Lydia, who was sitting with Kent, eyed this grouping with interest, and mingled with a little sense of shock and disapproval was just the least little feeling of regret that the boys didn't feel "crazy" about her. She was sitting bolt upright, with her cheeks flaming a little when she felt Kent's arm stealing round her. She did not resist when he pulled her softly against him. She was utterly surprised at the pleasurable sensation she experienced at having Kent's arm about her. The others were singing but for once Lydia's throaty contralto did not join in.
So this was spooning! Of course, she wouldn't let anybody but Kent do this. And what did it amount to, anyhow! If this was all there was to spooning, why did people think it was wrong?
Under cover of the singing, Kent giving her a little squeeze said, "Didn't think you were such a flirt, Lydia! Let me put my head in your lap, will you?"
"All right," said Lydia nonchalantly. And presently she was smoothing Kent's hair, and he was holding her unoccupied hand. It was the same crisp black hair Lydia had pulled in many a childish quarrel and Kent had held her hands many a time to keep her from slapping his face. And yet there was a thrill about this!
Kent evidently called this flirting. Flirting! Lydia began going back over the conversation with Kent that the eavesdropping episode had crowded from her thoughts. Kent didn't respect girls that flirted and he told her he'd slap her if she flirted and yet, here he was! Lydia went on smoothing the crisp hair, with the thin hand that had the callouses of hard work across the palm.
The others were singing one of Lydia's favorite airs and she joined in.
"The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine."
She sang the words unthinkingly—and stopped. John Levine was helping her in her search for God, and robbing and betraying the Indians as he did so! And here was Kent, warning her against doing that which he was persuading her to do. What was the matter with men! Was there no trusting them? And yet, she liked to "spoon" with Kent!
"Oh," she thought, "I wish I knew more about men. I wish I could ask
Mother."
And memory, like a gentle alarm clock rang its warning. "Lydia," her father had said, "don't do anything you'd be ashamed to have your mother know."