She was watching the last of the great red globe when her friend joined her.There had been a race of sloops that afternoon, and there was unusual animation on the quay and at the little club house.A small power boat, on which were the starter and judges and others, had just put in with a good deal of splutter and fuss.On the stoop of the club a small band was playing, and a bevy of young people were dancing.Following in the wake of the last sloop a yawl with a dingey in tow was coming towards the quay.
Seeing that Tootles was in one of her ecstatic moods and was deaf to remarks, Irene saved her words to cool her porridge and watched the incoming yawl.She did so at first without much interest.It was merely a sailboat to her city eyes, and her good lines and good management meant nothing.But as she came nearer something familiar in the cut of the man at her helm caught her attention.Surely those broad shoulders and that deep chest and small head could belong only to Martin Gray? They did, they did.It was that boy at last, that boy about whom Tootles had gone dippy, that boy whose generosity had made their holiday possible, that boy the first sight of whom would put the last touch to Tootles' recovery--that boy who, if her friend set her mind and feminine charm to work, might, it seemed to the practical Irene, make her future safe.Strap-hangers had very few such chances.
With a tremendous effort she sat wordless and waited, knowing that Martin must come that way to his cottage.With all her sense of the dramatic stirred she watched the business of coming to anchor with some impatience and when finally the dingey was hauled in and the two men got aboard, loosed off and rowed to shore, excitement sent the blood tingling through her veins.She heard them laugh and look up towards the club, now almost deserted; cars were being driven inland in quick succession.She watched them, hatless and sun-tanned, come nearer and nearer.She got up as if to go, hesitated, caught Martin's eye, gave an exclamation of well-acted amazement and waved her hand."Well," she cried out, "for Heaven's sake! I never thought you meant this little old Devon!"Howard had long ago caught sight of the two girls and wondered if they were pretty, hoping they would remain until he could decide the point for himself.They were, both of them, and Martin knew them.
Good enough.He stood by while Martin greeted the one who spoke and then saw the other wake suddenly at the sound of his friend's voice, stumble to her feet and go forward with a little cry.
"Why, Tootles," said Martin warmly."I never thought of seeing you here.How well you look."It was like dreaming true.Tootles could only smile and cling to his hand.
"By Jove, the other girl," thought Howard, with what, after all, was only an easy touch of intuition.The girl's face told her story.
"What will this mean?" Then there were introductions, questions and answers, laughter, jokes, a quick exchange of glances between Martin and Irene, in which he received and acknowledged her warning, and a little silence.
"Come up to the cottage and have dinner with us," said Martin, breaking it rather nervously."Can you?"Tootles nodded.Devon--Heaven.How perfectly the words rhymed.
"You couldn't keep us away with a stick," said Irene.This was the way things should go.Also, the jovial, fat person with the roving eyes might brighten things considerably for her.
"Great work!" Said Howard.
And then, taking Tootle's arm and breaking into enthusiastic details of the sailing trip, Martin led the way up to the cottage among the firs.It was good to have been able to put little Tootles into spirits again.
Howard followed with Irene."Gee whiz!" he said to himself, "some dimples!"A few miles away as the crow flies Gilbert Palgrave In his bedroom in St.James's Palace cursed himself and life because Joan was still as difficult to win as sunshine was to bottle.
And up in the sky that hung above them all the angels were lighting the stars.