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Page 37
"It is Elmer!" exclaimed Virginia, staring at the two figures which
were slowly approaching from the southern end of the street. "When did
he get here? I didn't expect him. . . ."
Then she chose to forget all save the essential fact that her "baby
brother" was here and ran out to the sidewalk, calling to him.
"Hello, Sis," returned Elmer nonchalantly. He was a thin,
anaemic-looking young fellow a couple of years younger than Virginia
who affected a swagger and gloves and who had a cough which was
insistent, but which he strove to disguise. And yet Florrie's
hyperbole had not been entirely without warrant. He had something of
Virginia's fine profile, a look of her in his eyes, the stamp of good
blood upon him. He suffered his sister to kiss him, meantime turning
his eyes with a faint sign of interest to the fair girl on the veranda.
Florrie smiled.
"Sis," said Elmer, "this is Mr. Rickard. Mr. Rickard, shake hands with
my sister, Miss Page."
A feeling of pure loathing swept over the girl as she turned to look
into Kid Rickard's sullen eyes and degenerate, cruel face. But, since
the Kid was a couple of paces removed and was slow about coming
forward, not so much as raising his hand to his wide hat, she nodded at
him and managed to say a quiet, non-committal, "How do you do?" Then
she slipped her arm through Elmer's.
"Come, Elmer," she said hastily. "I want you to know Miss Florence
Engle; she is a sort of cousin of ours."
"Sure," said Elmer off-handedly. "Come on, Rickard."
But the Kid, standing upon no ceremony, had drawn his hat a trifle
lower over his eyes and turned his shoulder upon them, continuing along
the street in his slouching walk. Elmer, summoning youth's supreme
weapon of an affected boredom, yawned, stifled his little cough and
went with Virginia to meet Florence.
Florence giggled over the introduction, then grew abruptly as grave as
a matron of seventy and tactlessly observed that Mr. Page had a very
bad cold; how could one have a cold in weather like this? Whereupon
Mr. Page glared at her belligerently, noted her little row of curls,
revised his first opinion of her, set her down not only as a cousin,
but as a crazy kid besides, and removed half a dozen steps to a chair.
"I don't think much of your friends," remarked Florrie, sensing sudden
opposition and flying half-way to meet it.
Elmer Page produced a very new, unsullied pipe from his pocket and
filled it with an air, while Virginia looked on curiously. Having done
so and having drawn up one trouser's leg to save the crease, crossed
the leg and at last put the pipe stem into his mouth, he regarded
Florrie from the cool and serene height of his superior age.
"If you refer to Mr. Rickard," he said aloofly, "I may say that he is
not a friend . . . yet. I just met him this afternoon. But, although
he hasn't had the social advantages, perhaps, still he is a man of
parts."
Florrie sniffed and tossed her head. Virginia bit her lips and watched
them.
"Been smoking too many cigs, I guess, Sis," Elmer remarked apropos of
the initial observation of Miss Engle which still rankled. "Got a
regular cigarette fiend's cough. Gave 'em up. Hitting the pipe now."
"If you knew," said Florrie spitefully, "that Mr. Rickard as you call
him had just murdered a man yesterday, what would you say then, I
wonder?"
There was a sparkle of excitement in Elmer's eyes as he swung about to
answer.
"Murdered!" he challenged. "You've heard just one side of it, of
course. Bisbee got drunk and insulted Mr. Rickard. They call him the
Kid, you know. Say, Sis, he's had a life for you! Full of adventure,
all kinds of sport. And Bisbee shot first, too. But the Kid got him!"
he concluded triumphantly. "Galloway told me all about it . . . and
what a blundering rummy the fool sheriff is."
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