"That he wants the money?" Dorothy understood at once. "I tried to tell her that."
"You know that? How come you are convinced?"
"I am convinced because the first time we met him, there was some reason—a reason for his choosing Nan. Oh, Johnny, I could tell. I had caught his eye. He just deliberately . . . The truth is, I ^ill attract him and I've told Nan so."
"People keep saying . . ." Johnny looked at this plum. This Dorothy. "Dotty, you know when a man is attracted, don't you?"
"And when he isn't," she said, blinking her tears. "Of course, I do."
"Then why doesn't Nan know that he isn't?"
"Because she was always built up," said Dorothy, ''arti-ficially. She's been told and told to assume she'll have romance, as if it's automatically her due. But that's not so, Johnny. Don't^ou know. Aunt Emily and your dear mother, too, they gave her you^. Johnny, for a gift? For free. So she never scuffled for a boy's attention. She never had any practice. She never learned that it is not absolutely inevitable for a girl to be loved or even popular. That you have to achieve tliis. You have to think how. You don't get attention for nothing—or aflFection, either. You have to deserve it. You have to pay attention to what other people hke. But Nan was protected. She was too easy for Dick to deceive. Oh, what am I saying?"
She spoke to his stricken face. "What good is it to blame old times? I'm sorry, I don't mean to blame you as much as I sound. I blame myself, too. Everybody ought to stop and think before he makes a sacrifice. Please, Johnny, don't feel bad. If you spoiled her, it's because you're kind and responsible."
"Don't spoil your face," he said, to her tears that would spill any moment. "I guess people ought to stop and think-"
(People ought to stop and think before they proudly keep a stupid promise, Johnny mused.)
"I hope there are no ghosts," Dorothy shivered, turning away. "I don't want Christy's ghost to watch this wedding." She turned back. "Oh, what can we do? I wish we could kidnap herl Do something smashing and yet—" Dorothy looked and sounded so very humanly confused that Johnny's sore heart warmed.
"And yet, Nan is choosing," he said, "/ can't think what to do, Dot. I'm no detective, no psychologist. I teach biology. I don't know anything to do."
"There's nothing!" Dorothy's hands fell. "I'd better go. They were almost ready. Do you know what tlie 'something old' is, Johnny?" Dorothy was fierce again. "It's that pin I The old lady got it out and gave it to her. Nan has it pinned on!"
"Something old?"
"Oh, they were all ready except for that superstitious rhyme. "Something old, something new.' Blanche loaned her a brand new hanky, so they are counting it for 'something borrowed,' too. They are running around up there looking for '.' If they've found it, she is ready."
She looked up into his face yearningly.
Johnny looked down. "?"
(I am a biology teacher, he thought, suddenly.)
"You know, the silly old rhyme," Dorothy closed her eyes despairingly. "It's too late. I laiow. We'll have to let her go. It will serve her right," said Dorothy woefully, "and I won't like it at all."
"I want to see Nan," said Johnny. "Right now.''
"Johnny, they won't let you see the bride."
"Yes, they will." He caught her by the hand and pulled her through the door to the hall. (It's not Nan, he thought. I could let her go. It's not Emily, either. Emily is dead. But I am not going to let this happen to Clinton McCauley!)
"Johnny, what . . . ?"
"Follow me. Listen to me. Believe me, Dotty."
He started up the stairs, dragging her. There was nobody below the stairs to stop them but Blanche stood at the top.
"Dorothy, dear? We are ready. Mr. Sims, please . . ."
"I've got to see Nan."
"But you can't."
"Yes, I can," said Johnny loudly. "I am bringing her a wedding present."
"Not now, Mr. Sims." Blanche was propriety outraged. "Please go downstairs at once."
"No, Mrs. Bartee." Johnny stood his ground. "I have something to tell her."
Dick Bartee came out of a door up the hall. Big. Thunderous. "What's this?"
Dorothy said feebly, "I don't know."
Johnny swung around. "Bartee. I came up with a wedding present. Let me give it to you both at once. Where is Nan?"
"We don't need anything from you," Dick said truculently.
The door of the back bedroom shook. Then it opened. There was Nan, in white, without a veil, her bridehood in her face. Young and fair and solemn—in the dream.
Johnny didn't move toward her but he sent his voice. "Nan, please let me tell you both something? Something to make you glad."
Nan said in a low voice, "I don't need to be told. I know Dick is innocent."
Dick moved and put his frame between her and the others. "If you are still trying to mess up this wedding, SiuQS, I' can throw yotTdown the stairs and that right quick,"
Johnny said, "For Nan's sake, let me explain." He looked earnestly into the gray eyes, which were hot and suspicious. "Then I will dance at your wedding," Johnny said. "Believe me."
Bart came up the stairs. "What's holding . . .? What's this?" Blanche made a nerve-wracked sound.
Dick said to Nan tenderly, "You don't have to Hsten to him, love. Shall I take him away?"
"If Johnny wants to apologize," she said, with the little prim dignity of old, "I think we should let him do it, Dick. We all want to be happy."
Dorothy wailed suddenly, "Johnny! Dancel"
Blanche said, "The guests will hear."
Bart said, "Get into a room. We'll have this out.''
Johnny said, "Where is Christy's picture?"
"I have it," Nan said.
Bart brushed off the pawing appeal of Blanche's nervous hand. "Whatever this is, we can't just say hush-hush," he
told her sternly. "Now, get in here, all of us and let me close the door."
Bart closed the door and stood against it. His smooth face was inscrutable. But Johnny knew Bart was on his side.
So they were all in the back bedroom, closed in. The room was not neat. A girl, getting ready for her wedding, had left her fragrant traces. There on the dresser, propped against the wall, was Christy's picture.
Johnny seized it with both hands. "And me the young scientist!" he said. "Me, the biology professorl Look at this!"
Christy's young face laughed out at them all. "Nan, dear, here is '' for the bride. Do you see her blue eyes?" Johnny had taken the floor. He commanded all the attention. He had to do it with a certain overbearing flamboyance. "Now look at Dorothy!" he cried.
"But why should I look at Dorothy?" said Nan, bewildered.
"Because," said Johnny, "Aunt Emily changed you two around! You are not Christy and Clinton McCauley's child. You cannot he. So Dorothy is."
Dorothy said faintly, "What?"
"Science." Johnny put the picture down. ''! don't care what anyone says. You can't get away from discovered laws. Don't forget, I saw Clinton McCauley in prison. And his eyes are hlue, blue, blue." He hammered it at them. This was the touchy moment. (Johnny gave thanks that Bart was on his side.)
"Well?" said Dick Bartee distastefully.
Inside Johnny, something relaxed. He didn't let it show. 'Don't you know what that means?" he cried. "It means that Nan cannot be their child. Dorothy is. Emily protected Nan in depth, I guess. Don't ask me why she did it. But it has absolutely got to be so. Your eyes are brown, Nan."
"Well, I—know they are," Nan said in confusion.
Bart stirred, "That's true," he said flatly, "two blue-eyed people—"
"Cannot have a brown-eyed child," finished Johnny, in almost a shout. "Of course, it's true!"
Dick Baitee said, still with that air of distaste, ''What are you trying to do, now?"
"I am only trying to show Nan," Johnny turned to her. "See what this means? What is Clinton McCauley to you?
An uncle you never knew. I am setting you free of the whole
ancient history. It wasn't your mother."
"You mean I'm not . . .? You mean . . .?"
"Clinton McCauley never mentioned to you which girl was his daughter?" asked Dick scornfully.