“No, of course you don’t—but Edith does—you can just trust her for that. A girl always knows what a man ought to do—she can give him cards and spades and beat him every time.”
“Then why doesn’t she tell me what she wants? I asked her to, particularly.”
“Oh, no! She’ll tell you everything the opposite—that is, half the time. She’ll put every obstacle possible in your way, to see if you’re man enough to walk over ’em; that’s what she wants to find out; if you’re man enough to have your own way in spite of her; and, of course, if you aren’t, you’re an awful disappointment.”
“Are you sure?” said Mr. Wilson deeply, after an awestruck pause. “Half the time, you say. But how am I to find out when she means—I give you my word, Belmore, that I thought—I suppose I could have brought her a small present, anyway, in spite of what she said; a souvenir spoon—but she hates souvenir spoons.”
“You’ll have to cipher it out for yourself, old man,” said Mr. Belmore. “I don’t set out to interpret any woman’s moods. I only give you cold, bare facts. But if I were you,” he added impartially, “I’d go down after a while and try and get her alone, you know, and say something. You can, if you try.” A swish of skirts outside of the open door made Mr. Wilson jump forward as Mrs. Belmore came in sight with her friend. The latter had her arm around the older woman, and her form drooped toward her as they passed the two men. The eyes of the girl were red, and her lips had a patient quiver. Mr. Wilson gave an exclamation and sprang forward as she disappeared in the further room.
It was some hours later that the husband and wife met unexpectedly upon the stairs with a glad surprise.
“You don’t mean to say it’s you—alone!” he whispered.
“Wait—is she coming up?” They clutched each other spasmodically as they listened to the sound of a deflecting footstep. There was a breathless moment, and then the chords of a funeral march boomed forth upon the air. The loud pedal was doing its best to supplement those long and strenuous fingers.
The listeners breathed a sigh of relief.
“He’s gone to the station for a time table,” whispered the husband with a delighted grin: “though I can stand him all right. We had a nice walk with the little girls, after he got tired of playing hide and seek. I wished you were with us. You must be about used up. How are you getting along with her?”