Under the Law

by Edwina Stanton Babcock

"You mustn't mistake," she said with almost womanly kindness. "Shan't we sit here and talk instead of dancing? I'd like," Sard spoke with her curious motherly little air of concern, "I'd like to know precisely what you meant by that last speech. You mustn't say things like that, you know, it's not done. If you apologize, I can explain to you about Colter, but not unless," said Sard with girlish dignity, "not unless."

Then Troop, the product of unlimited wealth, unlimited license, turned and showed his true blood. All his essential commonness, his cheap values and squalid assumptions leaped to life. Sard looked with the loathing of her true aristocracy of the spirit on the shoddy training of this boy, who had the assurance and ease of a young prince.

"I wasn't born yesterday," Tawny insisted spitefully; the sensuous lines from his nose down to his lip deepened. "What I saw on the Hackensack was enough for me," said Tawny. "My faith! what a girl will do nowadays! Of course—Cinny," he laughed viciously, "but Minga Gerould, who could go anywhere!"

Sard almost giggled; the words gave Tawny away. Young Troop thought still of "going to" places other people were born to. The girl, instinctively disliking him, yet instinctively parleyed with him. Sard, alive to her world, to the quick back-action of the Minga group, thought she could see Gertrude's hand in this. That young person who schemed, who desired things, who had unknown to Minga invited Tawny to the house and to the Hackensack picnic and to this ball. Gertrude was a young person who desired things. Gertrude knew the history of the famous Troop engagement ring and saw no reason why she should not add it to the golden snake collection. Also, there had undoubtedly been aspects of the day on the Hackensack that Gertrude must turn to other than their rightful conclusions. Sard remembered the shrill screaming, the maudlin sounds of gayety; she had questioned Dunstan, who had flushed and turned away growling. "Well,—we didn't find any pearls, that's all; no, I'll say we didn't find any pearls," this with saturnine inflection. Sard sat looking at the opposite river shore strung with blue-gold lights, fruited like long lines of orchards. Suddenly the girl saw the world as in the old days court ladies must have seen it, wanting to cry and bite out their little tongues or the little tongues of other women. The spiteful small messes of intrigue, the contemptible inference and origins of personal slander.

"As far as I can see," came Tawny's drawling, slightly nasal tones, "the girl was off with your hired man chasing around those swamps; why she wanted to jump into a bog with him I don't know, or was it to get away from him? Any old boy would have done, I dare say." Tawny laughed his cracked, old man's laugh. "Of course, you all covered the thing up pretty well. She's vamping that lawyer now! Well, I must say she likes 'em old."

Sard, utterly generous, utterly untainted of mind, could hardly take this fellow in. She leaned forward anxiously. "You mean," she said gravely, "oh, what are you trying to say?"

Young Troop had risen; something craven in him made him aware that it might not be best to stay and face such real emotion. Anger in Sard might be a difficult thing to laugh off. He admired her while he feared her. Now a breezy, heated throng spilled out of the long doors onto the piazza; the girls perched upon the rails and let the river breeze cool their hot faces, while the boys leaned against pillars, hands in pockets, getting off the time-honored persiflage of the young dancing swain. Tawny saw Gertrude, in black net, still entwined by the golden serpents and with a green jade circlet round her dark hair. The great dramatic eyes summoned him. "Thanks, awfully much," he drawled in the silly parlance of the "star" dancer. "I'll say I enjoyed it; that was some little fox trot, what?" Tawny was edging away when Sard Bogart, with a curious gesture of command, stopped him.

"You mustn't think you—you can go on with this sort of thing," the girl said in a low voice. "That inference of yours stops right here; no matter what there is between you and Minga—you—you can't go on saying things." The now rather dismayed Tawny found himself once more against the Bogart directness, and squirmed uncomfortably.

"Oh, forget it—I've 'destroyed the papers,'" he quoted with dramatic raillery. "Minga won't get shown up by me." Again Gertrude looking over her partner's shoulder summoned him.

"Say, but isn't Gert a looker?" breathed Tawny. "I guess she wants to be rushed next dance, things getting a little slow for Gert; I promised to look up a new crowd of cut-ins for her; well, so long!" Tawny bowed with a curious half cross-eyed look of sneaking amusement. His eyes were smouldering with a caddish kind of excitement; he could afford to be good humored.