Part 11 (1/2)
”I'm not afraid of 'em,” Quin insisted fatuously. ”I'd b.u.t.t in anywhere to get to see you.”
Eleanor's eyes dropped under his gaze.
”You don't know my grandmother,” she said; ”and, what is much more important, she doesn't know you.”
”No, but she might like to,” urged Quin, with one of his most engaging smiles. ”Old ladies and cats always cotton to me.”
Eleanor laughed. It was impossible to be dignified and superior with a person who didn't know the first rules of the game.
”She might,” she admitted; ”you never can tell about grandmother. She really is a wonderful person in many ways, and just as generous and kind when you are in trouble! But she says the most dreadful things; she's always hurting people's feelings.”
”She couldn't hurt mine, unless I let her,” said Quin.
”Oh, yes, she could--you don't know her. But even if she happened to be nice to you, there's Aunt Isobel.”
”What is she like?”
”_Horribly_ good and conscientious, and shocked to death at everything people do and say. I don't mean that she isn't awfully kind. She'll do anything for you if you are sick. But Uncle Ranny says her sense of duty amounts to a vice. Whatever she's doing, she thinks she ought to be doing something else. And she expects you to be just as good as she is. If she knew I was out here with a strange man to whom I'd never been introduced----”
Eleanor was appalled at the effect upon her aunt of such indiscretion.
”Oh, I could handle her all right,” said Quin boastfully. ”I'd talk foreign missions to her. Any others?”
”Heaps. There's Aunt Flo and Uncle Ranny. He's a dear, only he's the black sheep of the family. He says I am a promising gray lamb, which makes grandmother furious. They all let her twist them round her finger but me. I won't twist. I never intend to.”
”Is that all the family?”
”No; there's Aunt Enid. She is the nicest of them all.”
”What is her line?”
”Oh, she's awfully good, too. But she's different from Aunt Isobel. She was engaged to be married once, and grandmother broke it off because the man was poor. I don't think she'll ever get over it.”
”Do you think she would like me?” Quin anxiously inquired.
”Yes,” admitted Eleanor, ”I believe she would. She simply adores to mold people. She doesn't care how many faults they have, if they will just let her influence them to be better. And she does help loads of people. I am her one failure. She wouldn't acknowledge it for the world, but I know that I am the disappointment of Aunt Enid's life.”
She gazed gloomily down the long moonlit road and lapsed into one of her sudden abstractions. A belated compunction seized her for not going straight home from the Martels', for being late for dinner on her last night, for going on with her affair with Captain Phipps, when she had been forbidden to see him.
”Miss Nell,” said the persistent voice beside her, ”do you know what I intend to do while you are away?”
”No; what?”
”I'm going to start in to-morrow morning and make love to your whole darn family!”
Now, if there is one thing Destiny admires in a man, it is his courage to defy her. She relentlessly crushes the supine spirit who acquiesces, but to him who snaps his fingers in her face she often extends a helping hand. In this case she did not make Quin wait until the morrow to begin his colossal undertaking. By means of a humble tack that lay in the way of the speeding automobile, she at once set in motion the series of events that were to determine his future life.
By the time the puncture was repaired and they were again on their way, it was half-past seven and all hope of a timely arrival was abandoned. As they slowed up at the Bartlett house, their uneasiness was increased by the fact that lights were streaming from every window and the front door was standing open.
”Is that the doctor?” an excited voice called to them from the porch.