The Getting of Wisdom

by Henry Handel Richardson

But no such luck was hers. "Look out, there's Bob," nudged Tilly almost at once.

Alas! there was no question of his waiting longingly for her to appear. He was walking with two ladies, and laughing and talking. He raised his hat to his cousin and her friend, but did not disengage himself, and passing them by disappeared in the throng.

Behind her hand Tilly buzzed: "One of those Woodwards is awfully sweet on him. I bet he can't get loose."

This was a drop of comfort. But as, at the next encounter, he still did not offer to join them—could it, indeed, be expected that he would prefer her company to that of the pretty, grown-up girls he was with?—as he again sidled past, Tilly, who had given him one of her most vivacious sparkles, turned and shot a glance at Laura's face.

"For pity's sake, look a little more amiable, or he won't come at all."

Laura felt more like crying; her sunshine was intercepted, her good spirits were quenched; had she had her will, she would have turned tail and gone straight back to school. She had not wanted Bob, had never asked him to be 'gone' on her, and if she had now to fish for him, into the bargain...However there was no help for it; the thing had to be gone through with; and, since Tilly seemed disposed to lay the blame of his lukewarmness at her door, Laura glued her mouth, the next time Bob hove in sight, into a feeble smile.

Soon afterwards he came up to them. His cousin had an arch greeting in readiness.

"Well, you've been doing a pretty mash, you have!" she cried, and jogged him with her elbow. "No wonder you'd no eyes for poor us. What price Miss Woodward's gloves this morning!"—at which Bob laughed, looked sly, and tapped his breast pocket.

It was time to be moving homewards. Tilly and her beau led the way. "For we know you two would rather be alone. Now, Bob, not too many sheep's-eyes, please!"

Bob smiled, and let fly a wicked glance at Laura from under his dark lashes. Dropping behind, they began to mount the hill. Now was the moment, felt Laura, to say something very witty, or pert, or clever; and a little pulse in her throat beat hard, as she furiously racked her brains. Oh, for just a morsel of Tilly's loose-tonguedness! One after the other she considered and dismissed: the pleasant coolness of the morning, the crowded condition of the street, even the fact of the next day being Sunday—ears and cheeks on fire, meanwhile, at her own slow-wittedness. And Bob smiled. She almost hated him for that smile. It was so assured, and withal so disturbing. Seen close at hand his teeth were whiter, his eyes browner than she had believed. His upper lip, too, was quite dark; and he fingered it incessantly, as he waited for her to make the onslaught.