And before Edna, who did not fancy being thrust upon Roy whether he would have her or not, could interfere, Mrs. Churchill had asked her son why he did not take Miss Overton for a drive, and he had expressed himself as delighted to do so. They were not gone long, for Roy had some matters to attend to before dinner, which was that day to be served at two, but during a tête-à-tête of an hour a young man and woman can learn a great deal of each other, and Roy’s verdict with regard to Miss Overton, as he handed her out of his phaeton, was “A very bright, fascinating girl, with something about her which interests me strangely;” while Edna would not allow herself to put into words what she thought of him. He was something, as she had judged him to be from his letters, though better, she thought, and, as many a person had done before her, she wondered that he had lived to the age of thirty without being married. She did not now believe implicitly in his eventually making Miss Burton his wife. He could not be happy with her, she thought,—they were so dissimilar; and she unconsciously found herself extracting comfort from that fact, though she ascribed her motive wholly to the friendly interest she felt in Roy, and as she dressed herself for dinner, she warbled a part of an old love tune she had not sung since the days when Charlie Churchill used to stop by the Seminary gate to listen to her singing.
“I am nothing but a hired companion, a ‘school marm,’ as that prig of a Jim Gardner said of me when he first came home from Germany, and of course these grand people from Oakwood have a similar opinion of me. I saw it in that Miss Shawe’s eyes, and so it is not much matter how I dress. Still I want to look as well as I can,” she said, as she stood before the glass arranging her hair and wondering what she should wear. “Maude says there is everything in one’s looks when playing croquet,” she continued, “and perhaps she is right. I’ll wear my white pique, with the little blue jacket.”
She could not have chosen a more becoming costume, for the jacket was of that peculiar shade of blue which set off, her fair complexion to the best advantage, and made her so pretty that Mrs. Churchill, blind as she was, remarked upon her dress when she came in to dinner, while Roy said she was like a bit of blue sky in June.
“You remember your engagement to play with me, of course,” he continued; and when Edna suggested that she might be a detriment rather than a help to his side, he replied, “I want the best-looking ones at any rate, so that I can boast of beauty if not of skill. You and Miss Burton will go nicely together.”
Edna did not relish her dinner quite as well after that speech, which showed that Roy claimed Miss Burton as something which by right belonged to him, and much as she despised herself for it, she knew, that, inwardly, she had a feeling of relief when the party from Oakwood arrived, and reported Georgie as too sick to come with them. Roy said he was very sorry, and looked as if he meant it, and asked some questions about her as he led the way to the lawn where everything was ready. Maude, who was resplendent in white muslin, scarlet sash, and tall gaiters, seized at once upon Edna, and, drawing her aside, whispered to her of her happiness.
“He told me of his love for you, too, and I did not like him one bit the less. He couldn’t help loving you, of course, when he saw you so helpless and alone. He is a splendid fellow, isn’t he? Most as good-looking as Roy, and he is going to quit tobacco, and fit my room all up with blue, and we are to be married sometime next year if he is prosperous, and I won’t have to teach the hot, sweating children any more. Oh, I am so happy. There he comes now. Hasn’t he such a good face?”
And Maude beamed all over with delight as Jack came up and joined them, his eyes kindling, and growing very soft and tender, as Edna offered him her congratulations, and told him how glad she was.
“I knew you would be,” he said. “Knew Maude would suit you better than any one else; and Edna, please remember that our home is yours also whenever you choose to make it so. Maude and I agreed upon that this morning.”
They had reached the lawn by this time, and the ladies from New York were handling the mallets daintily, and decrying their own skill, and saying the side which claimed them was sure to lose.
“Then I run no risk,” Roy said, laughingly; “and choose Miss Overton.”