CHAPTER XVIII
A YOUNG MAN IN LOVE
The dance was well in progress when Larry and Ruth arrived. The latterwas greeted cordially and not too impressively by gay little Sue Emerson,their hostess, and her friends. Ruth was ensconced comfortably in a bigchair where she could watch the dancers and talk as much or little as shepleased. Everybody was so pleasant and natural and uncurious that she didnot feel frightened or strange at all, and really enjoyed the littlecourt she held between dances. Pretty girls and pleasant lads came totalk with her, the latter besieging her with invitations to dance whichshe refused so sweetly that they found the little Goldilocks morecharming than ever for her very denial.
They rallied Larry however on his rigorous dragonship and finally Ruthherself dismissed him to dance with his hostess as a proper guest should.She never meant he must stick to her every moment anyway. That wasabsurd. He rose to obey reluctantly; but paused to ask if she wouldn'tdance with him just once. No, she couldn't--didn't even know whether shecould. He mustn't try to make her. And seeing she was in earnest, Larryleft her. But Ted came skating down the floor to her and he begged forjust one dance.
"Oh, I couldn't, Ted, truly I couldn't," she denied.
But obeying a sudden impulse Ted had swooped down upon her, picked her upand before she really knew what was happening she had slid into stepwith him and was whirling off down the floor in his arms.
"Didn't I tell you, sweetness?" he exulted. "Of course you can dance.What fairy can't? Tired?" He bent over to ask with the instinctivegentleness that was in all Holiday men.
Ruth shook her head. She was exhilarated, excited, tense, happy. Shecould dance--she could. It was as easy and natural as breathing. She didnot want to stop. She wanted to go on and on. Then suddenly somethingsnapped. They came opposite Sue and Larry. The former called a gaygreeting and approval. Larry said nothing. His face was dead white, hisgray eyes black with anger. Both Ted and Ruth saw and understood and thelilt went out of the dance for both of them.
"Oh Lord!" groaned Ted. "Now I've done it. I'm sorry, Ruth. I didn'tsuppose the old man would care. Don't see why he should it you arewilling. Come on, just one more round before the music stops and we'reboth beheaded."
But Ruth shook her head. There was no more joy for her after that oneglimpse of Larry's face.
"Take me to a seat, Ted, please. I'm tired."
He obeyed and she sank down in the chair, white and trembling, utterlyexhausted. She was hurt and aching through and through. How could she?How could she have done that to Larry when he loved her so? How could shehave let Ted make her dance with him when she had refused to dance withLarry? No wonder he was angry. It was terrible--cruel.
But he mustn't make a scene with Ted. He mustn't. She cast anapprehensive glance around the room. Larry was invisible. A forlornnesscame over her, a despair such as she had never experienced even in thatdreadful time after the wreck when she realized she had forgotteneverything. She felt as if she were sinking down, down in a fearfulblack sea and that there was no help for her anywhere. Larry had desertedher. Would he never come back?
In a minute Tony and the others were beside her, full of sympatheticquestions. How had it seemed to dance again? Wasn't it great to find shecould still do it? How had she dared to do it while Larry was off guard?Why wouldn't she, couldn't she dance with this one or that one if shecould dance with Ted Holiday? But they were quick to see she was reallytired and troubled and soon left her alone to Tony's ministrations.
"Ruth, what is the trouble? Where is Larry? And Ted is gone, too. Whathappened?" Tony's voice was anxious. She hadn't seen Larry's face, butshe knew Larry and could guess at the rest.
"Ted made me dance with him. I didn't mean to. But when we got started Icouldn't bear to stop, it was so wonderful to do it and to find I could.I--am afraid Larry didn't like it."
"I presume he didn't," said Larry's sister drily. "Let him be angry if hewants to be such a silly. It was quite all right, Ruthie. Ted has just asmuch right to dance with you as Larry has."
"I am afraid Larry doesn't think so and I don't think so either."
Tony squeezed the other girl's hand.
"Never mind, honey. You mustn't take it like that. You are all of atremble. Larry has a fearful temper, but he will hang on to it for yoursake if for no other reason. He won't really quarrel with Ted. He neverdoes any more. And he won't say a word to you."
"I'd rather he would," sighed Ruth. "You are all so good to me and I--ammaking a dreadful lot of trouble for you all the time, though I don'tmean to and I love you so."
"It isn't your fault, Ruthie, not a single speck of it. Oh, yes. I meanjust what you mean. Not simply Larry's being so foolish as to lose histemper about this little thing, but the whole big thing of your caringfor each other. It is all hard and mixed up and troublesome; but you arenot to blame, and Larry isn't to blame, and it will all come out rightsomehow. It has to."
As soon as Ted had assured himself that Ruth was all right in hissister's charge he had looked about for Larry. Sue was perched on a tableeating marshmallows she had purloined from somewhere with Phil Lambertbeside her, but there was no Larry to be seen.
Ted stepped outside the pavilion. He was honestly sorry his brother washurt and angry. He realized too late that maybe he hadn't behaved quitefairly or wisely in capturing Ruth like that, though he hadn't meant anyharm, and had had not the faintest idea Larry would really care, careenough to be angry as Ted had not seen him for many a long day. Larry'stemper had once been one of the most active of the family skeletons. Ithad not risen easily, but when it did woe betide whatever or whomever itmet in collision. By comparison with Larry's rare outbursts of rageTony's frequent ebullitions were as summer zephyrs to whirlwinds.
But that was long past history. Larry had worked manfully to conquer hisfamiliar demon and had so far succeeded that sunny Ted had all butforgotten the demon ever existed. But he remembered now, had rememberedwith consternation when he saw the black passion in the other's face asthey met on the floor of the dance hall.
Puzzled and anxious he stared down the slope toward the water. Larry wasjust stepping into the canoe. Was he going home, leaving Ruth to themercies of the rest of them, or was he just going off temporarily byhimself to fight his temper to a finish as he had been accustomed to dolong ago when he had learned to be afraid and ashamed of giving into it?Ted hesitated a moment, debating whether to call him back and get the rowover, if row there was to be, or to let him get away by himself as heprobably desired.
"Hang it! It's my fault. I can't let him go off like that. It just aboutkills him to take it out of himself that way. I'd rather he'd take itout of me."
With which conclusion Ted shot down the bank whistling softly the oldHoliday Hill call, the one Dick had used that day on the campus to summonhimself to the news that maybe Larry was killed.
Larry did not turn. Ted reached the shore with one stride.
"Larry," he called. "I say, Larry."
No answer. The older lad picked up the paddle, prepared grimly to pushoff, deaf, to all intents and purposes to the appeal in the youngerone's voice.
But Ted Holiday was not an easily daunted person. With one flying leaphe landed in the canoe, all but upsetting the craft in his suddendescent upon it.
The two youths faced each other. Larry was still white, and his sombreeyes blazed with half subdued fires. He looked anything but hospitable toadvances, however well meant.
"Better quit," he advised slowly in a queer, quiet voice which Ted knewwas quiet only because Larry was making it so by a mighty effort ofwill. "I'm not responsible just now. We'll both be sorry if you don'tleave me alone."
"I won't quit, Larry. I can't. It was my fault. Confound it, old man!Please listen. I didn't mean to make you mad. Come ashore and punch myfool head if it will make you feel any better."
Still Larry said nothing, just sat hunched in a heap, running hisfingers over the handle of the paddle. He no longer even looked at Ted.His mouth was set
at its stubbornest.
Ted rushed on, desperately in earnest, entirely sincere in hiswillingness to undergo any punishment, himself, to help Larry.
"Honest, I didn't mean to make trouble," he pleaded. "I just picked herup and made her dance on impulse, though she told me she wouldn't andcouldn't. I never thought for a minute you would care. Maybe it was amean trick. I can see it might have looked so, but I didn't intend itthat way. Gee, Larry! Say something. Don't swallow it all like that. Getit out of your system. I'd rather you'd give me a dozen black eyes thansit still and feel like the devil."
Larry looked up then. His face relaxed its sternness a little. Even thehottest blaze of wrath could not burn quite so fiercely when exposed to agenerous penitence like his young brother's. He understood Ted wasworking hard not only to make peace but to spare himself the sharp battlewith the demon which, as none knew better that Larry Holiday, did,indeed, half kill.
"Cut it, Ted," he ordered grimly. "'Nough said. I haven't theslightest desire to give you even one black eye at present, though Imay as well admit if you had been in my hands five minutes agosomething would have smashed."
"Don't I know it?" Ted grinned a little. "Gee, I thought my hourhad struck!"
"What made you come after me then?"
Ted's grin faded.
"You know why I came, old man. You know I'd let you pommel my head offany time if it could help you anyhow. Besides it was my fault as I toldyou. I didn't mean to be mean. I'll do any penance you say."
Larry picked up the paddle.
"Your penance is to let me absolutely alone for fifteen minutes. You hadbetter go ashore though. You will miss a lot of dances."
"Hang the dances! I'm staying."
Ted settled down among the cushions against which Ruth's blonde head hadnestled a few hours ago. He took out his watch, struck a match, looked atthe time, lit a cigarette with the same match, replaced the watch andrelapsed into silence.
The canoe shot down the lake impelled by long, fierce strokes. Larry wasworking off the demon. Far away the rhythmic beat of dance music reachedthem faintly. Now and then a fish leaped and splashed or a bull frogbellowed his hoarse "Better go home" into the silence. Otherwise therewas no sound save the steady ripple of the water under the canoe.
Presently Ted finished his cigarette, sent its still ruddy remainsflashing off into the lake where it fell with a soft hiss, took out hiswatch again, lit another match, considered the time, subtracted gravely,looked up and announced "Time's up, Larry."
Larry laid down the paddle and a slow reluctant smile played around thecorners of his mouth, though there was sharp distress still in hiseyes. He loathed losing his temper like that. It sickened him, filledhim with spiritual nausea, a profound disgust for himself and hismastering weakness.
"I've been a fool, kid," he admitted. "I'm all right now. You were atrump to stand by me. I appreciate it."
"Don't mention it," nonchalantly from Ted "Going back to the pavilion?"
His brother nodded, resumed the paddle and again the canoe shot throughthe waters, this time toward the music instead of away from it.
"I suppose you know why your dancing with Ruth made me go savage," saidLarry after a few moments of silence.
"Damned if I do," said Ted cheerfully. "It doesn't matter. I don't need aglossary and appendix. Suit yourself as to the explanations. I put myfoot in it. I've apologized. That is the end of it so far as I amconcerned unless you want to say something more yourself. You don't haveto you know."
"It was plain, fool movie stuff jealousy. That is the sum andsubstance of it. I'm in love with her. I couldn't stand her dancingwith you when she had refused me. I could almost have killed you for aminute. I am ashamed but I couldn't help it. That is the way it was.Now--forget it, please."
Ted swallowed hard and pulled his forelock in genuine perturbation.
"Good Lord, Larry!" he blurted. "I--"
His brother held up an imperious warning hand.
"I said 'forget it.' Don't make me want to dump you now, after comingthrough the rest."
Ted saluted promptly.
"Ay, ay, sir! It's forgot. Only perhaps you'll let me apologize again,underscored, now I understand. Honest, I'm no end sorry, Larry."
The other nodded acceptance of the underscored apology and again silencehad its way.
As they landed Ted fastened the canoe and for a moment the two brothersstood side by side in the starlight. Larry put out his hand. Ted took it.Their eyes met, said more than any words could have expressed.
"Thank you, Ted. You've been great--helped a lot."
Larry's voice was a little unsteady, his eyes were full of troubleand shame.
"Ought to, after starting the conflagration," said Ted. "I'll attend tothe general explanations. You go to Ruth."
More than one person had wondered at the mysterious disappearance of thetwo Holidays. It is quite usual, and far from unexpected, when two youngpersons of the opposite sex drift off somewhere under the stars on asummer night without giving any particular account of themselves; but onescarcely looks for that sort of social--or unsocial--eccentricity fromtwo youths, especially two brothers. Nobody but Ruth and Tony, andpossibly shrewd-eyed Sue, suspected a quarrel, but everybody was curiousand ready to burst into interrogation upon the simultaneous return of thetwo young men which was quite as sudden as their vanishing had been.
"Larry and I had a wager up," announced Ted to Sue in a perfectly clear,distinct voice which carried across the length of the small hall now thatthe music was silent. "He said he could paddle down to the point, currentagainst him, faster than I could paddle back, current with me. We took anotion to try it out tonight. Please forgive us, Susanna, my dear. AHoliday is a creature of impulse you know."
Sue made a little face at the speaker. She was quite sure he was lyingabout the wager, but she was a good hostess and played up to his game.
"You don't deserve to be forgiven, either of you," she sniffed."Especially Larry who never comes to parties and when he does has to gooff and do a silly thing like that. Who won though? I will ask that." Shesmiled at Ted and he grinned back.
"Larry, of course. Give me a dance, Sue. I've got my second wind."
"Bless Ted!" thought Tony, listening to her brother's glib excuses."Thank goodness he can lie like that. Larry never could." And as her eyesmet Ted's a moment later when they passed each other in the maze ofdancers he murmured "All right" in her ear and she was well content.Bless Ted, indeed!
Meanwhile Larry had gone, as Ted bade him, straight to Ruth. He bent overher tired little white face, an agony of remorse in his own.
"Ruth, forgive me. I'll never forgive myself."
"Don't, Larry. It is I who ought to be sorry and I am--oh so sorry--youdon't know. Ted didn't mean any harm. I ought not to have let him do it.It was my fault."
"There was nobody at fault except me and my fool temper. I am desperatelyashamed of myself Ruth. I've left you all alone all this time and Ipromised I wouldn't. You'll never trust me again and I don't deserve tobe trusted. It doesn't do any good to say I am sorry. It can't undo whatI did. I didn't dare stay and that's the fact. I didn't know what I'd doto Ted if he got in my way. I felt--murderous."
"Larry!"
"I know it sounds awful. It is awful. It is an old battle. I thought I'dwon it, but I haven't. Don't look so scared though. Nothing happened. Tedcame after me like the corking big-hearted kid he is and brought me to,in half the time I could have done it for myself. It is thanks to him I'mhere now. But never mind that. It is only you that matters. Shall I takeyou home? I don't deserve it, but if you will let me it will show youforgive me a little bit anyway," he finished humbly.
"Don't look so dreadfully unhappy, Larry. It is over now, and of course Iforgive you if you think there is anything to forgive. I'm so thankfulyou didn't quarrel with Ted. I was awfully worried and so was Tony. Shewatched the door every minute till you came back."
"I suppose so," groaned Larry. "I made one horrible mess of
everythingfor you all. Are you ready to go?"
"I'd like to dance with you once first, Larry, if--if you would like to."
"Would I like to!" Larry's face lost its mantle of gloom, was suddensunshine all over. "Will you really dance with me--after the rotten wayI've behaved?"
"Of course, I will. I wanted to all the time, but I was afraid. But whenTed made me it all came back and I loved it, only it was you I wanted todance with most. You know that, don't you, Larry, dear?" The last wordwas very low, scarcely more than a breath, but Larry heard it and itnearly undid him. A flood of long-pent endearments trembled on his lips.But Ruth held up a hand of warning.
"Don't, Larry. We mustn't spoil it. We've got to remember the ring."
"Damn the ring!" he exploded. "I beg your pardon." Larry was genuinelyshocked at his own bad manners. "I don't know why I'm such a brutetonight. Let's dance."
And to the delight and relief of the younger Holidays, Larry and Ruthjoined the dancers.
The dance over, they made their farewells. Larry guided Ruth down theslope, his arm around her ostensibly for her support, and helped her intothe canoe. Once more they floated off over the quiet water, under thequiet stars. But their young hearts were anything but quiet. Their lovewas no longer an unacknowledged thing. Neither knew just what was to bedone with it; but there it was in full sight, as both admitted in joyand trepidation and silence.
As Larry held open the door for her to step inside the quiet hall he bentover the girl a moment, taking both her hands in his. Then he drew awayabruptly and bolted into the living room, leaving her to grope her way upstairs in the dark alone.
"I wonder," she murmured to herself later as she stood before her mirrorshaking out her rippling golden locks from their confining net. "I wonderif it would have been so terrible if he had kissed me just that once.Sometimes I wish he weren't quite so--so Holidayish."