Treasured Brides Collection (17 page)

“Aw rats!” said Effie inelegantly, relapsing into her boy vernacular. “I’m not a baby doll. Where’s my wheel?”

“Your wheel is pretty badly damaged,” he told her gently. “The wagon ran over it when you dropped it, and the horse kicked it and stepped on it once or twice, but I think it can be put in shape. However, don’t you realize that doesn’t matter? There are also other bicycles in the world.”

“Not for me!” snapped Effie. “This was my new bicycle. I bought it myself with money I had saved up. Where is it? I’ve got to get away from here.”

“Look here, sister, I’m here to take care of you just now, and you’ve got to sit still and rest till the doctor gets here and I’m sure you’re all right. You don’t seem to know it, but you had a narrow escape yourself. That horse came within an inch of kicking you in the temple when you fell after I took hold of him, and I’m going to make sure you were not injured before you start home, if I have to bind you hand and foot to do it. Now will you be a good child? Look here, what’s your name? I think we ought to notify your folks that you’re all right, don’t you? Bad news travels fast. They might be worrying about you.”

“Nobody ever worries about me,” said Effie petulantly. “They expect me to do crazy things. They’re ashamed of me for doing them. They say I’m too big to ride a bicycle.”

“Well, this morning’s work is nothing to be ashamed of, I’ll testify, and I’m not so sure you’re correct about their not worrying. People sometimes worry a lot and never say anything about it. As soon as the doctor gets here and the kid’s parents come to take him home, I’m going to bundle you into my car, wheel and all, and take you home, too. We’ll leave your bicycle at the best repair shop in town, and I’ll promise you, it will come back to you in a day or two as good as new.”

Effie looked at him half belligerently a moment, and then said, somewhat ungraciously, “Thanks, but you needn’t bother with me. I can walk home and wheel my bicycle myself. You ought to be on your way, Mr. Earle, they’ve gone over the township road. You must have passed it three miles back and missed your way. I might have told you before, I suppose. I saw you back at the crossroads. But if you hurry, you can catch them. They’ll probably wait for you till the last minute, and they’ll be awfully disappointed if you don’t get there. They’re counting on you, and I’m sure I don’t want to spoil their pleasure. It won’t make things any better for me to have them have a horrid time.”

The young man stared at her in astonishment.

“I beg your pardon,” he said in a puzzled tone. “You seem to have the advantage of me. I’ve been away so much that you girls have grown out of all recognition, although I’ve thought there was something familiar about you from the first. Who are you, please?”

“You won’t know any better when I tell you,” she snapped, “and you better get on as fast as you can, for the girls will be frightfully angry at me if they find out I was what kept you and made you late.”

“Made me late? What can you mean? Won’t you explain, please? I’m not aware I’m late for anything. I was just riding around looking over my old haunts, with half the day before me and nothing to do.”

“But weren’t you going on the picnic with the girls and boys?” asked Effie perplexed. “Perhaps you’ve got the dates mixed. I know you were going, for I heard the girls talking about it. They fixed the date so you would be home. The Garner girls and Maud Bradley, you know.”

Effie was talking earnestly now, like a girl who was trying to do her duty at last and meant to do it thoroughly, even though it cost her everything.

Lawrence Earle smiled.

“No,” he said, showing all his white teeth gleefully. “No, you’re all wrong. I wasn’t going on that excursion. I declined. I wanted the day to do as I pleased. I wasn’t ready to go out into society yet. But you’re awfully kind to try to set me right. I appreciate that part of it.”

“I’m not kind at all,” said Effie crossly, feeling an odd lump in her throat. “I didn’t want to tell you at all. I wanted you to get lost and them to be disappointed. But, of course, that wasn’t right.”

The young man regarded her amusedly.

“And may I ask why you wanted them to be disappointed?” he inquired. “There seems to be something interesting behind all this. Perhaps we’re comrades in guilt, who knows? Because I’m not conscious of caring much myself whether they are disappointed or not. They’re all strangers to me. Come, tell me why you wanted them to be disappointed.”

Nobody had ever coaxed Effie in this pleasant, merry way before. She scarcely understood such treatment. She swept him a searching glance to see if he was kidding her.

“Tell me,” he urged in a kindly tone.

“Because they didn’t want me to go along,” she blurted out at last.

“Oh!” said the young man, with twinkling eyes. “So that’s what’s the matter. Well, I think they showed very poor taste indeed, myself. Tell me about it.”

He dropped down on the grass by her side and began to pull long dandelions and split up their pale green luscious stems into two neat ringlets.

But Effie felt a sudden rush of dumbness come over her. There was something in his kindly comradeship that choked her and made words impossible. She did not remember ever to have had anyone talk to her in this friendly, confidential manner. It fairly overwhelmed her.

He watched her quietly for a moment, saw that for some reason she could not talk about it, and then went on in the same even, pleasant tone.

“First, tell me who you are. I’m sure I ought to know you. You still seem somehow strangely familiar.”

Then words rushed to Effie’s lips. “No, you don’t know me. At least you wouldn’t remember me. The last time you saw me you laughed at me.”

The quick color sprang to the young man’s cheeks.

“Oh, surely not!” he exclaimed. “Aren’t you mistaken? Perhaps you misunderstood. I’m sure I never meant to.”

“No, I didn’t misunderstand,” said Effie bitterly. “All the girls said you did, and I remembered it, too, when I heard them talk about it. But you did have a reason, of course. I had torn my dress and your mother told me about it, and I said I knew it, that it was too much trouble to mend it when I was off at the seashore.”

Light broke on the young man’s face.

“Oh, you’re the kid that was having such a good time with Tommy Moore, aren’t you? I remember. Why, kid, I wasn’t laughing
at
you, I was laughing
with
you. Didn’t you know that? I thought it was refreshing to see a real girl once more, after the specimens of painted dolls I had been talking with. For a fact, I came near throwing down my hat and joining in your game of tag. If it hadn’t been that I was taking Mother to call on an old friend who was leaving that night, I believe I would, if for nothing else than to shock that Bradley girl. I detest her! I’ve watched her and her sister grow up, and they’re the most artificial girls I ever saw. I enjoyed you because you were so happy and spontaneous.”

“But I wasn’t a bit polite,” said Effie reluctantly. “I was rude and unmannerly. The girls said so. They said I was a flat tire, and all sorts of things and, of course, I knew it was true, only it made me mad for them to say so and not to want me on the ride. I didn’t want to go for their sake. I can’t bear them, they’re so stuck-up and silly about boys. And I didn’t want to go to be on their old picnic either, but I did want to drive the car partway. Father said I might, and I wanted to, and it would have been fun.”

“Of course it would, but there are lots of other chances to drive cars, and if I were you, I wouldn’t have a regret about that picnic. For my part I’m having a better time right here and now than if I had gone. I wouldn’t have missed seeing that rescue this morning for worlds.”

Effie flashed him a look of wonder and sudden joy. Could anybody say a thing like that to her and really mean it? He must be only meaning to be polite.

“But you know you haven’t told me your name yet. Aren’t you going to? I suppose I should remember which one you were from the last time I saw you, but I hadn’t paid the slightest attention to any of their names. The only girl I was sure of was that Bradley girl, and I didn’t know which one she was, for sure.”

Effie’s flash of joy vanished into her habitual gloom.

“Well, you wouldn’t have remembered it if you had heard it, and I don’t think anybody mentioned it that day. It wasn’t thought necessary. I’m only Effie Martin, the girl that nobody likes.”

“Well, that’s not true,” said Earle heartily, “for I like you. Even seeing you just this morning I can’t help liking you, and why shouldn’t everybody else? But say—why—you can’t be the little Euphemia—Margaret Martin’s little sister, that I taught to pitch a ball, can you? Say, now, I believe you are!”

Effie’s face lit up with a glow that made it almost beautiful, and she nodded, shyly, wistfully.

“Sure!” she admitted, almost embarrassedly. Her mother wouldn’t have known her by her manner at all, it was so sweet and shy and pleased.

“Well, now that is great!” said Earle. “I can see that you and I are going to be great friends. I always liked your sister Margaret better than any of the other girls. They tell me she has got married. You must miss her, don’t you? But say, this is going to be fine. Can you pitch a ball yet?”

Effie dropped her eyelashes, ashamed.

“Yes,” she admitted. “But they make a lot of fun of me. They call me a tomboy and say I’m too old for things like that!”

“Nonsense!” said Earle. “Bologna! We’ll teach them better. Let’s make it the fashion to pitch ball, and then we’ll see all those girls out in their backyards practicing. When can I come over and have a game of ball with you? I want to see how you have progressed. You were wonderful as a child, and I’ll bet you have become a beaut at it. Say, do you know I never forgot you. I remember finding the meaning of your name one day when I was studying. Do you know what it means? Euphemia?”

“No,” said Effie shortly. “I only know I hate it. I wish I had a decent name. Everybody makes fun of it.”

“Oh, but they oughtn’t. Euphemia means ‘of good report.’ It bears a recommendation on the surface, you see. Your very name is a good reference.”

Euphemia was still for a moment, and then she said, “Well, it doesn’t fit me.” She said it so bitterly that the young man yearned to help her.

“Make it fit then,” he said earnestly.

“How?” she asked, with an eagerness that showed she had asked that question in her thoughts before.

He was silent for an instant.

“Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just,” he quoted, “whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.”

He was still for a minute, and then he added, “There is One who will help you in that, Euphemia. I wonder if you have Him for your friend and Savior. He is mine, and He is able to help in everything like that. I know, for I’ve tried it.”

“Oh, but you’ve never been disagreeable as they say I am!”

He flashed her a look of sympathy.

“Euphemia, you don’t know what I’ve been. But anyhow, that doesn’t make any difference. He’s able to keep us from any kind of falling, if we let Him. We’ll talk about this sometime again, if you will. There’s a lot I would like to tell you. I see a car coming now. I think the doctor is here. Would you like to go up to the house, or shall we stay right here?”

E
ventually they got into the big car that drew up in front of them and rode with the doctor into the driveway and up to the big old farmhouse, where the little runaway boy was having the time of his life chasing a lot of downy yellow chickens.

The grocer boy was there, much disturbed, shouting an account of the affair over the telephone to his employers. It appeared that he had arrived on a motorcycle while Effie was still unconscious, having requisitioned the motorcycle to chase his horse. The owner of the motorcycle was there, too, enjoying the general excitement and eating gingerbread and milk. The farmer’s sons were there outside the door, rubbing down the excited horse after the most approved method, talking wisely about horseflesh in general and this thin, old, cranky grocer’s horse in particular. The farmer’s wife was there, comforting the beautiful little boy and telling him his mamma was coming right away. And the horse was there, still snuffing and snorting occasionally, giving furtive side glances and side-stepping himself with nervous jumps at each little sound or movement, rolling the whites of his eyes wickedly and lifting his velvety lips with a snarl to show his great yellow teeth.

The grocer’s boy at the telephone was telling his story in loud tones, “You see how ’tis. I was up ta Harrisses’ waitin’ fer the check as you tol’ me, an’ the kid clumb in the wagon. He often does. He’s allus crazy ta ride when I got up there, an’ I kid him a lot. Wha’s that? No sir. I didn’t let him get in. No sir, I don’t never ‘low him ta get in. I ain’t got tha time. No sir, he jus’ clumb in of hisself after I was gone in the house, see? Yessir, I was standin’ right where I could see the wagon, an’ I called to the kid ta get out, see? But he jus’ laughed and kep a-jerkin’ the reins, an’ jus’ then the missus she sent down the check, an’ I heard a car come up. It was a d’livery truck, ice er somethin’, an’ it blew it right in that hoss’s ear, an’ she ups and clips it. I knowed what would happen when I see that car a-comin’ an’ I flew down them steps, yessir, but I couldn’t get a holt of the lines, they was on the other side of her, an’ she was makin’ fer round the house and down through the other gateway. So I turns around to head her off at the front, but they was diggin’ some kind of a ditch fer a drain pipe or a water pipe or a gas pipe or somethin’, an’ I fell plumb in an almos’ broke my ankle, and stunned myself, so when I got up that there hoss was dashing outta the front gate, an’ up the road, an’ I hadn’t got no chancet, see? Yessir, I know. Yessir, I did. I saw a feller comin’ on a motorbike, an’ I hailed him an’ he brung me along. An’ I got here almos’ as soon ez she did, but some plucky girl on a bike had stopped the hoss. Yessir. No sir, the kid ain’t hurt none, jus’ scared. Yessir, he’s playin’ about big as life. Yessir. The doctor’s come an’ says he’s all right. No sir, the mother ain’t come yet but she’ll be here in a minute. Yessir, I will. I’ll come along back as soon as she gets here. Yessir, the meat’s all delivered ‘cept Mrs. Buckingham’s over on the pike, an’ she won’t kick; she’s a lady, she is. Yessir! All right, sir. Good-bye!”