The Flirt

B >> Booth Tarkington >> The Flirt


His indignation with her had not worn off when he descended to
breakfast, but he made up to his mother for having troubled her.
Then, to cap his gallantry, he observed that several inches of
snow must have fallen during the night; it would be well packed
upon the streets by noon; he would get a sleigh, after lunch, and
take her driving. It was a holiday.

She thanked him, but half-declined. "I'm afraid it's too cold for
me, but there are lots of nice girls in town, Richard, who won't
mind weather."

"But I asked _you_!" It was finally left an open question for the
afternoon to settle; and, upon her urging, he went out for a walk.
She stood at the window to watch him, and, when she saw that he
turned northward, she sank into a chair, instead of going to give
Joe Varden his after-breakfast instructions, and fell into a deep
reverie.

Outdoors, it was a biting cold morning, wind-swept and gray; and
with air so frosty-pure no one might breathe it and stay bilious:
neither in body nor bilious in spirit. It was a wind to sweep the
yellow from jaundiced cheeks and make them rosy; a wind to clear
dulled eyes; it was a wind to lift foolish hearts, to lift them so
high they might touch heaven and go winging down the sky, the
wildest of wild-geese.

. . . When the bell rang, Laura was kneeling before the library
fire, which she had just kindled, and she had not risen when Sarah
brought Richard to the doorway. She was shabby enough, poor
Cinderella! looking up, so frightened, when her prince appeared.

She had not been to the dance.

She had not four suitors. She had none.

He came toward her. She rose and stepped back a little. Ashes had
blown upon her, and, oh, the old, old thought of the woman born to
be a mother! she was afraid his clothes might get dusty if he came
too close.

But to Richard she looked very beautiful; and a strange thing
happened: trembling, he saw that the firelight upon her face was
brighter than any firelight he had ever seen.