CHAPTER XXI
“I BELIEVE I’M IN LOVE”
Olive’s trunks went to the farm with Zelda’s. Mrs. Merriam had gone East to visit a sister, and Zelda settled Olive’s plans immediately. Zelda’s refusal to make the rounds of the eastern summer resorts with Mrs. Forrest caused that excellent woman an immense amount of trouble. She therefore demanded that her brother should accompany her, and he finally agreed to go. Rodney Merriam scolded Zelda roundly for refusing to go with them, and when she disclosed the fact that Olive was to spend the summer with her at the farm, he said things in his anger which he regretted when he had gone home to the solace of his old clothes, his slippers and his pipe.
Ezra Dameron was now so deeply absorbed in his speculations that he paid less and less heed to the details of his own household. He permitted Zelda to make the transfer from Merriam Street to the farm with few hints from himself; he no longer meddled with the marketing, and he rarely if ever admonished Polly as to the necessity for economy. He treated Olive with perfect courtesy, though Zelda’s liking for her cousin had deprived him of the use of two thousand dollars; but in pleasing his daughter and preventing possible inquiry into her estate by her uncle, it had been worth what it cost. He knew, too, that with a companion at the farm Zelda was more likely to be contented. His hours in the city were long and he needed all his time for thought,—for planning new moves and studying the intricacies of the great game. Its fascination grew on him. He fancied that he had become expert in detecting causes and effects; he believed his judgment to be infallible. He would make himself rich, rich; and he would pay Zelda generously for the use of the trustee’s fund that he was using; yes, and she in due time should have all that he made for himself,—and it should be a greater fortune than her own.
Ezra Dameron had bought The Beeches at foreclosure sale, several years before, at half its value. An interurban car-line now passed within a short distance of the gate and made the farm readily accessible from the city, so that the investment had already been justified. The cottage was not visible from the highway, but was reached by an irregular private road, that wound in and out among beeches and maples to the front door. At the side of the cottage a steep declivity ran down suddenly to a brook that murmured pleasantly. The house had been placed with a nice regard for the trees of the original woodland, which crowded up close on every hand. Beyond the ravine, and reached by a rustic bridge, were the barns and cribs that marked the practical farming character of the estate.
Zelda and Olive sat on the veranda and looked out upon an afternoon landscape sweet with mid-June. They had just swung a hammock between two posts in a shady corner, and Olive was testing its comfort and security, swinging herself back and forth with the tips of her boots touching the floor.
“There’s a squirrel now,” said Zelda. “And that woodpecker up there declines to be ignored.”
“I wasn’t referring to the fauna, flora and reptilia of the place. I was speaking of human beings.”
“Oh! I suppose Uncle Rodney will come. Aunt Julia doesn’t drag him away for a while. Aunt Julia may come, though it isn’t likely. Driving over dusty Hoosier roads doesn’t exactly suit her.”
“I wasn’t speaking of relatives, either,” said Olive, lifting her eyes to the blasted sycamore, where the woodpecker was at his carpentry.
“Mr. J. Arthur Balcomb? You’d better get rid of J. Arthur before that little army man catches him in your society. Some very tragic thing will happen if you are not careful.”
“I should hate to have Mr. Balcomb killed. I love to hear him talk.”
“You’d still hear him if he were dead,—death could never stop a flow like his,” observed Zelda.
“I didn’t have him in mind; but I suppose he’s likely to appear. You’ll suffer him to sit on the veranda occasionally, I hope. I shouldn’t dare ask him into the house.”
“Our country silver is only plated,” said Zelda. “I’m not afraid.”
“That’s unkind of you. I fancy Mr. Leighton never stole any spoons in his life.”
“I suppose I ought to blush and seem embarrassed; but I shall disappoint you,” said Zelda, turning away, however, and looking at the blue sky beyond the tree-tops. “I’m not at all sure that Mr. Leighton will favor us. I don’t remember that I asked him to come. He’s always very busy; industry’s one of his chief merits.”
“Poor young man! I suppose he’ll die of overwork—or of unrequited love,” suggested Olive.
“He isn’t in love with me, if that’s what you’re hinting at so darkly. He thinks he has to be polite to me on Uncle Rodney’s account.”
“Of course, we all know that Uncle Rodney would like to be the good uncle of the story-books and make a match between you. Morris Leighton is his protégé. He wants you and Mr. Leighton to spend his money when he’s gone. Everybody knows that.”
“I hope everybody does know it; the more people you disappoint the more fun! He’s a good young man.”
“Zelda Dameron, why do you speak of goodness and of good people in that way? It’s grown noticeable. One would think you the wickedest person in the world to hear you talk. And yet you are the kindest girl—the best-hearted person that I ever knew!”
Olive continued to swing herself back and forth. There were many things about Zelda that mystified her; but she had asked a question that had been often in her mind and heart.
“One might think, to hear you talk, that you really would like to turn all the beatitudes upside down,” she added.
“I’m queer; I’m a Merriam; that’s what’s the matter with me. I suppose all the sins that you might have had, and all the rest of the family, are concentrated in me.”
Zelda was looking out through the woodland, with her eyes away from Olive, and she spoke dolefully. Her cousin’s question had surprised her. She wished no one to know how her heart revolted against the goodness of the world; she must be very careful lest some one should guess her secret.
She welcomed just then the sight of her uncle’s figure approaching through the trees.
“Your prayer is answered, Olive. Some one is coming and it looks very much like our uncle.” She waved her hand to the old gentleman, who was beating his way with his stick through the underbrush.
Zelda placed a chair for him.
“Why didn’t you tell me about that jungle? When you said it was a quarter of a mile from the interurban, I didn’t know you were joking. And bad luck to your interurban cars, anyhow.”
They offered him things to eat, drink and smoke.
“I should like a little whisky and water. I suppose you have the water.”
“And we have the whisky, too.” Zelda brought a decanter and a glass and watched him expectantly as he poured a quantity. Olive, too, leaned forward with a twinkle in her eyes.
Merriam smelled the whisky carefully; then he held up the glass and tipped it, noting the thickness of the reddish fluid, which left a distinct trace on the side of the tumbler. He raised it to his lips and sipped it critically, while his eyes looked far off into some unknown haven of Arcadia. He next poured a drop into his palm and watched it evaporate, saying nothing. Then he drained the glass and placed it on the flat arm of the chair.
“How did you do it?” he demanded.
“Do what, mon oncle?”
“Get that whisky?”
“Why, it’s just any old medicine-chest stuff, isn’t it?”
“Not much it isn’t! Where did you get it?”
“Grocery or drug store, possibly.”
“Where did you get it?”—his tone was fierce now.
Zelda and Olive exchanged glances and lifted their voices in laughter.
“Somebody’s been in my cellar. There’s no mistaking that stuff!”
“I’ve lost a bet,” said Zelda, mournfully. “I’m almost afraid to tell you that I made a bet against you.”
“Of course you would bet against me.”
“It was with Mr. Leighton. I said it was all bosh about your being able to tell; that it was all alike, and all very disagreeable, and that nobody really knew. He said you kept some of your favorite tipple, that some man in Kentucky gave you, at the club. So he brought a bottle out here for us to test you with. The least you can do is to pay my bet for me. I don’t believe we stipulated what I should give him.”
“I’ll fix that. I’ll give him a bottle of this unpurchasable stuff. He deserves it for his loyalty.”
“But,” said Zelda, “he couldn’t use it! He’s so very good. Really good and proper people like Mr. Leighton never touch whisky.”
“Zee, don’t be silly. Olive Merriam, your cousin is given to foolishness. I hope you can show her the light of a little sweet reasonableness. She’s getting worse.”
“It’s wonderful how well she hides her real feelings,” said Olive. “But here comes that little soldier on horseback.”
Pollock was riding up to the house on his nimble-footed sorrel. He had been to the city and was returning to the quarters he had established in a dwelling on one of the farms lately bought by the government for the new post, which lay only a few miles from The Beeches.
He swung to the ground and advanced to the railing with the rein in his left hand, his gray fedora hat in his right, and saluted them all.
Rodney Merriam sat forward in his chair, bending his keen gaze on Pollock. The girls had already nodded to the officer most amiably, but Rodney frowned and shook his head. Many things had irritated him to-day. The walk from the car to the Dameron house had tired him; he was not wholly pleased to find Olive Merriam installed with Zelda at the farm-house, though he knew that he should find her there; and Zelda’s slighting remark about Morris Leighton had added to his annoyance. And now Pollock, who had been in Washington for several months, had reappeared in Mariona.
“How dare he come here?” asked Rodney, half-aloud.
“It doesn’t take a very big dare, for we have expressly asked him,” answered Zelda, as Pollock walked around to the veranda steps.
“He’s a little fellow,” reflected Merriam, under his breath. Pollock came up the steps, shaking hands with Zelda and Olive. As the young man turned toward him with hand outstretched, Rodney Merriam feigned not to see it, but bowed stiffly. Pollock brought himself a chair from the hall, as Zelda bade him, and sat down; but Rodney Merriam remained standing.
“Zee, I beg of you take good care of that bottle. You may tell Morris when you see him that I’ll pay the bet for you. But don’t you bet against your uncle again.”
His manner irritated Zelda. She had never seen him discourteous to any one before, and his refusal to take Captain Pollock’s hand was uncalled for; and it was not to be excused on the ground of her uncle’s age, for he was in full possession of his faculties. She did not know whether he was trying to hint to her that whisky was not to be passed to a young man who called on her, or whether he had wished merely to suggest to Captain Pollock the fact that Morris Leighton was on intimate terms in the household. The maid came and carried the decanter into the house.
“You may be sure that your precious fluid will not be disturbed,” said Zelda, coldly.
“There ought to be a car in fifteen minutes, so I’ll go as I came.”
“Pardon me, sir,” said Pollock, rising, “I should be delighted if you would ride my horse in. I should like to know what you think of him; and I’ll call for him to-morrow.”
“Thank you, but it’s too hot to ride. I much prefer the car, sir,” replied Rodney, stiffly, without looking at the young man.
The situation was not comfortable. Pollock flushed slightly and the young women tried to hide their surprise under a cheery farewell to their uncle. Zelda hesitated a moment, then ran down the steps and walked with him along the winding road and out of sight of the veranda.
“I suppose I’ll miss the car,” observed Merriam, irascibly.
“You ought to miss it! Why did you treat Captain Pollock so shabbily?”
“I don’t like him,” replied Merriam, grimly. “I warned you last winter not to have anything to do with him. You must drop him. Do you understand?”
“I certainly do not. I’m sorry you don’t like him; I like him—better than anybody.”
“Then stop it right now; stop it; stop it!” And the old gentleman beat the road with his stick until the gravel flew.
“I’m not going to do anything of the kind,” said Zelda. “I’ll even tell you a secret,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I believe I’m in love with him! You’ll miss your car if you don’t hurry. If you had been good, I should have driven you in. Good-by.”