Blue-Bird Weather

From far away in the sound came the confused murmur of wild fowl

feeding. Except for that, and the ceaseless monotone of the outer sea,

there was no sound, not even the lap of water against the bow.

Marche, who had been leaning forward, head bent as though watching the

water, turned to the girl abruptly. "I want to do something for--Jim,"

he said.

The girl looked up at him, not understanding.

"Will your father let me?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I mean that I want to send him to a good school--a good boys' school in

the North."

She caught her breath, was silent for a moment, then, amazed: "Would

you do that? Oh, I've wished for it--dreamed of it! But--how can you?

You are so kind--so good to us--but how could we--accept?"

"That's why I want to see your father."

"For that! Was it really for that, Mr. Marche?"

"Yes--partly." He swallowed and looked the other way, for the girl's

excited face was very near his own as she bent forward to search his

eyes for the least change of expression--bent nearer as though to

reassure herself that he meant it seriously. For an instant her soft

breath made the night air fragrant; he felt it, faint and fresh on his

cheek, and turned sharply, biting his lips lest he lose all

self-control.

"Could you and your father spare him?" he asked carelessly.

"Oh, if you only would give him that chance!" she cried. "But--tell

me--how can we accept such a thing of you? Is it possible?"

"Would you accept it?" he asked, turning toward her.

The question startled her. She looked at him, striving to think clearly,

trying to see this offered miracle through calm, impartial eyes.

"I--I would do anything--almost--for Jim," she said. "I'd have no pride

left, if his chances lay in the balance. But men--my father--may be

different."

He said slowly: "Suppose I offered the same chance to you?"

"What!" she said crisply.

"Suppose I offered you a college finishing, Miss Herold. Would you

accept?"

She slowly grew scarlet under his gaze. "That would be insulting," she

said, in a low voice.

"Why, when only kindness is meant--as I mean it for Jim?"

"It is not the same. I am a grown woman capable of caring for myself.

Such an offer, however kindly meant, could only hurt me, humiliate

me--and--I thought you found me companionable as I am. Friends do not

offer to better each other--in such a way."