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It in others, but I mean that with the
lines and the machinery of a North
Atlantic liner, their craft of propin
quity made about as much progress
as a scow.
"No," said little Miss Blythe, upon
being sharply .cross-questioned by
Mrs. Hotchkiss, "he practically never
does say anything."
Mrs. Hotchkiss dug a little round
hole in the sand with her long black
cane, and made an insulting face at
little Miss Blythe.
"Some men," said she, "can't say
'Boo' to a goose."
Little Miss Blythe had many broth
ers and sisters; no money, as we
reckon money; and only such pros
pects as she herself might choose
from innumerable offers. She was
little; her figure looked best in ath
letic clothes (low neck didn't do well
with her, because her face was
tanned so brown) and she was
strong and quick as a pony. All the
year round she kept herself in the
pink of condition ("overkept herself,"'
some said), dancing, walking, run
ning, swimming, playing all games
and eating to match. She had a beau
tiful, clean-cut face, not delicate and
to be hidden and coaxed by veils and
soft things, but a face that looked
beautiful above a severe Eton collar,
and at any distance.
Foolish people said that she had
no heart, merely because no one .had
as yet touched it. Wise people said
that when she did fall in love sparks
would fly.
Nothing would have astonished her
world more than to learn that little
Miss Blythe had a secret, darkly hid
den quality of which she .was dread
fully ashamed. At heart she was
nothing if not sentimental and ro
mantic. And often when she was
thought to be sleeping the dreamless
sleep of the trained athlete who
stores up energy for the morrow's
contest, she was sitting at the win
dows in her night-gown, looking at
the moon and weaving all sorts of
absurd adventures about herself and
her particular fancy of the moment.
And at twenty-three it was high
time for her to marry and settle
down. First because she couldn't go
on playing games and showing horses
forever, and, second, because she
wanted to. But with whom she
wanted to marry and settle down she
could not for the life of her have said.
Sometimes she thought that it would
be with Mr. Blagdon. He was rich
and he was a widower; but wherever
she went he managed to go, and he
had some of the finest horses in the
world, and he wouldn't take no for
an answer. Sometimes she said to
the moon:
"I'll give myself a year, and if at
the end of that time I don't like any
body better than Bob, why. . . ." Or,
in a different mood, "I'm tired of
everything I do; if he happens to ask
me tomorrow I'll say yes."
Then there came into this young
woman's life Mister Masters. And
he blushed his blush and smiled his
crooked smile and looked at her when
she wasn't looking at him (and she
knew that he was looking) and was
unable to say as much as "Boo" to
her; and in the hidden springs of her
nature that which she had always
longed for happened, and became,
and was. And one night she said to
the moon : "I know it isn't proper for
me to be so attentive to him, and I
know everybody is talking about it,
but " and she rested her beautiful
brown chih on her shapely, strong,
brown hands, and a tear like a dia
mond stood in each of her unbeliev
ably blue eyes, and she looked at the
moon, and said: "But it's Harry
Masters or bust!"
Mr. Bob Blagdon, the rich widower,
had played a waiting game; he knew
very well that beneath her good na
ture little Miss Blythe had a proud
temper and was to be won by the
man who should make himself indis
pensable to her. She is an honest
girl, he told himself, and she is al
ways putting herself under obliga.
