Robert Kimberly

"Of course, I care for it. Who could help it?It is lovely. Where are we going?"

"Down the lake a mile or two; then the boatswill return for the fireworks."

"You don't seem very lively yourself to-night.Are you bored?"

"No; only wondering whether you will godriving with me to-morrow."

"I said I would not."

"I hoped, of course, you might reconsider."

He did not again press the subject of the drive, but when they were walking up the hill after therockets and showers of gold falling down the darksky, she told him he might come for her the nextday. "I don't know how it is," she murmured,"but you always have your own way. You windme right around your finger."

He laughed. "If I do, it is only because Idon't try to."

"I realize it; that is what puzzles me."

"The real secret is, not that I wind you aroundmy finger, but that you don't want to hurt myfeelings. I find something to wonder at, too.When I am with you-even when you are anywherenear me, I am totally different. Alone, Iam capable of withdrawing wholly within myself.I am self-absorbed and concentrated. Withyou I am never wholly within myself. I am, seemingly, partly in your consciousness."

Alice shook her head. "It is true," he persisted."It is one of the consequences of love; tobe drawn out of one's self. I have it." Heturned to her, questioningly, "Can you understand it?"

"I think so."

"But do you ever feel it?"

"Sometimes."

"Never, of course, for me?"

"Sometimes."

CHAPTER XXIX

"This is a courtship without any spring," saidDolly one night to her husband. Theywere discussing her brother and Alice. "Atfirst it was all winter, now it is all summer."

She thought they showed themselves together toomuch in public, and their careless intimacy was,in fact, outwardly unrestrained.

Not that Dolly was censorious. Her philosophyfound refuge in fatalism. And since what is tobe must be-especially where the Kimberlys wereconcerned-why worry over the complications?Seemliness, however, Dolly held, was to beregarded, and concerning this she felt she ought tobe consulted. The way to be consulted she hadlong ago learned was to find fault.

But if she herself reproved Kimberly and Alice,Dolly allowed no one else to make their affairs asubject of comment. Lottie Nelson, who couldnever be wholly suppressed, was silenced whenoccasion offered. One afternoon at The Hickories,Alice's name being mentioned, Lottie askedwhether Robert was still chasing her.

"Chasing her?" echoed Dolly contemptuouslyand ringing the changes on the objectionable word,"Of course; why shouldn't he chase her? Whoelse is there to chase? He loves the excitementof the hunt; and who else around here is there tohunt? The other women hunt him. No manwants anything that comes tumbling after him.What we want is what we can't get; or at leastwhat we're not sure of getting."

Kimberly and Alice if not quite unconscious ofcomment were at least oblivious of it. Theymotored a great deal, always at their own will, and they accounted to no one for their excursions.

"They are just a pair of bad children," saidImogene to Dolly. "And they act like children."

One of their diversions in their rambling driveswas to stop children and talk with them or askquestions of them. One day near Sunbury theyencountered a puny, skeleton-faced boy, ahighway acquaintance, wheeling himself along in aninvalid chair.

They had never hitherto talked with this boyand they now stopped their car and backed up.Alice usually asked the questions. "I thoughtyou lived away at the other end of the village, laddie?"

"Yes'm, I do."

"You haven't wheeled yourself all this way?"

"Yes'm."

"What's the matter with you that you can'twalk, Tommie?" demanded Kimberly.

"My back is broken."

Alice made a sympathetic exclamation. "Mydear little fellow-I'm very sorry for you!"

The boy smiled. "Oh, don't be sorry for me."

"Not sorry for you?"

"I have a pretty good time; it's my mother-I'msorry for her."

"Ah, indeed, your mother!" echoed Alice, struckby his words. "I am sorry for both of you then.And how did you break your back?"

"In our yard-climbing, ma'am."

"Poor devil, he's not the first one that hasbroken his back climbing," muttered Kimberly, taking a note from his waistcoat. "Give himsomething, Alice."

"As much as this?" cried Alice under herbreath, looking at the note and at Kimberly.

"Why not? It's of no possible use to us, andit will be a nine-months' wonder in that littlehousehold."

Alice folded the note up and stretched herwhite-gloved hand toward the boy. "Take this hometo your mother."

"Thank you. I can make little baskets," headded shyly.

"Can you?" echoed Alice, pleased. "Wouldyou make one for me?"

"I will bring one up to your house if you wantme to."

"That would be too far! And you don't knowwhere I live."

The boy looked at the green and black car as ifhe could not be mistaken. "Up at The Towers,ma'am."

Brice, who took more than a mild interest in thesituation, grinned inwardly.

Kimberly and Alice laughed together. "Verywell; bring it to The Towers," directed Kimberly,"I'll see that she gets it."

"Yes, sir."

"And see here; don't lose that note, Tommie.By Heavens, he handles money more carelesslythan I do. No matter, wait till his mother sees it."