Silver Wings Read online

  She stamped her foot angrily.

  Amory hovered behind her curtain guiltily and watched them all, knowing that she could so easily explain where their Teddy had gone, hugging the thought wickedly to herself that she alone of all that company had been asked to take that first flight. She was glad that she had not accepted of course, but glad, glad that he had cared to ask her.

  Was that wrong for her to feel glad about that? Oh, was it? She had not realized before how easy it was for her to be selfish, how romantic she could become. What on earth was the matter with her?

  “Why, I’ll tell you where he is of course,” said Mrs. Whitney, coming out smiling. “He’s out on the airstrip, Caroline, babying that precious old engine of his. You ought to have looked for him there at once, for that’s where he always goes the first thing in the morning.”

  There was an immediate stampede down through the garden to the little gate and out on the airstrip. Amory, standing back in her room watching them, found herself trembling, as if her recent escapade were about to be discovered—as if she herself were out there now, standing with her back against that hedge, the soft handkerchief in her hands, waiting to be brought to shame.

  It was a relief, when they all came trooping back, to realize that she was up here safe and the handkerchief hidden away from sight. They did not even know she was here, unless someone had seen her from the window when she went out very early. She had come in by such a roundabout way that surely no one would suspect her of having been with the missing guest.

  She nevertheless felt guilty, as if she ought to go down and explain the absent one. It was such a relief to know she need not.

  “The plane is gone, Mother! I told you so!” cried Caroline angrily. “There goes our plan for the day right at the start. There won’t be even couples, and how can we play our tournament? I declare, I think Ted is the limit! I didn’t think he’d be mean like that. He knew what we were intending to do, and he just went off without a word.”

  “Perhaps he’ll be back,” said Diana confidently. “You know he has a date with me tonight.” She threw herself down in a big picturesque chair and tilted her chin toward the sky. “He’ll probably be back in time for the first game.”

  Then came Christine with a note.

  “I found it in the library on your desk, Madam,” she said.

  Annoyed, Mrs. Whitney took the note and opened it. If he had left a note, it must mean he did not intend to return. It was most provoking when she had thought she had him safely for once.

  Frowning, she read the note aloud.

  Dear Aunt,

  I’m leaving early, having an imperative call to New York. If nothing interferes I’ll be back in time for tonight’s festivities. If not, you’ll know I’m hopping off to far lands, and it can’t be helped. In which case, tell Diana Dorne I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t tell you last night because I didn’t want to spoil the fun.

  Apologies and affection,

  Ted

  “Now isn’t that just like him!” she said, looking up in vexation. “He’s quite impossible. I never could depend on him for a thing since he got this flying craze. And mercy! What is he going to do next? I nearly turned gray when he did that endurance test. I suppose we’ll see it in the papers tomorrow though, if he doesn’t come back. Now, girls, what are we going to do to fill his place?”

  “I know, Teacher,” said Susanne, raising her hand eagerly. “Let’s take the preacher and train him for the part.”

  “The preacher?” said Mrs. Whitney, raising her eyebrows. “What preacher?”

  “She means John Dunleith, Mother,” said Caroline, with infinite scorn in her voice. “She hasn’t the least idea what a nut he is!”

  “Oh, John! Why, my dear Susanne. Impossible! He would run from a playing card as if it were a serpent, and I doubt if he would know a tennis racket if he met one. Of course, I haven’t seen him since he was a boy, and then only for a few hours, but he writes the most religious letters to your uncle, and he has had no contact with our world whatever. Of course he’ll be polite and all that, I suppose, but he’s a sort of recluse, I imagine, always trying to convert somebody. We really can’t be burdened with trying to include him in the company. We’ll have to telephone and get somebody else here quickly before he arrives, and then he will understand that our numbers are full. Of course we must be polite, but he really wouldn’t do for bridge or dancing or even any of the sports, I’m sure. Now, who else is there? Tommy Hague, I suppose, though he is a little too fond of cocktails, and Mr. Whitney has taken the most incredible dislike to him.”

  “You leave Mr. Dunleith to me, Mother Whitney!” called out Diana, swinging her long, slim, silken leg back and forth in her lounging chair. “I’ll wind him round my little finger. You don’t know what I’ll do to him. I might teach him to dance, or I may even decide to teach him bridge, in which case nobody is to fuss if he proves terribly dumb. It’s part of the game, you know, and we all agreed to help.”

  They went on planning their diabolical joke, and Amory in her room fumed indignantly and wished she knew a way to warn the young minister before he arrived and so foil their plans.

  They all trooped in noisily to breakfast, and she was glad to hear Christine’s knock as she came in with the breakfast tray, for her early walk and exciting experiences had made her very hungry.

  “Madam wishes to see you at eleven in her dressing room,” Christine announced when she had arranged the tray on a little table for Amory. “She usually has her breakfast in bed and opens her mail before she gets up. She will want you then to take dictations. But this morning she took a notion to get up for breakfast, so she can’t see you till eleven. She said I was to tell you that you were to feel free to go to the library and get anything you want to read.”

  Amory thanked her pleasantly and sat down to her breakfast with a good appetite in spite of the turmoil of her mind.

  Chapter 4

  When Amory finished breakfast, she looked at her watch. It was half past nine, and there would just be time before she was summoned to Mrs. Whitney to write a letter home to the dear aunts who would be watching and waiting hourly for the first word from her. Could she do it without showing so much as a hint of the excitement of the morning? Would she be able to keep the incident of the flier out of the atmosphere of her letter? Well, she must try, though she suspected that Aunt Jocelyn would find out. Aunt Jocelyn during the years had always somehow managed to find out everything in Amory’s life. It was hard to deceive a love so understanding and true.

  But this was something that must be kept from her at least while Amory was away, for it would only plant a seed of uneasiness that would give infinite pain to the two dear women—pain for which there was no need, and an uneasiness that had absolutely no foundation. For of course she would never see that flier again, and of course she must treat the incident as a mere opportunity to send forth her little Testament to plant a possible seed in a heart that needed it.

  So she wrote her letter, full of lovely descriptions—mountains and castles and mansions. Oh, such mansions, and the country club! The airstrip figured only as a bit of the landscape next door with the wonder of a plane landing in full view. That was as much as she permitted herself to put in. If ever the rest of the story came to light, it would be easier to have mentioned that landing plane as a simple incident and nothing that had to be hid.

  The letter was further filled with character sketches of the guests of the house as she saw them on the terrace from her window, and closed with a detailed description of her room. On the whole she felt that she had done pretty well, and she was just addressing her envelope when the sound of an automobile arriving at the entrance way, just beyond the terrace and visible from her window, sent her to her curtained point of observation again. And it was so she saw the arrival of the much discussed and unwelcome cousin.

  There was nothing awkward or gawky about the stranger’s appearance. Perhaps this was not he after all.
Perhaps it was the substitute for Teddy whom they had raked up from somewhere by telephone. Only, this was the hour when they had said he would arrive. What was the pleasant-sounding name by which they called him? Dunleith, that was it, John Dunleith! It had a Scotch sound and smacked of heather and noble Norman blood or something like that. She felt hazy in her knowledge of things Scotch. But she liked his face, as much as she saw of it, as he got out of the car and went up the steps. He had a square, firm chin and pleasant lips, not rippling into a grin like the flier’s, but graver, more settled perhaps. Nice gray eyes, too, and a clear-cut face. He was tall and did not have the ascetic look she had expected from his relatives’ description.

  He wore a plain gray business suit, tweed, of a good cut, and there was nothing in the least countrified about him. Neither did he have the pale, fine, frenzied look of a fanatic. In fact, he appeared like a real man with good, sound common sense, so far as a first casual glance went. But probably she was wrong, and it wasn’t John Dunleith at all.

  A few minutes later she was summoned into Mrs. Whitney’s dressing room, and there sat the man she had just seen arrive.

  Mrs. Whitney received her graciously, coolly, and introduced her quite casually to the man. “My nephew, Mr. Dunleith, Miss Lorrimer. I am going to ask you later to show him around the place, as I shall be busy myself, and I believe the other young people are all busy elsewhere. You can ask Christine to direct you, in case you haven’t already discovered your way around.”

  Then she turned to the young man.

  “John, if you have letters to write, suppose you go to your room and get them done now. Michael goes down to the office about noon and can take them for you, and Miss Lorrimer and I will get through the morning mail while you are writing. I’ll have someone call you when Miss Lorrimer is at leisure.”

  And so that was the way the lady was going to get around her unwelcome nephew—put him off on her secretary! Amory found herself inwardly rebelling. Not that she did not like the appearance of the young man, but it had not occurred to her that her social life would be ordered for her in this way. However, it might be a good thing, for perhaps she might be able to save him from the practical joke that was awaiting him. Still, he did not look like a young man who needed protection, and perhaps her sympathy was all unnecessary.

  She sat down at the desk that Mrs. Whitney indicated and prepared to get to work on the pile of mail that lay in a mahogany tray, trying to forget all young men and attend strictly to business. After all, she must remember that she was here on a salary—a good salary, too—and that whatever she did, even entertain a young man, it was purely business and nothing personal in it at all—not even if he were an aviator, she added severely.

  Mrs. Whitney spoke pleasantly of Amory’s references and said she hoped they would get along well together. She then went on to business crisply, with a keen, logical mind that grasped any situation immediately and knew what she wanted to do about it.

  Amory jotted down notes on the envelopes of the letters, one after another. There was nothing important. They were mostly society notes and some bills to be attended to. There was a pile of cards to be sent out for a tea next week with a long list of addresses, a package to be returned to a city shop with instructions about its exchange, a note of complaint to a dressmaker, and an order for several pairs of shoes. It wasn’t difficult work, and the whole session took not more than half an hour.

  “And now, Miss Lorrimer,” said her employer, “I hope you’ll make yourself quite at home. You will take your meals usually in the little breakfast room, though I may call upon you sometimes to fill in a place at dinner when a guest is lacking, you know. I suppose you have evening dresses, and if you haven’t the right thing, just ask Christine and she will get you something. The girls and I have loads of things we don’t wear anymore, and Christine is quite clever with her needle. Don’t hesitate to use her whenever you need her. You’ll find her quite willing, and she understands what is needed. You play bridge well, I suppose? We may need you to take a hand now and then to fill in.”

  Amory’s color stole softly up as she answered.

  “No, Mrs. Whitney, I don’t play.”

  “You don’t? How odd! But it’s of no consequence. We probably won’t need you. Don’t you dance either? Well, perhaps that’s just as well. My nephew naturally doesn’t either, being a preacher of course, though there are some ministers nowadays who are quite broad-minded about such simple amusements. But it will be as well to have someone for John to talk to when the other young people are busy. You play tennis, do you, or golf?”

  “Tennis, oh yes,” said Amory with a relieved smile, “and golf a little, too, though I’ve never had much time to practice that.”

  “Well, they may want you for a set sometime, you know. And I believe your references said you have a nice voice and play a little? Music is always helpful, and not everyone wants to oblige, of course, so you may be useful that way. I don’t mind telling you I like your appearance, and you seem to have a pleasant way with you. Of course, you’re rather too good-looking for a secretary, but I guess you will be discreet and not let that get in your way, my dear. And now, run along and take my nephew around for a little while before you get at the letters, for I don’t want him to feel neglected. I’ll leave it to you to see that he doesn’t get lonely; the young people are always so careless. I’ve had a typewriter sent to your room for the business letters, and if you need anything for your work, just ask Christine. That’s all, I believe, and I think we’re going to get along fine together.”

  Amory found herself in the hall with a great sheaf of letters and a feeling of heavy responsibility resting upon her. So it seemed she was to be social hostess as well as secretary. Well, she would do her best, for there was the wonderful salary, and the dear aunts needing it so much. She mustn’t fail, but where in the world was she to find the young man whom she was to escort over the place, and how could she show off a place she did not know herself?

  She was about to seek Christine for information when the young man himself came down the hall.

  He smiled, and she liked him even better than when she had first seen him.

  “You were instructed, I believe, to show me around,” he said pleasantly, “but if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a lot of work I’d like to do, and you look as if you have quite a handful yourself. Suppose we call this off and both of us do our work.”

  She smiled up at him understandingly. “All right,” she said, “that suits me wonderfully. This is my first day here, and I’m not so accustomed to things yet as to be sure I’ll get everything done on time. Besides, it would be like the blind leading the blind for me to take you around this place, for I don’t know it yet myself.”

  “Well, then, perhaps we can reverse the orders sometime when we are not so busy, and I can show you around. My aunt forgets that I was here once for a whole summer when I was a kid and she was in Europe, and I’ll wager I know some parts of the place better than she does.”

  So they parted pleasantly and Amory went to her room, wondering if after all she ought not to have taken that opportunity to somehow warn the young man of what was to come. Only, how could she have said it? And surely, surely they would not dare play such a prank on one who seemed so much of a man. They could not make a fool out of him. He had too much common sense. She was going to like him, she felt sure. He was just friendly and nice, and she could feel at home with him. There was nothing of the romance of the flier man about him, but he was strong and true and wholesome. One could see that at a glance. Yes, and a gentleman, too, every inch of him. And she need not worry about that silly plan for making a fool of him. As soon as they saw him they would understand that he was no country gawk, and of course would abandon their silly joke.

  She settled down to her work at the desk near the window.

  The typewriter had come and was a good one, new and one of the best makes. It delighted her to work with it. The one she had at home was a secondhan
d affair that she had bought for ten dollars and was sadly in need of repair. It was a joy to work with good implements, and she finished the business part of her mail rapidly.

  She had done about half of the other correspondence when voices chimed out in a chorus as several of the guests came across the lawn from the direction of the tennis courts. As they trooped up on the terrace, a boy about twelve years old came out the door and called to his sister. Amory had seen him once or twice before and had surmised he must be the youngest Whitney child.

  “Hey! Car’lin, bet you don’t know who’s come!”

  The voice conveyed an unmistakable delight in the arrival.

  “Who?” called back the sister, suddenly ceasing her laughter with one of the young men. “Who, Neddy? Tell me quick! Did Mother succeed in getting Barry Blaine? She was telephoning when we left.”

  “Aw, naw. Gosh, no! Not him. It’s Cousin John! He just came, and he’s going fishing with me this afternoon. You needn’t think you’re going to get him.”

  “Great cats! Has he come already? Mother didn’t expect him till night. Now the goose is cooked! Dad is coming home, and he’ll insist on our trotting him round everywhere with us!” said Caroline in a disgusted tone.

  “Oh, has he come?” said Diana vivaciously. “That’s good! Don’t worry about little Johnny, darling. I’ll take him off your hands. I’ll go fishing, too. That will be all that could be desired in the way of a beginning. Luckily, I played off my set this morning. Let me see, what does one wear fishing to be fetching? Green?”

  “My eye! You won’t go fishing with us!” growled Ned, suddenly roused to understand the situation. “We don’t want gurrls! Scarin’ the fish! And fallin’ in the water! You can just lay off this expedition. I’m tellin’ ya!”