Part 6 (1/2)
Mary stole away to her room, ready to cry. If every morning had to be spent with that tiresome Dinsmore child, she might as well have stayed on the desert.
”I simply have to get rid of her in some way,” she mused. ”It won't do to snub her, and I don't know any other way. I wish I could see Holland for about five minutes. He'd think of a plan.”
So absorbed was she in her problem that she forgot to ask whether the kid or the satin slippers had been chosen, and she went down to lunch still revolving her trouble in her mind. On the dining-room wall opposite her place at table were two fine old engravings, ill.u.s.trating the fable of the famous dinners given by the Fox and the Stork. In the first the stork strove vainly to fill its bill at the flat dish from which the fox lapped eagerly, while in the companion picture the fox sat by disconsolate while the stork dipped into the high slim pitcher, which the hungry guest could not reach.
Mary had noticed the pictures in a casual way every time she took a seat at the table, for the beast and the bird were old acquaintances. She had learned La Fontaine's version of the fable one time to recite at school. To-day, with the problem in her mind of how to rid herself of an unwelcome guest, they suddenly took on a new meaning.
”I'll do just the way the stork did,” she thought, gleefully. ”This morning Girlie had everything her way, and we played little silly baby games till I felt as flat as the dish that fox is eating out of. But she had a beautiful time. To-morrow morning I'm going to be stork, and make my conversation so deep she can't get her little baby mind into it at all. I'll be awfully polite, but I'll hunt up the longest words I can find in the dictionary, and talk about the books I've read, and she'll have such a stupid time she won't want to come again.”
The course of action once settled upon, Mary fell to work with her usual energy. While the girls were taking their daily siesta, she dressed early and went down into the library. If it had not been for the fear of missing something, she would have spent much of her time in that attractive room. Books looked down so invitingly from the many shelves.
All the June magazines lay on the library table, their pages still uncut. Everybody had been too busy to look at them. She hesitated a moment over the tempting array, but remembering her purpose, grimly pa.s.sed them by and opened the big dictionary.
Rob found her still poring over it, pencil and paper in hand, when he looked into the room an hour later.
”What's up now?” he asked.
She evaded his question at first, but, afraid that he would tease her before the girls about her thirst for knowledge and her study of the dictionary, and that that might lead to the thwarting of her plans, she suddenly decided to take him into her confidence.
”Well,” she began, solemnly, ”you know mostly I loathe dolls. Sometimes I do dress Hazel Lee's for her, but I don't like to play with them regularly any more as I used to,--talk for them and all that. But Girlie Dinsmore was here this morning, and I had to do it because she is company. She had such a good time that she said she was coming over here every single morning while I'm here. I just can't have my lovely visit spoiled that way. The bride is coming day after to-morrow, and she'll be opening her presents and showing her trousseau to the girls, and I wouldn't miss it for anything. So I've made up my mind I'll be just as polite as possible, but I'll do as the stork did in the fable; make my entertainment so deep she won't enjoy it. I'm hunting up the longest words I can find and learning their definitions, so that I can use them properly.”
Rob, looking over her shoulder, laughed to see the list she had chosen:
”Indefatigability, Juxtaposition, Loquaciousness, Pabulum, Peregrinate, Longevous.”
”You see,” explained Mary, ”sometimes there is a quotation after the word from some author, so I've copied a lot of them to use, instead of making up sentences myself. Here's one from Shakespeare about alacrity.
And here's one from Arbuthnot, whoever he was, that will make her stare.”
She traced the sentence with her forefinger, for Rob's glance to follow: ”_Instances of longevity are chiefly among the abstemious_.”
”Girlie won't have any more idea of what I'm talking about than a jay-bird.”
To Mary's astonishment, the laugh with which Rob received her confidence was so long and loud it ended in a whoop of amus.e.m.e.nt, and when he had caught his breath he began again in such an infectious way that the girls up-stairs heard it and joined in. Then Lloyd leaned over the banister to call:
”What's the mattah, Rob? You all seem to be having a mighty funny time down there. Save your circus for us. We'll be down in a few minutes.”
”This is just a little private side-show of Mary's and mine,” answered Rob, going off into another peal of laughter at sight of Mary's solemn face. There was nothing funny in the situation to her whatsoever.
”Oh, don't tell, Mister Rob,” she begged. ”Please don't tell. Joyce might think it was impolite, and would put a stop to it. It seems funny to you, but when you think of my whole lovely visit spoiled that way--”
She stopped abruptly, so much in earnest that her voice broke and her eyes filled with tears.
Instantly Rob's laughter ceased, and he begged her pardon in such a grave, kind way, a.s.suring her that her confidence should be respected, that her admiration of him went up several more degrees. When the girls came down, he could not be prevailed upon to tell them what had sent him off into such fits of laughter. ”Just Mary's entertaining remarks,” was all he would say, looking across at her with a meaning twinkle in his eyes. She immediately retired into the background as soon as the older girls appeared, but she sat admiring every word Rob said, and watching every movement.
”He's the very nicest man I ever saw,” she said to herself. ”He treats me as if I were grown up, and I really believe he likes to hear me talk.”
Once when they were arranging for a tennis game for the next morning, he crossed the room with an amused smile, to say to her in a low aside: ”I've thought of something to help along the stork's cause. Bring the little fox over to the tennis-court to watch the game. If she doesn't find that sufficiently stupid, and you run short of big words, read aloud to her, and tell her that is what you intend to do every day.”
Such a pleased, gratified smile flashed over Mary's face that Betty exclaimed, curiously: ”I certainly would like to know what mischief you two are planning. You laugh every time you look at each other.”