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It was fast coming nightfall! Brave as they were the scouts worried more about the home folks than they did at their own predicament. "If I could only let mama know!" sighed Julia with a melancholy look at the only things moving, and they were merely sunset clouds. "Never give up," counselled Mae. "We are in no danger, at least that is something."
Take care of yourself, and there!" And taking the crushed note between his two hands, he deliberately tore it asunder and threw the halves on the table before her. "And there, and there, and there!" cried Mae, tearing the fragments impetuously, and scattering the sudden little snow flakes before him. Then, with a look of supreme contempt, she left the room.
"Aw, Miss Mae, can't you get yourself in a humor? What's the matter with you and me going to a movie this afternoon, eh?" "Movie! The way every damn thing gets on my nerves, I'd be a hit at a movie, wouldn't I? I'd be a hit anywheres!" "I tell you, Miss Mae, all this worry ain't going to get you nowheres. He'll come around again all right if you only give him time.
"Because, because, yes, I will tell you," said Mae, remembering her wrongs, and suddenly moved by the sympathy and softness of the great eyes above her, "because they think I am home ill, and here I am, you see," and she laughed a little hurriedly, "besides, I go away with Lisetta to-morrow morning, hush, let no one hear, to Sorrento. You must never, never tell. How do I look?
"Even so, a camper couldn't move the Blowell more than we can," said Eugenia. "Our only hope is a tow," reflected Mae, "and I don't see a launch, and no launch could ever see us in this pocket." "I'm so sorry I suggested the islands," said Grace contritely. "Of course, I'm a very green sailor." "Not your fault in the least," Eugenia assured. "We should have known better."
Now and then some late wayfarer passed under the light at the corner, but Mae had, on the whole, a desolate outlook high, dark buildings opposite, and black clouds above, with only here and there a star peeping through. She had taken down her long hair, thrown off her dress, and half wrapped herself in a shawl, out of which her bare arms stretched as she leaned on the deep window seat.
Mae heard indistinctly the sweep of trailing skirts, the sound of footsteps on the marble floor, the noise of voices as the people went away, but still she did not move. The selah pause had come after the psalm. When she did rise, and turn, and start to go, her eyes fell on the kneeling form. She tried to pass quickly without recognition, but he reached out his hand.
He looks to me like that artist Edgar Poe, if Poe had been obliged to make millions laugh. I do not like Chaplin's work, but I have to admit the good intentions and the enviable laurels. Let all the Art Museums invite him in, as tentative adviser, if not a chastened performer. Let him be given as good a chance as Mae Marsh was given by Eggers in Fullerton Hall.
"Since the fall of the House of Sybarite?" "Yes. I didn't know you were in New York, even." "Your mother and Mae Alys knew it but kept it quiet, the same as me," said the little man. "But well what have you been doing, then?" "Going to and fro like a raging lion more or less seeking what I might devour." "And the devourings have been good, eh? You're high-spirited enough."
"Not back there," as Norman drew her hand through his arm and started for the hut, "O no, not even for a minute." "Sit here then," he replied quietly, "while I arrange it with the woman," and he walked quickly away. Mae watched him till he entered the low doorway, in a sort of subdued, glorified happiness, that would break out over her shame and fear.
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