Price."Oh, I guess he's all right," he answered, carelessly."Idon't know him very well.Don't bother me, Issy, I'm busy."Issachar chuckled."He's busy, too," he observed."He, he, he!
He's busy trottin' after Helen Kendall.Don't seem to have time for much else these days.Noticed that, ain't you, Al? He, he!"Albert had not noticed it.His attention left the day-book altogether.Issachar chuckled again.
"Noticed it, ain't you, Al?" he repeated."If you ain't you're the only one.Everybody's cal'latin' you'll be cut out if you ain't careful.Folks used to figger you was Helen's steady comp'ny, but it don't look as much so as it did.He, he! That's why I asked you how you liked the Raymond one.Eh? How do you, Al? Helen, SHE seems to like him fust-rate.He, he, he!"Albert was conscious of a peculiar feeling, partly of irritation at Issachar, partly something else.Mr.Price crowed delightedly.
"Hi!" he chortled."Why, Al, your face is gettin' all redded up.
Haw, haw! Blushin', ain't you, Al? Haw, haw, haw! Blushin', by crimustee!"Albert laid down his pen.He had learned by experience that, in Issy's case, the maxim of the best defensive being a strong offensive was absolutely true.He looked with concern about the office.
"There's a window open somewhere, isn't there, Is?" he inquired.
"There's a dreadful draught anyhow."
"Eh? Draught? I don't feel no draught.Course the window's open;it's generally open in summer time, ain't it.Haw, haw!""There it is again! Where-- Oh, _I_ see! It's your mouth that's open, Issy.That explains the draught, of course.Yes, yes, of course.""Eh? My mouth! Never you mind my mouth.What you've got to think about is that Eddie Raymond.Yes sir-ee! Haw, haw!""Issy, what makes you make that noise?"
1
"That awful cawing.If you're trying to make me believe you're a crow you're wasting your time.""Say, look here, Al Speranzy, be you crazy?""No-o, I'M not.But in your case--well, I'll leave it to any fair-minded person--"
And so on until Mr.Price stamped disgustedly out of the office.
It was easy enough, and required nothing brilliant in the way of strategy or repartee, to turn Issachar's attack into retreat.But all the rest of that afternoon Albert was conscious of that peculiar feeling of uneasiness.After supper that night he did not go down town at once but sat in his room thinking deeply.The subjects of his thoughts were Edwin Raymond, the young chap from New York, Yale, and "The Neck"--and Helen Kendall.He succeeded only in thinking himself into an even more uneasy and unpleasant state of mind.Then he walked moodily down to the post-office.He was a little late for the mail and the laughing and chatting groups were already coming back after its distribution.One such group he met was made up of half a dozen young people on their way to the drug store for ices and sodas.Helen was among them and with her was young Raymond.They called to him to join them, but he pretended not to hear.
Now, in all the years of their acquaintance it had not once occurred to Albert Speranza that his interest in Helen Kendall was anything more than that of a friend and comrade.He liked her, had enjoyed her society--when he happened to be in the mood to wish society--and it pleased him to feel that she was interested in his literary efforts and his career.She was the only girl in South Harniss who would have "talked turkey" to him as she had on the day of their adventure at High Point Light and he rather admired her for it.But in all his dreams of romantic attachments and sentimental adventure, and he had such dreams of course, she had never played a part.The heroines of these dreams were beautiful and mysterious strangers, not daughters of Cape Cod clergymen.
But now, thanks to Issy's mischievous hints, his feelings were in a puzzled and uncomfortable state.He was astonished to find that he did not relish the idea of Helen's being particularly interested in Ed Raymond.He, himself, had not seen her as frequently of late, she having been busy with her war work and he with his own interests.
But that, according to his view, was no reason why she should permit Raymond to become friendly to the point of causing people to talk.
He was not ready to admit that he himself cared, in a sentimental way, for Helen, but he resented any other fellow's daring to do so.
And she should not have permitted it, either.As a matter of fact, Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza, hitherto reigning undisputed king of hearts in South Harniss, was for the first time in his imperial life feeling the pangs of jealousy.
He stalked gloomily on to the post-office.Gertie Kendrick, on the arm of Sam Thatcher, passed him and he did not even notice her.
Gertie whispered to Sam that he, Albert, was a big stuck-up nothing, but she looked back over Sam's shoulder, nevertheless.
Albert climbed the post-office steps and walked over to the rack of letter boxes.The Snow box contained little of interest to him, and he was turning away when he heard his name spoken.
"Good evening, Mr.Speranza," said a feminine voice.
Albert turned again, to find Jane Kelsey and another young lady, a stranger, standing beside him.Miss Kelsey was one of South Harniss's summer residents.The Kelsey "cottage," which was larger by considerable than the Snow house, was situated on the Bay Road, the most exclusive section of the village.Once, and not so many years before, the Bay Road was contemptuously referred to as "Poverty Lane" and dwellers along its winding, weed-grown track vied with one another in shiftless shabbiness.But now all shabbiness had disappeared and many-gabled "cottages" proudly stood where the shanties of the Poverty Laners once humbly leaned.
