Would thou wert near
To hear me tell how fair thou art!
Since thou art gone I mourn all alone,
Oh, my Lolita–-“
She broke off to explain: “It’s one of those passionate little Spanish serenades, Hedrick. I’ll sing it for your boy- friends next time they come to play in the yard. I think they’d like it. When they know why you like it so much, I’m sure they will. Of course you DO like it—you roguish little lover!” A spasm rewarded this demoniacal phrase. “Darling little boy, the serenade goes on like this:
Oh, my Lolita, come to my heart:
Oh, come beloved, love let me press thee,
While I caress thee
In one long kiss, Lolita!
Lolita come! Let me–-“
Hedrick sprang to his feet with a yell of agony. “Laura Madison, you tattle-tale,” he bellowed, “I’ll never forgive you as long as I live! I’ll get even with you if it takes a thousand years!”
With that, and pausing merely to kick a rung out of a chair which happened to be in his way, he rushed from the room.
His sisters had risen to go, and Cora flung her arms round Laura in ecstacy. “You mean old viper!” she cried. “You could have told me days ago! It’s almost too good to be true: it’s the first time in my whole life I’ve felt safe from the Pest for a moment!”
Laura shook her head. “My conscience troubles me; it did seem as if I ought to tell you—and mamma thought so, too; and I gave him warning, but now that I have done it, it seems rather mean and–-“
“No!” exclaimed Cora. “You just gave me a chance to protect myself for once, thank heaven!” And she picked up her skirts and danced her way into the front hall.
“I’m afraid,” said Laura, following, “I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Oh, Laura,” cried the younger girl, “I am having the best time, these days! This just caps it.” She lowered her voice, but her eyes grew even brighter. “I think I’ve shown a certain gentleman a few things he didn’t understand!”
“Who, dear?”
“Val,” returned Cora lightly; “Valentine Corliss. I think he knows a little more about women than he did when he first came here.”
“You’ve had a difference with him?” asked Laura with eager hopefulness. “You’ve broken with him?”
“Oh, Lord, no! Nothing like that.” Cora leaned to her confidentially. “He told me, once, he’d be at the feet of any woman that could help put through an affair like his oil scheme, and I decided I’d just show him what I could do. He’d talk about it to me; then he’d laugh at me. That very Sunday when I got papa to go in–-“
“But he didn’t,” said Laura helplessly. “He only said he’d try to–-when he gets well.”
“It’s all the same—and it’ll be a great thing for him, too,” said Cora, gayly. “Well, that very afternoon before Val left, he practically told me I was no good. Of course he didn’t use just those words—that isn’t his way—but he laughed at me. And haven’t I shown him! I sent Richard a note that very night saying papa had consented to be secretary of the company, and Richard had said he’d go in if papa did that, and he couldn’t break his word–-“
“I know,” said Laura, sighing. “I know.”
“Laura”—Cora spoke with sudden gravity—“did you ever know anybody like me? I’m almost getting superstitious about it, because it seems to me I ALWAYS get just what I set out to get. I believe I could have anything in the world if I tried for it.”
“I hope so, if you tried for something good for you,” said Laura sadly. “Cora, dear, you will—you will be a little easy on Hedrick, won’t you?”
Cora leaned against the newel and laughed till she was exhausted.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mr. Trumble’s offices were heralded by a neat blazon upon the principal door, “Wade J. Trumble, Mortgages and Loans”; and the gentleman thus comfortably, proclaimed, emerging from that door upon a September noontide, burlesqued a start of surprise at sight of a figure unlocking an opposite door which exhibited the name, “Ray Vilas,” and below it, the cryptic phrase, “Probate Law.”
“Water!” murmured Mr. Trumble, affecting to faint. “You ain’t going in THERE, are you, Ray?” He followed the other into the office, and stood leaning against a bookcase, with his hands in his pockets, while Vilas raised the two windows, which were obscured by a film of smoke-deposit: there was a thin coat of fine sifted dust over everything. “Better not sit down, Ray,” continued Trumble, warningly. “You’ll spoil your clothes and you might get a client. That word `Probate’ on the door ain’t going to keep ‘em out forever. You recognize the old place, I s’pose? You must have been here at least twice since you moved in. What’s the matter? Dick Lindley hasn’t missionaried you into any idea of WORKING, has he? Oh, no,
“Have you heard how old man Madison is to-day? asked Ray, dusting his fingers with a handkerchief.
“Somebody told me yesterday he was about the same. He’s not going to get well.”
“How do you know?” Ray spoke quickly.
“Stroke too severe. People never recover–-“
“Oh, yes, they do, too.”
Trumble began hotly: “I beg to dif–-” but checked himself, manifesting a slight confusion. “That is, I know they
