“I'm so glad to see you, Mr. Holway,” she said. “I was lonely. It was nice of you to come.”
She was pale, and the dark circles under her eyes were more apparent than ever, but the eyes themselves were shining brightly. She was gay and, for her, extremely vivacious. Mr. Holway looked gratified and happy. Captain Dan looked astonished and bewildered.
CHAPTER XII
The bewilderment and astonishment remained with the captain for some time, just as his daughter's apparent light heartedness remained with her. Holway's call was longer than usual, lasting until Serena, escorted by Mr. Hungerford, returned from Mrs. Black's, where they had been discussing the all-important election. Hungerford and his friend greeted each other with a marked lack of warmth; in fact, they scarcely spoke. Serena was too tired to talk, but Gertrude talked enough for all. She chatted and laughed with almost feverish gaiety until the caller, after many false starts and with evident reluctance, finally tore himself away. Then her manner changed, she was silent and thoughtful and, soon afterward, said goodnight and went up to her room.
Captain Dan forebore to trouble his wife with the news of the telegram announcing John Doane's departure for the West, and the reception of that news by Gertrude. After hearing Serena's complaints of her “nerves” and weariness, he decided that there was trouble sufficient for that night. But the next morning he spoke of it. Serena was surprised, of course, and worried likewise.
“You're right, Daniel,” she said, “I am afraid you're right. She and John must have had some disagreement. I suppose it is only a lover's quarrel—young engaged people are always having foolish quarrels—and they always get over them and make up again. But, oh, dear! why did they quarrel just now? Haven't I got enough on my mind without fretting about them? Well, I'll talk to Gertie this very forenoon.”
She did, but the talk was unsatisfactory. When Daniel, waiting anxiously to learn what had taken place, questioned her she shook her head.
“I can't make Gertie out,” she declared pettishly. “She acts so queer. Doesn't want to talk about John at all. Says it is all right, and why should I worry if she doesn't? And she is so different, somehow. She was willing enough to discuss my chances for the vice-presidency. She asked twenty questions about that and declares she is going to help me. And yesterday, when I wanted her to help, she didn't take any interest. I never saw such a change. And she is so—so fidgety and—and nervous and high-spirited and silly. She laughed at nothing and kept jumping up and walking about and sitting down again. I declare! it made ME jumpy just to look at her.”
Gertrude's conduct was certainly surprising. It caused Captain Dan to feel “jumpy” more than once. Her determination to help her mother in the campaign she put into immediate practice. She called Cousin Percy into council, borrowed Serena's list of Chapter members, and the pair spent hours checking that list together. Then Gertrude announced that she was going to make some calls. She made them and returned, exultant.