PAGE 7
Holding Hands
by
Her position was one of extreme difficulty and delicacy. Sometimes Mister Masters came near her of his own accord, and remained in bashful silence; but more often she was obliged to have recourse to “accidents” in order to bring about propinquity. And even when propinquity had been established there was never any progress made that could be favorably noted. Behind her back, for instance, when she was playing tennis and he was looking on, he was quite bold in his admiration of her. And whereas most people’s eyes when they are watching tennis follow the flight of the ball, Mister Masters’s faithful eyes never left the person of his favorite player.
One reason for his awful bashfulness and silence was that certain people, who seemed to know, had told him in the very beginning that it was only a question of time before little Miss Blythe would become Mrs. Bob Blagdon. “She’s always been fond of him,” they said, “and of course he can give her everything worth having.” So when he was with her he felt as if he was with an engaged girl, and his real feelings not being proper to express in any way under such circumstances, and his nature being single and without deceit, he was put in a quandary that defied solution.
But what was hidden from Mister Masters was presently obvious to Mr. Blagdon and to others. So the spider, sleepily watching the automatic enmeshment of the fly, may spring into alert and formidable action at seeing a powerful beetle blunder into the web and threaten by his stupid, aimless struggles to set the fly at liberty and to destroy the whole fabric spun with care and toil.
To a man in love there is no redder danger signal than a sight of the object of his affections standing or sitting contentedly with another man and neither of them saying as much as “Boo” to the other. He may, with more equanimity, regard and countenance a genuine flirtation, full of laughter and eye-making. The first time Mr. Blagdon saw them together he thought; the second time he felt; the third time he came forward graciously smiling. The web might be in danger from the beetle; the fly at the point of kicking up her heels and flying gayly away; but it may be in the power of the spider to spin enough fresh threads on the spur of the moment to rebind the fly, and even to make prisoner the doughty beetle.
“Don’t you ride, Mister Masters?” said Mr. Blagdon.
“Of course,” said the shy one, blushing. “But I’m not to do anything violent before June.”
“Sorry,” said Mr. Blagdon, “because I’ve a string of ponies that are eating their heads off. I’d be delighted to mount you.”
But Mister Masters smiled with unusual crookedness and stammered his thanks and his regrets. And so that thread came to nothing.
The spider attempted three more threads; but little Miss Blythe looked serenely up.
“I never saw such a fellow as you, Bob,” said she, “for putting other people under obligations. When I think of the weight of my personal ones I shudder.” She smiled innocently and looked up into his face. “When people can’t pay their debts they have to go through bankruptcy, don’t they? And then their debts all have to be forgiven.”
Mr. Blagdon felt as if an icy cold hand had been suddenly laid upon the most sensitive part of his back; but his expression underwent no change. His slow eyes continued to look into the beautiful, brightly colored face that was turned up to him.
“Very honorable bankrupts,” said he carelessly, “always pay what they can on the dollar.”
Presently he strolled away, easy and nonchalant; but inwardly he carried a load of dread and he saw clearly that he must learn where he stood with little Miss Blythe, or not know the feeling of easiness from one day to the next. Better, he thought, to be the recipient of a painful and undeserved ultimatum, than to breakfast, lunch, and dine with uncertainty.