The Beloved Stranger - By Grace Livingston Hill Page 0,58

everybody in town with a special brand of kidding for each individual. There was something vivid and interesting about Hurley in spite of his crudeness, and presently Arla forgot herself so far as to be laughing heartily at some of the stories Hurley told.

Hurley had saved up his money, and he was just explaining to Arla how he had always wanted this trip to Europe and mapping out the course of travel he had planned for himself, when suddenly a stern and forbidding Carter arrived on the scene. He fairly glared at the poor soda clerk, whom he had never liked, mainly because he presumed to be friendly with Arla. Carter had never approved of Arla’s being friendly with Hurley. Just because she had gone to school with him did not give a mere soda clerk the right to take the girl of a man like himself to anything! Not even a ball game in the early evening played in his own neighborhood! Not even if he started out alone and just met Arla and sauntered with her to the grandstand and bought her peanuts, which is what had happened one summer evening when Carter’s interest in Arla was in its initial stages.

Therefore Carter glared at Hurley and gave him a passing: “Oh, Hurl, you here! Not serving in your official capacity as drink slinger on board, are you?”

There was utter contempt in Carter’s tone. All the venom and fury that he had been holding in his heart for Arla during the morning because she had not obeyed him, and had been evading him, he vented in that one contemptuous sentence.

And Hurley, happy, crude, a bit obtuse, not easily hurt, could not but recognize the unfriendliness and grew red and embarrassed. He attempted to rise to the occasion by slapping the dignified Carter on the shoulder and offering congratulations in his native style.

“My sympathy, Cart!” he said with a guffaw. “I hear you been getting tied! Only wish I’d been there to be best man. I’d have given you a great send-off! But say now, isn’t it great we both got on the same little old boat together! My word! I got something to write home to the little old hometown now! Mebbe that won’t make ‘em all sit up and take notice! Cart and Arla got tied at last! We been looking for news and an invite this long while, and then you went and done it on the sly! But say now, I certainly do wish you a lotta happiness!”

Carter’s face had grown more and more stern during this tirade, and now his tone was like a slap in the face as he made another attempt to put this fool from home in his place.

“I am sure Mrs. McArthur and I are greatly obliged to you for your interest,” he said disagreeably, and then turned to Arla sternly.

“My dear, I shall have to ask you to come down to the stateroom at once. There is a matter I must discuss with you.”

But Arla was resenting her husband’s attitude. A sudden loyalty for the hometown and the people and things that used to be dear to her surged over her. Carter had no call to insult this well-meaning but ignorant youth who stood there red and hurt and wondering over the unnecessary coolness in Carter’s tone. She knew that Carter was venting upon him all the injury and indignation he felt for her, and she turned lightly away from the command and answered, “All right, Carter, I’ll be down presently. I want to finish my talk with Hurley first. He’s been telling me all about the people at home.”

Carter could scarcely believe his senses. Arla was standing out against him. He stared at her in consternation a moment with an icy look, then turned on his heel and marched away.

She did not look after him as he went. She did not dare to think what effect her attitude would have upon him. It was the first time in her acquaintance with him—which had dated from her very young childhood—that she had ever defied him. She had pled with him, she had wept, she had been sweet and submissive, but she had never openly defied him before, and she was trembling over it. She found herself almost panic stricken. Perhaps he would never speak to her again. Perhaps he would divorce her. Yet it was what she had resolved in those morning hours of meditation that she would do, defy