VIII
After the tremendous leave-taking, to a yawning host Elmer suggested, “If it won’t bother you and Sister Bains, I’m going to stay down here by the fire a few minutes and complete my notes for my sermon tomorrow. And then I won’t keep Brother Shallard awake.”
“Fine, fine—eaaaaah—’scuse me—so sleepy. The house is yours, my boy—Brother. G’night.”
“Good night! Good night, Brother Bains. Good night, Sister Bains. Good night, Sister Lulu. … Night, Frank.”
The room was far more boisterous when he was left alone in it. It reeled and clamored. He paced, nervously smiting the palm of his left hand, stopping in fever to listen. … Time crawling forever. … She would not come.
Creep-mouse rustle on the stairs, reluctant tiptoe in the hall.
His whole torso swelled with longing. He threw back his arms, fists down by his side, chin up, like the statue of Nathan Hale. But when she edged in he was enacting the kindly burly pastor, an elbow on the corner of the parlor-organ, two fingers playing with his massy watch-chain, his expression benevolent and amused.
She was not in a dressing-gown; she wore her blue frock unaltered. But she had let down her hair and its pale silkiness shone round her throat. She looked at him beseechingly.
Instantly he changed his pose and dashed at her with a little boyish cry:
“Oh, Lu! I can’t tell you how Frank hurt me!”
“What? What?”
Very naturally, as with unquestioning intimacy, he put his arm about her shoulder, and his fingertips rejoiced in her hair.
“It’s terrible! Frank ought to know me, but what do you think he said? Oh, he didn’t dare come right out and say it—not to me—but he hinted around and insinuated and suggested that you and I were misbehaving there in the church when we were talking. And you remember what we were talking about—about my moth‑er! And how beautiful and lovely she used to be and how much you’re like her! Don’t you think that’s rotten of him?”
“Oh, I do! I think it’s just dreadful. I never did like him!”
In her sympathy she had neglected to slip out from under his arm.
“Come sit down beside me on the couch, dear.”
“Oh, I mustn’t.” Moving with him toward the couch. “I’ve got to go right back upstairs. Cousin Adeline, she’s suspicious.”
“We’ll both go up, right away. But this thing upset me so! Wouldn’t think a big clumsy like me could be such a sensitive chump, would you!”
He drew her close. She snuggled beside him, unstruggling, sighing:
“Oh, I do understand, Elmer, and I think it’s dandy, I mean it’s lovely when a man can be so big and strong and still have fine feelings. But, honest, I must go.”
“Must go, dear.”
“No.”
“Yes. Won’t let you, ’less you say it.”
“Must go, dear!”
She had sprung up, but he held her hand, kissed her fingertips, looked up at her with plaintive affection.
“Poor boy! Did I make it all well?”
She had snatched away her hand, she had swiftly kissed his temple and fled. He tramped the floor quite daft, now soaringly triumphant, now blackly longing.