Lost Farm Camp Part 44

"Well," he said, "they've fired me."

"Fired you?" Swickey's tone was incredulousness itself.

"Back to Boston. Been enjoying myself too much here. Besides, we need more money."

"Oh, then Dave's going to stay?" She was only partially successful in hiding her eagerness.

"Yes, Davy draws the long straw. Anyway, he's worth two of me, here."

"I don't think so," replied Swickey.

Bas...o...b..s astonishment quickened his naturally eager pulses.

"That was nice of you, Swickey,-in a way. Do you really mean it?"

"Don't I usually mean what I say?" she asked, laughing.

"Yes, I think you do-to my sorrow."

"Always?" she said, with a touch of unexpected coquetry.

"There's one exception-just now. Let's sit down on this log and watch the heat-lightning. The sky over there is just like a big purple Easter egg turned inside out, with little red cracks coming and going."

"It's not going to rain here," she replied, with nave a.s.surance. "That storm will go south of us. They always do when they commence over there."

"You're a regular little Delphian Oracle when it comes to forecasting weather. Can you tell fortunes?"

"I wish I could," she sighed. "Can you?"

"When I can see 'em-certified and payable to bearer."

"What does that mean?"

"If you'll sit down-no, within easy speaking distance,"-he said, as she sat on the log a few feet from him,-"I'll explain. This is 'strictly confidential,' as they say, so I'll really have to sit a little nearer."

"Oh, I don't mind," she replied, "only it's so warm."

"I'll fan you, and we'll make this _tete-a-tete_ quite swagger."

"It's nice-but don't hit my nose with your hat. And I'm not going to fall off this log, Wallie."

"I only put my arm there-to-lean on," he replied. "Now about the fortune. If I were to ask you-of course, this is-ah, imaginary, you know. If I were to propose to you-"

"Propose what?"

"Well, that is, ask you to marry me-"

"Oh, but you won't!"

"And you should say 'Yes'-just quick, like that, before you could change your mind,-why, then we'd be engaged. Whew! but it is hot!" he exclaimed, fanning himself with his hat. "Well, then, I'd have a fortune in prospect."

"But-"

"Now wait, Swickey.-Then if we should get married and I saw my ring on your finger, and-and they were Mendelssohning us out of church, with two little pink toodles carrying your train and the bunch at the door plugging celestial cereal at us, as we honk-honked for the two-thirty train to-to heaven, then I'd have a fortune-you. Certified and payable to bearer, so to speak."

Swickey stared at him unsmilingly. Presently she said, "Wouldn't it mean any more to you than that?"

"Well, wouldn't that be enough?" he replied earnestly.

"But you always seem to be making fun of everything and everybody, even when you try to be serious."

"I know it. Can't help it, Swickey dear. But I wasn't entirely fooling then."

"But you'd never ask _me_ to marry you," she said calmly.

"Ask you?" he said, with sudden vehemence. "Ask you? Why, can't you see?

I've wanted to ask you a hundred times this summer. If I hadn't thought Davy was-"

"Dave? I hate Dave!"

Bas...o...b.. misinterpreting the pa.s.sion that lay behind her words, took them literally, blindly following the current of his desire.

"Don't say that, Swickey. Davy's true blue, but I'm glad there's nothing-like that-between you."

She bent her head and he heard her sobbing.

"There, little girl, I'm sorry I made you feel badly. Come, don't cry. I love you, Swickey." He leaned toward her and she allowed him to take her in his arms. "Listen, dear, you don't belong up here in this unG.o.dly country. It's good to come to, but not to stay. I want you to come home with me."

The soft roar of the distant river pulsed faintly in her ears. She was worn with an unsatisfied yearning that seemed almost fulfilled as she found a momentary content in his arms. With a pa.s.siveness that in her was pitiful, she let him kiss her unresponsive lips. The hunger of his desire burned her unanswering pa.s.siveness to life as she shuddered and drew back, her hands against him, thrusting him from her.

"No! No! Not that!"

As he gazed stupidly at her, a dim outline took shape behind her bowed shoulders. Then the sound of footsteps as she turned, and the figure of David pa.s.sed across the strip of light paving the gra.s.s in front of Avery's doorway.

"But, Swickey!" His voice trembled, and he held out his arms imploringly.

"No, Wallie. I must go now. It was wrong. You shouldn't have made me,"

she continued, with a feminine inconsistency that almost made him smile.

"I like you, Wallie, but not that way. Oh, if you knew, you'd understand. But you can't. I dreamed-I made myself dream it was-" she hesitated.

"David," said Bas...o...b.. "Now I understand."

With a gracious inclination of his head and a touch of his former lightness he bade her good-night. "I'm short-sighted, you know," he said, in humorous mockery of himself.

The next morning, while Bas...o...b..was sorting over his things with a great deal of unnecessary packing and repacking, David came to him.

"See here, Wallie," he said brusquely, "you don't have to dig out at the drop of the hat, you know. I only spoke of your going in a general way.