“What will be a great satisfaction?” questioned Dallas with lazy
interest as he came around a clump of lilac bushes. He squared his back
against a maple tree and looked at the two conspirators quizzically.
“I am neither a prophet nor the son of a prophet,” he went on, “yet I
think I can tell what you two have been planning out here. You came
here, hotly indignant with my humble self for having trampled on your
pet Platonic corns, you have doubtless abused me freely in a well-bred
way, and you have ended up with a formal compact to exploit your
theories in your own intercourse and thereby completely crush me. Am I
right?”
“I believe you have been eavesdropping,” said Madge sharply.
“My dear young lady, I never eavesdrop. I am only mapping out your
probable line of conduct from my general knowledge of human nature. I
was right, it seems. Well, I give you both credit for sincerity—a rare
virtue in this posing age. Your experiment is very interesting. Don’t
you want an umpire, though? Shall I act in that capacity? I promise to
be strictly impartial. If, when you leave here, you can both say to me
in all good faith, ‘We have been close friends; we like each other; we
enjoy each other’s society; we are thoroughly congenial; but we are no
more than friends and have no desire to be more’—if you can say this, I
will haul down my flag and surrender unconditionally. If, on the
contrary—”
“There will be no ‘contrary,’” interrupted Miss Chester coolly.
“I am sure you believe so. But we must consider all possibilities. If
you cannot say that to me I will expect you to admit your defeat
honestly. Is this to be our understanding?”
“Yes,” said Elliott promptly. “You see matters from your own standpoint,
of course, and are incapable of judging them from ours. Meanwhile, let
us drop all reference to the subject.”
[Extract Number One. From Howard Elliott’s journal.]
It is a curious compact—I do not know how it will succeed. Dallas
piqued us into it. Yet I think I rather like her. She is a college
student and somewhat imbued with the “new” womanhood, I fancy. She is
very pretty and seems like a jolly, good-hearted girl, clever enough to
be entertaining and companionable but not too clever. There is no
nonsense about her. Why should not this Summer friendship of ours be a
mutually pleasant and profitable one? I am getting to be rather much of
a recluse. This girl will rouse me out of myself and bring me into
closer touch with my fellow creatures.
She has remarkably fine eyes—I could not help noticing them this
evening. In color they are like the sunlit current of a woodland brook
flashing over tawny pebbles but their expression is quite indescribable.
I don’t think I ever noticed a woman’s eyes before.
[Extract Number Two. From Madge Chester’s letter to a college chum.]
You will say it is very absurd, of course, but you know me of old, also
my “everlasting theories,” as you are pleased to call them. Well, I am
going to test them. I have no fear of the result. I like Mr. Elliott
thoroughly. He is such a straightforward young fellow, and not a bit
spoiled or conceited. There is a great deal of fun in him, too, though
in general he is quiet and reserved. He is not all handsome, but has
such an interesting face and such brilliant, piercing steel-blue eyes.
He is immensely clever, and writes a great deal I believe, or at least
Mr. Dallas says so. We talk “shop” most of the time. I hold forth on
college life and co-education and he discourses on journalism. How you
and the girls will laugh over this and say, “Isn’t that like Madge!”
But, indeed, my dear, there is a method in my madness. I want to
establish my theories to my own satisfaction, as well as other people’s.
Besides, it is really nice to have a friend you can be chummy with
without his thinking that you are throwing yourself at his head.
[Extract Number Three. From Howard Elliott’s journal.]
Miss Chester and I are getting on famously. Our friendship is perfect. I
never met a woman like her before; she is never the same twice, yet she
is always charming. The spice of “infinite variety” is hers to the full.
We walk and row and ride together. We discuss our work and our
ambitions. She is very clear-sighted and sympathetic, a friend worth
making and keeping. That freakish idea of mine has borne unexpectedly
good fruit, as unaccountable impulse often do when followed out. Yet
there is not a trace of nonsense about our friendship. It is absolutely
sexless.
Her beauty is a fresh surprise to me every time I see her. She looked
like a dream vision to-night. We are going for a tramp over the hills
to-morrow.
[Illustration: SHE HAS BEEN DOING HER BEST TO ATTRACT HIM]
[Extract Number Four. From Madge Chester’s journal.]
I don’t like Mr. Elliott as well as I thought I did. He behaved
hatefully to-day. We all went for a row across the harbor, and coming
home through the dyke meadows he walked the whole way with Emma Hawley,
who is a regular flirt. She has been doing her best to attract him all
along, and is simply furious with me because she fancies I am her rival.
I don’t want to monopolize him, of course, but he might have looked out
now and then to see how I was enjoying myself. Of course, I don’t care.
It was not my suggestion that we should be comrades this Summer, and he
is entirely welcome to Miss Hawley’s society if he prefers it. Perhaps
he regrets that he did not choose her for a friend instead of me. I
shall be very cool to him to-morrow. He need not think he is
indispensable to my enjoyment. He gathered a bunch of poppies for her,
too. After that, of course, I wasn’t going to wear the blue bells he had
given me before we went; I threw them away, and replaced them by some
field daisies Mr. Dallas gave me. I watched him after that—Mr. Elliott,
I mean—to see if he noticed, but apparently he did not. I suppose he is
getting tired of our friendship, and we were just beginning to have such
nice times.
Mr. Dallas asked me if Mr. Elliott and I had quarrelled. That man does
make me so cross.
[Extract Number Five. From Mr. Elliott’s journal.]
I cannot imagine what I have done to offend Miss Chester. I certainly
have offended her for she has treated me very coolly since yesterday.
She wore Dallas’ flowers coming home from the shore—what business has
he to give her flowers?—and threw mine away. Dallas hung around her all
day, too.
She may be tired of our experiment. Yet I never thought her capricious.
Perhaps Dallas has been saying something to her. I must find out. He
shall not come between us if I can help it.
What pleasant, companionable days we have passed! My theory is perfectly
correct—Platonic friendship is possible. But why is she angry at me?
[Extract Number Six. From Madge Chester’s letter to a college chum.]
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