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"I say, Ned, this is beginning to grow wearisome," drawled Randy Moore as he tipped his chair against the wall, and crossed his feet on the low railing in front of him. "Clay promised to be here half an hour ago," he went on in an injured tone, "and if he doesn't come in a few minutes I'm going to have a spin on the river. It's aggravating to sit here and do nothing.
"It is rather tremendous, don't you think?" Archibald nodded. "In a quiet way it thrills. He hasn't used a word too much. But he carries one with him to a sort of upper sky " Becky, flushing and paling with the thought of such praise as this for Randy, said, "I always thought he could do it." But even she had not known that Randy could do what he did in the second part of the story.
There were other things that he thought of of Randy, in khaki on the station platform; Randy, lean and tall among the boarders; Randy, left behind with Kemp in the rain; Randy, debonair and insolent, announcing his engagement on the terrace at Hamilton Hill; Randy, a shadow against a silver sky, answering Becky's call; Randy, in the dark by the fountain, with muscles like iron, forcing him inevitably back, lifting him above the basin, letting him drop ; Randy, the Conqueror, marching away with Becky's fan as his trophy !
Becky was not in the house. "I saw her go down to the beach," Jane told them. "In what direction?" Randy asked; "I'll go after her." "She sometimes sits back of the blue boat," said Jane, "when there's a wind. But if you don't find her, Mr. Paine, she'll be back in time for supper. I told her not to be late. I am having raised rolls and broiled fish, and Mr. and Miss Cope are coming."
The remarkable sight of Aunt Prudence kissing Randy made a great impression upon Prue. "If I goed to Boston, Aunt Prudence, would you kiss me when I comed back?" she asked. "Why bless ye, Prue, I'll kiss ye now, 'thout yer havin' ter go away," and she did, much to Prue's delight.
And there had been no doubt of her interest in Dalton before her aunt had gone away. Randy, coming often now to Huntersfield, had his heart torn for his beloved. No one except himself knew what had happened, and the knowledge stirred him profoundly. He held that burning torches and a stake were none too good for Dalton.
In the old days Mary had been a gay little thing, with an impertinent tongue. She was not gay now. She was a Madonna, tender-eyed, brooding over her child. "She has changed a lot," Randy said, as they drove on. "Why shouldn't she change?" Becky demanded. "Wouldn't any woman change if she had loved a man and had let him go to France?"
We must wait patiently and see what happens." "I can't understand that warning Nugget and I received," added Clay. "I hope the man will keep his word and help us out of this scrape." "I wouldn't count on that," replied Ned; "and yet there may be more in it than we suppose." "Hush!" whispered Randy with his eyes to the crevice. "Here comes the tramp." Moxley rose and approached the closet.
Clay and Nugget had by this time paddled out in their canoes to witness operations, and the little group on the shore were waiting in breathless silence. Randy was prepared now, and suddenly he mounted the broad stern seat, and stood on the outer edge. An audible murmur came from the shore, and Daddy Perkiss mumbled shrilly: "They're right over the middle of the Hole."
"I am not going to be fool enough to marry her," he told himself, angrily, yet knew that if he played the game with Becky there could be no other end to it. Randy said, quite naturally, that Becky was going away. To Nantucket. He asked if George had been there. "Once, on Waterman's yacht. It's quaint but a bit spoiled by summer people " "Becky doesn't know the summer people.
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