For a time I had no progress to report.Out of consideration for those members of our weekly dancing class whose parents were Episcopalians the meetings were discontinued during Lent,and to call would have demanded a courage not in me;I should have become an object of ridicule among my friends and I would have died rather than face Nancy's mother and the members of her household.I set about making ingenious plans with a view to encounters that might appear casual.Nancy's school was dismissed at two,so was mine.By walking fast I could reach Salisbury Street,near St.Mary's Seminary for Young Ladies,in time to catch her,but even then for many days I was doomed to disappointment.She was either in company with other girls,or else she had taken another route;this I surmised led past Sophy McAlery's house,and I enlisted Tom as a confederate.He was to make straight for the McAlery's on Elm while I followed Powell,two short blocks away,and if Nancy went to Sophy's and left there alone he was to announce the fact by a preconcerted signal.Through long and persistent practice he had acquired a whistle shrill enough to wake the dead,accomplished by placing a finger of each hand between his teeth;--a gift that was the envy of his acquaintances,and the subject of much discussion as to whether his teeth were peculiar.Tom insisted that they were;it was an added distinction.
On this occasion he came up behind Nancy as she was leaving Sophy's gate and immediately sounded the alarm.She leaped in the air,dropped her school-books and whirled on him.
"Tom Peters!How dare you frighten me so!"she cried.
Tom regarded her in sudden dismay.
"I--I didn't mean to,"he said."I didn't think you were so near.""But you must have seen me.""I wasn't paying much attention,"he equivocated,--a remark not calculated to appease her anger.
"Why were you doing it?"
"I was just practising,"said Tom.
"Practising!"exclaimed Nancy,scornfully."I shouldn't think you needed to practise that any more.""Oh,I've done it louder,"he declared,"Listen!"She seized his hands,snatching them away from his lips.At this critical moment I appeared around the corner considerably out of breath,my heart beating like a watchman's rattle.I tried to feign nonchalance.
"Hello,Tom,"I said."Hello,Nancy.What's the matter?""It's Tom--he frightened me out of my senses."Dropping his wrists,she gave me a most disconcerting look;there was in it the suspicion of a smile."What are you doing here,Hugh?""I heard Tom,"I explained.
"I should think you might have.Where were you?""Over in another street,"I answered,with deliberate vagueness.Nancy had suddenly become demure.I did not dare look at her,but I had a most uncomfortable notion that she suspected the plot.Meanwhile we had begun to walk along,all three of us,Tom,obviously ill at ease and discomfited,lagging a little behind.Just before we reached the corner I managed to kick him.His departure was by no means graceful.
"I've got to go;"he announced abruptly,and turned down the side street.
We watched his sturdy figure as it receded.
"Well,of all queer boys!"said Nancy,and we walked on again.
"He's my best friend,"I replied warmly.
"He doesn't seem to care much for your company,"said Nancy.
"Oh,they have dinner at half past two,"I explained.
"Aren't you afraid of missing yours,Hugh?"she asked wickedly.
"I've got time.I'd--I'd rather be with you."After making which audacious remark I was seized by a spasm of apprehension.But nothing happened.Nancy remained demure.She didn't remind me that I had reflected upon Tom.
"That's nice of you,Hugh."
"Oh,I'm not saying it because it's nice,"I faltered."I'd rather be with you than--with anybody."This was indeed the acme of daring.I couldn't believe I had actually said it.But again I received no rebuke;instead came a remark that set me palpitating,that I treasured for many weeks to come.
"I got a very nice valentine,"she informed me.
"What was it like?"I asked thickly.
"Oh,beautiful!All pink lace and--and Cupids,and the picture of a young man and a young woman in a garden.""Was that all?""Oh,no,there was a verse,in the oddest handwriting.I wonder who sent it?""Perhaps Ralph,"I hazarded ecstatically.
"Ralph couldn't write poetry,"she replied disdainfully."Besides,it was very good poetry."I suggested other possible authors and admirers.She rejected them all.
We reached her gate,and I lingered.As she looked down at me from the stone steps her eyes shone with a soft light that filled me with radiance,and into her voice had come a questioning,shy note that thrilled the more because it revealed a new Nancy of whom I had not dreamed.
"Perhaps I'll meet you again--coming from school,"I said.
"Perhaps,"she answered."You'll be late to dinner,Hugh,if you don't go...."I was late,and unable to eat much dinner,somewhat to my mother's alarm.
Love had taken away my appetite....After dinner,when I was wandering aimlessly about the yard,Tom appeared on the other side of the fence.
"Don't ever ask me to do that again,"he said gloomily.
I did meet Nancy again coming from school,not every day,but nearly every day.At first we pretended that there was no arrangement in this,and we both feigned surprise when we encountered one another.It was Nancy who possessed the courage that I lacked.One afternoon she said:--"I think I'd better walk with the girls to-morrow,Hugh."I protested,but she was firm.And after that it was an understood thing that on certain days I should go directly home,feeling like an exile.
