CHAPTER III
Extravagantly brilliant the sun popped up out of the east--not anunusual occurrence--and stared unblinkingly down upon a country road.There were the usual twittering birds and dew-spangled trees and noddingwild-flowers; also a dust that was shoe-top deep. The dawny air stirredlazily and rustling leaves sent long, sinuous shadows scampering backand forth.
Looking upon it all without enthusiasm or poetic exaltation was aGirl--a pretty Girl--a very pretty Girl. She sat on a stone beside theyellow roadway, a picture of weariness. A rough burlap sack, ladenheavily, yet economically as to space, wallowed in the dust beside her.Her hair was tawny gold, and rebellious strands drooped listlessly abouther face. A beribboned sombrero lay in her lap, supplementing a certainair of dilapidated bravado, due in part to a short skirt, heavy glovesand boots, a belt with a knife and revolver.
A robin, perched impertinently on a stump across the road, examined herat his leisure. She stared back at Signor Redbreast, and for thisrecognition he warbled a little song.
"I've a good mind to cry!" exclaimed the Girl suddenly.
Shamed and startled, the robin flew away. A mistiness came into theGirl's blue eyes and lingered there a moment, then her white teethclosed tightly and the glimmer of outraged emotion passed.
"Oh," she sighed again, "I'm so tired and hungry and I just know I'llnever get anywhere at all!"
But despite the expressed conviction she arose and straightened up as ifto resume her journey, turning to stare down at the bag. It was anunsightly symbol of blasted hopes, man's perfidy, crushed aspirationsand--Heaven only knows what besides.
"I've a good mind to leave you right there," she remarked to the bagspitefully. "Perhaps I might hide it." She considered the question. "No,that wouldn't do. I must take it with me--and--and--Oh, Dick! Dick!What in the world was the matter with you, anyway?"
Then she sat down again and wept. The robin crept back to look andmodestly hid behind a leaf. From this coign of vantage he watched her asshe again arose and plodded off through the dust with the bag swingingover one shoulder. At last--there is an at last to everything--a smallhouse appeared from behind a clump of trees. The Girl looked withincredulous eyes. It was really a house. Really! A tiny curl of smokehovered over the chimney.
"Well, thank goodness, I'm somewhere, anyhow," she declared with herfirst show of enthusiasm. "I can get a cup of coffee or something."
She covered the next fifty yards with a new spring in her leaden heelsand with a new and firmer grip on the precious bag. Then--she stopped.
"Gracious!" and perplexed lines suddenly wrinkled her brow. "If I shouldgo in there with a pistol and a knife they'd think I was abrigand--or--or a thief, and I suppose I am," she added as she stoppedand rested the bag on the ground. "At least I have stolen goods in mypossession. Now, what shall I say if they ask questions? What am I?They wouldn't believe me if I told them really. Short skirt, boots andgloves: I know! I'm a bicyclist. My wheel broke down, and----"
Whereupon she gingerly removed the revolver from her belt and flung itinto the underbrush--not at all in the direction she had intended--andthe knife followed to keep it company. Having relieved herself of thesesinister things, she straightened her hat, pushed back the rebellioushair, yanked at her skirt, and walked bravely up to the little house.
An Angel lived there--an Angel in a dizzily beflowered wrapper and acrabbed exterior. She listened to a rapidly constructed and whollyinconsistent story of a bicycle accident, which ended with a plea for acup of coffee. Silently she proceeded to prepare it. After the pot wasbubbling cheerfully and eggs had been put on and biscuits thrust into astove to be warmed over, the Angel sat down at the table opposite theGirl.
"Book agent?" she asked.
"Oh, no!" replied the Girl.
"Sewing-machines?"
"No."
There was a pause as the Angel settled and poured a cup of coffee.
"Make to order, I s'pose?"
"No," the Girl replied uncertainly.
"What _do_ you sell?"
"Nothing, I--I----" She stopped.
"What you got in the bag?" the Angel persisted.
"Some--some--just some--stuff," stammered the Girl, and her facesuddenly flushed crimson.
"What kind of stuff?"
The Girl looked into the frankly inquisitive eyes and was overwhelmed bya sense of her own helplessness. Tears started, and one pearly drop randown her perfect nose and splashed in the coffee. That was the laststraw. She leaned forward suddenly with her head on her arms and wept.
"Please, please don't ask questions!" she pleaded. "I'm a poor, foolish,helpless, misguided, disillusioned woman!"
"Yes'm," said the Angel. She took up the eggs, then came over and put akindly arm about the Girl's shoulders. "There, there!" she saidsoothingly. "Don't take on like that! Drink some coffee, and eat a bite,and you'll feel better!"
"I have had no sleep at all and no food since yesterday, and I've walkedmiles and miles and miles," the Girl rushed on feverishly. "It's allbecause--because----" She stopped suddenly.
"Eat something," commanded the Angel.
The Girl obeyed. The coffee was weak and muddy and delightful; thebiscuits were yellow and lumpy and delicious; the eggs were eggs. TheAngel sat opposite and watched the Girl as she ate.
"Husband beat you?" she demanded suddenly.
The Girl blushed and choked.
"No," she hastened to say. "I have no husband."
"Well, there ain't no serious trouble in this world till you marry aman that beats you," said the Angel judicially. It was the final word.
The Girl didn't answer, and, in view of the fact that she had sufficientdata at hand to argue the point, this repression required heroism.Perhaps she will never get credit for it. She finished the breakfast insilence and leaned back with some measure of returning content in hersoul.
"In a hurry?" asked the Angel.
"No, I have no place to go. What is the nearest village or town?"
"Watertown, but you'd better stay and rest a while. You look alltuckered out."
"Oh, thank you so much," said the Girl gratefully. "But it would be somuch trouble for----"
The Angel picked up the burlap bag, shook it inquiringly, then startedtoward the short stairs leading up.
"Please, please!" exclaimed the Girl suddenly. "I--I--let me have that,please!"
The Angel relinquished the bag without a word. The Girl took it,tremblingly, then, suddenly dropping it, clasped the Angel in her armsand placed upon her unresponsive lips a kiss for which a mere man wouldhave endangered his immortal soul. The Angel wiped her mouth with theback of her hand and went on up the stairs with the Girl following.
For a time the Girl lay, with wet eyes, on a clean little bed, thinking.Humiliation, exhaustion, man's perfidy, disillusionment, and thekindness of an utter stranger all occupied her until she fell asleep.Then she was chased by a policeman with automobile lights for eyes, andthere was a parade of hard-boiled eggs and yellow, lumpy biscuits.
When she awoke the room was quite dark. She sat up a little bewilderedat first; then she remembered. After a moment she heard the voice of theAngel, below. It rippled on querulously; then she heard the gruff voiceof a man.
"Diamond rings?"
The Girl sat up in bed and listened intently. Involuntarily her handswere clasped together. Her rings were still safe. The Angel's voice wenton for a moment again.
"Something in a bag?" inquired the man.
Again the Angel spoke.
Terror seized upon the Girl; imagination ran riot, and she rose from thebed, trembling. She groped about the dark room noiselessly. Every shadowlent her new fears. Then from below came the sound of heavy footsteps.She listened fearfully. They came on toward the stairs, then paused. Amatch was struck and the step sounded on the stairs.
After a moment there was a knock at the door, a pause, then anotherknock. Finally the door was pushed open and a huge figure--the figure ofa man--appeared, sheltering a ca
ndle with one hand. He peered about theroom as if perplexed.
"Ain't nobody up here," he called gruffly down the stairs.
There was a sound of hurrying feet and the Angel entered, her facedistorted by the flickering candlelight.
"For the land's sakes!" she exclaimed.
"Went away without even saying thank you," grumbled the man. He crossedthe room and closed a window. "You ain't got no better sense than achicken," he told the Angel. "Take in anybody that comes."