Paradise Garden: The Satirical Narrative of a Great Experiment

"H—m. You're the devil of a martinet."

"Will you?"

It was the supreme test of what remained of my influence over him. His head ached, I'm sure, for he looked a wreck. I watched his face anxiously. He went to the table, took a cigarette from the box and lighted it deliberately. Then turning, faced me with a smile, and offered his hand.

"Yes," he said. "Old Dry-as-dust, I will."

"A promise? You've never broken one, Jerry."

"A promise, Roger. I—I think I'm getting a little glimmering of sense. A promise. I'll keep it."

"Thank God, for that," I said, in so fervent a tone that the boy smiled at me.

"Good old Roger! You're a brick," he said. "Friendship, after all, is the greatest thing in the world." He turned his head and walked to the window and looked out, assuming an air of unconcern which I knew hid some deep-seated emotion. I, too, was silent. It was a fine moment for us both.

He turned into the room after awhile with an air of gayety.

"We're going to have a party, Roger."

"Ah, when?"

"Marcia's giving a dance tomorrow night, people from all over, and I'll have a few of 'em here in the afternoon—for tea out at the cabin. Sort of a picnic. Some of 'em are bringing rods to try the early fishing. Rather jolly, eh? I'll tell Poole and Christopher—"

I confessed myself much pleased with this arrangement and thanked my stars that Una had refused me. It was the day I had wanted her. Indeed, since Jerry's promise, life at the Manor had suddenly taken a different complexion. A new hope was born in me. Jerry would keep that promise. I was sure of it.

I will come as rapidly as possible to the extraordinary happenings of that Saturday afternoon, which as much as any other event in this entire history, portrays the mutability of the feminine mind. I had gone out to the cabin to see that everything was in order, and Jerry was to follow later, while a few of the men fished up stream, Marcia and some of her guests driving in motors to the upper gate, cutting across to the cabin through the woods. Christopher had cleared the cabin and he and Poole had brought the eatables and set a table. The two days that had passed since Jerry had given me his promise had been cheerful ones for the boy. I had not seen Miss Gore, but for aught I knew Marcia Van Wyck might have been adoring Jerry again. I did not care what her mood was. All would come right, for Jerry had given me a promise and he would not break it. The arrangements within the cabin having been completed, I went outside and wandered a short way down the path toward the stream, sat on a rock and became at once engaged in my favorite woodland game of counting birdcalls. Thrushes and robins, warblers, sparrows, finches, all engaged in the employment that Jerry had described as "hopping around a bit," or chirping, calling, singing until the air was melodious with sound. The birdman's surprise, a new note differing from the others, a loud clear gurgling song, brought me to my feet and I went on down the path listening. It was different from the note of a wren which it resembled, that of a Lincoln sparrow, I was sure, a rarity at the Manor, only one specimen of which Jerry possessed. But midway in my pursuit of the elusive bird I saw movement in the path in front of me and I caught a glimpse of leather leggins and a skirt. In a moment all thought of my Lincoln sparrow was gone from my head. At first I thought the visitor one of Jerry's guests, but as she approached, butterfly net in hand, I saw that it was Una Habberton. So great was my surprise at seeing her that I stood, mouth open, stupidly staring. But she was laughing at me.

"You're a nice one," she was saying. "Here I am a trespasser through the grille and not a soul to greet me."

"You came," I muttered inanely.

"Obviously; since here I am. It's Saturday, isn't it?"

"Yes. But—" I paused.

"But what?"

"You said you wouldn't come."

"Oh," she laughed. "I merely changed my mind—my privilege, you know. I was a trifle stale. I thought it would do me good. But you don't seem in the least glad to see me."

I was—delighted. Joy was one of the things that made me dumb.

"I was just trying to realize—er—Won't you sit down? On a rock, I mean. Jerry's somewhere about. He'll be along in a minute."

The possible effect on Una of Jerry's guests, who also might be along in a minute, was just beginning to bewilder me.

"He's fishing?"

"He was to meet me at the cabin. He'll be along presently. It will be a wonderful surprise. Suppose we hadn't been out here at all?"

"I was prepared to go all the way to the house. Nice of me, wasn't it? You know I promised Jerry some day I'd come to see his collection."

"He'll be delighted—Ho! There's his whistle now." I sounded the familiar call on my fingers and moved toward the cabin, but she stopped me.

"You're not to leave me, Mr. Canby, or I'll go."

"Why?"

"A chance meeting would have been different. This is premeditation. Don't leave me. Do you hear!"

I nodded and when Jerry came in sight I called him. He appeared in the path, a basket of wine in one hand, a fishing rod in the other.

"Hello, Roger," he shouted and then paused, setting the basket down.

"I didn't know—"

"A surprise, Jerry!"

"Why, it's Una!" he cried. "Una! What on earth—?"

"I was butterflying, and wandered through." She laughed. "I told you to have that railing mended."

"The necessity for that is past," he laughed gayly. "Oh, it's jolly good to see you."

He took her by both hands and held her off from him examining her delightedly.

"It seems like yesterday. I'm not sure it isn't yesterday that you broke in and I was going to throw you over the wall. Imagine it! You! You're just the same—so different from the sober little mouse of Blank Street. I believe you have on the very same clothes, the same gaiters—"

"Naturally. Do you think I'm a millionaire?"

Three was a crowd. I would have given my right hand to have transported the cabin and all the gay people expected there to the ends of the earth. In a moment the woods would be full of them. I was at a loss what to do, for when they came the bird would take flight, but Jerry seemed to have forgotten everything but the girl before him. It was a real enthusiasm and happiness that he showed, the first in weeks.

"So you expected to slip in and out without being caught, did you?" Jerry was saying. "Pretty sort of a friend, you are! You might at least have let a fellow know you were going to be in this part of the world; where are you staying?"

"I don't see how that's the slightest concern of yours," she said demurely.

"The same old Una!" cried Jerry delightedly. "Always making game of a fellow. Do sit down again and let's have a chat. It seems ages since I've seen you. How's the day nursery coming on? Did you get the last check? I meant to stop in and see the plans. I couldn't, though," he frowned a little. "Something turned up. Business, you know."

"Jerry is busy," I put in mischievously, as I sat down beside them. "He worked Tuesday and Wednesday this week."

"Aren't you afraid of injuring your health, Jerry?" she asked sweetly. "I hope you're not working too hard."

He frowned and then burst into laughter.

"Roger's a chump. He sits staring at a sheet of foolscap all day and thinks he's working. I do work, though. I'm reorganizing a railroad," he finished proudly.

"How splendid! I'm sure it needs it. Railroads are the most disorganized and disorganizing—"