A YOUNG MAN IN LOVE
The dance was well in progress when
Larry and Ruth arrived. The latter was greeted
cordially and not too impressively by gay little Sue
Emerson, their hostess, and her friends. Ruth
was ensconced comfortably in a big chair where she
could watch the dancers and talk as much or little
as she pleased. Everybody was so pleasant and
natural and uncurious that she did not feel frightened
or strange at all, and really enjoyed the little court
she held between dances. Pretty girls and pleasant
lads came to talk with her, the latter besieging her
with invitations to dance which she refused so sweetly
that they found the little Goldilocks more charming
than ever for her very denial.
They rallied Larry however on his
rigorous dragonship and finally Ruth herself dismissed
him to dance with his hostess as a proper guest should.
She never meant he must stick to her every moment anyway.
That was absurd. He rose to obey reluctantly;
but paused to ask if she wouldn’t dance with
him just once. No, she couldn’t didn’t
even know whether she could. He mustn’t
try to make her. And seeing she was in earnest,
Larry left her. But Ted came skating down the
floor to her and he begged for just one dance.
“Oh, I couldn’t, Ted, truly I couldn’t,”
she denied.
But obeying a sudden impulse Ted had
swooped down upon her, picked her up and before she
really knew what was happening she had slid into step
with him and was whirling off down the floor in his
arms.
“Didn’t I tell you, sweetness?”
he exulted. “Of course you can dance.
What fairy can’t? Tired?” He bent
over to ask with the instinctive gentleness that was
in all Holiday men.
Ruth shook her head. She was
exhilarated, excited, tense, happy. She could
dance she could. It was as easy and
natural as breathing. She did not want to stop.
She wanted to go on and on. Then suddenly something
snapped. They came opposite Sue and Larry.
The former called a gay greeting and approval.
Larry said nothing. His face was dead white, his
gray eyes black with anger. Both Ted and Ruth
saw and understood and the lilt went out of the dance
for both of them.
“Oh Lord!” groaned Ted.
“Now I’ve done it. I’m sorry,
Ruth. I didn’t suppose the old man would
care. Don’t see why he should it you are
willing. Come on, just one more round before the
music stops and we’re both beheaded.”
But Ruth shook her head. There
was no more joy for her after that one glimpse of
Larry’s face.
“Take me to a seat, Ted, please. I’m
tired.”
He obeyed and she sank down in the
chair, white and trembling, utterly exhausted.
She was hurt and aching through and through. How
could she? How could she have done that to Larry
when he loved her so? How could she have let
Ted make her dance with him when she had refused to
dance with Larry? No wonder he was angry.
It was terrible cruel.
But he mustn’t make a scene
with Ted. He mustn’t. She cast an
apprehensive glance around the room. Larry was
invisible. A forlornness came over her, a despair
such as she had never experienced even in that dreadful
time after the wreck when she realized she had forgotten
everything. She felt as if she were sinking down,
down in a fearful black sea and that there was no
help for her anywhere. Larry had deserted her.
Would he never come back?
In a minute Tony and the others were
beside her, full of sympathetic questions. How
had it seemed to dance again? Wasn’t it
great to find she could still do it? How had
she dared to do it while Larry was off guard?
Why wouldn’t she, couldn’t she dance with
this one or that one if she could dance with Ted Holiday?
But they were quick to see she was really tired and
troubled and soon left her alone to Tony’s ministrations.
“Ruth, what is the trouble?
Where is Larry? And Ted is gone, too. What
happened?” Tony’s voice was anxious.
She hadn’t seen Larry’s face, but she
knew Larry and could guess at the rest.
“Ted made me dance with him.
I didn’t mean to. But when we got started
I couldn’t bear to stop, it was so wonderful
to do it and to find I could. I am
afraid Larry didn’t like it.”
“I presume he didn’t,”
said Larry’s sister drily. “Let him
be angry if he wants to be such a silly. It was
quite all right, Ruthie. Ted has just as much
right to dance with you as Larry has.”
“I am afraid Larry doesn’t
think so and I don’t think so either.”
Tony squeezed the other girl’s hand.
“Never mind, honey. You
mustn’t take it like that. You are all of
a tremble. Larry has a fearful temper, but he
will hang on to it for your sake if for no other reason.
He won’t really quarrel with Ted. He never
does any more. And he won’t say a word to
you.”
“I’d rather he would,”
sighed Ruth. “You are all so good to me
and I am making a dreadful lot of trouble
for you all the time, though I don’t mean to
and I love you so.”
“It isn’t your fault,
Ruthie, not a single speck of it. Oh, yes.
I mean just what you mean. Not simply Larry’s
being so foolish as to lose his temper about this
little thing, but the whole big thing of your caring
for each other. It is all hard and mixed up and
troublesome; but you are not to blame, and Larry isn’t
to blame, and it will all come out right somehow.
It has to.”
As soon as Ted had assured himself
that Ruth was all right in his sister’s charge
he had looked about for Larry. Sue was perched
on a table eating marshmallows she had purloined from
somewhere with Phil Lambert beside her, but there
was no Larry to be seen.
Ted stepped outside the pavilion.
He was honestly sorry his brother was hurt and angry.
He realized too late that maybe he hadn’t behaved
quite fairly or wisely in capturing Ruth like that,
though he hadn’t meant any harm, and had had
not the faintest idea Larry would really care, care
enough to be angry as Ted had not seen him for many
a long day. Larry’s temper had once been
one of the most active of the family skeletons.
It had not risen easily, but when it did woe betide
whatever or whomever it met in collision. By
comparison with Larry’s rare outbursts of rage
Tony’s frequent ébullitions were as summer
zéphyrs to whirlwinds.
But that was long past history.
Larry had worked manfully to conquer his familiar
demon and had so far succeeded that sunny Ted had all
but forgotten the demon ever existed. But he
remembered now, had remembered with consternation
when he saw the black passion in the other’s
face as they met on the floor of the dance hall.
Puzzled and anxious he stared down
the slope toward the water. Larry was just stepping
into the canoe. Was he going home, leaving Ruth
to the mercies of the rest of them, or was he just
going off temporarily by himself to fight his temper
to a finish as he had been accustomed to do long ago
when he had learned to be afraid and ashamed of giving
into it? Ted hesitated a moment, debating whether
to call him back and get the row over, if row there
was to be, or to let him get away by himself as he
probably desired.
“Hang it! It’s my
fault. I can’t let him go off like that.
It just about kills him to take it out of himself
that way. I’d rather he’d take it
out of me.”
With which conclusion Ted shot down
the bank whistling softly the old Holiday Hill call,
the one Dick had used that day on the campus to summon
himself to the news that maybe Larry was killed.
Larry did not turn. Ted reached
the shore with one stride.
“Larry,” he called. “I say,
Larry.”
No answer. The older lad picked
up the paddle, prepared grimly to push off, deaf,
to all intents and purposes to the appeal in the younger
one’s voice.
But Ted Holiday was not an easily
daunted person. With one flying leap he landed
in the canoe, all but upsetting the craft in his sudden
descent upon it.
The two youths faced each other.
Larry was still white, and his sombre eyes blazed
with half subdued fires. He looked anything but
hospitable to advances, however well meant.
“Better quit,” he advised
slowly in a queer, quiet voice which Ted knew was
quiet only because Larry was making it so by a mighty
effort of will. “I’m not responsible
just now. We’ll both be sorry if you don’t
leave me alone.”
“I won’t quit, Larry.
I can’t. It was my fault. Confound
it, old man! Please listen. I didn’t
mean to make you mad. Come ashore and punch my
fool head if it will make you feel any better.”
Still Larry said nothing, just sat
hunched in a heap, running his fingers over the handle
of the paddle. He no longer even looked at Ted.
His mouth was set at its stubbornest.
Ted rushed on, desperately in earnest,
entirely sincere in his willingness to undergo any
punishment, himself, to help Larry.
“Honest, I didn’t mean
to make trouble,” he pleaded. “I just
picked her up and made her dance on impulse, though
she told me she wouldn’t and couldn’t.
I never thought for a minute you would care. Maybe
it was a mean trick. I can see it might have
looked so, but I didn’t intend it that way.
Gee, Larry! Say something. Don’t swallow
it all like that. Get it out of your system.
I’d rather you’d give me a dozen black
eyes than sit still and feel like the devil.”
Larry looked up then. His face
relaxed its sternness a little. Even the hottest
blaze of wrath could not burn quite so fiercely when
exposed to a generous penitence like his young brother’s.
He understood Ted was working hard not only to make
peace but to spare himself the sharp battle with the
demon which, as none knew better that Larry Holiday,
did, indeed, half kill.
“Cut it, Ted,” he ordered
grimly. “’Nough said. I haven’t
the slightest desire to give you even one black eye
at present, though I may as well admit if you had
been in my hands five minutes ago something would
have smashed.”
“Don’t I know it?”
Ted grinned a little. “Gee, I thought my
hour had struck!”
“What made you come after me then?”
Ted’s grin faded.
“You know why I came, old man.
You know I’d let you pommel my head off any
time if it could help you anyhow. Besides it was
my fault as I told you. I didn’t mean to
be mean. I’ll do any penance you say.”
Larry picked up the paddle.
“Your penance is to let me absolutely
alone for fifteen minutes. You had better go
ashore though. You will miss a lot of dances.”
“Hang the dances! I’m staying.”
Ted settled down among the cushions
against which Ruth’s blonde head had nestled
a few hours ago. He took out his watch, struck
a match, looked at the time, lit a cigarette with
the same match, replaced the watch and relapsed into
silence.
The canoe shot down the lake impelled
by long, fierce strokes. Larry was working off
the demon. Far away the rhythmic beat of dance
music reached them faintly. Now and then a fish
leaped and splashed or a bull frog bellowed his hoarse
“Better go home” into the silence.
Otherwise there was no sound save the steady ripple
of the water under the canoe.
Presently Ted finished his cigarette,
sent its still ruddy remains flashing off into the
lake where it fell with a soft hiss, took out his
watch again, lit another match, considered the time,
subtracted gravely, looked up and announced “Time’s
up, Larry.”
Larry laid down the paddle and a slow
reluctant smile played around the corners of his mouth,
though there was sharp distress still in his eyes.
He loathed losing his temper like that. It sickened
him, filled him with spiritual nausea, a profound
disgust for himself and his mastering weakness.
“I’ve been a fool, kid,”
he admitted. “I’m all right now.
You were a trump to stand by me. I appreciate
it.”
“Don’t mention it,”
nonchalantly from Ted “Going back to the pavilion?”
His brother nodded, resumed the paddle
and again the canoe shot through the waters, this
time toward the music instead of away from it.
“I suppose you know why your
dancing with Ruth made me go savage,” said Larry
after a few moments of silence.
“Damned if I do,” said
Ted cheerfully. “It doesn’t matter.
I don’t need a glossary and appendix. Suit
yourself as to the explanations. I put my foot
in it. I’ve apologized. That is the
end of it so far as I am concerned unless you want
to say something more yourself. You don’t
have to you know.”
“It was plain, fool movie stuff
jealousy. That is the sum and substance of it.
I’m in love with her. I couldn’t stand
her dancing with you when she had refused me.
I could almost have killed you for a minute.
I am ashamed but I couldn’t help it. That
is the way it was. Now forget it,
please.”
Ted swallowed hard and pulled his
forelock in genuine perturbation.
“Good Lord, Larry!” he blurted. “I ”
His brother held up an imperious warning hand.
“I said ‘forget it.’
Don’t make me want to dump you now, after coming
through the rest.”
Ted saluted promptly.
“Ay, ay, sir! It’s
forgot. Only perhaps you’ll let me apologize
again, underscored, now I understand. Honest,
I’m no end sorry, Larry.”
The other nodded acceptance of the
underscored apology and again silence had its way.
As they landed Ted fastened the canoe
and for a moment the two brothers stood side by side
in the starlight. Larry put out his hand.
Ted took it. Their eyes met, said more than any
words could have expressed.
“Thank you, Ted. You’ve been great helped
a lot.”
Larry’s voice was a little unsteady,
his eyes were full of trouble and shame.
“Ought to, after starting the
conflagration,” said Ted. “I’ll
attend to the general explanations. You go to
Ruth.”
More than one person had wondered
at the mysterious disappearance of the two Holidays.
It is quite usual, and far from unexpected, when two
young persons of the opposite sex drift off somewhere
under the stars on a summer night without giving any
particular account of themselves; but one scarcely
looks for that sort of social or unsocial eccentricity
from two youths, especially two brothers. Nobody
but Ruth and Tony, and possibly shrewd-eyed Sue, suspected
a quarrel, but everybody was curious and ready to
burst into interrogation upon the simultaneous return
of the two young men which was quite as sudden as
their vanishing had been.
“Larry and I had a wager up,”
announced Ted to Sue in a perfectly clear, distinct
voice which carried across the length of the small
hall now that the music was silent. “He
said he could paddle down to the point, current against
him, faster than I could paddle back, current with
me. We took a notion to try it out tonight.
Please forgive us, Susanna, my dear. A Holiday
is a creature of impulse you know.”
Sue made a little face at the speaker.
She was quite sure he was lying about the wager, but
she was a good hostess and played up to his game.
“You don’t deserve to
be forgiven, either of you,” she sniffed.
“Especially Larry who never comes to parties
and when he does has to go off and do a silly thing
like that. Who won though? I will ask that.”
She smiled at Ted and he grinned back.
“Larry, of course. Give
me a dance, Sue. I’ve got my second wind.”
“Bless Ted!” thought Tony,
listening to her brother’s glib excuses.
“Thank goodness he can lie like that. Larry
never could.” And as her eyes met Ted’s
a moment later when they passed each other in the maze
of dancers he murmured “All right” in
her ear and she was well content. Bless Ted,
indeed!
Meanwhile Larry had gone, as Ted bade
him, straight to Ruth. He bent over her tired
little white face, an agony of remorse in his own.
“Ruth, forgive me. I’ll never forgive
myself.”
“Don’t, Larry. It
is I who ought to be sorry and I am oh so
sorry you don’t know. Ted didn’t
mean any harm. I ought not to have let him do
it. It was my fault.”
“There was nobody at fault except
me and my fool temper. I am desperately ashamed
of myself Ruth. I’ve left you all alone
all this time and I promised I wouldn’t.
You’ll never trust me again and I don’t
deserve to be trusted. It doesn’t do any
good to say I am sorry. It can’t undo what
I did. I didn’t dare stay and that’s
the fact. I didn’t know what I’d do
to Ted if he got in my way. I felt murderous.”
“Larry!”
“I know it sounds awful.
It is awful. It is an old battle. I thought
I’d won it, but I haven’t. Don’t
look so scared though. Nothing happened.
Ted came after me like the corking big-hearted kid
he is and brought me to, in half the time I could
have done it for myself. It is thanks to him I’m
here now. But never mind that. It is only
you that matters. Shall I take you home?
I don’t deserve it, but if you will let me it
will show you forgive me a little bit anyway,”
he finished humbly.
“Don’t look so dreadfully
unhappy, Larry. It is over now, and of course
I forgive you if you think there is anything to forgive.
I’m so thankful you didn’t quarrel with
Ted. I was awfully worried and so was Tony.
She watched the door every minute till you came back.”
“I suppose so,” groaned
Larry. “I made one horrible mess of everything
for you all. Are you ready to go?”
“I’d like to dance with
you once first, Larry, if if you would like
to.”
“Would I like to!” Larry’s
face lost its mantle of gloom, was sudden sunshine
all over. “Will you really dance with me after
the rotten way I’ve behaved?”
“Of course, I will. I wanted
to all the time, but I was afraid. But when Ted
made me it all came back and I loved it, only it was
you I wanted to dance with most. You know that,
don’t you, Larry, dear?” The last word
was very low, scarcely more than a breath, but Larry
heard it and it nearly undid him. A flood of
long-pent endearments trembled on his lips. But
Ruth held up a hand of warning.
“Don’t, Larry. We
mustn’t spoil it. We’ve got to remember
the ring.”
“Damn the ring!” he exploded.
“I beg your pardon.” Larry was genuinely
shocked at his own bad manners. “I don’t
know why I’m such a brute tonight. Let’s
dance.”
And to the delight and relief of the
younger Holidays, Larry and Ruth joined the dancers.
The dance over, they made their farewells.
Larry guided Ruth down the slope, his arm around her
ostensibly for her support, and helped her into the
canoe. Once more they floated off over the quiet
water, under the quiet stars. But their young
hearts were anything but quiet. Their love was
no longer an unacknowledged thing. Neither knew
just what was to be done with it; but there it was
in full sight, as both admitted in joy and trepidation
and silence.
As Larry held open the door for her
to step inside the quiet hall he bent over the girl
a moment, taking both her hands in his. Then he
drew away abruptly and bolted into the living room,
leaving her to grope her way up stairs in the dark
alone.
“I wonder,” she murmured
to herself later as she stood before her mirror shaking
out her rippling golden locks from their confining
net. “I wonder if it would have been so
terrible if he had kissed me just that once.
Sometimes I wish he weren’t quite so so
Holidayish.”