“No, you did first rate,—only flatted a little when you struck that high G, made a dive at it as if you were afraid you would miss it,” was Miss Hansford’s response, and not all the praises she had received pleased Elithe half as much as her aunt’s commendation and the fact that she had left her own church on purpose to hear her sing.
After this they spoke of Jack Percy, Miss Hansford narrating a good many incidents of his boyhood which she had treasured against him. Elithe had heard some of them before, but now, with his presence in the town and his abuse of Paul, they assumed a new interest, and while struggling with the plagues of Egypt later in her room thoughts of Jack Percy kept recurring to her mind with great persistence, and he became frightfully mixed with Moses and Aaron and other actors in that far-off drama. If she succeeded in driving Jack from her mind other distracting thoughts crept in. Sails on the water, skating in the rink, games in the tennis court, and, worst of all, that waltz by moonlight when Paul Ralston’s arm was around her. That bothered her the most.
“It’s the evil one himself tempting me,” she thought, and said aloud with a jerk of her shoulder, “Get thee behind me, Satan.”
But he kept himself in the foreground until she had nearly waded through the plagues. Then she heard Paul speaking to the young men on the steps, and, glancing from her window, saw him as he passed under it.
“Ahem,” she said involuntarily, and, looking up, Paul saw her and touched his hat. “You weren’t in church to hear me sing. Auntie was there, and says I flatted on high G. I told you I couldn’t strike it square.”
Paul was not in a mood for joking, but he could not resist the bright face confronting him, and he answered laughingly, “I don’t believe you flatted. Your auntie is a little deaf. I’m sure you sang beautifully. Am sorry I could not hear you.”
“So am I, but more sorry for the trouble which kept you away. We are all so indignant. It was too bad about your solo. Ever so many were there to hear it. Poor old Mr. Turner took it and quavered and floundered and finally broke down. It was too funny for anything. Mr. Percy was there, too, they say. Couldn’t have liked my solo very well. Got up to go out, but the sexton frowned him back. I had just a glimpse of the wretch.”
She might have talked longer if Paul had not cut her short by saying, “He is a wretch, and I am looking for him, so excuse me if I do not stop any longer. I don’t believe you flatted on that G.”
He laughed, touched his hat again and hurried on, while Elithe resumed her reading. It was very close and warm in her room, and when she had Pharaoh and his 600 chosen chariots ready to pursue after the children of Israel she let down her window from the top and leaned far out to get a breath of fresh air. It was light enough to see objects distinctly, and at a distance of a dozen rods or more she saw Paul Ralston standing with his face turned partly from her and towards a thick clump of shrubbery which lay in the shadow. What was he doing there, and why had he come back so soon? she wondered, and was about to call and ask him if he had found Jack, when she saw him take something from his side pocket and examine it. What it was she could not tell, except that it was bright like silver. Just then there was a stir in the undergrowth of shrubbery, and a sound like some animal running. Before she had time for further thought the object in Paul’s hand was lowered to nearly a level with the ground. There was a flash, a report, and a loud cry of pain from the clump of oaks, which were violently agitated as if shaken by some one in mortal agony; then all was still. For a moment Elithe stood frozen with horror, and saw Paul throw the weapon from him and hurry into the woods.
“Oh, Auntie! Mr. Ralston has shot some one!” she cried, running down the stairs and out to where the group, which had been sitting on the steps, were now standing upon the grass and looking to see where the shot came from.