Part 28

"That's her style," said Suzanne. "These poor, pretty girls are once in a while just clever enough to make capital out of their poverty by wearing simply fetching things in pale gray dimity and dark blue lawn and sunbonnets. Stevens Cathcart would be just the kind to be carried away with her. Roger Barnes wouldn't look at her twice."

"Louis might pretend to admire her, to please Juliet," admitted Marie. "He has a way of making every girl think he is in love with her--and he is, to a certain extent. But it's never serious."

Whether it were serious in this instance Miss Dresser soon had opportunity to judge.

After dinner that first night Anthony proposed taking all his guests out upon the river in a big flat-boat he had rented. But when he made up the party Rachel was not to be found.

"I'm afraid she's gone home," said Juliet.

"I'll run down and see," proposed Lockwood instantly, and was suiting the action to the word when Cathcart got off ahead of him.

"I'll have her back presently," he called as he dashed down the road. "You people go on--we'll catch you."

"We'll wait for you," Lockwood shouted after him.

"Why should we wait?" demurred Marie, beginning to walk away toward the river.

"If we don't he's liable not to find it convenient to catch up with us," Lockwood retorted.

"If they prefer their own company why not let them have it?" she said over her shoulder.

"Run along, Louis," murmured Doctor Barnes. "One girl at a time."

He turned to Juliet. "Shall we go?" he said.

Anthony caught his glance, and, laughing, turned to Suzanne. "Will you console an old married man, Miss Gerard?" he inquired.

But when Cathcart reappeared, which he did very soon, Rachel was not with him. "She said she had to stay with her mother," he explained in a tone which so closely resembled a growl that everybody laughed.

"Bear up, Stevie, boy," chaffed Wayne Carey. "I'm confident she likes you, but she may not like you all the time, you know. They seldom do."

XVII.--RACHEL CAUSES ANXIETY

In spite of all Juliet's efforts to bring about Rachel's presence as one of her guests she found herself unable to accomplish it. Whenever she was needed for help Rachel was never absent, but the moment she was free the girl was off, and that quite without the appearance of running away. The men of the party followed her, but they were not allowed to remain. The girls, confident that her disappearances were part of a very deep game, begged her to stay; it was useless. Rachel's excuses were ready, her manner charmingly regretful in a quiet way, but stay she would not.

Dr. Roger Barnes waylaid her one evening as she was vanishing down the willow-bordered path by the brook, leading to her own home.

"Here you go again," he began discontentedly. "I wish I knew why."

Rachel paused. It was difficult to do otherwise with a large and determined figure blocking a very narrow path.

"I have ever so many things waiting at home for me to do."

"At nine o'clock in the evening?"

"At whatever hour I am through at Mrs. Robeson's."

"I wish I could imagine something of what they are. It might relieve my mind a little."

"Why, I will tell you," said Rachel with great appearance of frankness. "I have to do some mending for mother, read the evening paper for father, and set the bread. Then the clothes must be sprinkled for ironing in the morning."

The doctor studied her face in the dimming light. "Who washed the clothes?" he asked bluntly.

"Do you think you ought to ask?" said Rachel.