Noel had not come. She had waited for him in the little green corner by the side gate, where Venus was shining over the dark trees, until ten o'clock and he had not come. Once she had got long-distance and called up his stepmother's house in town. But Noel was not there and his stepmother did not know where he was... or greatly care, her tone seemed to imply. Gay went back to her vigil by the gate. What had happened? Had his car acted up? But he could telephone. Suppose there had been an accident... a bad accident... suppose Noel had been hurt... killed? Or suppose he had just changed his mind? Had his good-bye kiss, three nights before, been just a little absent? And even his letter which had told her he was coming had begun with "dear" instead of "dearest" or "darling."
Once she thought she saw him coming through the garden. By the sudden uplift of her heart and spirit she knew how terrible had been her dread that he would not come. Then she saw that it was only Roger. Roger must not see her. She knew she was going to cry and he must not see her. Blindly she plunged into the green spruce copse beyond the gate... ran through it sobbing... the boughs caught and tore her dress... it didn't matter... nothing mattered except that Noel had not come. She gained her room and locked her door and huddled herself into bed. Oh, what a long night was before her to live through. She remembered a pet phrase of Roger's... he was always saying, "Don't worry... there's always to-morrow."
"I don't want to-morrow," sobbed Gay. "I'm afraid of it."
It was the first night in her life she had cried herself chokingly to sleep.
In the morning Noel telephoned his excuses. He had a-plenty. Nan had called him on the long-distance from Summerside early in the evening and wanted him to run up and bring her home. He had thought he had plenty of time for it. But when he got to Summerside Nan's friends were having an impromptu party and she wanted to wait for it. He had tried to get Gay on long-distance but couldn't. It was late when he had brought Nan home... too late to go on to Maywood. He was frightfully sorry and he'd be up the very first evening he was free. They were confoundedly busy in the bank just now. He had to work till midnight, etc.
Gay believed him because she had to. And when her mother said to her that folks were beginning to talk about Nan and Noel, Gay was scornful and indifferent.
"They have to talk about something, Mumsy. I suppose they've got tired gossiping about poor Donna and Peter and have to begin on Noel and me. Never mind them."
"I don't mind them. But the Gibsons... they've always had a name for being fickle... "
"I won't hear a word against Noel," flashed Gay. "Am I to keep him in my pocket? Is he never to speak to a girl but me? A nice life for him. I know Noel. But you always hated him... you're glad to believe anything against him... "
"Oh, Gay, child... no... no. I don't hate him... it's your happiness I'm thinking of... "
"Then don't worry me with malicious gossip," cried Gay so stormily that Mrs Howard dared not say another word on the subject. She switched to something safer.
"Have you written those chain letters yet, Gay?"
"No. And I'm not going to. Mumsy, you're really absurd."
"But, Gay... I don't know... no, I'm NOT superstitious... but you KNOW it said if you broke the chain some misfortune would befall you... and it doesn't cost much... only six cents... "
"Mother, it IS superstition. And I'm not going to be so foolish. Write the letters yourself, if you like... if it's worrying you."
"That wouldn't do any good. The letter was to you. It wouldn't take you long... "
"I'm not going to do it and that's all there is to it," said Gay, stubbornly. "You heard Roger on the subject, Mother."
"Oh, Roger... he's a good doctor but he doesn't know everything. There ARE things nobody understands... your father always laughed just as you do... but he was one of thirteen at a table just before he died. And say what you will, I knew a woman who wouldn't write the chain letters and she broke her knee-cap two weeks after she burned the one she got."
"Mrs Sim Dark broke her arm last week, but I haven't heard she burned any chain letters." Gay tried to laugh but she found it rather hard... she to whom laughter had always come so readily. There was such a strange, dreadful ache in her heart which she must hide from every one. And she would NOT be jealous and hateful and suspicious. Nan was trying to weave her cobweb spells around Noel of course. But she had faith in Noel... oh, she must have faith in him.
Noel did come up four evenings later. And Nan came, too. The three of them sat on the veranda steps and laughed and chattered. At least Noel and Nan did. Gay was a little bit silent. Nobody noticed it. At last she got up and strolled away to the twilight garden, through the gay ranks of the hollyhocks and the old orchard full of mysterious moonlit delights... the place of places for lovers... to the side gate. She expected Noel would follow her. He had always done so... yet. She listened for his following footsteps. When she reached the side gate she turned and peeped back through the spruce boughs. Noel was still sitting on the steps beside Nan. She could not see them but she could hear them. She knew quite well that Nan was looking up at Noel with those slanting green eyes of hers... eyes that did something to men that Gay's laughing, gold- flecked ones could never do. And no doubt... Gay's lip curled in contempt... she was implying that he was the most wonderful fellow in the world. Gay had heard her do that before. Well... he WAS! But Nan had no right to think him so... or make him think she thought so. Gay clenched her hands.
She waited there for what seemed a very long time. There was a pale green sunset sky, and idle, merry laughter came from far across the fields on the crystal clear air. Somewhere there was a faint fragrance on the air, as of something hidden... unseen... sweet.
Gay remembered a great many things that she had almost forgotten. Little things that Nan had done in their childhood vacations when she had come over to the Island every summer. There was that day Gay had been quite broken-hearted at the Sunday-school picnic because she hadn't a cent to pay for the peep-show Hicksy Dark was running. And then she had found a cent on the road... and was going to see the peep-show... and Nan took the cent away from her and gave it to Hicksy and saw the show. Gay remembered how she had cried about that and how Nan had laughed.
The day when Nan had come in with a lovely big chocolate bar Uncle Pippin had given her. Chocolate bars were new things then.
"Oh, please give me a bite... just one bite," Gay had implored. She loved chocolate bars.
Nan had laughed and said,
"Maybe I'll give you the last one."
She sat down before Gay and ate the bar, slowly, deliberately, bite by bite. At last there was just one good bite left... a juicy, succulent bite, the lovely snowy filling oozing around a big Brazil-nut. And then Nan had laughed... and popped the bite into her own mouth... and laughed again at the tears that filled Gay's eyes.
"You cry so easy, Gay, that it's hardly any fun to make you cry," she said.
The day when Nan had snatched off Gay's new hair-bow, because it was bigger and crisper than her own, and slashed it to bits with the scissors. Mrs Alpheus HAD whipped Nan for it, but that didn't restore the hair-bow and Gay had to wear her old shabby one.
The time when Gay was to sing at the missionary concert in the church and Nan had broken up the song and reduced Gay to the verge of hysterics by suddenly pointing her finger at Gay's slippered feet and calling out, "Mouse!"