The Cricket Part 19

Isabelle bowed.

"Hope I don't interrupt?" he added.

"Not at all. Won't you sit down?"

"No, thanks. Just ran over to say that we'll take the kid off your hands after lunch."

"Oh, don't bother----"

"Certainly we will. The car is going back in ten minutes with Max, and she can go along."

Isabelle could have cried with rage. As it was she swallowed hard, and when Christiansen said: "Is that agreeable to you, Isabelle?" she nodded a.s.sent, but the look she cast at Wally might have a.s.sa.s.sinated him. He, blissfully unaware of it, sauntered away.

"Don't hurry. Wouldn't you like some more ice cream?" her host suggested.

"Yes, thank you."

She did not really want it, but it might serve to delay the hated departure. The car might go without her, and Christiansen would then take her home. She dawdled over the second ice cream, chatting feverishly to prevent his suspecting her plan. But the end came, as the end needs must, and on the veranda they found her mother waiting.

"If she has been eating all this time, you must be bankrupt," she laughed as they joined her.

"Our conversation absorbed considerable time, didn't it, Isabelle?"

"Yes"--gravely.

"Did you behave yourself?" inquired her mother.

"Perfectly," Christiansen hastened to say.

"Well, make your manners and get into the car," ordered her parent.

Christiansen leaned over her hand gallantly.

"Thank you for giving me so much pleasure," he said in a confidential tone.

"Thank you. I loved it," she whispered ardently.

On the way home her mother glanced at her.

"Have a good time?"

"You and Wally spoiled it!"--hotly.

"What did we do?"

"Treating me like a infunt!"

"Which you are," retorted her mother.

Later, in talking it over with Miss Watts, Isabelle said:

"Mr. Christiansen is my ideal. He thinks he would not call me very plain," she added. Then, "Miss Watts, what is an Amazon?"

"The Amazon is a river."

"But he said a comp'ny of Amazons."

"Oh, they were women warriors," instructed the teacher, and expounded the subject at some length.

"What did they wear?" demanded Isabelle.

"We'll look up some pictures of them and find out."

"Riding clothes would do," mused Isabelle.

"Nicely, I should say."

The next day she organized the Isabelle Amazons. They were only four in number, counting Nancy Holt, who was under size, but they drilled and hunted and rode to battle in the wake of their peerless leader. They met imaginary foes. They challenged Tommy Page and Teddy Horton to mortal combat, and put them to flight. It was a wonderful game, and Isabelle thrilled to think that it was "her ideal" who had suggested it.

"When am I going to entertain Mr. Christiansen?" she asked her mother.

"_You_ entertain him?"

"Certainly. He had me to lunch, didn't he?"

Mrs. Bryce laughed.

"I'm having a house party over the week end and he is coming."

"This week end?"

"Yes. Your beau arrives on the noon train Sat.u.r.day."

"But I am spending the day with the Hunters Sat.u.r.day," the child protested.

"I can't help that," replied her parent.

"May I come down to dinner Sat.u.r.day night?"

"Certainly not."

"Can't I come in with the c.o.c.ktails, and stay till you go to the dining room?"

"n.o.body wants you under foot."

"He's my friend just as much as he is yours!" blazed Isabelle.

"You can see him at tea."