CANOEING
Life began to move more briskly for Nan. She was not aware that certain
invitations that reached her were due to a few words carefully spoken
in safe quarters by Eaton.
One of the first large functions of the dawning season was a tea given
by Mrs. Harrington for a visitor. Mrs. Harrington not only asked Nan
to assist, but she extended the invitation personally in the Farley
parlor, much to Nan’s astonishment.
One or two young gentlemen who had paid Nan attentions when she first
came home from school looked her up again. John Cecil Eaton was highly
regarded by the younger men he met at the University Club, and was
not without influence. A reference to Nan as an unusual person; some
saying of hers, quoted carelessly at the round table, was instrumental
in directing attention anew to her as a girl worth knowing. If any
one said, “How’s her affair with Copeland going?” Eaton would retort,
icily, that it wasn’t going; that there never had been anything in it
but shameless gossip.
Jerry now reserved his Thursday evenings for Nan: not for any
particular reason except that Eaton had taken him to the Farleys on a
Thursday and from sentimental considerations he consecrated the day
to repetitions of the visit. Nan was immensely kind to him; it was
incredible that a girl so separated from him by immeasurable distances
should be so cordial, so responsive to his overtures of friendship.
Once she sent him a note--the frankest, friendliest imaginable note--to
say that on a particular Thursday evening she could not see him. His
disappointment was as nothing when weighed against his joy that she
recognized his claim upon that particular evening and took the trouble
to explain that the nurse would be out and that she would be too busy
with Farley to see him. He replied with flowers--which brought him
another note.
He had laid before her all his plans for self-improvement and her
encouragement was even more stimulating than Eaton’s. She fell at times
into a maternal attitude toward him, scolding and lecturing him, and he
was meek under her criticism.
Nan felt more at home with him than with any other young man who
called on her. With some of these, whose mothers and sisters had been
treating her coldly, she felt herself to be playing a part--trying to
assume a dignity that was not naturally hers in order that they might
give a good account of her at home. With Jerry she could be herself
without dissimulation. When it came to mothers, he remembered her
mother perfectly and she remembered his. In a sense she and Jerry were
allies, engaged in accommodating themselves to a somewhat questioning
if not hostile atmosphere. In all her acquaintance he was the one
person who could make the necessary allowances for her, who was able to
give her full credit for her good intentions.
On his seventh call he summoned courage to ask her to join him on a
Saturday afternoon excursion on the river.
“The foliage is unusually beautiful this year,” he suggested with his
air of quoting, “and it’ll be too cold for canoeing pretty soon.”
“I’m afraid--” Nan began.
“I knew you’d say that; but you’re as safe in my boat as in your own
rocking-chair.”
“I wasn’t going to say that,” laughed Nan. “I was going to say that I
was afraid you wouldn’t enjoy the foliage so much if I were along.”
He saw that she was laughing at him. Nan and Eaton were the only
persons whose mirth he suffered without resentment.
“I’ll have to ask papa about it; or maybe you’ll ask him.”
“I’ve already asked him.”
“When did you ask him?”
“About ten minutes ago, just before I came downstairs. I told him two
good stories and then shot it in quick. He said he thought it would do
you good!”
“I like your nerve! Why didn’t you ask me first?”
“Because it was much more proper for me to open negotiations with the
man higher up. I hope you appreciate my delicacy,” he added, in Eaton’s
familiar, half-mocking tone, which he had caught perfectly.
“You’re so thoughtful I suppose you’ve also arranged for a chaperone?”
“The canoe,” he replied, “is more comfortable for two.”
“Two have been in it rather often, I suppose.”
“Yes; but that was last summer. I’ve seen everything different this
season. I practiced casting on a day in June and met with an experience
that has changed the whole current of my life.”
“I hope it changed your luck with the rod! You got snagged on
everything that would hold a hook, but I must say that you bore your
troubles in a sweet spirit.”
“I learned that early in the game. Even if you refused my invitation
I’d try to bear up under it.”
“I think I’ll decline, then, just to see how you take it.”
“Well, it’s only polite to say it would be a blow. I have a pocketful
of strychnine and it might be unpleasant to have me die on the
doorstep.”
“I could stand that probably better than the neighbors could. You’d
better try a poison that’s warranted not to kill on the premises.”
Jerry tortured himself with speculations as to whether he should hire
a taxi to transport them to the Little Ripple Club, but finally
decided against it as an unwarranted extravagance, calculated to arouse
suspicion in the mind of Farley. However, when he reached the house at
two o’clock on Saturday, Nan announced that the nurse was taking her
place as Farley’s companion for his regular drive and that they would
carry them to the club. This arrangement caused his breast to swell.
“That will give my credit a big boost; you’ll see a lot of the boys
drop dead when we roll up with Uncle Tim.”
Farley alighted to inspect the clubhouse and the fleet of canoes that
bobbed at the landing. It was a great day for Jerry.
“There’s something nice about a river,” said Nan, as Jerry sent his
maroon-colored craft far out into the stream. “Ever since I came away
I’ve missed the old river at Belleville.”
This was one of the things he liked about Nan. She referred often to
her childhood, and it even seemed that she spoke of it with a certain
wistfulness.
“The last girl I had out here,” Jerry said as he plied his blade, “was
Katie McCarthy, who works in the County Treasurer’s office--mighty
responsible job. I used to know Katie when she stenogged at four per
for a punk lawyer, but I knew she was better than that, so I pulled a
few wires and got her into the court-house. Katie could be cashier in
a bank--she’s that smart! No; not much to look at. I studied Katie’s
case a good deal, and she’d never make any headway in offices where
they’d rather have a yellow-haired girl who overdresses the part and is
always slipping out for a retouch with the chamois. It’s hard to find a
job for girls like Katie; their only chance is some place where they’ve
got to have a girl with brains. These perfumed office darlings, that’s
just got to go to vaudeville every Monday night so they can talk about
it the rest of the week, never get anywhere.”
“My heart warms to Katie. I wonder,” murmured Nan lazily, as Jerry
neatly negotiated a shallow passage between two sandbars, “if I had to
do it--I wonder how much I could earn a week.”
“Oh, I guess you’d make good all right. You’ve got brains and I’ve
never caught you touching up your complexion.”
“Which isn’t any sign I don’t,” she laughed. “I’ve all the necessary
articles right here in my sweater pocket.”
“Well, somebody has to use the talcum; we handle it in carload lots.
It’s one of the Copeland-Farley specialties I used to brag about
easiest when I bore the weighty sample-case down the line. It was a
good stunt to ask the druggist to introduce me to some of the girls
that’s always loafing round the soda-counter in country-town drug
stores, and I’d hand ’em out a box and ask ’em to try it on right
there. It cheered up the druggist and the girls would help me pull a
bigger order than I’d get on my own hook. A party like that on a sleepy
afternoon in a pill-shop would lift the sky-line considerable.”
“Well, if you saw me in a drug store wrestling with a chocolate sundae
and had your sample-case open and were trying to coax an order out of a
druggist, just how would you approach me?”
“I wouldn’t!” he responded readily. “I’d get your number on the quiet
and walk past your house when your mother was sitting on the porch all
alone, darning socks, and I’d beg her pardon and say that, having heard
that her daughter was the most beautiful girl in town, Copeland-Farley
had sent me all the way from the capital to ask her please to accept,
with the house’s compliments, a gross of our Faultless Talcum. If
mother didn’t ask me to supper, it would be a sign that I hadn’t put it
over.”
“But if father appeared with a shotgun--”
“I’d tell him it was the closed season for drummers, and invite him
down to the hotel for a game of billiards.”
“You think you always have the answer, don’t you?” she taunted.
“I don’t think it; I’ve got to know it!”
“Well, I haven’t seen you miss fire yet. My trouble is,” she
deliberated, touching the water lightly with her hand, “that I don’t
have the answer most of the time.”
“I’ve noticed it sometimes,” replied Jerry, looking at her quickly.
It was unseasonably warm, and he drove the canoe on to a sandy shore
in the shade of the bank. He had confessed to himself that at times,
even in their juvenile badgering, Nan baffled him. From the beginning
of their acquaintance he had noted abrupt changes of mood that puzzled
him. Occasionally, in the midst of the aimless banter in which they
engaged, she would cease to respond and a far-away look would come into
her violet eyes. One of these moods was upon her now.
“Do you remember the shanty-boat people down along the river? I used
to think it would be fun to live like that. I still feel that way
sometimes.”
“Oh,” he answered indulgently, “I guess everybody has a spell of that
now and then, when you just want to sort of loaf along, and fish a
little when you’re hungry, and trust to luck for a handout at some back
door when you’re too lazy to bait the hook. That feeling gets hold
of me lots of times; but I shake it off pretty soon. You don’t get
anywhere loafing; the people that get along have got to hustle. Cecil
says we can’t just mark time in this world. We either go ahead or slide
back.”
“Well, I’m a slider--if you can slide without ever getting up very far!”
“Look here,” he said, drawing in the paddle and fixing his eyes upon
her intently, “you said something like that the first night Cecil
took me up to see you, and you’ve got a touch of it again; but it’s
the wrong talk. I’m going to hand it to you straight, because I guess
I’ve got more nerve than anybody else you know: you haven’t got a
kick coming, and you want to cut all that talk. Uncle Tim gets cross
sometimes, but you don’t want to worry about that too much. He used to
be meaner than fleas at the store sometimes, but the boys never worried
about it. He’s all sound inside, and if he riles you the best thing to
do is to forget it. You can’t please him all the time, but you can most
of the time, and it’s up to you to do it. Now, tell me to jump in the
river if you want to, but it was in my system and I had to get it out.”
“Oh, I know I ought to be grateful; but I’m wrong some way.”
“You’re all right,” he declared. “Your trouble is you don’t have enough
to do. You ought to get interested in something--something that would
keep you busy and whistling all the time.”
“I _don’t_ have enough to do; I know that,” she assented.
“Well, you ought to go in good and strong for something; that’s the
only ticket. Let’s get out and climb the bank and walk awhile.”
She had lost her bearings on the river, but when they had clambered to
the top of the bank she found that they were near the Kinneys’. The
road was a much-frequented highway, and she was sorry now that they had
left the canoe; but Jerry, leading the way along a rough path that
clung close to the river, continued to philosophize, wholly unconscious
of the neighborhood’s associations for Nan.
Where the margin between the river and the road widened they sat on a
log while Jerry amplified his views of life, with discreet applications
to Nan’s case as he understood it. He was a cheery and hopeful soul,
and in the light of her knowledge of him she marveled at his clear
understanding of things. He confided to her that he meant to get on; he
wanted to be somebody. She was wholly sympathetic and told him that he
had already done a great deal; he had done a lot better than she had;
and it counted for more because no one had helped him.
As they passed the Kinneys’ on their way back to the canoe, a roadster
whizzed out of the gate and turned toward town. They both recognized
Copeland. As he passed, his eyes fell upon them carelessly; then he
glanced back and slowed down.
“Now we’re in for it!” said Nan uncomfortably.
“I guess I’m the one that’s in for it,” returned Jerry ruefully.
Copeland left his car at the roadside and walked rapidly toward them.
He nodded affably to Jerry and extended his hand eagerly to Nan.
“This is great good luck! Grace is at home; why didn’t you come in?”
“Oh, Mr. Amidon is showing me the river; we just left the canoe to
come up for a view from the bank.”
“Why not come back to Kinneys’; I want to see you; and this is a fine
chance to have a talk.”
Jerry walked away and began throwing pebbles into the river.
“I can’t do that. And I can’t talk to you here. Papa drove me out and
he’s likely to come back this way.”
“You seem to be pretty chummy with that clerk of mine,” Copeland
remarked.
“I am; it began about sixteen years ago,” she answered, with a laugh.
“We rose from the same ash-dump.”
He frowned, not comprehending. She was about to turn away when he began
speaking rapidly:--
“You’ve got to hear me, Nan! I haven’t bothered you for a long time;
you’ve treated me pretty shabbily after all there’s been between us;
but you can square all that now. I’m in the deepest kind of trouble.
Farley deliberately planned to ruin me and he’s about done it! I’ve
paid him off, but I had to pledge half my stock in the store with the
Western National to raise the money, and now my notes are due there and
they’re going to pinch me. Eichberg is a director in the bank and he
means to buy in that stock--you can see the game. Corbin & Eichberg are
scheming to wipe me out and combine the two houses. And Farley’s put
them up to it!”
His face twisted nervously as he talked. He was thinner than when
she saw him last, but he bore no marks of hard living. His story was
plausible; Farley had told her a month ago that he had got his money
out of Copeland, but it hadn’t occurred to her that the loan might have
been paid with money borrowed elsewhere.
“Of course, you won’t lose the business, Billy. It wouldn’t be square
to treat you that way.”
“Square! I tell you it was all framed up, and I’ve reason to know that
Farley stands in with them. It’s a fine revenge he’s taking on me for
daring to love you!”
She shook her head and drew further away from him.
“Now, Billy, none of that! That’s all over.”
“No; it isn’t over! You know it isn’t, Nan! I’ve missed you; it cut
me deep when you dropped me. You let Farley tell you I was all bad
and going to the dogs and you didn’t even give me a chance to defend
myself. I tell you I’ve suffered hell’s torments since I saw you last.
But now I want you to tell me you do care. Please, dear--”
His voice broke plaintively. She shook her head.
“Of course we were good friends, Billy; but you knew we had to quit. It
was wrong all the time--you knew that as well as I do.”
“I don’t see what was wrong about it! It can’t be wrong for a man
to love a woman as I love you! If you hadn’t cared, it would be a
different story, but you did, Nan! And you’re not the girl I know you
to be if you’ve changed in these few weeks. I’ve got a big fight on and
I want you to stand by me. Kinney’s in all kinds of trouble with the
cement business. If he goes down, I’m ruined. But even at that you can
help me make a new start. It will mean everything to have your love and
help.”
He saw that his appeal had touched her. She was silent a moment.
“This won’t do, Billy; I can’t stand here talking to you; but I’m sorry
for your troubles. I can’t believe you’re right about papa trying to
injure you; he’s too fond of the old business for that. But we were
good pals--you and I. I’ll try to think of some way to help.”
He caught her hands roughly.
“I need you; you know I love you! Farley’s told you I want to marry you
for his money; but you can’t tell anything about him. Very likely he’ll
cut you out, anyhow; he’s likely to do that very thing.”
She lifted her head and defiance shone for an instant in her eyes.
“I’ll let you hear from me within a week; I must have time-- But keep
up your spirits, Billy!”
The distant honking of a motor caused her to turn away quickly. Amidon
had settled himself halfway down the bank and she called to him and
began the descent....
If Jerry had expressed his feelings he would have said that Copeland’s
appearance had given him a hard jar. It was annoying, just when
you have reached the highest aim of your life, to have your feet
knocked from under you. To have your boss spoil your afternoon with
the prettiest girl in town was not only disagreeable, but it roused
countless apprehensions.
For the afternoon _was_ spoiled. Nan’s efforts to act as though
nothing had happened were badly simulated, and finding that she lapsed
frequently into long reveries, Jerry paddled doggedly back to the
clubhouse.