Part 6 (1/2)

”Honest, Mother? She's as honest as the day is long. I am certain of that.”

The mother rose reluctantly.

”Well, we might let it go another day,” she consented. Then, looking up at the sky, she added, ”I wonder if it is going to rain. I have a Reciprocity meeting on for to-day, and I'm a delegate to some little unheard-of place.

It usually does rain when one goes into the country, I've noticed.”

She went into the hall, and presently returned with a distressed look upon her face.

”Tryon, I'm afraid you're wrong,” she said. ”Now my rain-coat is missing.

My new rain-coat! I hung it up in the hall-closet with my own hands, after it came from the store. I really think something ought to be done!”

”There! I hope you see!” said Cornelia severely. ”I think it's high time something was done. I shall 'phone for a detective at once!”

”Cornelia, you'll do nothing of the kind,” her brother protested, now thoroughly aroused. ”I'll agree to pay for the hat and the rain-coat if they are not forthcoming before a fortnight pa.s.ses, but you simply shall not ruin that poor girl's reputation. I insist, Mother, that you put a stop to such rash proceedings. I'll make myself personally responsible for that girl's honesty.”

”Well, of course, Tryon, if you wish it----” said his mother, with anxious hesitation.

”I certainly do wish it, Mother. I shall take it as personal if anything is done in this matter without consulting me. Remember, Cornelia, I will not have any trifling. A girl's reputation is certainly worth more than several hats and rain-coats, and I _know_ she has not taken them.”

He walked from the dining-room and from the house in angry dignity, to the astonishment of his mother and sister, to whom he was usually courtesy itself. Consulting him about household matters was as a rule merely a form, for he almost never interfered. The two women looked at each other in startled bewilderment.

”Mother,” said Cornelia, ”you don't suppose he can have fallen in love with Norah, do you? Why, she's Irish and freckled! And Tryon has always been so fastidious!”

”Cornelia! How dare you suggest such a thing? Tryon is a _Dunham_.

Whatever else a Dunham may or may not do, he never does anything low or unrefined.”

The small, prim, stylish mother looked quite regal in her aristocratic rage.

”But, Mother, one reads such dreadful things in the papers now. Of course Tryon would never _marry_ any one like that, but----”

”Cornelia!”--her mother's voice had almost reached a patrician scream--”I forbid you to mention the subject again. I cannot think where you learned to voice such thoughts.”

”Well, my goodness, Mother, I don't mean anything, only I do wish I had my hat. I always did like all black. I can't imagine what ails Try, if it isn't that.”

Tryon Dunham took his way to his office much perturbed in mind.

Perplexities seemed to be thickening about him. With the dawn of the morning had come that sterner common-sense which told him he was a fool for having taken up with a strange young woman on the street, who was so evidently flying from justice. He had deceived not only his intimate friends by palming her off as a fit companion for them, but his mother and sister. He had practically stolen their garments, and had squandered more than fifty dollars of his own money. And what had he to show for all this?

The memory of a sweet face, the lingering beauty of the name ”Mary” when she bade him good-by, and a diamond ring. The cool morning light presented the view that the ring was probably valueless, and that he was a fool.

Ah, the ring! A sudden warm thrill shot through him, and his hand searched his vest pocket, where he had hastily put the jewel before leaving his room. That was something tangible. He could at least know what it was worth, and so make sure once for all whether he had been deceived. No, that would not be fair either, for her father might have made her think it was valuable, or he might even have been taken in himself, if he were not a judge of jewels.

Dunham examined it as he walked down the street, too perplexed with his own tumultuous thoughts to remember his usual trolley. He slipped the ring on his finger and let it catch the morning sunlight, now s.h.i.+ning broad and clear in spite of the hovering rain-clouds in the distance. And gloriously did the sun illumine the diamond, burrowing into the great depths of its clear white heart, and causing it to break into a million fires of glory, flas.h.i.+ng and glancing until it fairly dazzled him. The stone seemed to be of unusual beauty and purity, but he would step into the diamond shop as he pa.s.sed and make sure. He had a friend there who could tell him all about it. His step quickened, and he covered the distance in a short time.

After the morning greeting, he handed over his ring.

”This belongs to a friend of mine,” he said, trying to look unconcerned.