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While they stood talking about "the times are bad," Carl was spying upon Ruth, and the minute her current group wandered off to the davenport he made a dash at the tea-table and got there before Olive's brother, Philip Dunleavy, who was obviously manoeuvering like himself. Philip gave him a covert "Who are you, fellow?" glance, took a cake, and retired.
He knew that it had just occurred to her who he was. Their eyes exchanged understanding. "She does get things," he thought, and said, lightly: "Well, I honestly hate to take the money, Mr. Dunleavy, but I'm in a position to know that MacMonnies is a better flier to-day than Ericson is, be " "But see here " " because I happen to be Hawk Ericson."
"She don't," answered the mistress of the house, with dignity. "I t'ought she did n't; you don't know where she lives, do you?" "I don't," said Mrs. Dunleavy. "I don't know ayther; niver mind, I 'll find her; 't is a fine day, ma'am." Mrs. Dunleavy could hardly bear to let the stranger go away. She watched her far down the hill toward the bridge before she turned to go into the house.
She was introduced at Carl, she glanced him over, and passed him on to Olive Dunleavy, all in forty-five seconds. When Carl had recovered from a sensation of being a kitten drowned in a sack, he said agreeable things to Olive, and observed the situation in the drawing-room. Phil was marked out for Aunt Emma's favors; Mr.
He was lonely. He disliked Phil Dunleavy's sarcastic references. He wanted to run away. Ruth seemed to realize that Carl was shut out. Said she to Phil Dunleavy: "I wish you could have seen Mr. Ericson save my life last Sunday. I had an experience." "What was that?" asked the man whom Olive called "Georgie," joining the tea-table set.
He listened to Olive only by self-compulsion. It was minutes before he had the ability and the chance to say to Ruth: "Forgive me in the name of the Blue Bowl. Mr. Dunleavy was rather rude to me, and I've been just as rude and to you! And without his excuse. For he naturally would want to protect you from a wild aviator coming from Lord knows where." "You are forgiven. And Phil was rude.
At bruncheon Walter MacMonnies told to Florence Crewden his experiences in exploring Southern Greenland by aeroplane with the Schliess-Banning expedition. At bruncheon Bobby Winslow, now an interne, talked baseball with Carl. At bruncheon Phil Dunleavy regarded cynically all the people he did not know and played piquet in a corner with Ruth's father.
"Well, we does be having a hasty word now and then, ma'am," confessed Mrs. Dunleavy, "but ourselves is good neighbors this manny years. Whin a quarrel's about nothing betune friends, it don't count for much, so it don't." "Most quarrels is the same way," said the stranger, who did not like melons, but accepted a cup of hot tea.
I've done a little settlement work Dear me, I'm telling you too much about myself, O Man of Mystery! It isn't quite done, I'm afraid." "Please, Miss Winslow! In the name of the what was it Order of the Blue Bowl?" He was making a mental note that Olive's last name was Dunleavy. "Well, I've done some settlement work Did you ever do any, by any chance?"
Carl instantly disliked Philip Dunleavy, and was afraid of his latent sarcasm. Indeed, Carl felt more and more that beneath the friendliness with which he was greeted there was no real welcome as yet, save possibly on the part of Ruth. He was taken on trial. He was a Mr. Ericson, not any Mr. Ericson in particular. Ruth, while she poured tea, was laughing with a man and a girl.
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