Our Next-Door Neighbors

Chapter XI

A Bad Means to a Good End

When we were setting out on the proposed picnic the next day, Rob made himself extremely unpopular by announcing his intention to spend the day otherwise. The new blonde girl gave him fetching glances of entreaty which he never even saw. He made another sensation by proposing to keep Diogenes with him. To Silvia’s surprise, Diogenes voiced his delight and chattered away, I suppose, about playing with the boys, but fortunately no one understood him.

“Won’t you change your mind and come, too?” he asked Beth.

She seemed on the point of accepting and then firmly declined.

When we returned at six o’clock, Rob and Diogenes were awaiting us. There was something in Rob’s eyes I had not seen there before. He had the look of one in love with life.

“Did you have a nice time playing solitaire?” asked Silvia.

“I had a very nice time,” he replied with a subtle smile, “but I didn’t play solitaire. You know I had Diogenes.”

“Diogenes apparently had a good time, too,” said Silvia, looking at the child, who was certainly a wreck in the way of garments. “What did you do all day, Rob?”

“We went out on the water, played games, and had a picnic dinner outdoors.”

“You had huckleberry pie for one thing,” she observed, with a glance at Diogenes’ dress, “and jelly for another, and–”

“Chicken, baked potatoes, milk, cake, and ice cream,” he finished.

“Where did you get ice cream?” she asked.

“I went down to a dairy farm and got a gallon.”

“A gallon!” she exclaimed. “For you and Diogenes?”

“We didn’t eat it all,” he said guardedly. “I gave what we didn’t eat to some stray boys.”

“I hope Di won’t be ill.”

“He won’t,” asserted Rob. “I am sure he is made of cast iron.”

Throughout dinner Rob remained in high spirits. He kept eyeing Beth in a way that disconcerted her, and then suddenly he would smile with the expression of one who knows something funny, but intends to keep it a secret.

Presently Silvia left us and went upstairs to give Diogenes a bath before she put him to bed.

“You’ve had two days’ freedom from the last of the Polydores,” I called after her. “Doesn’t it seem delightful?”

“Lucien,” she answered slowly, “I’ve really missed the care of him. I was lonesome for him all day.”

“He isn’t such a bad little kid when he is out from Polydore environment,” I admitted, regretting that he had been restored to it.

“Now tell us all about your day with the boys,” Beth asked Rob, when we were left alone. “It really does seem too bad to keep a secret from Silvia, and yet it is a case of where ignorance is bliss–”

“It would be folly to be otherwise,” finished Rob. “Well, Diogenes and I left here with a boat load of supplies in the way of provender and things for the boys. I had to tie Diogenes in the boat, of course, so he would not try some aquatic feat. He objected and yelled like a fiend all the way. I was glad there was no one at the hotel to come out and arrest me for cruelty to children. Of course before we landed, his cries were heard by his brothers and they were all at the water’s edge. They made mulepacks of themselves and transferred the commissary supplies. The ice cream and bats and balls which I found at the store made quite a hit.

“We played baseball, fished, and had a spread on the shore. Then Ptolemy and I rowed out to where the sailboat was. I explained the mysteries of the jib and he caught on instantly. We took in the other Polydores and sailed for a couple of hours. Then we all went in swimming.”

“Not Diogenes!”

“Certainly. I tucked him under my arm and he seemed perfectly at home, although greatly disappointed because we didn’t succeed in catching a snake.

“I finally landed them all safely under the roof of the Haunted House, and Ptolemy assured me it was the best day of his young life. In appreciation of the diversions I had afforded him, he made a confession which proved such good news to me that I was a lenient listener and exacted no penalty.”

“What was it?” I asked.

“He told me that on the day of Miss Wade’s and my arrival at your house, he had made a misstatement to each of us and had not repeated to us accurately what he had overheard you telling Silvia when he was on the porch roof. Miss Wade, what did he tell you about me?”

“He said that Lucien said that your only failing was that you were daffy over women and made love to every one you saw.”

“Oh, Beth!” I cried, light bursting in, “and you believed that little wretch?”

“I did.”

“Then that is why you have been so–”

“Yes–so–” repeated Rob grimly.

“Well, I never did have any use for a man-flirt, and I was awfully disappointed, for I had thought from what Rob said that you were a man’s man.”

“And then, of course, when for the first time in my life I began being interested in a woman–in you–I played right into that little scamp’s hands.”

“He is a man’s man, Beth,” I said warmly. “What Ptolemy heard me say was that Rob was a woman-hater.”

“I am not!” declared Rob indignantly–“just a woman-shyer, but I haven’t finished with Ptolemy’s confession. I wonder, now, if either of you can guess what he told me was Miss Wade’s characteristic.”

“I don’t dare guess,” laughed Beth.

“What I did say about Beth was that she was a born flirt.”

“I am not!” protested my sister, in resentment.

“I should prefer that appellation to the one he gave you. He said you were strong-minded and a man-hater.”

Even Beth saw the irony of this.

“I asked him,” continued Rob, “what his motive was, and he said ‘Stepdaddy didn’t want Beth to know about the man-hater business,’ so he took that means of throwing you off the track.

“I took the occasion to talk to him like a Dutch uncle, though I don’t know exactly what that is. I think it was the first time anything but brute force had been tried on him. I must have touched some little flicker of the right thing in him, for he was really contrite and seemed to sense a different angle of vision when I explained to him what havoc could be worked by the misinformation of meddlers. He promised me he’d try to overcome his tendency to start things going wrong.”

I made no comment, but it occurred to me that Ptolemy was a shrewd little fellow, and that there had been wisdom back of his strategic speeches to Beth and Rob, for he had taken the one sure course to make them both “take notice.”

“So, Beth,” said Rob, and her name seemed to come quite handily to him, “can’t we cut out the past ten days and begin our acquaintance right?”

“I think we can,” she answered.

“I had better go upstairs,” I suggested, “and tell Silvia that Diogenes doesn’t need a bath, seeing he has been in swimming.”

Neither of them urged me to remain, so I went up to our room and found Silvia tucking Diogenes under cover.

“What did you come up for?” she asked. “I was just coming down to join you.”

“Beth is treating Rob so–differently, that I thought it well to retreat.”

“I am so glad! Whatever came over the spirit of her dreams?”

“They’ve just discovered in the course of conversation that Ptolemy as usual crossed the wires and told Beth Rob was a flirt, and then informed Rob that Beth was strong-minded and a man-hater.”

“Oh, the little imp!” she exclaimed indignantly.

“I don’t know. It worked, anyway, so Ptolemy was the bad means to a good end.”

“How did they ever happen to discover what he had done?”

“They caught on from something Rob said,” I told her, feeling again guilty at keeping my first secret from her.

“It will be a fine match for Beth,” said Silvia. “Rob is such a splendid man, and then he has plenty of money. He can give her anything she wants.”

I winced. I think Silvia must have been conscious of it, even though the room was dark, for she came to me quickly.

“I wish I could give you–everything–anything–you want, Silvia.”

“You have, Lucien. The things that no money could buy–love and protection.”

Well, maybe I had. I had surely given her protection from the Polydores, though she didn’t know to what extent.

“I am going to give you more material things, though, Silvia. When we go home, I shall start to work in earnest and see if I can’t get enough ahead to make a good investment I know of.”

“I’d rather do without the necessities even, Lucien, than to have you work any harder than you have been doing. We must let well enough alone.”

Chapter XII

“ Too Much Polydores ”

The next morning at breakfast, Beth announced that she and Rob were going to spend the day camping in the woods.

Silvia and I tried not to look significantly at each other, but Beth was very keen.

“We will take Diogenes with us,” she instantly added.

“Oh, no!” protested Silvia. “He’ll be such a bother. And then he can’t walk very far, you know.”

“He’ll be no bother,” persisted Beth. “And we’ll borrow the little cart to draw him in.”

“Yes,” acquiesced Rob. “We sure want Diogenes with us.”

“I’ll have them put up a lunch for you,” proposed Silvia.

“No,” Rob objected. “We are going to forage and cook over a fire in the woods.”

“Then,” I proposed to Silvia with alacrity, “we’ll have our first day alone together–the first we have had since the Polydores came into our lives. I’ll rent the ‘autoo’ again, and we will go through the country and dine at some little wayside inn.”

“Get the ‘autoo’, now, Lucien,” advised Beth privately, “and make an early start, so Rob and I can take supplies from the store without arousing Silvia’s suspicions.”

“I don’t believe,” said Silvia disappointedly, when we were “autooing” on our way, “that they are in love after all, or that he has proposed, or that he is going to.”

“Where did you draw all those pessimistic inferences from?” I asked.

“From their both being so keen to take Diogenes with them.”

“Diogenes would be no barrier to their love-making,” I told her. “He couldn’t repeat what they said; at least, not so anyone could understand him.”

Many miles away we came upon a picturesque little old-time tavern where we had an appetizing dinner, and then continued on our aimless way. It was nearly ten o’clock when we returned to the hotel, where the owner of the “autoo” was waiting.

Rob came down the roadway.

“Where’s Beth?” asked Silvia.

“She has gone to bed. The day in the open made her sleepy.”

When Silvia had left us, the old farmer said with a chuckle: “I can’t offer you another swig of stone fence.”

“It’s probably just as well you can’t,” I replied.

“I’d like to be introduced to one,” said Rob, who appeared to be somewhat downcast. “I sure need a bracer.”

“What’s the matter, Rob?” I asked when we were lighting our pipes. “A strenuous day? Two in rapid ‘concussion’ with the Polydores must be nerve-racking.”

“Yes; I admit there seemed to be ‘too much Polydores.’ We all had a happy reunion, and I devoted the forenoon to the entertainment of the famous family so I could be entitled to the afternoon off to spend with Beth. At noon we built a fire and cooked a sumptuous dinner. Beth baked up some things to keep them supplied a couple of days longer. After dinner I asked her to go for a row. She insisted on taking Diogenes along, and the others all followed us on a raft. So I decided to cut the water sports short, and Beth and I started for a walk in the woods. Three or more were constantly right on our trail. I begged and bribed, but to no avail. They were sticktights all right, and,” he added morosely, “she seemed covertly to aid and abet them. When we started for home, I found that the young fiends had broken the cart, so I had to carry Diogenes most of the way, and of course he bellowed as usual at being parted from the whelps.”

“They aren’t such ‘fine little chaps’ after all,” I couldn’t resist commenting. “Familiarity breeds contempt, you see. I am sorry Diogenes had so much of their society. He’ll be unendurable tomorrow. Well, you had some day!”

“So did the Polydores. Demetrius and Diogenes fell in the fire twice. Emerald threw a finger out of joint, but Ptolemy quickly jerked it into place. Pythagoras was kicked off the raft twice, following a mutiny. Demetrius threw a lighted match into the vines and set fire to the house. They said it was a ‘beaut of a day’, though, and urged us to come tomorrow and repeat the program. By the way, they went across the lake on their raft yesterday and bought a tent of some campers. They have pitched it in the woods beyond the house.”

When I went upstairs Silvia met me disconsolately.

“He didn’t propose,” she said disappointedly. “She wouldn’t let him.”

“Did you wake her up to find out?” I asked.

“She hadn’t gone to bed and she wasn’t sleepy. She was trimming a hat.”

“Why wouldn’t she let him propose, if she cares for him?” I asked perplexedly.

“Well, you see,” explained Silvia, “that when a girl–a coquette girl like Beth–is as sure of a man as she is of Rob, she gets a touch of contrariness or offishness or something. She said it would have been too prosaic and cut and dried if they had gone away for a day in the woods and come back engaged. She wants the unexpected.”

“Do you think she loves him?” I asked interestedly.

“She doesn’t say so. You can’t tell from what she says anyway. Still, I think she is hovering around the danger point.”

“She’d better watch out. Rob isn’t the kind of a man who will stand for too much thwarting,” I replied.

“If he’d only play up a little bit to some one else, it would bring things to a climax,” said my wife sagely.

“There’s no one else to play up to. The blonde left today because it was so slow here.”

“Maybe some new girl will come tomorrow,” said Silvia, “or there’s that trim little waitress who is waiting her way through college. He gave her a good big tip yesterday. I think I will give him a hint.”

“It wouldn’t help any. He wouldn’t know how to play such a game if you could persuade him to try. He’d probably tell the girl his motive in being attentive to her and then she’d back out. Maybe, after all, Beth doesn’t love him.”

“I think she does,” replied my wife, “because she is getting absent-minded. She let Diogenes go too near the fire. His shoes are burned, his hair singed, and his dress scorched. He woke up when I came in and he was so cross. He acted just the way he does when he is with his brothers.”

Chapter XIII

Rob’s Friend the Reporter

Silvia’s vague prophecy was fulfilled. When the event of the day, the arrival of the stage, occurred, a solitary passenger alighted, a slim, alert, city-cut young woman.

She looked us all over–not boldly, but with a business-like directness as if she were taking inventory of stock, or acting as judge at a competition. When her blue eyes lighted on Rob, they darkened with pleasure.

“Oh, Mr. Rossiter!” she exclaimed, “this is better than I hoped for.”

They shook hands with the air of being old acquaintances, and he introduced her to us as “Miss Frayne, from my home town.”

She went into the office, registered, and sent her bag to her room. Then she asked Rob if she might have a talk with him.

They walked away together down to the shore and she was talking to him quite excitedly. Rob suddenly stopped, threw back his head and laughed in the way that it is good to hear a man laugh.

“Miss Frayne must be a wit,” observed Beth dryly.

I looked at her keenly. Something in her eyes as she gazed after the retreating couple told me that Silvia’s surmise was right, and that Miss Frayne might be just the little punch needed to send Beth over the danger point.

“I rather incline to the belief that Ptolemy told the truth in the first place,” she continued, and then looked disappointed because I did not contradict her.

I decided not to reveal, for the present anyway, what I knew of Miss Frayne, of whom I had often heard Rob speak.

“She can’t be going to stay long,” said Silvia hopefully. “She didn’t bring a trunk.”

“She doesn’t need one,” replied Beth. “She is probably one of those mannish girls who believe in a skirt and a few waists for a wardrobe.”

When Rob and the newcomer returned, he seemed to be monopolizing the conversation in a very emphatic and earnest manner. As they came up the steps to the veranda, we heard her say:

“Very well, Mr. Rossiter, I will do just as you say. I have perfect confidence in your judgment.”

They passed on into the hotel and Beth jumped up and went down toward the lake.

“Did you ever hear Rob speak of this Miss Frayne?” asked Silvia.

“Often. She is engaged to his cousin, and is a reporter on a big newspaper.”

“Why didn’t you say so? Oh, Lucien,” she continued before I could speak, “were you really shrewd enough to see which way the wind was blowing?”

“Sure. After you set my sails for me last night.”

Just then Rob came out of the hotel.

“Say, Lucien, I want to see you a minute. Come on down the road.”

“We’ve got some work ahead,” he said when we were out of Silvia’s hearing.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Miss Frayne is up–and doing. What do you suppose her paper sent her here for?”

“For a rest, or to write up the mosquitoes of H. H.”

“H. H. is all right, only it happens they stand for Haunted House.”

“Not really?”

“Yes, really. The rumors of the house and the ghost, greatly elaborated, of course, reached the Sunday editor of the paper Miss Frayne is on, and he sent her up here to revive the story of the murder, translate the ghost, and get snapshots of the house. She was quite keen to have me take her there at once, so she could commence her article, but I headed her off, so she wouldn’t discover the summer boarders at the hotel annex. I assured her that daytime was not the time to gather material and the only way she could get a proper focus on the ghost and acquire the thrills necessary for an inspiration was to see the place first by night.”

“If she would view Fair Melrose aright,” I quoted, “she must visit it in the pale moonlight, but you were very clever to delay her visit long enough for us to get over there and warn the enemy. If she had gone down there and caught the Polydores unawares, she would have come back here and revealed our secret, and there would be the end of Silvia’s vacation.”