"That's true. I except that."

"And you can't say you haven't been interested in our selling this farm, and getting Mr. and Mrs. Ranny fixed up, and all that."

"Of course I've been interested in that; it's been no end of fun."

"And then," Quin pursued his point quite brazenly, "there's me. I hope you are a little bit interested in me?"

She tried to take it lightly. "Interested in you? Why, of course I am. We all are. Uncle Ranny was saying only this morning----"

"I don't care a hang what he said. It's _you_ I'm talking about. Do you like me any better than you did in the spring?"

"You silly boy, I've always liked you."

"But I told you I wanted a lot. Have I made any headway?"

"Headway? I should say you have. I never saw such improvement! If the university cla.s.ses have done this much for you in four months, what will you be by the end of the year?"

"That's right," said Quin bitterly. "Open the switch and sidetrack me!

But just tell me one thing: is there anybody you _are_ interested in?"

"Now, see here, Quin," said Eleanor peremptorily, "you haven't any right to ask me questions like that. All I promised was that you could be my chum."

"Yes; but I meant a chum plus."

"Well, you'd better look out or you will be a chum minus." Then she caught sight of his eyes, and leaned forward in sudden contrition. "I'm sorry to hurt you, Quin, but you must understand----"

"I do," he admitted miserably. "Only this week out here together, and the way you've looked at me sometimes, made me kind of hope----" His voice broke. "It's all right. I'll wait some more."

This was the time Eleanor should have carried out her intention of going back to the house. Instead, she sat on in the deepening twilight under the feminine delusion that she was being good to the miserable youth who sat huddled close to her knees on the step below her.

Through his whole big being Quin was quivering with the sense of her nearness, afraid to move for fear something stronger than his will would make him seize her slender little body and crush it to him in an agony of tenderness and yearning.

"How beautiful it is out here now!" she said softly. "Don't you love the feel of wings everywhere? Little flying things going home? Everything seems to be whispering!"

Quin did not answer. He sat silent and immovable until the light in the valley had quite faded, and the twitter of the birds had been superseded by the monotonous, mournful plaint of a whip-poor-will in a distant tree.

Then he stirred and looked up at Eleanor with a rueful smile.

"I know what's the matter with that d.a.m.ned old bird," he said. "He's in love!"

CHAPTER 19

Notwithstanding the fact that the sale of the Martels' house was averted and Rose's affair with Harold Phipps successfully terminated, catastrophe, which was evidently due the family, arrived before the summer had fairly begun. The irrepressible Claude had no sooner weighed the anchor of responsibility than he set sail for New York to embark once more on dramatic waters. He had secured a small part in a summer stock company which would leave him ample time to work on "Phantom Love," which he confidently counted upon to retrieve his fortunes. The withdrawal of even his slender contribution to the household expenses made a difference, especially as Edwin came down with the measles early in July.

Before the boy had got the green shade off his afflicted eyes, Ca.s.s was laid low with typhoid fever.

No other event in the family could have wrought such disastrous results.

Rose was compelled to give up her position to nurse him, and while the income ceased the expenses piled up enormously.

Nothing was more natural than that Quinby Graham should fling himself into the breach. His intimacy with Ca.s.s had begun on the transport going to France, and continued with unabated zeal until he was wounded in the summer of 1918. For six months he had lost sight of him, only to find him again in the hospital at Camp Zachary Taylor. He was not one to share the privileges of Ca.s.s's home without also sharing its hardships.

"It's a shame we've got to take help from you," said Rose; "just when you are beginning to get ahead, too!"

"You cut that out," said Quin. "I'd like to know if you didn't take me in and treat me like one of the family? Ain't Ca.s.s the best friend a man ever had? And wouldn't he do as much and more for me?"

But even Quin's salary failed to meet the emergency. Doctor's bills, drug bills, grocery bills, became more and more formidable. One day Rose was reduced to selling two of Papa Claude's autographed photographs.

"I wouldn't do that--yet," said Quin, who had begun to walk to the factory to save carfare. "Those old boys and girls are his friends; we can't sell them. I can see him now talking to 'em through his pipe smoke.

I ought to have some junk we can soak. Let's go see."

The investigation resulted in the conversion of a pair of new wing-toed dancing-shoes and a silver cigarette-case into an ice-bag and an electric fan.

"I could stand everything else," said Rose, "if we could just get the children out of the house. Edwin is still as weak as a kitten, and Myrna looks as if she might come down with the fever any day."

Quin had a brilliant idea. "Why not ship 'em both to the country? Ed could come to town to work every day, and Myrna could help somebody around the house."

"That sounds mighty fine; but who is going to take two children to board for nothing?"

"I don't know yet," said Quin; "that's what I've got to find out."

That night he went out to Valley Mead and put the matter squarely up to Mr. and Mrs. Ranny.

"We're up against it at our house," he said; "I want to borrow something from you two good people."

"You can have anything we've got!" said Mr. Ranny rashly.

"Well, I want to borrow some fresh air for a couple of sick kids. I want you to ask 'em out here for a week."

Mr. and Mrs. Ranny looked aghast at the preposterous suggestion, but Quin gave them no time to demur. He plunged into explanation, and clinched his argument by saying:

"Ed would only be here at night, and Myrna could help around the house.

They are bully youngsters. No end of fun, and they wouldn't give you a bit of trouble."

"But I have only one maid!" protested Mrs. Ranny.

"What of that?" said Quin. "Myrna's used to working at home; she'd be glad to help you."

"If it was anybody on earth but the Martels," Mr. Ranny objected, with contracted brow. "The families have been at daggers' points for years.

Why, the very name of Martel makes mother see red."

"Well, the children aren't responsible for that!" Quin broke in impatiently; then he pulled himself up. "However, if you don't want to do 'em a good turn, that settles it."

"But it doesn't settle it," said Mr. Ranny. "What are you going to do with them?"

"Hanged if I know," said Quin; "but you bet I'll do something."