Stanford Stories Part 24

Lillian gazed fixedly at the white cupola on a stockfarm building. Her heart was somewhere deep in hill-gra.s.s. She was the most luckless girl in the whole college! The opportunity of her Soph.o.m.ore year had come too late. It was bitter enough for tears.

"I had promised it to Mr. Perkins," she said, irresolutely.

"I was afraid so. Of course, it was awfully late to ask you; but I would rather go with you than with any of the others, so I ventured."

It was a desperate moment for Lillian.

"I would rather go with you, too," she said, gazing up at him.

"I'm sure I wish you could," he said, with sincerity. She was at her prettiest that day.

"I will anyway," she declared.

"But Ted----"

"I don't care," she went on, "it was only that he asked me first.

Couldn't I cut it and go with you? He ought to understand that I have a right to change my mind."

Smith watched the antics of a gopher for a full minute before he replied. Although Perkins had said nothing to him of his intentions regarding the dance--the two had few confidences--Cap had held his theories. Still, he deemed he had a chance. Being a Soph.o.m.ore, he believed that he was thoroughly acquainted with the co-educated s.e.x and all their wiles and guiles; but a feeling of repulsion toward this frank readiness to throw down another man, one of his own, too, drowned his sense of self-satisfaction at finding himself preferred.

"Of course, you and Ted must arrange all that," he said, and turned the conversation.

Cap's lack of confidential relations with Perkins did not stand in the way of his mentioning the affair to him that night after dinner.

"I thought you ought to know it, Ted," he concluded. "Of course, you will do as you please about the matter, only I shall not take her."

"You don't think for a moment that _I_ still intend to, do you?" asked Perkins, fiercely.

"I don't believe I'd blame you exactly if you backed out," said the complacent Soph.o.m.ore; "but, of course, it's none of my funeral now; I'm only sorry I happened to ask her myself, and start the trouble."

"I think I'll walk home with her after rehearsal," said Perkins.

"Well, I shan't say anything about it one way or the other," said Smith, and he started toward the Gym with a pleasant sense of having galled somebody a bit.

Meanwhile, Lillian had eaten her dinner with relish. The prospect of trouble with Perkins did not worry her in the least. Perkins had been rather a convenience, and to lead the cotillion with Jack Smith was a delight that entirely divested the other man of all importance. The rehearsal went through with a dash; Lillian was all animation and witchery, and the love-scene was perfectly acted, though Ted Perkins sat glowering in the privileged audience. Cap Smith took his high note with a tenderness of voice and gesture that moved Connor, the leader (he was also stage-manager and chief electrician), to call out, "Good boy, Cap,"

and to shake his carefully untrimmed hair in approval.

After rehearsal, the tenor slipped away just as Perkins, with an artificial smile, approached Lillian.

The Soph.o.m.ore was in bed when Perkins came into his room.

"What did you do about it?" Cap asked, to start things.

"I simply said I wanted to be excused from taking her to the cotillion."

"What reason did you give?"

"None."

"But you had to give some explanation."

"She didn't ask for any. She guessed it, probably."

"What did she say? Try to smooth it over?"

"No, nothing, except that she was sorry, and that she would have liked to go with me."

"Humph," sniffed Cap. "I'll bet she was afraid I hadn't said anything to you about it, and she wouldn't give herself away as long as you didn't kick up a row. Now I suppose she expects me to take her."

"That's where she was keen, all right; she never breathed a word about you; only made me feel like two-bits in a fog for having turned her down."

"If I had been you I would have roasted her right there, fired the whole string at her."

This was the point for which the jilted man had come into Cap's room.

"No," said he, "you said you wouldn't take her either, and I thought that would punish her better than having any scene with me. She'll know I have had my innings."

This took Smith where he lived, but he put on a cheerful front, perforce:

"Well, I'll crawl gracefully out of it, to-morrow," said he. "I suppose she'll be hopping when she thinks it over."

Perkins went up to his room satisfied.

When Cap Smith caught Miss Arnold at the post-office, he began to find that it was easier to plan a graceful crawling out than to execute the movement.

"I shall have to take back what I said yesterday about the cotillion,"

he began, cleverly, guiding her toward Roble, "because, you see, it wouldn't be just square to Ted, would it? He might feel hurt, and I wouldn't have that. We must have six dances, though, anyway."

This, a.s.suredly, would show her. Unfortunately, Lillian was either dull or desperate.

"But he released me last night."

"Did he?" said Jack. He had started all wrong.

"Yes, we settled it all very well; he didn't seem to care in the least, he is so good-natured." She looked as serene as the sky above her, although she was beginning to have biting suspicions. "So it's all right."

Cap Smith's feet had become tangled in crawling; he kicked out recklessly.

"No, it's not all right. I don't believe in a girl's treating a fellow like that, and I won't be a party to it."

"Why did you ask me, then?" she challenged. "To tempt me because you happened to be president and a girl loves to lead?"

"I'm not so mean as that. How could I know Perkins had asked you. He hadn't told me."

"I suppose you told him about it?"

"Yes, I thought that I ought to."

"After telling me that I might arrange it. It was my business."