A Colony of Girls

by Kate Livingston Willard

"Miss Jean begs to be excused," she announced briefly, and disappeared into the darkened dining room beyond.

Farr drew a quick breath, and a frown contracted his brows. He could scarcely believe that he had heard aright. With a characteristic gesture, he pulled his cap down over his eyes and set his teeth. Miss Stuart remembered the trick of old. She watched him furtively, with a curious light in her eyes. Suddenly he recalled her existence, but when he looked at her she had already averted her gaze and was apparently quite unconscious that anything of importance had taken place.

She gave him a few moments in which to recover himself, and then addressed to him some passing observation on a subject quite alien to Hetherford or the Hetherford girls. Farr, animated by a strong desire to hide his pain and disappointment from every eye, braced himself and replied in a vein of lightness which satisfied her that she had been wise in the course which she had adopted. They drifted quite naturally into conventional small-talk, and every moment he gained more assurance and ease. He was positively grateful for Miss Stuart's presence, for it afforded him a refuge from intercourse with those simple-hearted Hetherford girls, which he felt would, just now, be very disastrous to his self-control. No thought of danger assailed him. He believed Miss Stuart's sentiment for him to be quite dead; and as for himself he had so completely outlived every trace of his boyish passion as to have even lost all feeling of resentment against her. He congratulated himself with true masculine density that he had probed the depths of Miss Stuart's nature, and could never be outwitted by her again. Some day, if things went well with him, he meant to tell Jean all about that affair; in fact, he would have done so Monday evening, had he not felt that it would scarcely be in good taste to discuss the subject with Miss Stuart almost within ear-shot. In the meantime it did not distress him in the least to defer the telling of the story; for Jean, of course, knew nothing whatever of the matter, and it was extremely improbable that Miss Stuart would ever take the pains to enlighten her. In justice to Farr it should be said that he had completely forgotten the incident of the shrubbery which had meant so much to Jean, and he was not aware of the words that she had overheard, and of the construction that she had not unnaturally put upon them.

And all this while poor little Jean lay on the sofa, in her darkened room, sobbing as if her heart would break. She had waited so patiently on Tuesday, hoping against hope that he would come and explain everything to her. For, of course, there was something to explain, else why had he so distinctly avoided all mention of Miss Stuart, even when she had asked him if he knew her?

"He has a right to his past," she said to herself, with quivering lips; "but, oh! if they were such old friends, if she calls him Val, if he remembers one evening with her even to the color of her gown, he might—oh! he might have remembered to speak of her to me."

The more she thought it over the greater seemed the proofs of his deception. If he and Miss Stuart had been old friends and nothing more, it would have been his natural impulse to speak of his surprise and pleasure at meeting her at the manor. He had failed to do so, and, with despair in her heart, Jean told herself that he must have had some strong reason for his silence.

Tuesday wore away, and still no word had come from him. She determined not to let Miss Stuart see how unhappy she was, so kept about with the others, and entered into all their plans with forced gayety. When half-past nine struck on Wednesday evening, she gave up all hope of seeing him, for they were very informal in Hetherford, and kept early hours. She went up to her room, and as she slipped on her wrapper, she fell to crying, and when Susie knocked and announced Farr, she was too disfigured by her tears to think of going down. The disappointment was very keen.

"Please excuse me, Susie," she called through the closed door. "I am sorry, but I am lying down."

As she heard the maid's retreating step she would fain have recalled her, and sent some other message, but it was too late.

The next day, on the decks of the Sylph, Farr and Jean met for the first time since Monday. Jean came aboard fully resolved to tender an apology for having excused herself on the previous evening. She had never lacked self-confidence before, but to-day she could scarcely pluck up courage to speak to him. Timidly she made her first friendly overtures, only to be met with an unmistakable rebuff. Farr answered the questions she put to him, but with a studied indifference which made her cheeks tingle; to make matters worse he presently sauntered off from the group of which Jean made one, and joined Miss Stuart, who was seated a short distance away. Jean's face grew hard as she stifled the sob which rose in her throat, and she registered a vow that never again would she give him an opportunity to treat her so slightingly. It was unmanly and unmannerly, and she had done with him forever. She did not flinch from the path she laid out for herself, and so successfully did she play the part that Dick and Mollie, walking home in the cool of the evening, declared that it was like the good old days to have Jean so jolly and full of fun.