“But what’ll mother say—and father! Holy cat! How father will scream!”
“Don’t you worry. Do your part!” And Beatrice vanished among the bushes and huge glacial rocks.
Roger conducted his part in the deception with signal distinction. He so busied himself collecting huge pieces of wood and bearing them to the central pile they were making in an open space that he had no breath or time for conversation; and as the other two men could not but follow so worthy an example, not a word was said. Besides, a glance at the face of either big Hank or little Heck was enough to disclose how industriously they were thinking. Once Hank, finding himself near the picture, began to edge round for a look at it. He thought Roger was busy far away. He literally jumped when Roger’s voice—authoritative, anything but friendly—hurled at him: “I say there, you! Keep away from that picture! I don’t let anybody look at my unfinished things.”
“I—I beg your pardon,” stammered Vanderkief, hastily putting himself where no suspicion of even peeping could possibly lie against him.
The fire was a monster, and Roger and Beatrice—who addressed him alternately as Chang and Mr. Wade—were soon drying out. They talked and laughed in the highest spirits, not unmindful of the gloominess of the silent, listening brother and fiancé, but positively enjoying it. Presently Beatrice turned to her brother and said, “I’ve persuaded Mr. Wade to accept mother’s invitation.”
Roger smiled agreeably. “Not exactly, Miss Richmond,” parried he, as skillfully as if the stroke had not come without the least warning. “I couldn’t be sure, you know.”
Beatrice looked at the watchful Vanderkief—a handsome fellow, almost as big as Roger, but having the patterned air of a fashionable man instead of Roger’s air of unscissored individuality. “Chang is still the toiling hermit,” said she. “Mother’s having hard work to get him even for dinner.” She turned to Roger. “You must come, this once, Chang,” pleaded she. In an undertone she added, “You owe it to me—to help me out.”
“There’s no resisting that,” said he, but he did not conceal his dissatisfaction.
Vanderkief’s jealousy would no longer permit him to be silent. He blurted out: “I don’t see why you annoy Mr.—Mr.——”
“Wade,” assisted Roger easily.