Lulu was at the other end of the table from Elmer. He was rather relieved. He despised Frank’s weakness, but he was never, as with Eddie Fislinger, sure what Frank would do or say, and he determined to be cautious. Once or twice he glanced at Lulu intimately, but he kept all his conversation (which, for Lulu’s admiration, he tried to make learned yet virile) for Mr. Bains and the other deacons.
“There!” he reflected. “Now Shallard, the damned fool, ought to see that I’m not trying to grab off the kid. . . . If he makes any breaks about ‘what are my intentions’ to her, I’ll just be astonished, and get Mr. Frank Shallard in bad, curse him and his dirty sneaking suspicions!”
But: “God, I’ve got to have her!” said all the tumultuous smoky beings in the lowest layer of his mind, and he answered them only with an apprehensive, “Watch out! Be careful! Dean Trosper would bust you! Old Bains would grab his shotgun. . . . Be careful! . . . Wait!”
Not till an hour after supper, when the others were bending over the corn-popper, did he have the chance to whisper to her:
“Don’t trust Shallard! Pretends to be a friend of mine—couldn’t trust him with a plugged nickel! Got to tell you about him. Got to! Listen! Slip down after the others go up t’ bed. I’ll be down here. Must!”
“Oh, I can’t! Cousin Adeline Baldwin is sleeping with me.”
“Well! Pretend to get ready to go to bed—start and do your hair or something—and then come down to see if the fire is all right. Will you?”
“Maybe.”
“You must! Please! Dear!”
“Maybe. But I can’t stay but just a second.”