Free The Girl Next Door (Crimson Romance) by Peggy Gaddis Page B

friendly, and was ashamed that she did not feel like that toward Peter at the moment.
    “Oh, hello, Mrs. Drummond,” said Peter, and paused.
    “Your dog’s a beauty, Peter,” said Edith, embarrassed because she could think of nothing less inane to say.
    “Oh, Gus is quite a pooch,” answered Peter. “Betsy was a sweetheart to get him for me. I’m afraid she’s a little annoyed with me, though, that I don’t let him drag me about at the end of a wooden harness!”
    “I suppose Betsy feels that Gus would be happier if you made use of his training.” Edith was uncomfortably aware that there was a faint edge to her voice.
    She saw the taut line about Peter’s mouth, as he said curtly, “It’s not much of a life for a pup, hauling a guy around. I like it better this way, and I’m sure Gus does, too.”
    “Well, of course that’s something for you to decide.”
    A car slithered to the curb with a screaming of tortured brakes, and Betsy called out eagerly, “Hello, Pete? Want a lift? I’m going your way.”
    “Hi, scrap. Sure it won’t take you out of your way?” said Peter. He turned his face toward Betsy, and Edith could have wept at the radiant look in the girl’s eyes. It was a look that laid Betsy’s young heart bare for anyone to see its small secret, which was, in reality, a secret to no one but Peter.
    “How could it be?” Betsy was saying now. “I just said I was going your way. Hello Gus — want to ride? He’s a sucker for a car,” she added proudly, as Gus, leaning lightly against Peter’s knees, steered him toward the car.
    “Well, stop shoving, darn you!” Peter ordered the dog. “I’m coming.”
    But Gus would not get into the car until Peter was settled. Then he leaped in agilely and sat up on his haunches, his pink tongue lolling in delight.
    “Don’t be late for supper, Betsy. I’m making strawberry shortcake,” said Edith.
    Betsy turned to Peter. “Stay for supper, Pete?” she begged. “Mom makes the best shortcake in the world!”
    Peter laughed. “Thanks, I’d like to, only I promised Mother I’d be home for supper. There’s a rumor going the rounds that she’s making shortcake, too. She’d put arsenic in my soup if I failed to show up.”
    “Some other time, then, eh, Pete?” said Betsy, and Edith wasn’t quite sure whether she wanted to cry, or to shake Betsy for being so transparent.
    “Any time, Peter. We’re always glad to have you,” Edith echoed her daughter’s hospitality.
    “Thanks, that’s swell of you,” said Pete.
    Betsy put the little car in motion, and Edith went back to the house, her heart heavy within her. To see so clearly the heartbreak toward which Betsy was rushing, and not to be able to lay so much as a feather in her path to check that flight, seemed almost more than she could endure.

Chapter Ten
    Bowling along the road that brief mile to Peter’s home, Betsy wished she could think of some way to prolong the drive. “And yet,” she reflected unhappily, “even if I could think of a way, I wouldn’t dare try it. Pete would only insist on going straight home, and that would be too — too humiliating.” So she put the thought aside, and said, chattily:
    “Marcia’s a grand person, isn’t she?”
    “Wonderful.” The tone of Peter’s voice made the word a paean of praise. In fact, it was said with such simple conviction, such sincerity, that Betsy blinked a little.
    “Look here, pal, you aren’t getting crazy ideas about Marcia, are you?” she demanded.
    Pete’s smile faded. “I’m afraid I don’t quite get you,” he said.
    “Oh, I mean you aren’t doing anything so ridiculous as imagining you’re in love with Marcia — gosh, that’s a laugh, isn’t it Where in the world do you suppose I ever got such an idea?” she chattered inanely, but her eyes were dark with apprehension.
    “Can’t a man admire a grand girl like Marcia without falling in love with her?”
    “I don’t know,” said Betsy, her voice