The Search

"Delightful!" said Ruth pleasantly. "Do I know the lady?"

"Indeed you do," he said watching her with satisfaction. "You've known, for several years that you were the only one for me, and I've come to tell you that I won't stand any more dallying. I mean business now!"

He crossed his fat leather puttees creakily and swelled out, trying to look firm. He had decided that he must impress her with the seriousness of the occasion.

But Ruth only laughed merrily. He had been proposing to her ever since he got out of short trousers, and she had always laughed him out of it. The first time she told him that she was only a kid and he wasn't much more himself, and she didn't want to hear any more such talk. Of late he had grown less troublesome, and she had been inclined to settle down to the old neighborly playmate relation, so she was not greatly disturbed by the turn of the conversation. In fact, she was too much upset and annoyed by the sudden departure of Cameron to realize the determined note in Wainwright's voice.

"I mean it!" he said in an offended tone, flattening his double chin and rolling out his fat lips importantly. "I'm not to be played with any longer."

Ruth's face sobered: "I certainly never had an idea of playing with you, Harry. I think I've always been quite frank with you."

Wainwright felt that he wasn't getting on quite as well as he had planned. He frowned and sat up: "Now see here, Ruth! Let's talk this thing over!" he said, drawing the big leather chair in which he was sitting nearer to hers.

But Ruth's glance had wandered out of the window. "Why, there comes Bobbie Wetherill!" she exclaimed eagerly and slipped out of her chair to the door just as one of Wainwright's smooth fat hands reached out to take hold of the arm of her rocker. "I'll open the door for him. Mary is in the kitchen and may not hear the bell right away."

There was nothing for Wainwright to do but make the best of the situation, although he greeted Wetherill with no very good grace, and his large lips pouted out sulkily as he relaxed into his chair again to await the departure of the intruder.

Lieutenant Wetherill was quite overwhelmed with the warmth of the greeting he received from Ruth and settled down to enjoy it while it lasted. With a wicked glance of triumph at his rival he laid himself out to make his account of camp life as entertaining as possible. He produced a gorgeous box of bonbons and arranged himself comfortably for the afternoon, while Wainwright's brow grew darker and his lips pouted out farther and farther under his petted little moustache. It was all a great bore to Ruth just now with her mind full of the annoyance about Cameron. At least she would have preferred to have had her talk with him and found out what he was with her own judgment. But anything was better than, a tête-à-tête with Wainwright just now; so she ate bonbons and asked questions, and kept the conversation going, ignoring Wainwright's increasing grouch.