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Delafield Affair

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“What are we going to do all the rest of the day?” Mrs. Turner presently said, hiding a little yawn behind diamond-decked fingers. “It isn’t three o’clock yet, and it seems as if it ought to be the day after to-morrow. Let’s go in the house and play I’m a barber. Mr. Conrad, will you let me shave you?” A thrill of shocked astonishment went through the group. Lucy dropped her eyes [Pg 289]and felt her cheeks burn and Miss Dent turned uneasily away. Some of the men looked at one another and grinned; others caught their breath and avoided their neighbors’ eyes. Conrad masked a moment’s hesitation with a gay laugh. “I would, with pleasure, Mrs. Castleton, if I had time; but just now I’m pretty busy. Here’s a lot of fellows with nothing to do, who’ll be delighted to help you amuse yourself.” Mrs. Castleton glanced up at the men with a confiding smile. “I believe it’s really because he’s afraid; and he needn’t be, for I do it very well—don’t I, Ned?” Her brother-in-law gave gallant, if vague, confirmation, and she went on: “And he knows, for I shave him every time he comes to our house. But there’s too much wind out here, it would dry the lather too quickly; let’s go in the house.” She rose, and one of the men hastened to open her sunshade, another picked up her fan, a third her handkerchief, and the statuesque blue figure with its group of satellites left the grove. “What does it mean, Fanny? Is this a new fad?” Ned Castleton asked his wife. “I never heard of it before, and she took my [Pg 290]breath away when she told those people she always shaved me.” “You backed her up splendidly, Ned; and I think you’d better go in now and let her shave you along with the others.” “Fanny! I’d as soon allow her to black my boots!” “But if she wants to, Ned! And I don’t think she’d hurt you much, because she’s been practising on their butler for a month—so her maid told mine, though I’d forgotten all about it. As Turner’s brother I really think you ought to go in and seem to join in the fun, so it won’t look quite so bad.” “If Lena doesn’t care about the looks of it, why should I, or you?” “But you ought to care on Turner’s account. It would be dear of you, Ned, if you would go in, for Turner’s sake, and lend your countenance to the affair.” “My countenance, Francisquita, but not my face. Since you’re so anxious, dear, I’ll go in and chaperon this shaving party if you’ll tell me the real reason why you want me to do it. Is it a bargain?” She leaned toward him with a delighted little chuckle. “Don’t you see, Ned, that if you go in and I stay out she’ll think that [Pg 291]I’m keeping Mr. Conrad out-of-doors, and she will be so angry about it that it will make her nervous, so she will cut their faces dreadfully, and that will make her freak such a failure that she’ll have to drop it. Do go along, Ned; for I’m going to keep your manager busy for the next two hours. And, by the way, dear, if you should come out and not see me anywhere, it’s likely to be because he’s asked me to drive to the post-office with him.” She sauntered through the grove toward the pond where a group of people had gathered under a big tree. She knew that Curtis was there, with the Bancrofts. Her cousin Juan—“Johnny”—Martinez was with them, and so was Dellmey Baxter. Dan Tillinghurst leaned against the tree, and beside him were Emerson Mead and his young wife, from Las Plumas. Judge Harlan and Colonel Whittaker, the former with his wife and the latter with his daughter, had also come from Las Plumas, where a political peace of unusual length and stability enabled them to leave town at the same time, and together. Mrs. Castleton came smiling down the hill and joined in the general talk. But in five minutes the assemblage had broken into little [Pg 292]groups of two or three, of which she, her cousin, and Conrad made one. She sent Martinez to do some small service for Miss Whittaker, and began to tell Curtis that she feared there were not lanterns enough. Would he come and look at them? As they went back to the grove she suggested that they might get paper bags from the store at White Rock, fill each half full of sand, put a candle in it, and set them in rows wherever there was room for them. She had often seen her native town illuminated in this way on festa nights, and the effect was really very beautiful. He thought it a good idea and asked if she would mind driving over to White Rock with him to help select the best sizes and colors. Five minutes later Lucy watched them driving away. “I saw how Mrs. Castleton was man&oelig;uvring,” she thought with an angry throb of the heart. “But it doesn’t matter the least bit. I can have quite as good a time with anybody else.” Presently she seemed greatly pleased when Homer Conrad asked if she and Miss Dent would like to see the horses. They made the round of the stables, and went to see the angora goats in their enclosure beyond the corral, and the dog kennels, and the chicken [Pg 293]yard. They walked across the alfalfa field, and amused themselves in the prairie dog village on the hillside beyond. Lucy was so interested in everything, and said so many bright and pleasant things, and was so vivacious, and looked so pretty with her dimples and her color coming and going and her big brown eyes sparkling, that Homer thought her quite the nicest, jolliest girl he had seen in a long time. He was much like his brother in build, though less sinewy and a trifle fleshier in body; while in manner he was slower and less eager and alert. His eyes showed the same bright blue tint, but their expression was mild and trustful, while his brother’s had always a dauntless look, as if challenging the world. His face was of the same general type, but the features were not so strongly marked, although he had the same firm mouth and strong chin. His countenance gave the impression of a character phlegmatic but forceful. That evening Lucy told Miss Dent that she liked Don Homer very much, adding, “And he’s been more polite and pleasant to us this afternoon than Mr. Conrad himself.” Mrs. Ned Castleton had applied the Spanish title to the younger Conrad to distinguish him [Pg 294]from his brother, and the rest had followed her example. Louise was secretly pleased at this dissatisfaction with Curtis, for her aversion to him was so great that she disliked even to see them together. But she reminded the girl that with so many people there he could not pay much attention to special ones. Lucy tossed her head and replied, “He had plenty of time for Mrs. Ned Castleton.” Evening came, and with it a huge white moon that poured upon earth and air and sky a flood of silvery white radiance in which the illuminations at the ranch shone with a mellow, golden glow. Mrs. Ned Castleton sat on the edge of the porch, her guitar in her lap, looking with satisfaction at the rows of paper bags, each containing a lighted candle in its bed of sand, set thickly upon the window-sills, the adobe walls, and the tables in the grove. They were not only effective, but they had enabled her to keep Curtis Conrad out of the hands of her sister-in-law the entire afternoon. Mrs. Turner had only just gone across to the grove, in the belief, subtly engendered by Francisquita, that the superintendent was to be found there, where most of the company had gathered and the dancing was about to begin. She knew, however, [Pg 295]that he was overseeing the stowing of some cases of beer in the ice house in the back-yard. And she had not forgotten that when he was at their house in San Francisco he had been much pleased by her rendering of Spanish airs on the guitar. “He doesn’t need to appear in the grove,” she thought, “until Lena has had time to engage several dances.” She began to play “La Golondrina,” and as the sweetly plaintive notes rose higher, Lucy, looking houseward, saw a tall figure vault the wall around the grass plot and disappear in the shadows of the porch, whence came the strains of Mrs. Ned’s guitar. A little later she saw them come across the road together, and at once became deeply interested in the talk of Don Homer, her partner, as they made their way to the dancing floor. Lucy danced twice with him, once with Martinez, and once with Emerson Mead before she made it possible for Curtis to speak with her. She knew he had been hovering near more than once, but she would not see him, and appeared always to be gayly interested with her partner. She gave him only one dance during the evening. But, noting his movements, she had seen with much bitterness of heart that he danced frequently with Mrs. Ned Castleton. [Pg 296]She began to wonder, with chill doubt in her breast, if she had deceived herself in thinking he cared for her. She had expected to see so much of him; and yet, except for the first half-hour after their arrival, he seemed to have ignored her. She began to realize that she had depended much on her belief in his love when she resolved to tell him the secret of her father’s identity. She still had confidence that her words would turn him from his purpose—but it was going to be a hard thing to do! “Mrs. Ned is just amusing herself,” she thought angrily. “She ought to be ashamed—married woman flirting like that! Well—he’s not the only one!” And before the evening was over Homer Conrad had neither eyes nor ears for any one but Lucy Bancroft. The house was given over to the ladies for the night. The men had a blanket apiece, and all the wide out-doors in which to couch themselves. Some climbed to the flat adobe roof of the house, or to the brush thatch of the stables, while others declared the ground in the grove good enough for them. It was decided by unanimous outcry that the dancing platform should be turned over to Dellmey [Pg 297]Baxter and Johnny Martinez, the opposing candidates for Congress. First they all went trooping, each with his blanket stringing over his shoulder, to the kitchen door, where Conrad and the two Castletons dispensed nightcaps of varied concoction. The women heard them talking, story-telling, laughing, and now and then singing a snatch from some rollicking song. When the last light disappeared from within the house, a group of men began singing “Good-Night, Ladies.” A round of vigorous applause from the darkened windows rewarded them, and they went on with “Annie Laurie,” “Comin’ through the Rye,” and “How Can I Bear to Leave Thee.” Johnny Martinez sang a Spanish love song in a falsetto voice, and received much applause from within. The men sang their way along the windows, up one side of the long, rambling house, across the front, and down the other side. They climbed to the roof, and serenaded the men who were trying to sleep there, varying the line or two of song accorded to each with much chaffing and guying. When the last straggling half-dozen of singers finally went off to seek their own resting-places in the [Pg 298]grove, they marched in single file round and round the dancing floor, where Baxter and Martinez had already stretched themselves, and sang in a solemn croak: “John Brown had one little, two little Indian boys; one went to Congress, the other stayed at home.” When peace settled at last over the Socorro Springs ranch house it was near the dawn of another day. <hr class="large" />[Pg 299] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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