If the Shoe Fits—/Chapter 9

UT I can't go with you to the theater to-night. Honestly I can't, John Rand, dear!”

“But, Audrey, dear,” he bantered, leaning across the library table and with his eyes shining into hers eloquent of many things, of one Great Thing in particular, “why can't you go to the theater with me to-night?”

“It's that horrid French grammar.” Two big tears of vexation stood in her gray eyes, looking like trembling dewdrops about to fall upon the petals of a blush-pink rose. “I just hate the thing. But Mama—”

And she sighed and shook her head and laughed and dabbed at her eyes.

“We'll go driving then, instead,” he urged. “Out for a spin in the park and—a dinner at Rector's? What do you say, Audrey? I never told you that I had studied French, did I? And on the way I can help you.”

“I'd like to. But there's Mama—”

Plainly she was hesitating. He leaned just a little bit nearer and whispered:

“Just to-night, Audrey. Please. For—for I'm going away to-morrow!”

She started a little, just as he had hoped she would, and looked at him with widening, wondering eyes.

“To-morrow? Why?”

“I can't stay always, can I?”

“N-o,” with what sounded to his eager ears joyously like reluctance. “But aren't you going to stay until Cootsie comes home?”

“Aren't you coming with me?” he countered. “The car is buzzing outside now—hear it? And I'll teach you your French.”

So they went out together, hastily, stealthily, like two children escaping from an ogre in a fairy tale. Audrey sighed contentedly as she sank back against the soft cushions, and John Rand, the need of haste upon him, said hurriedly:

“In French, Audrey, you must begin by knowing the conjugations. And there is one verb, only one verb in all the wide, wandering world of worlds that matters. It's AMO, Audrey, and—”

“Amo,” she laughed at him, “is Latin, John Rand, dear!”

“Oh, is it? Wipe that out, then, and we'll start over. In French there is only one city in the world, and that's Paris. Have you ever been there, Audrey?”

“No. But—”

“Neither have I! Isn't that a strangely remarkable coincidence? Do you see to what it points? Let's go, Audrey!”

“John Rand, dear, I'm afraid you have been drinking!”

“And so I have, God bless you! I have drunk deep, deep of the wonder of you. And in every language in the world, Audrey, I love you! I wasn't going to tell you,” he laughed, “because it seems a sort of insult to your intelligence to suppose that you need telling!”

“I think,” faintly, “that I'd better go back and get my French.”

“Faster, Tom,” he cried gleefully to the chauffeur. “When you get to the park just keep on going! Audrey, why do you interrupt me? I have so much I've got to say to you before I die and time is so short! To go back to where I intended to begin—and would have begun had you not tempted me astray with foreign languages—Jasper has come home!”

“Cootsie home?” she cried eagerly. “Where is he?”

“Upstairs in my room. It's his room now. I've given it back to him. And he's in trouble.”

“More trouble? What is it now?”

“Now it's Bella. There's a steamer leaving for London to-night, and she's going. That is, she thinks she's going. She's taken tickets and all that. And she won't listen to a word Jasper tries to say. Oh, he's been trying all afternoon to explain to her over the telephone. I wouldn't let him leave the house,” with a chuckle. “Now what happens if she goes?”

“She mustn't go! She wasn't going until she and Cootsie were married, and she's going now just because—because,” contritely, “I played that stupid joke on you two!”

“Exactly,” he nodded approvingly. “And it's just your fault if two loving young hearts are torn asunder!”

“You mustn't laugh at it. We can't let her go.”

“No. I've thought it all out. I'll be at the pier when she comes down to take the steamer. I'll step out where she can see me, and will have a boy handy to carry my suit-cases on board. Then she'll turn back—and run right into the other Jasper Ruud. And we will gallop on board and take her place and—aren't you glad you've never been to Paris, Audrey, dear?”

“We?” she challenged him.

“Why, of course. For I'm not going alone. And listen to me, young lady. You've got 'em into this mess. You've got to sacrifice yourself in getting them out. And, think of it! There'll be no more French grammars! The boat doesn't leave until ten o'clock. The good Lord arranged to have it delayed. It's eight now. Two hours to telephone to Jasper Ruud to meet us at the pier, to get a minister, and to fix up the change of tickets. And listen to this, I've made some money to-day; not much for a Ruud but a whole lot for a Rand! And you get around that by ceasing to be a Ruud—and becoming a Rand!”

They sped into the park and swept through it from end to end. Tom turned and drove back through the park. Audrey and John Rand did not know whether they were in the park or at Herald Square.

“John Rand, dear,” Audrey laughed happily at him—long before it was ten o'clock—“you're not going to get conceited over it, are you? For,” defiantly, “it's just to help poor old Cootsie out—and for a joke on Mother and—”

She flung the French grammar out of the window.