He looked up when I closed
and locked the pantry door.
"I've just been thinking," he remarked, "here we are--a group of
people--all struggling like mad for one thing, but with different
motives. Mine are plain enough and mercenary enough, although a certain
red-haired girl with a fine loyalty to an old doctor and a sanatorium
is carrying me along with her enthusiasm. And Van Alstyne's motives
are clear enough--and selfish. Carter is merely trying to save his own
skin--but a girl like Miss Pat--Miss Jennings!"
"There's nothing uncertain about what she wants, or wrong either," I
retorted. "She's right enough. The family can't stand a scandal just now
with her wedding so close."
He smiled and got up, emptying his pipe.
"Nevertheless, oh, Minnie, of the glowing hair and heart," he said,
"Miss Jennings has disappointed me. You see, I believe in marrying for
love."
"Love!" I was disgusted. "Don't talk to me about love! Love is the sort
of thing that makes two silly idiots run away and get married and live
in a shelter-house, upsetting everybody's plans, while their betters
have to worry themselves sick and carry them victuals."
He got up and began to walk up and down the spring-house, scowling at
the floor.
"Of course," he agreed, "he may be a decent sort, and she may really
want him."
"Of course she does!" I said. He stopped short. "I've been wanting a
set of red puffs for three years, and I can hardly walk past Mrs. Yost's
window down in the village.
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