Sunny Slopes.

by Ethel Hueston.

CHAPTER I

THE BEGINNING

Back and forth, back and forth, over the net, spun the little white ball, driven by the quick, sure strokes of the players. There was no sound save the bounding of the ball against the racquets, and the thud of rubber soles on the hard ground. Then--a sudden twirl of a supple wrist, and--

"Deuce!" cried the girl, triumphantly brandishing her racquet in the air.

The man on the other side of the net laughed as he gathered up the b.a.l.l.s for a new serve.

Back and forth, back and forth, once more,--close to the net, away back to the line, now to the right, now to the left,--and then--

"Ad out, I am beating you, David," warned the girl, leaping lightly into the air to catch the ball he tossed her.

"Here is a beauty," she said, as the ball spun away from her racquet.

The two, white-clad, nimble figures flashed from side to side of the court. He sprang into the air to meet her ball, and drove it into the farthest corner, but she caught it with a backward gesture. Still he was ready for it, cutting it low across the net,--yes, she was there, she got it,--but the stroke was hard,--and the ball was light.

"Was it good?" she gasped, clasping the racquet in both hands and tilting dangerously forward on tiptoe to look.

"Good enough,--and your game."

With one accord they ran forward to the net, pausing a second to glance about enquiringly, and then, one impulse guiding, kissed each other ecstatically.

"The very first time I have beaten you, David," exulted the girl.

"Isn't everything glorious?" she demanded, with all of youth's enthusiasm.

"Just glorious," came the ready answer, with all of mature manhood's response to girlish youth. Clasping the slender hands more tightly, he added, laughing, "And I kiss the fingers that defeated me."

"Oh, David," the buoyant voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "I love you,--I love you,--I--I am just crazy about you."

"Careful, Carol, remember the manse," he cautioned gaily.

"But this is honeymooning, and the manse hasn't gloomed on my horizon yet. I'll be careful when I get installed. I am really a Methodist yet, and Methodists are expected to shout and be enthusiastic. When we move into our manse, and the honeymoon is ended, I'll just say, 'I am very fond of you, Mr. Duke.'" The voice lengthened into prim and prosy solemnity.

"But our honeymoon isn't to end. Didn't we promise that it should last forever?"

"Of course it will." She dimpled up at him, snuggling herself in the arm that still encircled her shoulders. "Of course it will." She balanced her racquet on the top of his head as he bent adoringly over her. "Of course it will,--unless your grim old Presbyterians manse all the life out of me."

"If it ever begins, tell me," he begged, "and we'll join the Salvation Army. There's life enough even for you."

"I beat you," she teased, irrelevantly. "I am surprised,--a great big man like you."

"And to-morrow we'll be in St. Louis."

"Yes," she a.s.sented, weakening swiftly. "And the mansers will have me in their deadly clutch."

"The only manser who will clutch you is myself." He drew her closer in his arm as he spoke. "And you like it."

"Yes, I love it. And I like the mansers already. I hope they like me.

I am improving, you know. I am getting more dignified every day.

Maybe they will think I am a born Presbyterian if you don't give me away. Have you noticed how serious I am getting?" She pinched thoughtfully at his chin. "David Duke, we have been married two whole weeks, and it is the most delicious, and breathless, and amazing thing in the world. It is life--real life--all there is to life, really, isn't it?"

"Yes, life is love, they say, so this is life. All the future must be like this."

"I never particularly yearned to be dead," she said, wrinkling her brows thoughtfully, "but I never even dreamed that I could be so happy.

I am awfully glad I didn't die before I found it out."

"You are happy, aren't you, sweetheart?"

She turned herself slowly in his arm and lifted puckering lips to his.

"Hey, wake up, are you playing tennis, or staging Shakespeare? We want the court if you don't need it."

Mr. and Mrs. Duke, honeymooners, gazed speechlessly at the group of young men standing motionless forty feet away, then Carol wheeled about and ran swiftly across the velvety gra.s.s, over the hill and out of sight, her husband in close pursuit.

Once she paused.

"If the mansers could have seen us then!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, with awe in her voice.

CHAPTER II

MANSERS

The introduction of Mrs. David Arnold Duke, nee Methodist, to the members of her husband's Presbyterian flock, was, for the most part, consummated with grace and dignity. Only one untoward incident lingered in her memory to cloud her lovely face with annoyance.

In honor of his very first honeymoon, hence his first opportunity to escort a beautiful and blushing bride to the cozy little manse he had so painstakingly prepared for her reception, the Reverend David indulged in the unwonted luxury of a taxicab. And happy in the consciousness of being absolutely correct as to detail, they were driven slowly down the beautifully shaded avenues of the Heights, one of the many charming suburbs of St. Louis,--aware of the scrutiny of interested eyes from the sheltering curtains of many windows.

Being born and bred in the ministry, Carol acquitted herself properly before the public eye. But once inside the guarding doors of the darling manse, secure from the condemning witness of even the least of the fold, she danced and sang and exulted as the very young, and very glad, must do to find expression.

Their first dinner in the manse was more of a social triumph than a culinary success. The coffee was nectar, though a trifle overboiled.

The gravy was sweet as honey, but rather inclined to be lumpy. And the steak tasted like fried chicken, though Carol had peppered it twice and salted it not at all. It wasn't her fault, however, for the salt and pepper shakers in her "perfectly irresistible" kitchen cabinet were exactly alike,--and how was she to know she was getting the same one twice?

Anyhow, although they started very properly with plates on opposite sides of the round table, by the time they reached dessert their chairs were just half way round from where they began the meal, and the salad dishes were so close together that half the time they ate from one and half the time from the other. And when it was all over, they pushed the dishes back and clasped their hands promiscuously together and talked with youthful pa.s.sion of what they were going to do, and how wonderful their opportunity for service was, and what revolutions they were going to work in the lives of the nice, but no doubt prosy mansers, and how desperately they loved each other. And it was going to last forever and ever and ever.

So far they were just Everybride and Everygroom. Their hearts sang and the manse was more gorgeous than any mansion on earth, and all the world was good and sweet, and they couldn't possibly ever make any kind of a mistake or blunder, for love was guiding them,--and could pure love lead astray?

David at last looked at his watch and said, rather hurriedly:

"By the way, I imagine a few of our young people will drop in to-night for a first smile from the manse lady."

Carol leaped from her chair, jerked off the big kitchen ap.r.o.n, and flew up the stairs with never a word. When David followed more slowly, he found her already painstakingly dusting her matchless skin with velvety powder.