The Cricket Part 49

He rose and took her two small hands.

"You promise me to get well, and to come back your old vivid self?"

"I'll try. You _are_ a comfort. You helped that other time, too, when the guillotine nearly broke Tommy Page's neck."

He threw back his head and laughed so heartily at the memory, that she laughed too.

"I've always been rather ridiculous, haven't I?" she asked him.

"My child, that is an elderly remark," he said, and he left her--on the whole, cheered.

He promptly made his suggestion to the Bryces. It was discussed pro and con and then finally it was decided to s.h.i.+p the girl off, in Miss Watts's care, for it was evident that she was making herself ill with the humiliation of her failure.

So, one day in November Wally saw them off.

"You look like a Brownie," he said, as he kissed Isabelle good-bye. "For goodness' sake, get some flesh on your bones."

"Don't worry, old thing," she answered. "I'll come back fat, and chastened in spirit."

He grinned, and ran for the gangway, and stood waving and smiling as the steamer slipped from the pier.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The two travellers settled themselves and took stock of the pa.s.sengers in the casual way of those who go down to the sea in s.h.i.+ps. Miss Watts was prepared to have Isabelle throw herself into the activities of the brief voyage, in order that she might forget her troubles. She did just the opposite. She lay in her chair, reading or contemplating the sea; she marched the deck in absent-minded solitude. Miss Watts was the only person she spoke to, or permitted to speak to her.

But her odd face, her unusual clothes, and her great _hauteur_ marked her at once in the eyes of the idlers who sat on deck and gossiped. She was soon identified as the heroine of the Cartel opening. Speculation and much interest followed her.

The second day out the chair to the right of Isabelle was occupied for the first time. A cursory glance was enough to a.s.sure her of the following facts: he was handsome "as an army with banners"; he wore an English officer's uniform; and he was very pale. She decided to have another look in a moment.

She settled herself comfortably--aware that his eyes were upon her--and opened her book, with an air of great detachment. Miss Watts was not on deck at the moment. It was some time before she got another chance to look at him un.o.bserved. She saw that he had crinkly hair and a ridiculous little moustache, twisted at the tips. He had his eyes closed. He certainly was white, but one strong, lean, brown hand lay on his lap, giving her a feeling of relaxed power. His eyes opened unexpectedly, and she had to return to her book in haste. His eyes were very blue and she thought there was a smile in them.

Miss Watts's arrival interrupted this interchange, if it was an interchange. But in a few minutes another officer came to chat with the invalid.

"h.e.l.lo, Larry, old man, how are ye?" he inquired.

"I'm fairly fit to-day, thanks."

"Glad you can be on deck."

"Rather. I thought I'd croak in that hole of a stateroom."

"Lot of people aboard we know. Mrs. Darlington, for one. Remember her in London?"

"Rather."

"She's dying to see 'dear old Larry.' Sit tight, she's on her way now,"

he added, in a lower voice.

Isabelle permitted herself a look. A tall, handsome woman was coming down the deck, with a swaying sort of walk that was fascinating. She was very smartly turned out. A rather fat man, with prominent eyes, accompanied her. They stopped beside Larry's chair, and she exclaimed enthusiastically:

"How are you, old dear? They would not let me into your stateroom, or I should have been holding your hand, and giving Mrs. Grundy a treat."

"Larry" got to his feet and accomplished a gallant bow.

"Awf'lly good of ye," he said, smiling, holding her hand in his.

"You know Monty Haven, don't you? Captain Larry O'Leary, Monty, and Major O'Dell."

So his name was Larry O'Leary, mused Isabelle. She liked its softness on the tongue.

"Does your wound trouble you, you brave thing?" Mrs. Darlington purred.

"Oh, no. Coming all right. It's nothing."

"Nothing? Do you know what this wonderful creature did, under fire and all, Monty?" she demanded.

"O kind and beautiful lady, spare me blushes. I'm after being Irish and susceptible to flattery," he cried.

"Larry, you old heart-breaker, don't look at me in that wistful Celtic way," she commanded.

"Mrs. Darlington, dear, ye may as well resign yersilf to bein' looked at," he retorted.

"It is good to hear your blarney and your brogue, Larry. By the way, old Mrs. Van d.y.k.e is aboard and demands a sight of you."

"Does she now? Come along and let's pay our respects to the old lady."

She put her hand through his arm, and they sauntered off, with the other two men in their wake.

"Handsome woman, wasn't she?" Miss Watts remarked.

"No. I don't like that type. She struck me as _bold_."

Captain Larry O'Leary was the spoiled and petted darling of the boat.

The tale of his gallant action under fire, of his wounds, of his decoration for valour, was pa.s.sed from mouth to mouth, and lost nothing in the retelling.

The men liked him because he was a simple, modest chap, in spite of it all. The women followed him around like a cloud of gnats. He jollied them all from old Madam Van d.y.k.e, who was seventy, to the smallest girl child on the boat.

He looked like a hero out of a fairy book. He had a rollicking, contagious laugh, and a courteous heart toward every one. At the s.h.i.+p concert for the benefit of wounded soldiers, he sang the songs of the trenches, and the marching songs of the Irish troops, the English and the French, in a clear baritone voice. There is no hope of disguising the fact that Larry O'Leary was too good to be true. Like the star in the melodrama, he was 99 per cent. hero.

His only rival for the centre of the stage on the brief voyage was Isabelle. At first she kept to herself, because she was ill, and wanted to be alone. But after a bit she grasped the fact that her aloofness was a sensation, and she was not too ill to enjoy that. Her perambulations about the deck were watched with undiminished interest. Everybody knew everybody else. There were dances, and games and knitting contests, but to all invitations Isabelle replied in the negative.

"Why don't you talk to some of these people, Isabelle? They seem very pleasant," Miss Watts said.