Cap'n Dan's Daughter Part 47

"Why, the telegram I sent to John. I knew you hadn't heard from him, and I thought probably--"

"Wait--wait a minute. Did YOU send a telegram to--to him?"

"Yes; sure I did. I--"

"What did you say?"

"I said--why, I said that you--we, I mean--was wonderin' about him and--and missin' him and when was he comin' back here. That's about what I said. I wrote it in a hurry and I don't remember exactly. That's about it, anyhow. Why, what's the matter?"

Gertrude had risen.

"You said that!" she cried. "You--without a word to me--said--you begged him to come back! Begged him! on your knees! to--to--"

"No, no! I never got on my knees. What would I do a fool thing like that for, when I was sendin' a telegram? I just asked--"

"You just asked! You said that I--_I_--And this was your answer! THIS!"

She dashed the message to the floor, covered her face with her hands and threw herself upon the bed. Daniel, aghast and alarmed, would have raised her but she pushed him away.

"Oh!" she cried. "The shame of it! Don't touch me! Please don't touch me!"

"But, Gertie--what on earth?"

"Don't touch me. Please don't touch me. Just go away, Daddy. Go and leave me. I mustn't talk to you now. If I do, I shall say--Please go. I want to be alone."

Daniel went. That he had made another blunder was plain enough, but just now he was too hurt and indignant to care a great deal.

"All right," he said shortly; "I'm goin'. You needn't worry about that.

That's about all the orders I get nowadays--to go away. I ought to be used to it, by this time. I'm a fool, that's what I am, an old worn-out, useless fool."

He slammed the door and descended the stairs. He had been in his accustomed refuge, the library, for perhaps twenty minutes, when the bell rang. He waited for Hapgood to answer the ring and then, suddenly remembering that the butler had departed, answered it himself.

Mr. Monty Holway smiled greeting from the steps.

"Good evening, Captain Dott," he said. "Is Miss Dott in?"

Daniel hesitated. "Yes," he said, "she's in, but--"

"May I see her? Will you be good enough to give her my card?"

The captain took the card.

"Ye-es," he said, "I'll give it to her, but--but--Well, you see, she ain't feelin' very well this evenin' and I don't know as she'll want to see anybody."

Gertrude herself called from the head of the stairs.

"Who is it, Daddy?" she asked. "Someone for me?"

"It's--er--Mr. Holway."

"Oh, is it!" The tone was one of delighted surprise. "Ask him to come in, Daddy. I'll be right down."

She came almost immediately. She greeted the caller with outstretched hand.

"I'm so glad to see you, Mr. Holway," she said. "I was lonely. It was nice of you to come."

She was pale, and the dark circles under her eyes were more apparent than ever, but the eyes themselves were s.h.i.+ning brightly. She was gay and, for her, extremely vivacious. Mr. Holway looked gratified and happy. Captain Dan looked astonished and bewildered.

CHAPTER XII

The bewilderment and astonishment remained with the captain for some time, just as his daughter's apparent light heartedness remained with her. Holway's call was longer than usual, lasting until Serena, escorted by Mr. Hungerford, returned from Mrs. Black's, where they had been discussing the all-important election. Hungerford and his friend greeted each other with a marked lack of warmth; in fact, they scarcely spoke.

Serena was too tired to talk, but Gertrude talked enough for all. She chatted and laughed with almost feverish gaiety until the caller, after many false starts and with evident reluctance, finally tore himself away. Then her manner changed, she was silent and thoughtful and, soon afterward, said goodnight and went up to her room.

Captain Dan forebore to trouble his wife with the news of the telegram announcing John Doane's departure for the West, and the reception of that news by Gertrude. After hearing Serena's complaints of her "nerves"

and weariness, he decided that there was trouble sufficient for that night. But the next morning he spoke of it. Serena was surprised, of course, and worried likewise.

"You're right, Daniel," she said, "I am afraid you're right. She and John must have had some disagreement. I suppose it is only a lover's quarrel--young engaged people are always having foolish quarrels--and they always get over them and make up again. But, oh, dear! why did they quarrel just now? Haven't I got enough on my mind without fretting about them? Well, I'll talk to Gertie this very forenoon."

She did, but the talk was unsatisfactory. When Daniel, waiting anxiously to learn what had taken place, questioned her she shook her head.

"I can't make Gertie out," she declared pettishly. "She acts so queer.

Doesn't want to talk about John at all. Says it is all right, and why should I worry if she doesn't? And she is so different, somehow. She was willing enough to discuss my chances for the vice-presidency. She asked twenty questions about that and declares she is going to help me. And yesterday, when I wanted her to help, she didn't take any interest. I never saw such a change. And she is so--so fidgety and--and nervous and high-spirited and silly. She laughed at nothing and kept jumping up and walking about and sitting down again. I declare! it made ME jumpy just to look at her."

Gertrude's conduct was certainly surprising. It caused Captain Dan to feel "jumpy" more than once. Her determination to help her mother in the campaign she put into immediate practice. She called Cousin Percy into council, borrowed Serena's list of Chapter members, and the pair spent hours checking that list together. Then Gertrude announced that she was going to make some calls. She made them and returned, exultant.

"I think I have made two converts this afternoon," she said. "I am almost sure they will vote for you, Mother. You and I must go to Mrs. Black's to-night and talk it over with her. We MUST; it is very important."

Serena, who had hoped for an early bedtime, expressed weariness, and protested, but her protests were overruled. They went to the Blacks' and Captain Dan and Mr. Hungerford went, also. Annette was delighted to see them. Mr. Black succeeded in repressing his joy.

"For the Lord's sake, Dan!" he exclaimed, when, he and the captain were alone, "isn't there EVER going to be any let-up to this tom-foolery? Are these women of ours going stark crazy?"

Daniel gloomily replied that he didn't know.

"You're worse off than I am," continued B. Phelps. "There's two lunatics in your family and only one in mine. Your daughter's just as bad as her mother, every bit--worse, if anything. But, it seems to agree with HER.

I never saw her so lively or so pretty either. Humph! your pet cousin there is badly gone, or I'm no judge. Well, you remember what I told you about him."

Daniel nodded. He was too depressed for words.

"All right, it's your funeral, not mine. But, say! there's one ray of hope. The whole crowd may be licked to death in this election. If they are, my wife says she'll resign from the Chapter and never speak to one of the bunch again. It sounds too good to be true, but it may be. It's enough to make a fellow hop in and do some political work himself--for the other side. What?"

The political work continued, mornings and afternoons, evenings and far into the nights. Serena was in it, Gertrude was in it, and Cousin Percy and Mr. Holway were in it because she was. Monty's calls were of frequent occurrence. Mr. Hungerford and his erstwhile chum did not speak to each other at all now. But at receptions and teas and dances and musicals and committee meetings one or the other was on hand at Miss Dott's elbow. And Gertrude was very gracious to them both; not more to one than the other, but exceptionally kind and agreeable to each.

The social affairs were of almost as frequent occurrence as the political meetings. Gertrude accepted all invitations and urged her mother to accept.

"You must, Mother," she declared. "Now is the time when you can't afford to offend or neglect anyone. You may need their votes and influence."