Bab - A Sub Deb - Page 56/77

She got very little out of me. To one with softness and tenderness I

would have told all, but Sis is not that sort. And at last she showed

her clause.

"Don't fool yourself for a minute," she said. "This literary pose has

not fooled anybody. Either you're doing it to apear Interesting, or

you've done somthing you're scared about. Which is it?"

I refused to reply.

"Because if it's the first, and you're trying to look literary, you are

going about it wrong," she said. "Real Literary People don't go round

mooning and talking about the ople sea."

I saw mother had been talking, and I drew myself up.

"They look and act like other people," said Leila, going to the bureau

and spilling Powder all over the place. "Look at Beecher."

"Beecher!" I cried, with a thrill that started inside my elbows. (I

have read this to one or two of the girls, and they say there is no such

thrill. But not all people act alike under the influence of emotion, and

mine is in my Arms, as stated.) "The playwright," Sis said. "He's staying next door. And if he does any

languishing it is not by himself."

There may be some who have for a long time had an Ideal, but without

hoping ever to meet him, and then suddenly learning that he is nearby,

with indeed but a wall or two between, can be calm and cool. But I am

not like that. Although long supression has taught me to disemble at

times, where my Heart is concerned I am powerless.

For it was at last my heart that was touched. I, who had scorned the

Other Sex and felt that I was born cold and always would be cold, that

day I discovered the truth. Reginald Beecher was my ideal. I had never

spoken to him, nor indeed seen him, except for his pictures. But the

very mention of his name brought a lump to my Throat.

Feeling better imediately, I got Sis out of the room and coaxed Hannah

to bring me some dinner. While she was sneaking it out of the Pantrey I

was dressing, and soon, as a new being, I was out on the stone bench at

the foot of the lawn, gazing with wrapt eyes at the sea.

But Fate was against me. Eddie Perkins saw me there and came over. He

had but recently been put in long trowsers, and those not his best

ones but only white flannels. He was never sure of his garters, and was

always looking to see if his socks were coming down. Well, he came over

just as I was sure I saw Reginald Beecher next door on the veranda, and

made himself a nusance right away, trying all sorts of kid tricks, such

as snaping a rubber Band at me, and pulling out Hairpins.