VII
Uncle Billy came back from the “Tutt House Annex,” as Mr. Van Kamp dubbed the barn, with enough more money to make him love all the world until he got used to having it. Uncle Billy belongs to a large family.
Mr. Van Kamp joined the women on the porch, and explained the attractively novel situation to them. They were chatting gaily when the Ellsworths came down the stairs. Mr. Ellsworth paused for a moment to exchange a word with Uncle Billy.
“Mr. Tutt,” said he, laughing, “if we go for a bit of exercise will you guarantee us the possession of our rooms when we come back?”
“Yes sir-ree!” Uncle Billy assured him. “They shan’t nobody take them rooms away from you fer money, marbles, ner chalk. A bargain’s a bargain, an’ I allus stick to one I make,” and he virtuously took a chew of tobacco while he inspected the afternoon sky with a clear conscience.
“I want to get some of those splendid autumn leaves to decorate our cozy apartments,” Mrs. Ellsworth told her husband as they passed in hearing of the Van Kamps. “Do you know those old-time rag rugs are the most oddly decorative effects that I have ever seen. They are so rich in color and so exquisitely blended.”
There were reasons why this poisoned arrow failed to rankle, but the Van Kamps did not trouble to explain. They were waiting for Ralph to come out and join his parents. Ralph, it seemed, however, had decided not to take a walk. He had already fatigued himself, he had explained, and his mother had favored him with a significant look. She could readily believe him, she had assured him, and had then left him in scorn.
The Van Kamps went out to consider the arrangement of the barn. Evelyn returned first and came out on the porch to find a handkerchief. It was not there, but Ralph was. She was very much surprised to see him, and she intimated as much.
“It’s dreadfully damp in the woods,” he explained. “By the way, you don’t happen to know the Whitleys, of Washington, do you? Most excellent people.”
“I’m quite sorry that I do not,” she replied. “But you will have to excuse me. We shall be kept very busy with arranging our apartments.”
Ralph sprang to his feet with a ludicrous expression.
“Not the second floor front suite!” he exclaimed.
“Oh, no! Not at all,” she reassured him.
He laughed lightly.
“Honors are about even in that game,” he said.
“Evelyn,” called her mother from the hall. “Please come and take those front suite curtains down to the barn.”
“Pardon me while we take the next trick,” remarked Evelyn with a laugh quite as light and gleeful as his own, and disappeared into the hall.
He followed her slowly, and was met at the door by her father.
“You are the younger Mr. Ellsworth, I believe,” politely said Mr. Van Kamp.
“Ralph Ellsworth. Yes, sir.”
“Here is a note for your father. It is unsealed. You are quite at liberty to read it.”
Mr. Van Kamp bowed himself away, and Ralph opened the note, which read:
Edward Eastman Ellsworth, Esq.,
Dear Sir: This is to notify you that I have rented the entire furniture of the Tutt House for the ensuing week, and am compelled to assume possession of that in the three second floor front rooms, as well as all the balance not in actual use by Mr. and Mrs. Tutt and the driver of the stage. You are quite welcome, however, to make use of the furnishings in the small room over the kitchen. Your luggage you will find undisturbed. Regretting any inconvenience that this transaction may cause you, I remain,
Yours respectfully,
J. Belmont Van Kamp.
Ralph scratched his head in amused perplexity. It devolved upon him to even up the affair a little before his mother came back. He must support the family reputation for resourcefulness, but it took quite a bit of scalp irritation before he aggravated the right idea into being. As soon as the idea came, he went in and made a hide-bound bargain with Uncle Billy, then he went out into the hall and waited until Evelyn came down with a huge armload of window curtains.
“Honors are still even,” he remarked. “I have just bought all the edibles about the place, whether in the cellar, the house or any of the surrounding structures, in the ground, above the ground, dead or alive, and a bargain’s a bargain as between man and man.”
“Clever of you, I’m sure,” commented Miss Van Kamp, reflectively. Suddenly her lips parted with a smile that revealed a double row of most beautiful teeth. He meditatively watched the curve of her lips.
“Isn’t that rather a heavy load?” he suggested. “I’d be delighted to help you move the things, don’t you know.”
“It is quite kind of you, and what the men would call ‘‘game,’ I believe, under the circumstances,” she answered, “but really it will not be necessary. We have hired Mr. Tutt and the driver to do the heavier part of the work, and the rest of it will be really a pleasant diversion.”
“No doubt,” agreed Ralph, with an appreciative grin. “By the way, you don’t happen to know Maud and Dorothy Partridge, of Baltimore, do you? Stunning pretty girls, both of them, and no end of swells.”
“I know so very few people in Baltimore,” she murmured, and tripped on down to the barn.
Ralph went out on the porch and smoked. There was nothing else that he could do.