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Page 102
Burns looked out of the window without speaking. His sea-tanned face
showed a deeper shade under Leaver's praise. Leaver himself smiled at the
averted profile of his friend, and went on, while Ellen looked at him as
if he had given her something which money could not buy.
"I wish," said John Leaver, laying a firm-knit hand on Burns's knee,
"you'd come to Baltimore, Red. Between us we'd do some things pretty well
worth doing. Without undue conceit I think I could promise you a backing
to start on that would give you a place in a twelvemonth that couldn't be
taken away from you in a decade. Why not? It's a beautiful city to live
in. Your wife is a Southerner, born and bred; it would be home to her
among our people. My wife and I care more for your friendship than for
that of any other people on earth. What is friendship for, if not to make
the most of?"
Burns turned and looked at him, then at his wife, then back at Leaver.
There was a strange expression in his hazel eyes; they seemed suddenly on
fire beneath the heavy dark eyebrows. He took off his hat and ran his
hand through his coppery thick locks. Then:
"Are you serious, Jack?" he questioned. "Or are you trying the biggest
kind of a bluff?"
"Absolutely serious. How should I be anything else? You taught me certain
values up at your home last summer--you and Mrs. Burns. One was, as I
have said, the worth of a big, true friendship. I've been thinking of
this thing a long time. It's not the result of your performance this
morning. If you had failed entirely in that particular attempt my faith
in you would not have been shaken a particle, nor my desire to have you
associated with me here. But there's no denying that what you did this
morning would easily make an entering wedge for you. Why not take
advantage of it? Will you think it over?"
Burns looked again at his wife. Her eyes held an expression as beautiful
as it was inscrutable. He could not read it.
He turned back to Leaver. "Yes, we'll think it over," he said briefly.
Then he looked out of the window again. "What's the name of this park?"
he asked.
The conversation veered to follow his lead. It was not resumed during the
drive home, nor again that day, between the four. It cannot be denied
that the subject was discussed by John Leaver and Charlotte through
varying degrees of hopefulness and enthusiasm. As for Burns and Ellen--
In their own quarters that night Burns threw a plump silk couch-pillow
upon the floor at Ellen's feet, and himself upon it, by her knee, as
she sat in a big chair by the open window. She was still wearing the
Parisian-made gown of the evening, with which she had delighted the eyes
of them all. It was the one such gown she had allowed herself to bring
home, treating herself to its beauty for its own sake, rather than
because she could find much use for it in her quiet home.
Burns put up one hand and gently smoothed the silken fabric upon Ellen's
knee.
"This is a beauty of a frock," said he. "I can't tell you what you look
like in it; I've been trying to find a simile all the evening. Yet it's
not the clothes that become you; you become the clothes."
"Thank you. That's a dear compliment--from a husband."
"It's sincere. You've worn such clothes a lot, in your life, before I
knew you. You are used to them--at home in them. If we came to Baltimore,
and I made good, you would have plenty of use for dresses like this. You
would queen it, here."
She smiled, shaking her head. "Taking one's place in society in any
Southern city isn't quite such a foregone conclusion, dear," she said.
"Not for strangers from the North."
"With the Leavers to vouch for us, and your own personality, I don't
imagine it would be a matter of tremendous difficulty. Even the country
surgeon could get along without smashing many usages, under your tuition.
Besides, you have the acquaintance of some of the--what do they call
them?--'best people,' was the term, I believe, Jack used to me. It's a
curious phrase, by the way, isn't it? Doesn't mean at all what it says!"
"Not quite--always."
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