The Streets of Ascalon Part 82

Strelsa's angry beauty checked her with its silent scorn; suddenly her pretty head fell forward on Strelsa's breast:

"Don't look that way at me! I was a fool. How was I to know--anything?

I'd never had one.... You can't know whether you want a baby or not until you have one.... I know now. I'm crazy about it.... I think it would--would kill me if Jim is annoyed----"

"He won't be, darling!" whispered Strelsa. "Don't mind what he says anyway. He's only a man. He never even knew as much about it as you did.

What do men know, anyway? Jim is a dear--just the regular sort of man interested in business and sport and probably afraid that a baby might interfere with both. What does he know about it?... Besides he's too decent to be annoyed----"

"I'm afraid--I can't stand--even his indifference--" whimpered Molly.

Strelsa, holding her clasped to her breast, started to speak, but a noise of men in the outer hall silenced her--the aviators returning from their hangars and gathering in the billiard-room for a long one before dressing.

"Wait," whispered Strelsa, gently disengaging herself--"wait just a moment----"

And she was out in the hall in an instant, just in time to touch Jim on the arm as he closed the file toward the billiard-room.

"h.e.l.lo, Sweetness!" he said, pivoting on his heels and seizing her hands. "Are you coming in to try a c.o.c.ktail with us?"

"Jim," she said, "I want to tell you something."

"Shoot," he said. "And if you don't hurry I'll kiss you."

"Listen, please. Molly is in the music-room. _Make_ her tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"Ask her, Jim.... And, if you care one atom for her--be happy at what she tells you--and tell her that you are. Will you?"

He stared at her, then lost countenance. Then he looked at her in a panicky way and started to go, but she held on to him with determination:

"Smile first!"

"Thunder! I----"

"Smile. Oh, Jim, isn't there any decency in men?"

His mind was working like mad; he stared at her, then through the astonishment and consternation on his good-looking features a faint grin broke out.

"All right," she whispered, and let him go.

Molly, idling at the piano, heard his tread behind her, and looked up over her shoulder.

"h.e.l.lo, Jim," she said, faintly.

"h.e.l.lo, ducky. Strelsa says you have something to tell me."

"I--Jim?"

"So she said. So I cut out a long one to find out what it is. What's up, ducky?"

Molly's gaze grew keener: "Did that child tell you?"

"She said that you had something to tell me."

"_Did_ she?"

"No! Aren't you going to tell me either?"

He dropped into a chair opposite her; she sat on the piano-stool considering him for a while in silence. Then, dropping her arms with a helpless little gesture:

"We are going to have a baby. Are you--annoyed?"

For a second he sat as though paralysed, and the next second he had her in his arms, the grin breaking out from utter blankness.

"You're a corker, ducky!" he whispered. "You for me all the time!"

"Jim!... Really?"

"Surest thing you know! Which is it?--boy or--Oh, I beg your pardon, dear--I'm not accustomed to the etiquette. But I'm delighted, ducky, overwhelmed!"

"Oh, Jim! I'm so glad. And I'm crazy about it--perfectly mad about it.... And you're a dear to care----"

"Certainly I care! What do you take me for--a wooden Indian!" he exclaimed virtuously. "Come on and we'll celebrate----"

"But, Jim! We can't _tell_ people."

"Oh--that's the christening. I forgot, ducky. No, we can't talk about it of course. But I'll do anything you say----"

"Will you?"

"Will I? Watch me!"

"Then--then _don't_ take out the Stinger for a while. Do you mind, dear?"

"What!" he said, jaw dropping.

"I can't bear it, Jim. I was a good sport before; you know I was. But my nerve has gone. I can't take chances now; I _want_ you to see--it----"

After a moment he nodded.

"Sure," he said. "It's like Lent. You've got to offer up something....

If you feel that way--" he sighed unconsciously--"I'll lock up the hangar until----"

"Oh, darling! Will you?"

"Yes," said that desolate young man, and kissed his wife without a scowl. He had behaved pretty well--about like the majority of husbands outside of popular romances.

The amateur aeronauts left in the morning before anybody was stirring except the servants--Vincent Wier, Lester Caldera, the Van Dynes and the rest, bag, baggage, and, later, two aeroplanes packed and destined for Barent Van Dyne's Long Island estate where there was to be some serious flying attempted over the flat and dusty plains of that salubrious island.