“Then stop it right now; stop it; stop it!” And the old gentleman beat the road with his stick until the gravel flew.
“I’m not going to do anything of the kind,” said Zelda. “I’ll even tell you a secret,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I believe I’m in love with him! You’ll miss your car if you don’t hurry. If you had been good, I should have driven you in. Good-by.”
CHAPTER XXII
RODNEY MERRIAM EXPLAINS
Captain Frank Pollock was, as many people had said at different times and in divers places, a little fellow; but there was a good deal of decision in his make-up. He walked to Rodney Merriam’s house the next afternoon with an exaggeration of his usual alert dignity.
The Japanese boy said that Mr. Merriam was at home, and he took Pollock’s card and asked him to have a seat in the library. Pollock stood, however, in the middle of the room, with a general effect of parade rest, holding his hat and stick.
It is usually possible to tell, when you have rung a door-bell, just what happens after you have been announced. Some one looks at your card and smiles or frowns, or possibly mutters surprise, agreeable or otherwise. In the case of a woman, there must be an interval of self-inspection in the mirror,—an adjustment of ribbons, a stroke or two with comb and brush. In the case of a man, he may, if the demand upon him warrant it, smooth his hair, adjust his tie, and put aside his slippers and dressing-gown. And these things, if you are waiting below, you dramatize for yourself, just as though you had followed your card to its destination.
Rodney Merriam was lying on a wide couch in his upstairs sitting-room when Pollock’s card was brought to him. He held before him the London Times, a journal which he read through conscientiously every day; but he was not particularly interested in the Eastern question just now. He was brooding over Zelda’s affairs, which did not please him at all; and the prospect of making the rounds of eastern summer resorts with Mrs. Forrest did not cheer him by anticipation. When the boy appeared at the door, Merriam said, without looking up:
“If it’s Mr. Leighton, I’ll see him here.”
“No, sir; it’s another gentleman,” said the boy, producing Pollock’s card.
Merriam raised his head and read the card; he then took his pipe out of his mouth and sat up.