The Story Book Girls Part 20

"Then I won't," said Adelaide Maud, "but will you kindly inform me when I quarrelled with your brother Cuthbert."

It was exactly in the tone of one who would never think of quarrelling with the Leighton set. Elma grew quite pale, then her courage rose.

"He thinks such a lot of you, and you don't think anything of him. Just as though we weren't good enough!"

"Oh, Elma," said Adelaide Maud.

"And he likes you, and keeps things you drop, and you won't even speak to him."

"Keeps things I drop!"

The murder was out.

"Oh, I promised not to tell, how awful."

Adelaide Maud grew very dignified.

"What did I drop? Oh! I think I remember--my handkerchief!"

Mrs. Dudgeon had reflected openly on the fact that it had never been returned to Helen.

"I wanted to keep it till we saw you again, but he said he would give it to you when you were nice to him, or something like that."

"Till I was nice to him!" The chin dimpled a trifle.

"Somehow, I would rather he kept it," said Adelaide Maud dreamily.

"Shall I tell him that?" asked Elma anxiously.

"Tell him--what nonsense! You mustn't tell him a syllable. You mustn't say you've told me. It would be so ignominious for him to hear that I knew he had been thieving! Thieving is the word," said Adelaide Maud.

Although she talked in a very accusing manner, her voice seemed kind.

"Mayn't I tell him you didn't mean to quarrel?" asked Elma anxiously.

"You don't know what you are to all of us."

Here she sighed deeply.

"No," said Adelaide Maud, "you mustn't tell him anything. I think he must just wait as he suggested, until I am nice to him."

"Until you deserved it, he said," cried Elma, triumphantly, remembering properly at last. "I knew it was something like that."

"Then he may wait until he is a hundred," said Adelaide Maud with her face in a flame.

It was difficult after this ever to talk to Adelaide Maud about Cuthbert with any kind of freedom or pleasure.

Elma went home that evening in the bewilderment of an early sunset.

Bright rays turned the earth golden, the leaves on the trees laid themselves flat in heavy blobs of green in yellow sunlight, the sky faded to a glimmering blue in the furthermost east. A shower of rain fell from a drifting cloud and the drops. .h.i.t in large splotches, first on Elma's hat, on her hand, and then in an indefinite manner stopped.

As she turned into her own garden, the White House seemed flooded in a golden glow of colour.

Then at last they heard thunder in the distance.

Elma never forgot that s.h.i.+ning picture, nor the thunder in the distance.

It seemed the picture of what life might be, beautiful and safe in one's own home, thunder only in the distance. The threatening did not alarm her, but the remembrance of it always remained with her. When thunder really began to peal for the Leighton family, she tried to be thankful for the picture of gold.

CHAPTER XI

The Split Infinitive

Guests at the Leightons' were divided into two cla.s.ses. There were those who were friends of Mr. Leighton, and who therefore were interested in art, or literature, or science, or public enterprise, but were not expected to go further; and there were those who came in a general way and who might be expected to be interested in anything from a game of tennis to a tea party. Of the first might be reckoned the like of Mr.

Sturgis, who painted pictures in a magnificent manner, and who, at the end of a large cigar, would breathe the heresies on the teaching of art which for ever paralyzed the artistic abilities of Elma. Mr. Sturgis was quite young enough for an Aunt Katharine public to quote his eligibility on all occasions.

"You don't understand, Aunt Katharine," Mabel told her once. "n.o.body seems to understand that a man, even a young man, may adore papa without having to adore us at the same time. Mr. Sturgis is quite different from your kind of young man."

"Different from Robin, I suppose," sighed Aunt Katharine.

"Yes, quite different from Robin," said Mabel sedately. Robin had certainly from the first put Mr. Leighton into the position of being his daughter's father. Mr. Sturgis, on the other hand, found his first friend in Mr. Leighton because he had such a nice discriminating and most sympathetic enthusiasm for Art. Besides which Mr. Leighton had the attributes of an exceptional man in various respects.

The girls put Mr. Sturgis on the same high plane as their father and admired him openly accordingly. But there were others whom they put on this plane by reason of their accomplishments and yet did not admire at all.

Amongst these was the "Split Infinitive."

The first call on the part of Professor Theo. Clutterbuck was one never to be forgotten. He found a roomful of people who, so far as his own att.i.tude to them was concerned, might have been so many pieces of furniture. Mr. Sturgis had at least the artist's discrimination which made him observe one's appearance, and he also allowed one to converse occasionally; but Dr. Clutterbuck rushed his one subject at Mr. Leighton from the moment of his entrance, and after that no one else existed.

"What more or less could you expect from the father of the Serpent?"

asked Betty.

Lance was responsible for the nickname.

The Serpent, the elf-like daughter of the Professor, staying next to the Turbervilles, had introduced herself in a violent manner long ago to Betty and Elma. Sitting one day, hidden high in the maple tree, she cajoled her cat silently over the Turberville wall and from a wide branch sent him sprawling on a tea table. From the moment that the black cat drew a white paw from the cream jug, and a withering giggle from the maple tree disclosed the wicked little visage of the Serpent, war had been declared between the Clutterbucks and the Turbervilles. Lance occasionally removed the barrier and met the Professor in company with his own father.

"An awful crew," his verdict ran. "The Past Participle (Mrs.

Clutterbuck) can't open her poor little timid mouth but the Split Infinitive is roaring at her. Consequently she keeps as silent as the grave."

"Will you kindly explain?" said Mrs. Leighton patiently. "It's a long time since I studied grammar in that intimate way. What is the Split Infinitive and why the Past Participle?"

"It's like this, Mrs. Leighton, simple when you know--or when you are married to a brute like Clutterbuck," said Lance mischievously. "I beg your pardon. I know I ought to say that he is a genius and all that sort of thing. But 'brute' seems more explicit."

"Go on with your story," said Mrs. Leighton.

"Well--Clutterbuck married Mrs. Clutterbuck."

"That's generally the end of a story, isn't it?" asked Jean.

Lance was not to be interrupted.