CHAPTER VI
PRISCILLA HAS A SECRET
PEGGY was worried about Priscilla. For the first time in their yearsof intimacy she could not understand her friend; and worst of all, itseemed out of the question to discuss the situation and come to anunderstanding.
"Do you think she can like him?" Peggy asked the other Friendly Terracegirls despairingly. "Because he's always seemed to me almost a joke. Idon't know how I could bear to have Priscilla fall in love with a man Iwanted to laugh at."
Though both girls would have been glad to reassure her, an ominoussilence followed her outbreak. "There's no accounting for tastes," saidRuth at length, a suggestion of superiority in her tone.
"Priscilla ought to have a good talking to," exclaimed Amy. "She's gotplenty of sense, and to think of her letting Horace Hitchcock hangaround! I'd like to tell her--"
"You mustn't, Amy," Peggy interrupted. "It would never do to let herknow how you feel about it. That's one of the things that make me soanxious--she's so awfully touchy on the subject of Horace. She won'thave him criticized."
Peggy had valiantly done her best to cultivate a liking for HoraceHitchcock. Since the fatal Field Day when he had acted as Priscilla'sescort, his attentions had been unremitting. He had called severaltimes a week. He had brought Priscilla flowers and boxes of candy, tosay nothing of books of poems, from which he had read aloud to her bythe hour. Peggy, assuming that since Priscilla was seeing so much ofHorace, he must be quite a different person from what she supposed, hadinvited him to her home along with the others of her little circle,only to find it would not do. Horace and the others would not mix anymore than oil and water.
"For Heaven's sake, don't ask that Hitchcock here again," Grahamimplored Peggy, after an evening that had been a failure, sociallyconsidered. "He puts on airs as if he were the Prince of Wales--no,that's not fair to the prince. But Hitchcock is a snob and a sissy andhe makes me tired."
"But if Priscilla likes him, Graham--"
"She can't," Graham had argued, not unreasonably. "She must see throughhim just as the rest of us do; and even while she's so pleasant to him,she must be laughing in her sleeve."
But reasonable as Graham's stand had seemed, Priscilla was in nomood to laugh at Horace Hitchcock. Indeed, she was deliberatelyshutting her eyes to his weaknesses, and holding before herself suchan idealized likeness of the real Horace that no one but herselfwould have recognized it. Horace's attentions flattered her vanity.Every call helped to reassure her anxiety in the matter of her ownattractiveness. Moreover, Priscilla was a little dazzled by Horace'sseeming familiarity with the people whose names were chronicled in thesociety columns of the daily paper. She had seen for herself that Mrs.Sidney Vanderpool regarded him with favor, and Horace had been atsome pains to let her know that other ladies, some of them young andbeautiful, held him in equally high esteem. That he should leave girls,who could not go to New York for a week without the fact brought to thepublic attention in the daily papers, in order that he might spend hisevenings with her, gave Priscilla an intoxicating sense of power.
But foolish as this all was, worse was to come, and all because Amydisregarded Peggy's prudent counsel. Peggy had discovered an unduesensitiveness in Priscilla, where Horace was concerned, and had beensensible enough to perceive that any criticism of her ardent admirer,instead of prejudicing Priscilla against him, was likely to have theopposite effect. It hardly need be said that Amy did not flout Peggy'sadvice, but in the course of a conversation with Priscilla she lost hertemper and subsequently her head.
It began with a most amiable intention on Amy's part. "Is Horace comingup to-night?" she asked Priscilla, as the two strolled along theTerrace in the hazy hush of a summer afternoon.
"I--I shouldn't be surprised to see him," owned Priscilla, with abecoming blush.
"Bob telephoned me this morning that he'd be up. If Horace comes, bringhim over and I'll try to get Peggy and Ruth--"
"Shall you ask Nelson Hallowell?" Priscilla inquired, a reservation inher tone which Amy did not understand.
"I'll tell Ruth to bring him if he comes, and he's pretty sure to be onhand," laughed Amy. "He's making up for the chances he missed when hewas in the service."
"Then I'm afraid we can't come," said Priscilla. "Horace thinks BobCarey is fine, and he rather likes Graham, but he draws the line atNelson."
Amy stopped short, her plump face crimson. "Please tell me what youmean by his drawing the line?"
"Well, Amy, I've no doubt that Nelson is a very fine fellow, as far asmorals go, but his social position, you know--"
"What about it?" As the two girls were standing side by side, it wasquite unnecessary for Amy to speak so loudly. Her defiant tone seemedto challenge the entire block.
"Hush, Amy. I'm not deaf. Of course Nelson comes from quite an ordinaryfamily, and he's only a clerk, and Horace really doesn't care to meethim socially."
Amy burst into an angry laugh. "Horace Hitchcock said that. What ajoke!"
"I don't quite understand you, Amy." Priscilla spoke with extremefrigidity.
"Why, there's enough in Nelson Hallowell's little finger to makeseveral Horaces. To think of that dandified little manikin's turning uphis nose at a fellow like Nelson."
"Amy Lassell, how dare you?"
"Oh, fudge, Priscilla, you know perfectly well what Horace Hitchcockis, and you needn't pretend to admire him, for I know better."
"I won't listen to you any longer," cried Priscilla furiously,"slandering my friends." She turned abruptly and crossed the street.The two girls continued on their homeward way with the width of theTerrace between them, each looking steadily ahead, ignoring the other'spresence.
Before Amy reached home she was sorry. She saw she had been wrongas well as right. Her whole-hearted championship of Nelson had notnecessitated sneering at Horace. Amy realized that Priscilla had goodreason to be angry, and resolved on a whole-hearted apology next day.
It was a pity she had not followed up her feeling of penitence byimmediate action, for when Horace came that evening he found Priscillain an unwonted mood. She had dramatized the whole affair to herself.Everyone was unjust to Horace. Even Peggy allowed her childishprejudices to influence her unwarrantedly. But she herself was Horace'sfriend and she would be loyal to that friendship, cost what it might.
A few minutes after his arrival Horace suggested a walk in theneighboring park, which had been so little "improved" that walkingthrough it was almost like strolling along country lanes. Though thenight was warm, most of the populace preferred the movies, and Horaceand Priscilla had the park practically to themselves. The night windsighed languorously through the trees. The air was full of ineffablefragrances.
"Oh, Priscilla," exclaimed Horace suddenly, and caught her hand. Itseemed to Priscilla that her heart stood still. There was a note inHorace's voice she had never heard before. She was sure that somethingwonderful was happening. And the irritating part was that she could notdo justice to it, for she kept thinking of something else. She should,she was sure, be entirely absorbed in what Horace was going to say; andright at that moment, she wondered if Ruth and Nelson were sitting onAmy's porch.
"Oh, Priscilla," Horace was murmuring, "Do you not feel as I do, thatwe have met and loved before? You were mine, Priscilla, when thepyramids were building. You were mine in Babylon. Tell me that you havenot forgotten. Tell me that you love me."
It was only about half an hour from that impassioned speech beforethey were walking home decorously along the lighted streets, butPriscilla had a feeling as if she had been away for months and months.An unbelievable thing had happened. She was engaged. It was understoodthat the engagement was not to be mentioned at present, not even toPriscilla's father and mother. Horace had said something to the effectthat to let outsiders into their secret would bruise the petals ofthe flower of love, and she had agreed to the postponement of thatcatastrophe, without asking herself why the flower of love should be sofragile. But the fact remained that she was the second of t
he quartetteto become engaged, and she took a rather foolish satisfaction in therealization. She made up her mind that her former qualms as to herown unattractiveness were without foundation, for otherwise a socialfavorite like Horace would never have asked her to marry him.
Priscilla's father and mother were on the porch when the young peoplereached home, and, as it was much too warm to stay indoors, the eveningwhich had contained so thrilling an episode ended rather tamely. Mr.Combs and Horace exchanged ideas on local politics, and Mrs. Combs andHorace expressed themselves on the subject of the weather. Priscillahad nothing to say on either interesting topic. She was trying torealize that some day, instead of saying "Mr. Combs" and "Mrs. Combs,"Horace would be addressing her parents as "father" and "mother." Thisseemed so extraordinary that she was almost inclined to believe thatshe had dreamed the whole thing, though the significantly tenderpressure of Horace's fingers, as he said good-night, assured her to thecontrary.
Priscilla slept very poorly that night. Her dreams were troubled. Andeach time she woke, which was on the average of once an hour, shehad a dreadful sense of impending disaster. On each occasion it tookher several minutes to convince herself that nothing was wrong, thatinstead she was a very fortunate and happy girl, singled out of theworld of girls by a most unusual young man. And thus reassured, shewould drop off to sleep, to start again with troubled dreams, and to goagain through the whole program.
Owing to her restless night, Priscilla overslept and had to dress ina hurry to avoid being late to breakfast. By expedition she reachedthe dining room just after her mother had seated herself. Her fatherfollowed a half minute later, and leaning over her mother's chairkissed her cheek. "Know what day it is?"
"Of course, silly," laughed Mrs. Combs. "But I'm astonished to hearthat you do."
Smiling broadly, Mr. Combs went around the table and took his seat. "Weshould have planned a celebration," he remarked.
"What, and advertise our advanced age!" exclaimed his wife in mockconsternation.
"That's so," owned Mr. Combs with a chuckle. "I remember when a silverwedding seemed to me significant of extreme age. What do you think,daughter, of having parents old enough to have been married twenty-fiveyears?"
Then Priscilla knew what was the matter with her. She thought ofsitting opposite Horace Hitchcock twice a day, year in and year out,for a quarter of a century, and her heart turned sick within her.All at once she knew how his affections of manner would grate on onewho watched them for twenty-five years. He had a way of raising hiseye-brows and pursing his mouth which, she was convinced, would driveher frantic in course of time. And then her relentless common-sense,awake at last, went on to assure her that the Horace Hitchcock who hadmade love to her in the park the previous evening was in all essentialsthe smug, vain little boy nobody liked. She watched her father andmother exchanging smiles and knew that such good comradeship betweenHorace and herself was unthinkable. She doubted if there would be asmile left in her after twenty-five years of his society.
"You look tired this morning, Priscilla," said Mr. Combs. "And I can'tsay I wonder. That admirer of yours makes me rather--"
"He's a very pleasant boy, I'm sure," interrupted Mrs. Combs hastily,"though I wish his manners were just a little simpler. But he alwayslooks so neat that it's refreshing to the eye. And by the way, dear,I think you had better see your tailor and get samples for your fallsuit. You've got to the point where you must have something."
Priscilla did not notice her mother's dextrous changing of the subject.She was too absorbed in looking ahead twenty-five weary years. Ofcourse, in view of her discovery, the only sensible thing to do wasto get in touch with Horace, and tell him that the lady with whom hehad been on such friendly terms in Babylon was an entirely differentperson. But that sane and simple way of escape never occurred toPriscilla. She had given her word. She must stand by it, no matter whatit cost.
Amy came over about eleven o'clock, looking very penitent. "Priscilla,"she said, "I don't blame you a bit for getting angry yesterday. I'mashamed of what I said. Of course," added Amy, her natural candorgetting the better of her, "Horace Hitchcock doesn't appeal to me, butthat doesn't excuse me for calling him a manikin, and you have a rightto choose your friends to please yourself."
Priscilla's acceptance of this apology took Amy by surprise. Shedropped her head on her visitor's shoulder--as Priscilla was tall andAmy was short, this was a feat requiring considerable dexterity--andburst into tears.