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edwindvinas
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Dataset card Data Studio Files
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72
Uncle Wellington was in a horrible dilemma. To give gas to this
shameless pair! But not to give it to them! To go away and leave them
there in the Mistawis woods—until daylight, likely. It was better to
give it to them and let them get out of sight before any one else saw
them.
“Got anything to get gas in?” he grunted surlily.
Barney produced a two-gallon measure from Lady Jane. The two men went
to the rear of the Stirling car and began manipulating the tap. Valancy
stole sly glances at Olive over the collar of Barney’s coat. Olive was
sitting grimly staring straight ahead with an outraged expression. She
did not mean to take any notice of Valancy. Olive had her own secret
reasons for feeling outraged. Cecil had been in Deerwood lately and of
course had heard all about Valancy. He agreed that her mind was
deranged and was exceedingly anxious to find out whence the derangement
had been inherited. It was a serious thing to have in the family—a very
serious thing. One had to think of one’s—descendants.
“She got it from the Wansbarras,” said Olive positively. “There’s
nothing like that in the Stirlings—nothing!”
“I hope not—I certainly hope not,” Cecil had responded dubiously. “But
then—to go out as a servant—for that is what it practically amounts to.
Your cousin!”
Poor Olive felt the implication. The Port Lawrence Prices were not
accustomed to ally themselves with families whose members “worked out.”
Valancy could not resist temptation. She leaned forward.
“Olive, does it hurt?”
Olive bit—stiffly.
“Does _what_ hurt?”
“Looking like that.”
For a moment Olive resolved she would take no further notice of
Valancy. Then duty came uppermost. She must not miss the opportunity.
“Doss,” she implored, leaning forward also, “won’t you come home—come
home tonight?”
Valancy yawned.
“You sound like a revival meeting,” she said. “You really do.”
“If you will come back——”
“All will be forgiven.”
“Yes,” said Olive eagerly. Wouldn’t it be splendid if _she_ could
induce the prodigal daughter to return? “We’ll never cast it up to you.
Doss, there are nights when I cannot sleep for thinking of you.”
“And me having the time of my life,” said Valancy, laughing.
“Doss, I can’t believe you’re bad. I’ve always said you couldn’t be
bad——”
“I don’t believe I can be,” said Valancy. “I’m afraid I’m hopelessly
proper. I’ve been sitting here for three hours with Barney Snaith and
he hasn’t even tried to kiss me. I wouldn’t have minded if he had,
Olive.”
Valancy was still leaning forward. Her little hat with its crimson rose
was tilted down over one eye. Olive stared. In the moonlight Valancy’s
eyes—Valancy’s smile—what had happened to Valancy! She looked—not
pretty—Doss couldn’t be pretty—but provocative, fascinating—yes,
abominably so. Olive drew back. It was beneath her dignity to say more.
After all, Valancy must be both mad _and_ bad.
“Thanks—that’s enough,” said Barney behind the car. “Much obliged, Mr.
Stirling. Two gallons—seventy cents. Thank you.”
Uncle Wellington climbed foolishly and feebly into his car. He wanted
to give Snaith a piece of his mind, but dared not. Who knew what the
creature might do if provoked? No doubt he carried firearms.
Uncle Wellington looked indecisively at Valancy. But Valancy had turned
her back on him and was watching Barney pour the gas into Lady Jane’s
maw.
“Drive on,” said Olive decisively. “There’s no use in waiting here. Let
me tell you what she said to me.”
“The little hussy! The shameless little hussy!” said Uncle Wellington.
CHAPTER XXII
The next thing the Stirlings heard was that Valancy had been seen with
Barney Snaith in a movie theatre in Port Lawrence and after it at
supper in a Chinese restaurant there. This was quite true—and no one