The Rose in the Ring Part 42

"You don't mean to say Ruby's going to be married!" David's thoughts ran to d.i.c.k Cronk, although he knew there was no possible chance for him.

"Well, there's a chap mighty attentive to 'er these days. You never can tell. She's a 'ansome girl and--but I daresay it's best not to count chickens before they're 'atched. I don't mind saying, 'owever," he went on rather wistfully, "I'd like to see Ruby 'appily married and retired from the stage. It's wuss than the circus, my lad. The temptations are greater and there ain't so much honor among the people you're thrown with. The stage is surrounded by a pack of wolves just as vicious as Bob Grand ever was, and a girl's got to be mighty spry to dodge 'em."

"Is--her best young man a desirable fellow?" asked David, feeling very sorry for the outcast who had not so much as asked for a chance.

"Capital chap. He's a newspaper man, but I can't say that it's anything very damaging against 'im. He seems a very sober chap and thrifty. You wouldn't believe it, but it's quite true."

"I'm sure I wish her all the happiness in the world."

"She can't quite make up 'er mind to leave the stage," mused Joey. "And he won't 'ave 'er unless she does, for good and all. So there you are."

"If she loves him, she'll give it up."

"She loves 'im all right," said Joey. "I know it, because she never talks about 'im. I don't see wot's keeping her. She could ha' gone to market and back five times--h.e.l.lo!" He was peering through the little front window. A huge smile beamed in his face. With a chuckle, he called his visitor to the window. "s.h.!.+ Don't let 'er see the curtain move! She'd take our 'eads off. See that chap? _That_'s why she's been so long to market."

Ruby was walking slowly down the opposite sidewalk, attended by a tall, strong-featured young fellow whose very att.i.tude toward her bespoke infatuation. They crossed the street and stood for a long time at the bottom of the steps, laughing and talking, utterly unconscious of surveillance. Then she shook hands with her courtier, tapped his cheek lightly with the grocer's book which she carried, and ran lightly up the steps. The tall young man, his face aglow, stood motionless where she left him, his straw hat in hand, until she entered the house and closed the door behind her. David's last glimpse of the suitor presented that person, with his chest out, his hands in his pockets, striding off down the street, very much as if he owned it. The young Virginian barely had time left to turn away from the window before Ruby swept into the room.

He had noted, as she stood below, that her figure was a trifle fuller; she was a bit more das.h.i.+ng, and a great deal handsomer than when he had seen her last. Somehow, David, without intending to do so, found himself mentally picturing her ten years hence: a stout, good-natured matron with a double chin and a painful effort to disguise it.

He was not taken aback when she rushed over, with a little scream of delight, and kissed him resoundingly. After which she shook hands with him. It was what he expected. You could have heard the three of them talking if you had been on the sidewalk, but you could not have made head or tail of the conversation. Joey repeated a single remark four times, without being heard by either of his companions. It referred to a joyful reunion and a mug of ale.

At length Ruby gave over rhapsodizing on the tallness, the broadness and the elegance of their visitor, and rushed to the hall door. Raising her voice, she called out to some one down the hall:

"Millie!"

"Yes, Miss Ruby," came the instantaneous response, suggesting a surprised propinquity.

"Goodness! I thought you were downstairs--But never mind! Don't forget what I told you about the new radishes."

"No, Miss Ruby, they shall not be forgot," said the trim little maid, bobbing in the doorway.

"Mr. Jenison likes his waffles crisp," added Miss Noakes. To David she said: "I love waffles and honey for lunch, don't you?"

"I do," responded David. "But I didn't know I was to stop for lunch."

"Father, didn't you tell him?" demanded Ruby.

"I surely did," prevaricated Joey; "but you were both talking so 'ard he didn't 'ear me."

During luncheon, which was blissfully served by Millie, David took occasion to compliment Ruby on her good looks, her success and her prospects.

"Don't guy me, David," she cried, turning quite red.

"If every girl I know could enjoy such improvement in five years, I'm sure--" began David gallantly.

"I suppose you're thinking of Christine Braddock when you say that,"

said she shrewdly.

He had the grace to blush.

"Well, let me tell you, David, she's the prettiest thing on two legs--I should say, on two continents. Goodness, a girl does pick up such awful expressions on the stage! I'm just perfectly awful."

"She is beautiful?" asked David, his heart-beats quickening.

"She's what you might call ravis.h.i.+ng," proclaimed Ruby. "And she's very elegant, too."

"She don't forget 'er old friends, though," said Joey hastily. "She sent me that geranium over there larst month and she--"

"Never mind, dad. David isn't interested in her or what she does. Tell me about Colonel Grand's daughter."

"How do you happen to know--"

"Oh, a little d.i.c.ky-bird told me," she said. "It was in the newspaper I take that you and she were at the Springs at the same time. Oh, I read the society news. Is she pretty?"

"She reminds me of her father."

"Then she looks like that African gazelle we had with Van Slye's! Poor girl!"

"I don't like her," said David. Then he related his experience with the young woman. His hearers were disgusted but not surprised.

"They're all alike," commented Joey. "They're bad, them Grands--father, mother and daughter. First one, then the other tried to bribe me and Ruby. I sometimes believe the wife's as bad as he is, only in a different way."

They were still seated at the table, discussing the Grands, when a heavy knock came at the front door.

"Who can that be?" said Joey, glancing at his daughter, who was suddenly quiet. The knock was repeated before Millie was instructed to go to the door.

She admitted some one, after a moment's parley. The husky, low-toned voice of a man came to the ears of those in the dining-room. As Joey arose to investigate, the maid came in.

"It's the same man who was 'ere yesterday, Mr. Noakes. He says as he's 'ungry."

"Braddock," said Joey in a half whisper.

The man was standing just inside the front door; his dim figure was silhouetted red against the narrow, colored gla.s.s window in the cas.e.m.e.nt. Something told them he was fumbling his hat and that his head was bent.

"Ask him to come in here, father," said Ruby promptly. "I can't bear to see a man hungry. I don't care who or what he is."

Joey looked at David in doubt and perplexity. David, who had clutched the back of his chair with tense fingers, nodded his head. The old man, obeying the second but unvoiced entreaty of his daughter, strode out into the hall. They heard the low mutter of masculine voices, one in evident protest, the other cordially insistent.

"He's changed quite a bit," whispered Ruby,

David rose to his feet and stood staring blankly at the man who followed Joey into the dining-room, the man who had struck the never-to-be-forgotten blow. Could this gray, lean, shuffling creature be the leonine, despotic Tom Braddock of other days?

The man stopped just inside the door and fixed his sullen gaze steadily upon the face of the Virginian. Without glancing at Ruby, he uttered a curt "Howdy do, Ruby."

"I guess we ain't expected to shake hands," said Braddock, a twisted smile on his lips.

"I can't shake the hand that struck me as yours did when I could not defend myself," said David coldly.