Chapter 35

THE GARDEN PARTY.

Jerrie went on very rapidly toward home, almost running at times, and not at all conscious of the absence of her parasol, or that the noonday sun was beating hot upon her head, conscious only of a bitter feeling of pain and vexation, the latter that she had allowed herself to speak so angrily to Tom, and of pain because of what he had said to her of Maude and Harold. Do what she might, she could not forget the tone of Harold's voice, or the look in his eyes when he bade her good-bye that morning, or that his whole manner since her return had been more like that of a lover than of a brother. And still there was that little throb of jealousy tugging at her heart-strings, notwithstanding that he had said to herself in substance not more than an hour before that she believed she could give Harold to Maude, whose love for him she could not doubt.

'And I'll do it now,' she said, at last, to herself. 'I'll fight it down, this something which makes me hate myself. If Harold loves Maude he shall never know from me of that horrible pain which cuts me like a knife and makes me forget to be indignant at Tom for talking so much of his money and his position, as if they could buy me! Poor Tom! I said some sharp things to him, but he deserved them, the prig! Let him marry that governor's daughter if he can. I am sure I wish him success.'

She had reached home by this time, and found their simple dinner waiting for her. 'Oh, grandma, why did you do it? Why didn't you wait for me?' she said, as she took her seat at the table where the dishes were all so plain, and the cloth, though white and clean, so coarse and cheap.

Jerrie was as fond of luxury and elegance as any one, and Tracy Park, with its appurtenances, would have suited her taste better than the cottage.

'But not with Tom, not with Tom,' she kept on repeating to herself, as she cleared the table and washed the dishes, and then brought in and folded the clothes for the morrow's ironing.

By this time she was very tired, and going to her cool, pretty room, she threw herself upon the lounge and slept soundly for three hours or more. Sleep is a wonderful tonic, and Jerrie rose refreshed and quite herself again. Not even a thought of Maude and Harold disturbed her as she went whistling and singing around her room, hanging up her dresses one by one, and wondering which she should wear at the garden party. Deciding at last upon a simple white muslin, which, although two years old, was still in fashion, and very becoming, she arranged her wavy hair in a fluffy mass at the back of her head, brushed her bangs into short, soft curls upon her forehead, pinned a cluster of roses on the bosom of her dress, and was ready for the party.

'Tell Harold, if he is not too tired, I want him very much to come for me,' she said, to Mrs. Crawford, and then about five o'clock started for Grassy Spring, where she found the guests all assembled in the pleasant, shady grounds, which surrounded the house.

Tom was there in his character of a fine city dandy, and the moment he saw Jerry, he hastened to meet her, greeting her with perfect self-possession, as if nothing had happened.

'You are late,' he said, going up to her. 'We are waiting for you to complete our eight hand croquet, and I claim you as my partner.'

'I c-c call that mean, T-t-tom. I was g-g-going to ask J-jerrie to pl-play with m-me,' little Billy said, hopping around them, while Dick's face showed that he, too, would like the pleasure of playing with Jerrie, who was known to be an expert and seldom missed a ball.

Naturally, however, Marian Raymond, as a stranger, would fall to him, and they were soon paired off, Dick and Marian, Tom and Jerrie, Nina and Billy, Fred Raymond and Ann Eliza, who wore diamonds enough for a full dress party, and whose red hair was piled on the top of her head so loosely that the ends of it stuck out here and there like the streamers on a boat on gala days. This careless style of dressing her hair, Ann Eliza affected, thinking it gave individuality to her appearance; and it certainly did attract general observation, her hair was so red and bushy. Dick had stumbled and stammered dreadfully when confessing to his sister that he had invited the Peterkins, while Nina had drawn a long breath of dismay as she thought of presenting Ann Eliza and Billy to Marian Raymond, with her culture and aristocratic ideas. Then she burst into a laugh and said, with her usual sweetness:

'Never mind, Dickie. You could not do otherwise. I'll prepare Marian, and the Peterkins will really enjoy it.'

So Marian, who, with all her accomplishments and foreign air, was a kind-hearted, sensible girl, was prepared, and received the Peterkins very graciously, and seemed really pleased with Billy, whose big, kind heart shone through his diminutive body and always won him friends. He was very happy to be there, because he liked society, and because he knew Jerrie was coming; and Ann Eliza was very glad because she felt it an honor to be at Grassy Spring, and because she knew Tom was coming, and when he came she fastened upon him with a tenacity which he could not well shake off; and when croquet was proposed she was the first to respond.

'Oh, yes, that will be nice, and I know our side will beat,' and she looked at Tom as it were a settled thing that she should play with him.

But Tom was not in a mood to be gracious. He had come to the entertainment, which he mentally called a bore, partly because he would not let Jerrie think he was taking her refusal to heart, and partly because he must see her again, even if she never could be his wife. All the better nature of Tom was concentrated in his love for Jerrie, and had she married him he would probably have made her as happy as a wholly selfish man can make happy the woman he loves. But she had declined his offer, and wounded him deeper than she supposed.

A hundred times he had said to himself that afternoon, as he sat alone in the lovely park--of which he had once said to Harold, he was to be the _hare_, and of whose possession in the future he had boasted to Jerrie--that he did not care a _sou_, that he was glad she had refused him, for after all it was only an infatuation on his part; that the girl of the carpet-bag was not the wife for a Tracy; but the twinge of pain in his heart belied his words, and he knew he did love Jerrie Crawford better than he should ever again love any girl, whether the daughter of a governor or of the president.

'And I go to the party, too, just to show her that I don't care, and for the sake of looking at her,' he said. 'She can't help that, and it is a pleasure to look at a woman so grandly developed and perfectly formed as she is. By Jove! Hal Hastings is a lucky dog; but I shall hate him forever.'

So Tom pulled himself together, and went to Grassy Spring in a frame of mind not the most amiable; and when croquet was proposed, he sneered at it as something quite too _passé_, citing lawn tennis as the only decent outdoor amusement.

'Why, then, don't you set it up on your grounds, where you have plenty of room, and ask us all over there?' Dick asked, good-humoredly, as he began to get out the mallets and balls.

To this Tom did not reply, but said, instead:

'Count me out. I don't like the game, and there are enough without me.'

Just then Jerry appeared at the gate, and he added quickly:

'Still, I don't wish to be ungracious; and now Jerrie has come, we can have an eight hand.'

Hastening toward her, he met her as we have recorded, and claimed her for his partner.

'Thank you, Tom,' Jerrie said, with a bright smile on her face, which made the young man's heart beat fast with both pleasure and pain, as he gave her the mallet and told her she was to play first.

Tom was making himself master of ceremonies, and Dick kept quiet and let him, and watched Jerrie admiringly as she made the two arches, and the third, and fourth, and then sent her ball out of harm's way. It was a long and closely contested game, for all were skilful players, except poor Ann Eliza, who was always behind and required a great deal of attention from her partner especially when it came to croqueting a ball. She did not know exactly what to do, and kept her foot so long upon the ball that less amiable girls than Nina and Jerrie would have said she did it on purpose, to show how small and pretty it looked in her closely fitting French boot. But Jerrie's side beat, as it usually