Moving along Riverside Drive with sufficient slowness to grasp details had given the little western visitor an opportunity to enjoy the great sweep of the Hudson River and the beauty of the New Jersey palisades. On the front seat of the motor car Barbara sat with Dick Thornton, who had offered to take the chauffeur’s place for the afternoon. Back of them were Mrs. Thornton and Mildred. It was a cold April day and there were not many other cars along the Drive. Finally Mrs. Thornton, leaning over, touched her son on the shoulder.
“I think it might be wiser, Dick, to go back home now. Barbara has seen the view of the river and the wind has become so disagreeable. Suppose we turn off into Broadway,” she suggested.
Acquiescing, a few moments later Dick[27] swung his car up a steep incline. He was going at a moderate pace, and yet just before reaching Broadway he sounded his horn, not once, but half a dozen times. The crossing appeared free from danger. Then when they had arrived at about the middle of the street, suddenly (and it seemed as if the car must have leaped out of space) a yellow automobile came racing down Broadway at incredible speed.
It chanced that Barbara observed the car first, although immediately after she heard queer muffled cries coming from Mildred and her mother. She herself felt no inclination to scream. For one thing, there did not seem to be time. Nevertheless, impulse drew her eyes toward Dick Thornton to see how he was affected.
Of course he must have become aware of their danger when the rest of them had. He must know that all their lives were in deadly peril. Yet there was nothing in the expression of his face to suggest it, nor had his head moved the fraction of an inch. Strange to see him half smiling, his color vivid, his dark eyes unafraid, almost[28] as if he had no realization of what must inevitably happen.
Closing her own eyes, Barbara felt her body stiffen; the first shock would be over in a second, and afterwards——
Nevertheless no horrible crash followed, but instead the girl felt that she must be flying along through the air instead of being driven along the earth. For they had made a single gigantic leap forward. Then Barbara became aware that Mildred was speaking in a voice that shook with nervousness in spite of her effort at self-control.
“You have saved all our lives, Dick. How ever did you manage to get out of that predicament?” Afterwards she endeavored to quiet her mother, who was becoming hysterical now that they were entirely safe.
So they were safe! It scarcely seemed credible. Yet when Barbara Meade looked up the racing car was still speeding on its desperate way down Broadway, followed by two policemen on motorcycles, while their own automobile was moving quietly[29] on. The girl had a moment of feeling limp and ill. Then she discovered that Dick Thornton was talking to her and that she must answer him.
He was still smiling and his brown eyes were untroubled, but now that the danger had passed every bit of the color had left his face. Yet undoubtedly he was good looking.
Barbara had to check an inclination to laugh. This was a tiresome trait of hers, to see the amusing side of things at the time when they should not appear amusing. Now, for instance, it was ridiculous to find herself admiring Dick Thornton’s nose at the instant he had saved her life.
His face was almost perfectly modeled, his forehead broad and high with dark hair waving back from it like the pictures of young Greek boys. His brown eyes were deeply set beneath level brows, his olive skin and his mouth as attractive as a girl’s.
Yes, her new acquaintance was handsome, Barbara concluded gravely, and yet his face lacked strength. Personally she[30] preferred the bronzed and rugged type of young men to whom she was accustomed in the west.
But what was it that her companion had been saying?
“I do trust, Miss Meade, that you are not ill from fright. Mildred, will you please lend us mother’s smelling salts for a little while, or had we best stop by a drug store?”
Shaking her head Barbara smiled. She was wearing the same little close-fitting brown velvet hat of the night of her arrival. But today her short curls had fluttered out from under it and her eyes were wide open and bluer than ever with the wonderful vision of the first great city she had ever seen.
“Oh, dear me, no, there is nothing in the world the matter with me,” Barbara expostulated. “Why if I can’t go through a little bit of excitement like that, how do you suppose I am going to manage to be a Red Cross nurse in Europe in war times?”
“You a war nurse?” Dick Thornton’s voice expressed surprise, amusement, and[31] disbelief. He turned his head sideways to glance at his companion. “Forgive me,” he said, “but you look a good deal more like a bisque doll. I believe they do have dolls dressed as Red Cross nurses, set up in the windows of the toy shops. Shall I try to get a place in a window for you?”
Barbara was blushing furiously, although she intended not to allow herself to grow angry. Certainly she must not continue so sensitive about her youthful appearance. There would be many more trials of this same kind ahead of her.
“I am sorry you think I look like a doll,” she returned with an effort at carelessness; “it is rather absurd in a grown-up woman to show so little character. My hair is short because I had typhoid fever a year ago. You know, I’m really over eighteen; I got through school pretty early and as I have always known what I wanted to do, I took some special courses in nursing at school, so I was able to graduate two years afterwards.”
“Oh, I see,” Dick murmured, appearing[32] thoughtful. “Eighteen is older than any doll I ever heard of unless she happened to be a doll that had been put away in an old cedar chest years ago. Then she usually had the paint licked off, the saw-dust coming out and her hair uncurled.” Again Dick glanced around, grave as the proverbial judge. “You know, it does not look to me as if any of those alarming things had yet happened to you, else I might try to turn doctor myself.”
Good-naturedly Barbara laughed. If her new acquaintance insisted upon taking her as a joke, at least she had enough sporting blood not to grow angry, or at least if she were angry not to reveal it.
“Well, what are you going to be, Mr. Thornton?” Barbara queried, shrugging her shoulders the slightest bit. “As long as you need not develop into a physician on my account, are you to be a lawyer like your father?”
Dick suppressed a groan. To look at her would you ever have imagined that this little prairie flower of a girl would develop into a serious-minded young woman[33] demanding to hear about “your career”? Any such idea must be nipped in the bud at once.
“Oh, no, I am certainly not going to study law, and if you don’t mind my mentioning it, I get pretty bored with that suggestion. Everybody I meet thinks because my father is one of the biggest lawyers in the country that I must become his shadow. It is all right being known as my ‘father’s son’ up to a certain point, but I’m not anxious to have comparisons made between us as lawyers.”
Barbara felt uncomfortable. She had not intended opening a subject that seemed to be such an unfortunate one. So she only murmured, “I beg your pardon.”
And though Dick laughed and answered, “Don’t mention it,” there was little more conversation between them for the rest of the drive home.
But once at home in the big, sunny library, stretched out in an arm chair, smoking while the girls were drinking tea, the young man became more amiable.
He had changed his outdoor clothes for a[34] velvet smoking jacket and his shoes for a pair of luxurious pumps.
“I say, Mildred, old girl, would you mind ringing the bell and having Brown bring me some matches?” he asked. Finding his own gone, he had simply turned his head and smiled upon his sister. It happened that the bell was within only a few feet of him and she had to cross the room to accomplish his desire.
Although Mildred was tired from a strenuous half hour devoted to comforting her mother since their return from the ride, without protesting or even appearing surprised, she did as she was asked.
But Barbara Meade felt her own cheeks flushing. One need not stay in the Thornton household for four entire days, as she had, before becoming aware that it was the son of the family to whom every knee must bow. His mother, sister, the servants appeared to adore him. It was true that Judge Thornton attempted to show a little more consideration for his daughter, but he was so seldom at home and when there his attention was usually upon some problem of his own.
[35]
More than once Barbara had felt sorry for Mildred. Of course, her position looked like an enviable one as the only daughter of a wealthy and distinguished man, with a beautiful mother and a charming brother. Nevertheless, however little one liked to criticize their hostess even in one’s own mind, Barbara could not but see that Mildred Thornton’s life with her mother was a difficult one.
In the first place, Mrs. Thornton was a fashionable society woman. In spite of what might seem to most people riches, she was constantly talking about how extremely poor they were and how she hoped that Dick and Mildred would make matches that would bring money into the family. She had the same dark eyes and olive coloring that her son had inherited, and as her hair was a beautiful silver-white, it made her face appear younger. She seemed to treat her daughter Mildred’s plainness as a personal insult to herself and behaved as though Mildred could have no feeling in the matter. Several times the visitor had heard her refer to her daughter’s lack of beauty before strangers.
[36]
But that Dick Thornton should dare treat his sister with the same lack of consideration was insufferable! Barbara had a short, straight little nose with the delicate nostrils that belong to most sensitive persons. Now she could not help their arching with disdain, although she hoped no one would notice her.
Yet Dick was perfectly aware of her indignation and amused by it. He was accustomed to having girls angry with him; it was one of the ways in which they showed their interest.
“I wonder if I would like to know what Miss Barbara Meade is at this moment thinking of me?” he demanded lazily, smiling from under his half-closed brown eyes and blowing a wreath of soft gray smoke into a halo about his own head.
The girl’s blue eyes had the trick of darkening suddenly. It was in this way she betrayed her emotions before she could speak.
“I was thinking,” she answered in a clear, cold little voice, “that I have always been sorry before I never had a brother. But now I am not so sure.”
[37]
An abominably rude speech! The girl could not decide whether or not she regretted having made it. Certainly there was an uncomfortable silence in the big room until Mildred broke it.
She had been gazing thoughtfully into the fire, which the April day made agreeable, and talking very little. Now she shook her head in protest.
“Oh, brothers aren’t altogether bad,” she smiled.
Barbara stammered.
“No, of course not; I didn’t mean that. You must both forgive me. You see, I have only a married sister who is years older than I am, and my father. I suppose I have gotten too used to saying whatever pops into my head. Perhaps the men in the west are more polite to girls than eastern men. I don’t know exactly why, but they are bigger, stronger men; they live outdoors and because their lives are sometimes rough they try to have their manners gentle. Oh, goodness, I have said something else impolite, haven’t I?” Barbara ended in such consternation that her host and hostess both laughed.
[38]
“Oh, don’t mind me; please go right ahead if it relieves your feelings,” Dick remarked so humorously that Barbara felt it might be difficult to dislike him intensely, however you might disapprove of him.
“Only,” he added, “don’t start shooting verbal fireworks at the poor wounded soldiers whom you are going to attempt to nurse. If a fellow is down and out they might prove fatal. I say, Mill, did you ever hear anything more absurd? Miss Meade has an idea that she is going over to nurse the British Tommies. She looks more like she needed a nurse herself—with a perambulator.”
“Yes, I know, Barbara has talked it all over with me,” Mildred replied. “We went together to the Red Cross headquarters today to see about arrangements, when she could cross and what luggage she should take with her. Four American girls are to go in a party and after they arrive in England they will be sent where they are most needed. You see, Barbara’s mother was an Irish woman, so she feels she is partly British; and then her father[39] was a West Point man. She meant to make her living as a nurse anyhow, so why shouldn’t she be allowed to help in the war? I understand exactly how Barbara feels.”
Still gazing into the fire, Mildred’s face had grown paler and more determined. “You see, I am going with her. I offered my own services and was accepted this morning. We sail in ten days,” she concluded.
“You, Mildred? What utter tommy-rot!” Dick exclaimed inelegantly. “The mater is apt to lock you up in your room on a bread-and-water diet for ten days for even suggesting such a thing.” Then he ceased talking abruptly and pretended to be stifling a yawn. For, glancing up, he had discovered that his mother was unexpectedly standing in the doorway. She was dressed for dinner and looked very beautiful in a lavender satin gown, but the expression on her face was not cheering.
Evidently she had overheard Mildred’s confession and his sister was in for at least a bad quarter of an hour. Personally Dick hoped his own words had[40] not betrayed her. For although he was a fairly useless, good-for-nothing character, he wasn’t a cad, and for some reason or other he particularly did not wish their visitor to consider him one.