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Page 15
When Burns and Ellen came across the lawn, Martha flew to meet them.
"You splendid people! Who wouldn't want to have a reception for such a
pair?"
"We flatter ourselves we do look pretty fine," Burns admitted, eying his
wife with satisfaction. "That gauzy gray thing Ellen has on strikes me as
the bulliest yet. If I could just get her to wear a pink rose in her hair
I'd be satisfied."
"A rose in her hair! Aren't you satisfied with that exquisite coral
necklace? That gives the touch of colour she needs. The rose would overdo
it--and wouldn't match, besides." Martha spoke with scorn.
"Yes, a rose would be maudlin, Red; can't you see it?" James Macauley
gave his opinion with a wink at his friend. "With the necklace your wife
is a dream. With a rose added she'd be a--waking up! Trust 'em, that's my
advice. When they get to talking about a 'touch of' anything, that's the
time to leave 'em alone. A touch of colour is not a daub."
"Who's lecturing on art?" queried Arthur Chester, from the doorway.
His wife, Winifred, entering before him, cried out at sight of the pale
gray gauze gown.
"O Ellen! I thought I looked pretty well, till I caught sight of you. Now
I feel crude!"
"Absurd," said Ellen, laughing. "You are charming in that blue."
"There they go again," groaned Macauley to Burns. "Winifred feels crude,
when she looks at Ellen. Why? I don't feel crude when I look at you or
Art Chester. Neither of you has so late a cut on your dress-coat as I,
I flatter myself. I feel anything but crude. And I don't want a rose in
my hair, either."
"You're a self-satisfied prig," retorted Burns. "Hullo! Somebody's
coming. Tell me what to do, Martha. Do I run to meet them and rush them
up to Ellen, or do I display a studied indifference? I never 'received'
at a reception in my life."
"Get in line there," instructed Macauley. "Martha and I'll greet them
first and pass them on to you. Don't look as if you were noting symptoms
and don't absent-mindedly feel their pulses. It's not done, outside of
consulting rooms."
"I'll try to remember." R.P. Burns, M.D. resignedly took his place,
murmuring in Ellen's ear, as the first comers appeared at the door,
"Promise you'll make this up to me, when it's over. I shall have to blow
off steam, somehow. Will you help?"
She nodded, laughing. He chuckled, as an idea popped into his head; then
drew his face into lines of propriety, and stood, a big, dignified
figure--for Red Pepper could be dignified when the necessity was upon
him--beside the other graceful figure at his side, suggesting an
unfailing support of her grace by his strength to all who looked at them
that night. He had declared himself ignorant of all conventions, but
neither jocose James Macauley nor fastidious Arthur Chester, observing
him, could find any fault with their friend in this new r�le. As the
stream of their townspeople passed by, each with a carefully prepared
word of greeting, Burns was ready with a quick-wittedly amiable
rejoinder. And whenever it became his duty to present to his wife those
who did not know her, he made of the act a little ceremony which seemed
to set her apart as his own in a way which roused no little envy of her,
if he had but known it, in the breasts of certain of the feminine portion
of the company.
"You're doing nobly. Keep it up an hour longer and you shall be let off,"
said Macauley to Burns, at a moment when both were free.
"Oh, I'm having the time of my life," Burns assured him grimly, mopping
a warm brow and thrusting his chin forward with that peculiar masculine
movement which suggests momentary relief from an encompassing collar.
"Why should anybody want to be released from such a soul-refreshing
diversion as this? I've lost all track of time or sense,--I just go on
grinning and assenting to everything anybody says to me. I couldn't
discuss the simplest subject with any intelligence whatever--I've none
left."
"You don't need any. Decent manners and the grin will do. Had anything to
eat yet?"
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