were not for the ring she could marry LarryHoliday." She mustn't think about that. She must not forget the ring, norlet Larry forget it. She must not let him love her. It was a terriblething she was doing. He was unhappy--dreadfully unhappy and it was allher fault. And by and by they would all see it. Tony had seen it today,she was almost sure. And Doctor Holiday would see it. He saw so much itwas a wonder he had not seen it long before this. They would hate her forhurting Larry and spoiling his life. She could not bear to have them hateher when she loved them so and they had been so kind and good to her. Shemust go away. She must. Maybe Larry would forget her if she wasn't alwaysthere right under his eyes.
But how could she go? Doctor Philip would think it queer and ungratefulof her after she had promised to stay. How could she desert him and thechildren and dear Granny? And if she went what could she do? What use wasshe anyway but to be a trouble and a burden to everybody? It would havebeen better, much better, if Larry had left her to die in the wreck.
Why didn't Geoffrey Annersley come and get her, if there was a GeoffreyAnnersley? She knew she would hate him, but she wished he would come forall that. Anything was better than making Larry suffer, making all theHolidays suffer through him. Oh why hadn't she died, why hadn't she?
But in her heart Ruth knew she did not want to die. She wanted to live.She wanted life and love and happiness and Larry Holiday.
And then Tony stood on the threshold, smiling friendly encouragement.
"Ready, hon? Oh, you look sweet! That blue is lovely for you. It neversuited me at all. Blue is angel color and I have too much--well, of theother thing in my composition to wear it. Come on. The boys have beenwhistling impatience for half an hour and I don't want to scare Larry outof going. It is the first function he has condescended to attend in ablue moon."
On the porch Ted and Larry waited, two tall, sturdy, well-groomed,fine-looking youths, bearing the indefinable stamp of good birth andbreeding, the inheritance of a long line of clean strong men and gentlewomen--the kind of thing not forged in one generation but in many.
They both rose as the girls appeared. Larry crossed over to Ruth. Hisquick gaze took in her nervousness and trouble of mind.
"Are you all right, Ruth? You mustn't let us bully you into going if youreally don't want to."
"No, I am all right. I do want to--with you," she added softly.
"We'll all go over in the launch," announced Ted, but Larry interposedthe fact that he and Ruth were going in the canoe. Ruth would get tootired if she got into a crowd.
"More professional graft," complained Ted. He was only joking but Tonywith her sharpened sight knew that it was thin ice for Larry andsuspected he had non-professional reasons for wanting Ruth alone in thecanoe with him that night. Poor Larry! It was all a horrible tangle, justas her affair with Alan was.
It was a night made for lovers, still and starry. Soft little breezescame tiptoeing along the water from fragrant nooks ashore and
stoppedin their course to kiss Ruth's face as she lay content and lovely amongthe scarlet cushions, reading the eloquent message of Larry Holiday'sgray eyes.
They did not talk much. They were both a little afraid of words. Theyfelt as if they could go on riding in perfect safety along the edge ofthe precipice so long as neither looked over or admitted out loud thatthere was a precipice.