LITMIR.BIZ

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flashed him a look. "I don't care to hear your provision. You'll not be called to the martyrdom."

      "And the provision is," went on Bertram equably, "that Harry shall not be present. Now, Henry, if you will kindly place your hand over Harriet's mouth, I will proceed."

      Linda stirred. There was something about Bertram King's arrogation of superiority that always exasperated her.

      "How about my placing my hand kindly over your mouth?" she suggested.

      He turned and looked directly at her. "I should enjoy that very much," he returned.

      Linda was disconcerted for only a moment, then her provoking smile shone.

      "Wonderful facilities for biting me, I suppose," she remarked.

      "Now, if the children will all be quiet a moment," said Bertram, turning back, "I will take up the cudgels for the rising generation. One of the most charming things on earth, probably the most charming, is a child, unconscious of itself; the most graceful, the most winning; untrammeled in their little speeches as in their movements. Then some grown-up discusses them in their presence, no matter whether flatteringly or not. Their grace changes to awkwardness, their unconsciousness to embarrassment, their freedom to reserve or to resentful, meaningless noises such as those with which Harry lately favored the company. Under moments of flattery they show some chestiness and conceit at times, but for the most part they're stolid under the infliction, and their parents and friends have lost all the joy of their charm until they can forgive by forgetting. One of the bitterest leaves of their tree of knowledge is discovering that the well-meaning giants around them are laughing at them, not with them."

      "Say, there's something in that, Harriet," remarked her husband good-naturedly. "Harry grew as red as a turkey-cock when you told about his excusing himself for using wrong words. I noticed it."

      Linda nodded in King's direction. "It's surely a duty Bertram owes to a benighted world to marry."

      He turned to her again with the same direct, quick movement as before.

      "Very well. Will you have me, Linda?"

      She met his gaze, finding some difficulty in giving her own just the right proportion of light scorn.

      "I should like to see myself married to you!" she exclaimed slowly.

      "Would you?" he responded with lively interest, and rising, strode across to her, while she retreated to the furthest corner of her chair. "Then we're of the same mind for once." He seized her hand, while the teacup in the other rocked and tinkled in a manner to cause the liveliest apprehension in its owner. "Witness, both of you. Linda and I are engaged."

      The girl's strong heart pounded violently as she found that vigorous efforts could not free her hand. Color burned her cheeks. Her father's factotum had never seemed to consider her affairs or herself as of any importance, and her habit of thought toward him was an effort to assure him of absolute reciprocation.

      "Let me go," she said sharply. "Don't be silly."

      "Come on," he urged. "Let's give your father a pleasant surprise. Henry, Harriet, speak up. Tell her what's for her good."

      Harriet, the conventional, was anxious under the growing anger in her sister's dark eyes.

      "Behave, Bertram," she said severely. "I don't like joking on those subjects. Go back to your chair and I'll give you a lecture much more sensible than yours to me."

      "I'm not joking. I believe I could make something fine out of Linda." He gazed down into the girl's face as he spoke.

      Henry Radcliffe laughed derisively. "You poor nut," he remarked. "Better not try the Cave-Dweller stunt on Linda. The club would be likely to change hands."

      The captured fingers struggled a moment more, while the two pairs of eyes exchanged their combative gaze.

      There had never been any jocose passages between the girl and her father's favorite co-worker. There had been moments when she had even felt desire for his approval. The present audacity amazed and disconcerted her, and coercion was simply hateful.

      Finding effort to free herself futile, she set her tea down on the arm of her chair, and quickly taking up the cup, deliberately poured the hot, creamy liquid over as much of her captor's cuff as was visible. The cuff collapsed, the tea was hot. King abruptly dropped the girl's hand, and set himself to wiping his own with his handkerchief.

      "Now, will you be good?" laughed Henry; but Harriet fixed anxious eyes on the arm of the chair, hoping that Bertram's hand and cuff had received the whole of the baptism, and groaned within herself over the talents of her young sister as a trouble-maker.

      "And who calls it 'the cup that cheers'?" remarked King drily.

CHAPTER III

       Table of Contents

      COLD WATER

      June heat dropped down on Chicago promptly that year and caused the Barrys to plan to leave town earlier than it suited the banker to go. Indeed, no weather condition ever made Linda's father willing to leave business.

      One evening, a few days before their intended departure, Bertram King came to the house to see his employer. The heavy door stood open after the hot day, and with the familiarity of an intimate he stepped inside, intending to take his way to his old friend's den, but in the hall he met Linda: Linda, blooming, dressed in white, and altogether lovely to look upon. Over her arm she carried a silk motor coat and a chiffon veil.

      The young man's face looked haggard by comparison with her fresh beauty, and he smiled unconscious admiration as he greeted the exhilaration of her breezy appearance.

      "Father is out," she said, "and I'm so glad!"

      "Why? Did you want to see me alone?"

      "I can't see you at all. I'm going out."

      "But he hasn't come yet."

      "Who?"

      "Your motoring friend. Why are you glad your father is out?"

      "Because I think he sees enough of you in the daytime. Too much. Father's very tired. Can't you see it? I'm going to run away with him on Saturday."

      "So I hear.—I'm somewhat seedy myself. I think I'll accept your urgent invitation to sit down until he comes."

      "He isn't coming. He'll be out all the evening."

      "I'm talking about your beau." There was an empty, nerveless quality to the visitor's voice which began to impress his companion.

      "Let's set a spell, as they say in Maine," he added. "I've been thinking about Maine to-day."

      Linda followed his lead into a reception room, where they sat down.

      "A pretty good place to think about, when Lake Michigan sizzles," she replied; "but I've chosen Colorado. We're going to Estes Park."

      "Yes, so Mr. Barry told me. I should like to go there too." King's tone was wistful.

      "Perish the thought!" returned Linda devoutly. "I wouldn't have you within a thousand miles of father."

      "That's what the doctor says," remarked King, his pensive gaze bent on the ribbon bordering of Linda's thin frock.

      She started and leaned toward him. "The doctor!" she repeated. "Has Doctor Flagg been talking to you about father? Is he—is he worried about him?"

      King shook his head. "I didn't go to Doctor Flagg. I went to Doctor Young. We've been getting some golf together lately, and he's a good sort."

      "What's the matter with you, Bertram?" Linda sat up again, and her voice and manner cooled. "What do you want of a doctor?"

      King shook his head. "Never in my life before: first offense. Everything seemed

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