CHAPTER V.
QUIMBY BURSTS FORTH IN ELOQUENCE.
"That young lady over there acts very strangely. She is not crazy, isshe?" inquired a gentleman who stood leaning against the counter overthe way, and looking across at Nattie.
"I don't know what to make of her," the previously mentioned clerk, towhom this question was addressed, answered, "I have been observing herfor some weeks; she sits half the time as you see her now, laughing toherself and gesticulating. Sometimes she will lean back in her chair andabsolutely shake with laughter, and she smiles at vacancy continually.She seems all right enough with the ex-ception of these vagaries. Butshe is a perfect conundrum to me."
"A bit luny, I think," said the gentleman, who had asked the question.
Just then, Nattie, who, of course, was talking to "C," and telling himabout that sketch--with the slight reservation of the Cupid,--happenedto look up, with her gaze seventy miles away; but becoming aware of thecurious stares of the two gentlemen opposite, her vision shorteneditself to near objects, and rightly surmising from their looks the tenorof their thoughts, she colored, and straightway turned her back, at thesame time informing "C" of what she termed their impertinence. But "C"answered, with a laugh,
"It cannot but look strange, you know, to outsiders, to see a personmaking such an ado apparently over nothing. Put yourself, if you can, inthe place of the uninitiated; you come along, see an operator quietlyseated, reading the newspaper, with his feet elevated on a chair ortable, the picture of repose. Suddenly up he jumps, down goes the paper,he seizes a pencil, hurriedly writes a few words, frowns violently,pounds frantically on the table, stares savagely at nothing, burstssuddenly into a broad smile, and then quietly resumes his firstposition. Wouldn't these seem like rather eccentric gambols to you, ifyou didn't know their solution?"
"Ha! Doubtless," answered Nattie. "So I suppose I must forgive myobservers, and be more careful what I do in future. I have no doubt Ioften make myself ridiculous to chance beholders, when I am talking withyou."
"I wonder if that is complimentary to me?" queried "C."
"Certainly, as it is because you make me laugh so much," Nattie replied.
"Then I am not such a disagreeable fellow as I might be?" demanded "C,"evidently attempting to extort flattery.
But before Nattie could answer, some one else opened their key, andsaid,
"Oh, yes you are!"
"That was not I," Nattie explained, as quickly as possible. "Some ofthose unpleasant people that can't mind their own business. I was aboutto say I should not know how to get through the days now, if I hadn'tyou to talk with."
"Do you really mean it?" questioned "C," delightedly, it is reasonableto suppose. "Truly, I was thinking only last night how unbearable wouldhave been the solitude of my office, had I not been blessed with yourcompany. I was lonesome enough before I knew you, but I never am now."
It was a pity that no telegraphic instrument had yet been invented thatcould carry the blush on Nattie's cheeks for his eyes to see, because itwas so very becoming. She commenced a reply, expressing her pleasure,but was unable to finish it, on account of that unknown and disagreeableoperator somewhere on the line, who kept breaking the circuit afterevery letter she made. Nor was "C" allowed to write anything either.This was a trick by which they had often been annoyed of late.
For, on the wire in the telegraphic world, as well as elsewhere, areidle, mischief-making people, who cannot endure to see others enjoyingthemselves, if they also have no share.
Thus, unable to talk farther at present with her indefatigableconversationalist, Nattie took up a pencil and began entering the day'sbusiness in her books, when a shadow darkened the doorway, and shelooked up to see Quimby.
Since the evening of the card party, when he had become so fullyconscious of the condition of things inside his heart, Quimby had beenin a really pitiable state of unrest. Too bashful, or too deficient inself-confidence to seek the society of her who was the cause of all hisuneasiness, as his inclinations directed, and not knowing how to makehimself as charming to her as she was to him, he wandered past thebuilding containing her, two or three times a day, sometimes receivingthe pleasure of a bow as he passed her window, but never before to-daybeing able to raise the necessary courage to go in and speak.
Nattie, who could not but begin to surmise something of the state of hisfeelings, but without dreaming of their intensity, now smiled on him,and asked him inside the office. No man or woman can be quiteindifferent to one, whom they know has set them on a pedestal, apartfrom the rest of the world.
"I--really I--I beg pardon, I'm sure," the agitated Quimby, trembling athis own daring, responded to her invitation. "I--I was passing--quiteaccidentally, you know,--thought I would just step in, you know. Really,I--I must ask pardon for the liberty."
"We are too old acquaintances now for you to consider it a liberty,"Nattie replied, and the words made his perturbed heart jump with joy."Business being quite dull to-day, I shall be glad to be entertained. Ofcourse," archly, "you came to entertain me?"
Poor Quimby was decidedly taken aback by this question.
"I--I--yes certainly--no--that is--I mean I am afraid I am not much ofan entertainer," he stammered, his hands flying to his necktie andnervously untying it as he spoke. Certainly, the wear and tear on hisneckties and watch chain while he was in his present condition of lovemust have been terrific.
"Aren't you?" queried Nattie without gainsaying his assertion.
"No--really you know I--I'm always making mistakes--but I'm used to it,you know--and I am not--possibly I might be a trifle better thannobody--but that's all."
And having given this honest, and certainly not conceited opinion ofhimself, he entered the office, sat down, and proceeded to makecompasses of his legs.
"Have you seen Cyn to-day? she paid me a flying visit yesterday, andtalked a little to 'C,' but I haven't seen her since."
"She went away to sing out of town, let me see--I forget where, and shewill not return until to-morrow;" then, uneasily, "I--I beg pardon, butyou--you mentioned the Invisible. Do you--I beg pardon--but do youconverse as much as ever with him?"
"Yes indeed!" Nattie replied with an ardor that did not produce exactlyan enlivening effect upon her caller; "we talk together nearly all thetime."
"What--I beg pardon--but really--what do you find to talk about somuch?" he inquired jealously.
"Oh, everything! of the books we read, and the good things in themagazines and papers, and the adventures we have--telegraphically; inshort, of all the topics of the day. We agree very well too, except oncandy, that I like and he doesn't," replied Nattie.
Quimby suppressed a groan, and hastened to assure her that he himselfpossessed a great passion for sweetmeats.
"But don't you--I beg pardon--but don't you find this sort ofthing--'C,' I mean--ghostly, you know?"
"Ghostly!" echoed the astonished Nattie.
"Yes," he replied, with a gesture of his arm that produced an impressionas if that member had leaped out of its socket. "Yes, talking with theunseen, you know; I--I beg pardon, but it strikes me as ghostly."
Nattie stared.
"What a strange fancy!" she exclaimed. "'C' is very real, and of theearth, earthy to me, I assure you!"
Quimby's face lengthened some three inches. "Is he?" he said ruefully."I--I beg pardon, but you haven't--you don't mean to say that--you havenot taken a--bless my soul! how warm it is here!" and he mopped his facewith a red silk handkerchief--a color very unbecoming to his complexion.
"Warm!" repeated Nattie, her lips curving in an amused smile, for shehad a shawl over her shoulders, and was nevertheless slightly chilly. "Idon't perceive it, I am sure."
"I--I beg pardon--but I've been walking, you know," Quimby saidnervously. "But I--I was about to ask--I--I beg pardon--but you havenot--not" desperately, "really fallen in love with him, have you?"
Nattie's eyes danced with amusement, but her color deepened slightlytoo, as she replied,
"How could one fall in love with an invisible? why, that would be evenless satisfactory than an ideal!"
Quimby's face brightened, and he recovered himself sufficiently to putaway the red silk handkerchief.
"I don't think--really, I should not think there could be muchsatisfaction in it!" then stealing a bashful but adoring glance at her,he added,
"I--I prefer a--a visible, as being something more substantial, youknow!"
"Indeed?" said Nattie, demurely; then thinking perhaps he was driftingon to grounds that had best be avoided, she changed the subject, bysaying,
"Do you not think Cyn a very charming young lady?"
"Oh, yes! I--I--yes, very charming!" Quimby answered, but not soenthusiastically as perhaps Mr. Norton might have done. For Quimby'sheart was of the old-fashioned kind, and his fancy was not fickle;besides, being now, in a measure, launched upon the subject, of love, soawful to approach, he was unwilling thus soon to leave a theme so sweet,yet so formidable. Therefore, crossing his legs, and bracing up againstthe chair-back; he determined, now or never, to give her an inkling ofhis feelings, an intention so very palpable, that Nattie was glad indeedto hear from the sounder,
"B m--B m--B m--."
"Excuse me," she said, hastily. "They are calling me on the wire," andimmediately answered, and began taking a message.
Meanwhile, to him had come a reaction, and he was in a state of totalcollapse. Before she had finished receiving that message of only tenwords, he had drawn himself dejectedly to his feet, and was looking forhis hat.
"I--I really--I must go, you know!" he faltered, blushing, as Nattieglanced up at him. "I--I fear I have intruded now--but I--I--" hestopped short, unable to find an ending to his sentence.
"I'm always glad of company," Nattie said, but a little distantly, asshe gave "O. K." on the wire.
"I--I--really, you are very kind, you know," stammered Quimby. "I--Ipass here on the way to dinner, you see--from the office, you know,"--heeked out his meagre income by writing in a lawyer's office--"where, 'ponmy word, I ought to have been now. But it's--it's such a pleasure to seeyou--you know that--where can my hat be?"
All this time he had been looking around for his hat, and now Nattiefished it out of the waste basket, into which he had unwittingly droppedit. Taking it with many apologies, he bowed himself confusedly andungracefully out, and went away, wondering if he would ever be able toget himself up to such a pitch again, and resolving, if it provedpossible, that it should not occur next time where there was one ofthose aggravating "sounders."
"Now, I hope," thought Nattie, as she watched his retreating form, "thathe is not going to make an idiot of himself! Not only because he is asgood a fellow as he is a blundering one, and I wouldn't for the worldhurt his feelings, but also because it would be dreadfully uncomfortableto have a rejected lover wandering around in the same house with one!"
And Nattie, judging from his late conduct that the contingency referredto was likely to occur, resolved to be careful and not give him anyopportunity to express his feelings, and furthermore, to kindly andcautiously teach him the meaning of the word Friendship, andparticularly to define the broad distinction between that and Love.
But circumstances are mulish things, and not to be governed at will, asNattie was soon to discover.
A few evenings after she called in to see Cyn, who happened to be out.But she was momentarily expected to return, as Mrs. Simonson said, soNattie concluded to wait, and sat down at the piano. Not noticing shehad left the door partly open, and never dreaming of approaching danger,she began to play, when suddenly, the hesitating voice of Quimby brokein upon the strains of the "First Kiss" waltz.
"I--may I come in?" he asked. "I--I beg your pardon, but I knockedseveral times, you know, and you didn't hear at all."
Nattie would gladly have refused the invitation he asked, but couldthink of no possible excuse for so doing, and was therefore compelled tosay,
"Yes--come in, I expect Cyn every moment."
Availing himself of this permission, Quimby entered, balanced his hat onthe edge of an album, and seating himself in a chair, seized a round oneither side as if he was in danger of blowing away, and stared at herwithout a word.
"It has been a lovely day, hasn't it?" Nattie said at last, beginning tofind the silence embarrassing, and reverting to Mrs. Simonson's safetopic.
"Yes--exactly so!" Quimby answered, strengthening his grasp on the chairin a vain endeavor to summon the requisite courage to avail himself ofthis rare opportunity of pouring out his feelings.
Nattie tried him again on another safe topic.
"Cyn and I dined together to-day."
"I--I can't eat!" burst forth Quimby in accents of despair.
"Can't you?" said Nattie, devoutly wishing Cyn would come. "I am verysorry, I hope you are not dyspeptic."
"No, no!" he answered, his eyes almost starting from his head betweenhis determination to wind himself up to the point, and the tightness ofhis grasp on the chair. "It's--it's my heart, you know!"
"You don't mean to say you have heart disease?" said Nattie, seeingdanger fast approaching, and taking refuge in obtusity.
"No; I--I beg pardon--not a--not a bodily heart disease, you know, but amental one!" and he relaxed his grasp on the chair with one hand to tugat his necktie as if being hung, and disliking the sensation.
"That is something I never heard of," Nattie said dryly; then thinking,"I'll drown him in music," she asked hastily,
"Do you like the First Kiss?"
The bounce of an India rubber ball is no comparison to the agility withwhich Quimby jumped from his chair at this question.
"Oh! Bless my soul! Wouldn't I?" he gasped.
"I will play it to you," exclaimed Nattie instantly aware of theindiscretion of her question, and she thundered as loud as she could onthe piano, while Quimby, with a very red face, subsided into the chairagain. But not long did he remain subsided; whether it was the musicthat inspired im, or a desperate determination that nerved him, hesuddenly sprang up, and with one stride was beside her, exclaimingexcitedly,
"No! That is--I beg pardon--but please do not play any more just now.There is something I must say to you! Oh! I can't express myself! It allcomes upon me with a rush when I am alone, but now, at this suprememoment, I cannot tell you how I a--"
"Excuse me, but I am afraid I cannot remain now," hastily interruptedNattie, feeling that something must be done to stop him, and adoptingthe first expedient that suggested itself. "I just happened to recollectI left my gas burning in close proximity to the lace curtains, and Imust go immediately and attend to it."
With these words, Nattie rushed away, half amused and half annoyed,leaving him to stare after her with a blank and rueful face, to askhimself how any fellow could get on amid such drawbacks, to decide thatproposing was a dreadful strain on the nerves, but to resolve his nextattempt should be a success, if he had to inaugurate previously a seriesof private rehearsals. For although abashed and discomfited by hisrepeated failures to make his feelings understood, he was more in lovethan ever.