Now that it was all explained, it seemed to Bennington de Laney to be
ridiculously simple. He wondered how he could have been so blind. For
the moment, however, all other emotions were swallowed up in intense
mortification over the density he had displayed, and the ridiculous
light in which he must have appeared to all the actors in the comedy.
His companion perceived this, and kindly hastened to relieve it.
"You're wondering how it all happened," said he, "but you don't want to
ask about it. I'm going to tell you the story of your life. You see,
Bert and I knew the Fays very well in Boston, and we knew also that
they were out here in the Hills. That's what tickled us so when you
said you were coming out to this very place. You know yourself, Ben,
that you were pretty green when you were in New York--you must know it,
because you have got over it so nicely since--and it struck us, after
you talked so much about the 'Wild West,' that it would be a shame if
you didn't get some of it. So we wrote Jim that you were coming, and to
see to it that you had a time."
Jim chuckled a little. "From his letters, I guess you had it. He wrote
about that horse he sprung on you, and the time they lynched you, and
all the rest of it, and we thought we had done pretty well, especially
since Jim wrote he thought you weren't half bad, and had come through
in good shape. He wrote, too, that you had run against Bill, and that
Bill was fooling you up in some way--way unspecified. He seemed to be a
little afraid that Bill was trifling with your young affections--how is
it Ben, anyway?--but he said that Bill was very haughty on the subject,
and as he'd never been able to do anything with her before, he didn't
believe he'd have much success if he should try now. I suggested that
Bill might get in a little deep herself," went on James, watching his
listener's face keenly, "but Bert seemed inclined to the opinion that
any one as experienced as Bill was perfectly able to take care of
herself anywhere. She's a mighty fine girl, Ben, old man," suddenly
concluded this startling youth, holding out his hand, "and I wish you
every success in the world in getting her!"
"Thank you, Jeems," replied Bennington simply, without attempting to
deny the state of affairs. "I'm sure I'm glad of your good wishes, but
I'm afraid I haven't any show now." He sighed deeply.
"I'll give an opinion on that after I see Bill again," observed the
artist sagely.
"It always struck me as being queer that two of the most refined people
about here should happen to be living in the same house," commented
Bennington, only just aware that it had so struck him.