"You're on!" he cried. Here was a lark. He turned the dog and the
purchases over to the proprietor, who promised that they should arrive
instantly at the villa.
Then the two men sought the quay to engage a boat. They walked shoulder to
shoulder, flat-backed, with supple swinging limbs, tanned faces and clear
animated eyes. Perhaps Harrigan was ten or fifteen pounds heavier, but the
difference would have been noticeable only upon the scales.
* * * * *
"Padre, my shoe pinches," said Nora with a pucker between her eyes.
"My child," replied the padre, "never carry your vanity into a shoemaker's
shop. The happiest man is he who walks in loose shoes."
"If they are his own, and not inherited," quickly.
The padre laughed quietly. He was very fond of this new-found daughter of
his. Her spontaneity, her blooming beauty, her careless observation of
convention, her independence, had captivated him. Sometimes he believed
that he thoroughly understood her, when all at once he would find himself
mentally peering into some dark corner into which the penetrating light of
his usually swift deduction could throw no glimmer. She possessed the sins
of the butterfly and the latent possibilities of a Judith. She was the
most interesting feminine problem he had in his long years encountered.
The mother mildly amused him, for he could discern the character that she
was sedulously striving to batten down beneath inane social usages and
formalities. Some day she would revert to the original type, and then he
would be glad to renew the acquaintance. In rather a shamefaced way (a
sensation he could not quite analyze) he loved the father. The pugilist
will always embarrass the scholar and excite a negligible envy; for
physical perfection is the most envied of all nature's gifts. The padre
was short, thickset, and inclined toward stoutness in the region of the
middle button of his cassock. But he was active enough for all purposes.
"I have had many wicked thoughts lately," resumed Nora, turning her gaze
away from the tennis players. She and the padre were sitting on the lower
steps of the veranda. The others were loitering by the nets.
"The old plaint disturbs you?"
"Yes."
"Can you not cast it out wholly?"
"Hate has many tentacles."
"What produces that condition of mind?" meditatively. "Is it because we
have wronged somebody?"
"Or because somebody has wronged us?"
"Or misjudged us, by us have been misjudged?" softly.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Nora, springing up.