Ainslee's Magazine, February 1913 — page 69: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE YELLOW DIAMOND PENDANT thrown out in that helpless little heroine gesture. “My father must not know,” she said. “Oh, how thankful I am I have asked him nothing! I don’t quite understand, Kit. I guess it’s—it’s too big, too real for us to understand, but please, please help me keep my faith in Herbert. We will see that man to-morrow and ask him You must promise me not to tell any one. I should not have told you, Kit. We may be holding Herbert’s life in the hollow of our hands. You promise ?” I nodded, trying to choke my heart back into place, and trying to be calm. She was right; it was too big, too real for us to understand. I had been out five seasons, and I thought I had ex- perienced all the sensations this world has to offer. I know differently now, but the responsibility of that moment was so real to me I shall never forget it. I only wonder that we, two silly girls, had the courage to keep that awful secret to ourselves, and to go through what followed. We had a dinner dance on that night, one of those exclusive affairs that I was able to influence. Barbara had been walking on air over it for a week, but social everything was forgotten in our anxiety over Herbert Callaway. “We knew so little, we imagined so much. We talked in ‘frightened little snatches as we dressed ; Barbara trailing into my room, her maid patiently following, then back to her own premises, and I re- peating her action. Once, when we were alone, I blurted out about the yel- low-diamond pendant. I just couldn't keep it to myself any longer. She stared at me, amazed. “T can’t make it fit in anywhere,” she said, in a scared sort of whisper, after thinking it over. “Tt’s queer though, isn’t it?” She nodded, and we stood there, gaz- ing stupidly at each other, feeling ter- ribly helpless, somehow. “It may be just a coincidence,” Bar- bara suggested finally. “We are fright- ened, we are exaggerating every- thing: “a | “IT have never had any communica- a2 tion with Herbert Callaway, or his mother,’ I pointed out. “But it was a natural thing for her to do, to send you a gift, a dying gift. Coming just at this time could be just a coincidence.” I shook my head; the whole thing was beyond me, truly. And once she came and stood by me, embarrassed, hesitating. “Have you any money?” she asked me finally. ‘“As much as five hun- dred?” “J—I think not,” I replied. I had been giving I O U’s the last two weeks, but, of course, she didn’t know anything about my financial fix, “T’m afraid to ask for it,’ she con- fided. “Mother would want to know why, and father—I can’t run the risk of any one getting suspicious. Kit, did you ever pawn anything?” I shook my head, thoroughly ashamed of the lie, but I just couldn’t admit such a thing, and she trailed back to her room with a sad little droop to her head. We were not fit for a dinner dance. We were two frightened ghosts. Bar- bara rubbed rouge into her pale cheeks, and tried to smile the fright out of her eyes, but I just let myself be pale and scared. I remember that at dinner I laughed more than I should have done, and blessed the Lord for two talkative men at either side of me. Billy maneuvered me to the con- servatory after dinner. I was very close to tears, for all my seemingly high spirits, and I felt as if I just wanted to throw myself into his arms and cry. “What’s the matter, dear?” he asked, as I dropped down in a secluded cor- ner where, if I cried, no one would see me. I actually bit a piece from the ivory sticks of my fan in my silly nervous- ness. “T’m all right,’ I assured him, trying to smile. Of course, he didn’t believe me; law- yers are mind readers, anyway. “Tell me _ the trouble,” treated. he en- (C@) 0)(0\0)|\< (E@)