Ross went up to the room over the garage, and sat down there. He was hungry and tired, and in no pleasant humor.
“It’s entirely too damned much!” he said to himself. “I’m—comparatively speaking—a rich man. There’s money waiting for me. There’s a nice, comfortable room in a hotel waiting for me; and decent clothes. I could have gone to a play tonight. There was one I wanted to see. And here I am—in a garage—dressed up like a monkey. No, it’s too much! I’m going back to the city tomorrow. I’m going to see Teagle, and settle my affairs. If Amy wants me to help her, I suppose I shall. But I won’t stay here, and I won’t be a chauffeur.”
The more he thought of all this, the more exasperated he became. And it was nearly nine o’clock before he was summoned to dinner, which did not tend to placate him. In spite of his hunger, he took his time in going over to the house. He had no objection to being late, and he would have no objection to hearing some one complain about it. Indeed, he wished that some one would complain. Just one word.
Looking for trouble, Ross was, when he entered the house. He pushed open the swing door of the kitchen.
What marvelous aromas were there! What a festive air! That grave woman, the cook, was wreathed in smiles, for had she not this night accomplished a dinner which even Mrs. Jones had praised?
And the disagreeable housemaid was in softened mood, too, for she had waited upon romance. She had already described, more than once, the splendor of Miss Amy’s costume, and the way “him and her” had looked at each other.
The laundress was elated, because she was fond of romance, and still more because she was a greedy young creature, and scented an especially good dinner. And they all welcomed Ross with cordiality.
“It’s too bad you had to be waiting the long time it was!” said the cook. “You’ve a right to be famished entirely, Mr. Moss!”
Much mollified, the young man admitted that he was hungry.
“You’d oughter of come over for a cuper tea this afternoon,” said the housemaid. “And a piecer cake.”
“You’d oughter of tole him, Gracie,” the laundress added. “Poor feller! He don’t know the ways here, yet!”
“Sit down, the lot of ye!” said the cook.
They did, and that unparalleled dinner began. It must be borne in mind that Ross was wholly unaccustomed to this sort of thing, to home cooking at its best, to the maternal kindness of women toward a hungry man. He liked it.
He was in no hurry to go back to the solitude of the garage, and his own thoughts. Being invited to smoke, he lit a cigarette and made himself very comfortable, while the cook washed the dishes, and Grade and the laundress dried them. He was still taciturn, because he couldn’t be anything else; but he answered questions.
He admitted that he had traveled a bit, and when the laundress, who was disposed to be arch, asked to be told about them queer places, he gave a few facts about the exports and imports of Manila. Anyhow, they all listened to him, and said, “Didjer ever!” and it was altogether the pleasantest hour he had yet spent in his native land.
And then—the swing door banged open, and there stood Amy, with a fur coat over her shimmering dress, and an ominous look in her black eyes.
“Moss!” she said. “What are you doing here? Get up and come with me at once! I want to speak to you!”
Without a word, he arose and followed her into the passage.
“I told you I was coming to the garage!” she pointed out, in a low, furious voice. “Why didn’t you wait there?”
“Look here!” said Ross. “I don’t like this sort of thing.”
Before his tone her wrath vanished at once.
“I’m sorry, Jimmy!” she said. “I didn’t mean to be horrid. Only, it was so hard for me to slip away—and I went all the way out to the garage in the cold and the dark, and you weren’t there—and I’m so terribly worried. Oh, you will hurry, won’t you?”
“Hurry? Well, what do you want me to do?”
“It may be too late, even now. Any instant he may come. He’ll ring the bell, and Gracie will open the door. I can’t tell her not to. He’ll come in. Oh, Jimmy, you won’t let that happen, will you? Oh, do, do please hurry!”
“But just what—”
“Go out and hide some place where you can watch the front door. And if you see him coming—stop him! A thin, dark man, with a mustache. Oh, hurry, Jimmy! All evening long I’ve been waiting and waiting—in torment—for the sound of the bell. Go, Jimmy dear!”
“How long do you expect me to wait for him?”
“Oh, not so awfully long, dear. Just—” She paused. “Just till Eddy comes home. I’m sure he won’t be late. Now hurry!”
“I don’t want to do this,” said Ross. “I can’t stop—”
“Oh, shut up!” she cried; and then tried to atone by patting his cheek. “Jimmy, I’m desperate! Just help me this once! Tomorrow I’ll explain it all, and you’ll see. Only go now!”
“I’ll have to get my overcoat from the garage,” he explained.
“All right, dear!” she said, gently, and turned away. And as he went toward the back door, he heard her sob.
All the way to the garage that sob echoed in his ears. Her tears had not affected him; they were too facile, too convenient. But that half stifled sob in the dark—He went quickly, taking the key from his pocket as he went; he, too, was in a hurry, now, to spare her this thing she dreaded.
He unlocked the door, turned on the switch, ran up the stairs, through the sitting room, and into the bedroom, where his coat hung.
He stopped short in the doorway. For, sitting on the bed was a tiny girl, seriously engaged in tying a ribbon about the waist of a white flannel rabbit. She looked up at the young man, but apparently was not interested, and went on with her job.
“Who are you?” demanded Ross.
“Lil-lee,” said she.
“Yes, but I mean—how did you get here?”
“I comed in a balloon,” she assured him.
Ross was completely ignorant about young children, but he realized that they were not to be held strictly accountable for their statements. And this child was such a very small one; such a funny little doll. She had a great mane of fair hair hanging about her shoulders, and, on one temple, a wilted bit of pink ribbon; she had serene blue eyes, a plump and serious face, by no means clean.
She wore a white dress, still less clean, a coral necklace, white—or grayish white—socks all down about her ankles, and the most dreadful little white shoes. He observed all this, because it was his way to observe, and because he was so amazed that he could do nothing but stare at her.
“But who brought you?” he asked.
“Minoo,” she replied.
“Who’s Minoo?”
The child held up the rabbit.
“Oh, Lord!” cried Ross. “Won’t you please try to be—sensible? I don’t know— Are you all alone here?”
“I fink I are.”
“The door was locked,” he said, aloud. “I can’t see— But what shall I do with you?”
“Gimme my dindin,” said she.
Ross wished to treat so small and manifestly incompetent a creature with all possible courtesy, but he was handicapped by his inexperience.
“Look here, Lily!” he said, earnestly. “I’m in the deuce of a hurry just now. If you’ll wait here, I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
“I will be a good baby!” said she. “But I want my dindin!”
He could have torn his hair. He could not fail Amy now. And he could not leave a good baby alone and hungry, for he did not know how long.
“Shall I take it to the house?” he thought. “The cook would feed it. But—perhaps it’s another of these damned mysteries. I haven’t time to think it out now. I’d better keep it here until I’ve thought a bit. See here, Lily, what do you eat?”
“Dindin,” Lily answered.
“Yes, I know. But—I’ve got bread. Will that do?”
“I like bread and thugar!” she agreed.
He hurried into the kitchen, cut four good, sturdy slices of bread, covered them well with butter and sugar, and brought them back on a plate. Then, with a vague memory of a puppy he had once had, he thought of water, and brought a glassful.
“Now I’ve got to go, Lily,” he explained. “But I’ll come back as soon as I can. You just wait, see?”
“I will!” she said, pleasantly, and held out her arms.
He hesitated for a moment, half frightened; then he caught up the funny little doll and kissed its cheek.
It was not a doll. It was warm and alive, and solider than it looked. It clung to him, and kissed him back again.