"Of course I was born there, but--"
"Well, just the same, I think they"re nice people."
"Now see here. Must I argue with you? Can I have no peace, tired as I am? Those trippers are speaking of "quaint English flavor." Can you want anything more than that to d.a.m.n them? And they"ve been touring by motor--seeing every inn on the road."
"Maybe it"s fun for--"
"Now _don"t_ argue with me. I know what I"m talking about.
Why do I have to explain everything? They"re hopeless!"
Mr. Wrenn felt a good wholesome desire to spank her, but he said, most politely: "You"re awful tired. Don"t you want to stay here tonight? Or maybe some other hotel; and I"ll stay here."
"No. Don"t want to stay any place. Want to get away from myself," she said, exactly like a naughty child.
So they tramped on again.
Darkness was near. They had plunged into a country which in the night seemed to be a stretch of desolate moorlands. As they were silently plodding up a hill the rain came. It came with a roar, a pitiless drenching against which they fought uselessly, soaking them, slapping their faces, blinding their eyes. He caught her arm and dragged her ahead. She would be furious with him because it rained, of course, but this was no time to think of that; he had to get her to a dry place.
Istra laughed: "Oh, isn"t this great! We"re real vagabonds now."
"Why! Doesn"t that khaki soak through? Aren"t you wet?"
"To the skin!" she shouted, gleefully. "And I don"t care!
We"re _doing_ something. Poor dear, is it worried? I"ll race you to the top of the hill."
The dark bulk of a building struck their sight at the top, and they ran to it. Just now Mr. Wrenn was ready to devour alive any irate householder who might try to turn them out. He found the building to be a ruined stable--the door off the hinges, the desolate thatch falling in. He struck a match and, holding it up, standing straight, the master, all unconscious for once in his deprecating life of the Wrennishness of Mr. Wrenn, he discovered that the thatch above the horse-manger was fairly waterproof.
"Come on! Up on the edge of the manger, Istra," he ordered.
"This is a perfectly good place for a murder," she grinned, as they sat swinging their legs.
He could fancy her grinning. He was sure about it, and well content.
"Have I been so very grouchy, Mouse? Don"t you want to murder me? I"ll try to find you a long pin."
"Nope; I don"t think so, much. I guess we can get along without it this time."
"Oh dear, dear! This is very dreadful. You"re so used to me now that you aren"t even scared of me any more."
"Gee! I guess I"ll be scared of you all right as soon as I get you into a dry place, but I ain"t got time now. Sitting on a manger! Ain"t this the funniest place!... Now I must beat it out and find a house. There ought to be one somewheres near here."
"And leave me here in the darknesses and wetnesses? Not a chance.
The rain"ll soon be over, anyway. Really, I don"t mind a bit.
I think it"s rather fun."
Her voice was natural again, natural and companionable and brave.
She laughed as she stroked her wet shoulder and held his hand, sitting quietly and bidding him listen to the soft forlorn sound of the rain on the thatch.
But the rain was not soon over, and their dangling position was very much like riding a rail.
"I"m so uncomfortable!" fretted Istra.
"See here, Istra, please, I think I"d better go see if I can"t find a house for you to get dry in."
"I feel too wretched to go any place. Too wretched to move."
"Well, then, I"ll make a fire here. There ain"t much danger."
"The place will catch fire," she began, querulously.
But he interrupted her. "Oh, _let_ the darn place catch fire!
I"m going to make a fire, I tell you!"
"I don"t want to move. It"ll just be another kind of discomfort, that"s all. Why couldn"t you try and take a little bit of care of me, anyway?"
"Oh, hon-ey!" he wailed, in youthful bewilderment. "I did try to get you to stay at that hotel in town and get some rest."
"Well, you ought to have made me. Don"t you realize that I took you along to take care of me?"
"Uh--"
"Now don"t argue about it. I can"t stand argument all the time."
He thought instantly of Lee Theresa Zapp quarreling with her mother, but he said nothing. He gathered the driest bits of thatch and wood he could find in the litter on the stable floor and kindled a fire, while she sat sullenly glaring at him, her face wrinkled and tired in the wan firelight. When the blaze was going steadily, a compact and safe little fire, he spread his coat as a seat for her, and called, cheerily, "Come on now, honey; here"s a regular home and hearthstone for you."
She slipped down from the manger edge and stood in front of him, looking into his eyes--which were level with her own.
"You _are_ good to me," she half whispered, and smoothed his cheek, then slipped down on the outspread coat, and murmured, "Come; sit here by me, and we"ll both get warm."
All night the rain dribbled, but no one came to drive them away from the fire, and they dozed side by side, their hands close and their garments steaming. Istra fell asleep, and her head drooped on his shoulder. He straightened to bear its weight, though his back twinged with stiffness, and there he sat unmoving, through an hour of pain and happiness and confused meditation, studying the curious background--the dark roof of broken thatch, the age-corroded walls, the littered earthen floor. His hand pressed lightly the clammy smoothness of the wet khaki of her shoulder; his wet sleeve stuck to his arm, and he wanted to pull it free. His eyes stung. But he sat tight, while his mind ran round in circles, considering that he loved Istra, and that he would not be entirely sorry when he was no longer the slave to her moods; that this adventure was the strangest and most romantic, also the most idiotic and useless, in history.
Toward dawn she stirred, and, slipping stiffly from his position, he moved her so that her back, which was still wet, faced the fire. He built up the fire again, and sat brooding beside her, dozing and starting awake, till morning. Then his head bobbed, and he was dimly awake again, to find her sitting up straight, looking at him in amazement.
"It simply can"t be, that"s all.... Did you curl me up? I"m nice and dry all over now. It was very good of you. You"ve been a most commendable person.... But I think we"ll take a train for the rest of our pilgrimage. It hasn"t been entirely successful, I"m afraid."
"Perhaps we"d better."
For a moment he hated her, with her smooth politeness, after a night when she had been unbearable and human by turns. He hated her bedraggled hair and tired face. Then he could have wept, so deeply did he desire to pull her head down on his shoulder and smooth the wrinkles of weariness out of her dear face, the dearer because they had endured the weariness together. But he said, "Well, let"s try to get some breakfast first, Istra."
With their garments wrinkled from rain, half asleep and rather cross, they arrived at the esthetic but respectable colony of Aengusmere by the noon train.
CHAPTER XI
HE BUYS AN ORANGE TIE