The last excitement of the summer before school began was a river
picnic, given by Gertrude Morgan. A note was brought to Edith one
afternoon which ran thus:
"My DEAREST EDITH,--Will you, Cynthia, Jack, and Neal Gordon join us
on the river to-morrow? My cousins, Tom and Kitty Morgan, are here,
and another fellow, awfully nice, that Tom brought with him, and we
want to do something to entertain them. This is such perfect weather
for the river. We will come up from Brenton early, and reach
Oakleigh before noon. You can join us in your boats, and we will go
higher up above the rapids for dinner. If you will bring your
chafing-dish and your alcohol lamp for the coffee it is all I ask.
On the whole, you need not bring the lamp. We will build a fire.
But the chafing-dish would be nice. _Do_ come! _Don't fail_. _Au
revoir_ until to-morrow at about twelve. Devotedly,
"GERTRUDE.
"P.S. I am sure you will lose your heart to Tom's friend. I have!"
The next day, shortly before noon, the Franklins were awaiting their
friends on the Oakleigh boat-landing. They had two canoes, one that
the family had owned for a year or two, and another that Mrs.
Franklin had given her brother on his birthday.
Baskets were packed in the boats, containing the chafing-dish, some
sandwiches, and delicious cake that Mrs. Franklin had had made as her
contribution to the picnic, and a large box of candy which Neal had
bought.
It was a glorious day. The September sun shone brightly, and a
trifle warmly, on the dancing river. The gay foliage along the
banks--for the autumn tints had come early this year--was reflected
in the clear water, and a gentle wind stirred the white birches. An
army of crows had encamped near by, and the woods rang with their
cawing as they carried on an important debate among themselves.
Presently around the curve came the advance guard of the picnic, a
canoe containing Dennis Morgan and his cousin Kitty, while closely
following them was another, paddled by Tom Morgan, in which sat
Gertrude and a stranger.
They all waved their hats and handkerchiefs, and when they came
within speaking distance Gertrude shouted:
"Isn't it fun? Such a perfect day, and more fellows than girls! You
know my cousins, don't you, except Neal? Kitty and Tom, let me
present Mr. Gordon, and this is Mr. Bronson. The Misses Edith and
Cynthia Franklin, Mr. Tony Bronson. There now, did I do it
correctly? Did I mention the ladies' names first, and then the
gentlemen's? I picked up a book on etiquette in a shop the other
day, and it said you must."
Every one laughed, and no one noticed but Cynthia that Neal's face
darkened when he heard Bronson's name and saw him for the first time.
Of course, she knew at once who he was.
"There ought to be a grand change of partners," continued the lively
Gertrude, "but it's too much trouble. However, Tom, you had better
get out and take one of the Oakleigh canoes, and an Oakleigh girl and
Jack can get in here--unless Mr. Bronson would rather be the one to
change."
This was said with a coquettish glance at Bronson, who in a low voice
hastened to assure her that he was more than satisfied with his
present position.
He was a handsome fellow of about seventeen, tall and of somewhat
slight build, with very regular features. His eyes were his weak
point. They were of a pale greenish-blue, and were too close
together.
His greeting to Neal was most cordial. "Holloa, old fellow!" he
said, "this is a piece of luck. Miss Morgan told me you were
stopping here, so I was prepared for the pleasure."
"As if he hadn't known it before," muttered Neal to Cynthia, as he
helped her into the canoe, and they pushed off. "He sent that letter
here and he got mine from here. He's a hypocritical ass."
"Look out, Neal!" cautioned Cynthia; "you know how sound carries on
the water." And she was quite sure from the expression on Bronson's
face that he had heard.
There was some discussion as to where their destination should be.
"Let's go as high as we can," said Gertrude. "Above Charles River
village."
"But there is the 'carry,'" objected her brother.
"What of that? We've often carried before."
"Not with an average of one fellow to a boat. No, I say we stop the
other side of the small rapids. If any one wants to explore above
there on his own account he can do so."
[Illustration: THE START FROM OAKLEIGH]
It was finally settled thus, and the party set forth. It was a
pretty sight. The cedar canoes, with gay carpets and cushions, and
freight of girls and boys in white boating costumes, gave the needed
touch of life to the peaceful Charles River. So Mrs. Franklin
thought when she came down to see them off.
"I have not been invited," she said, "but I really think I must drive
up this afternoon and see your encampment."
"Oh, do, Mrs. Franklin!" cried Gertrude, enthusiastically. "We would
just love to have you come, and we ought to have a chaperon, though
we are all brothers and sisters and cousins! She is the most perfect
creature," she added to Bronson, as they moved off. "You know she is
the Franklins' step-mother. Isn't she a dear, Jack?"
Jack, who was paddling, acquiesced. Bronson sat at ease in the bow.
He was always lazy. Neal, though averse to hard work which was work
only, was ready for anything in the way of athletics. He was now an
accomplished paddler, and had already far outstripped the others.
Their destination was some two or three miles up the river. The
water was low, and Cynthia kept a sharp look-out for rocks.
"Keep to the left here, Neal," she directed; "that ledge runs all
across the river."
"I bet those Brenton fellows will scrape going through here. Not one
in a hundred would take the left. I haven't scraped once since I had
the canoe. The bottom is as smooth as the day she came, and that is
saying a good deal when the river is as low as it is now."
They skirted a huge oak-tree which had fallen half across the river,
and, passing through some gentle rapids, reached the cleared shady
spot on the bank where they were to eat their luncheon. The others
soon arrived, and preparations were immediately begun for building a
fire. The boys explored the neighborhood for dry sticks, and a
cheerful little blaze was soon crackling away on the bank. Potatoes
had been buried beneath to roast in the ashes, and the coffee-pot,
filled with water from a neighboring spring, was placed above.
Dennis Morgan, whose coffee was far-famed and unrivalled,
superintended this part of the work.
The girls unpacked the baskets, and spreading a tablecloth, arranged
the goodies most temptingly thereon.
"Edith, you must do the oysters on the chafing-dish," said Gertrude;
"no one does them like you."
"Oysters! Have you really got oysters? How perfect!" cried Cynthia,
who, laden with cups and saucers, was stumbling over some stray
boughs at the imminent risk of herself and the crockery.
"Let me help you, Miss Franklin," said Bronson, coming languidly
forward.
"Oh no, thanks!" returned Cynthia, tartly. "I would not trouble you
for the world. You have quite enough to do."
Dennis Morgan, who heard her, turned away to hide a laugh. Bronson
had been leaning against a tree most of the time with his hands in
his pockets.
"Come now, don't be too hard on a fellow, Miss Franklin. I'll do
anything you ask. A fellow feels kind of out of place, don't you
know, with so many working."
"Really! Well, if you are truly anxious to make yourself useful,
perhaps you will get some ferns to decorate the table?"
"Certainly," said Bronson, looking about him in a helpless way; "will
these do?" and he broke off a large brake.
"No, of course not. The ones I want grow at quite a distance from
here, over in those woods there," pointing. "Please get some."
"Oh, Miss Franklin, so far? But you will go with me, of course."
"'Of course,' did I hear you say?" asked Cynthia, straightening
herself from her arrangement of the table and standing very erect,
with a bottle in one hand and an olive on the end of a fork in the
other. "What can you be thinking of? Of course not. _I_ am busy.
But you have no time to lose if you want to get them here before
lunch is ready. It is a good half-mile there and back."
"When Miss Franklin commands I have but to obey," said Bronson, with
a bow, though there was a disagreeable light in his steely eyes.
"Who will take pity on me and go with me? Miss Morgan, surely you
will be so good?"
Gertrude was much pleased at being singled out by the guest of the
occasion, and although she knew that the ferns which were growing in
profusion all about them would adorn the table just as well, she gave
no hint of it, for she was not averse to taking the walk with Bronson.
"Tell me about the Franklins," said he, as he took her red umbrella
and opened it. "Are they fond of their step-mother?"
"All but Edith, and she can't bear her, and I don't think she is
over-fond of Neal, either. Tell me something about him, Mr. Bronson.
He is a school-mate of yours, you say?"
"Oh, don't ask me! I think it's awfully bad form for one fellow to
give away another, don't you know. Of course, some fellows would,
but I'm not that kind."
Gertrude admired these sentiments extremely. She wished that Bronson
would hold the umbrella at an angle that would shield her a little
more. It was entirely over him, while she herself was in the sun,
and it was rather warm walking. However, it was a pleasure to have
her umbrella carried by such an elegant-looking individual, even
though she derived no benefit from it.
From his words and manner Gertrude gathered the idea that Bronson, if
he chose, could tell something very much against Neal Gordon, but his
high sense of honor held him back.
"What a lovely fellow he is!" thought Gertrude; then she said aloud,
"Of course I would not have you for the world. I have always fancied
there might be something, don't you know?"
Now Gertrude had really never fancied anything of the kind, and yet
she did not dream of being untruthful. It was an idea born of the
moment. Her vanity prompted her to agree with Bronson, who was
apparently such a very charming fellow.
"Oh, don't say that, Miss Morgan! I didn't mean to give you that
idea. You're so awfully clever, you have guessed what I never
intended to say. Don't ever tell what I said, will you? I wouldn't
take away the fellow's character for the world."
Gertrude blushed and promised, pleased to find herself in the
position of having a secret with Bronson. She told her cousin Kitty,
afterwards, that he really talked most confidentially with her.
When they returned, luncheon was ready. Cynthia took the ferns with
a cool "Thank you," looked at them critically and somewhat dubiously,
and laid them on the impromptu table.
"Terribly anty," she said, shaking a spray vigorously in the air.
"Ugh! look at the ants!"
"Perhaps those that grow over here would not have had any ants," said
Bronson, "but I am so much obliged to you for sending me for these,
Miss Franklin. I had such a charming walk. It quite repaid me, even
though you are so chary of your thanks."
"I'm so glad," returned Cynthia, "but not as glad as I am famished."
She left Bronson, and walking around to the farther side of the
table, sat down. Neal followed her, and presently they were all
seated and enjoying the dainty meal. Never was there such clear and
fragrant coffee, and the rich cream that the Franklins had brought
made it "equal to the nectar of Olympus," said Bronson; he was
addicted to airy speech.
The oysters were done to a turn and seasoned to a nicety, and the
sandwiches melted in one's mouth. In the midst of the feast they
heard the sound of wheels on the bridge, and looking up, they saw
Mrs. Franklin, who was driving herself.
"You see I couldn't stay away," she called to them. "Jack, come tie
Bess for me, and then let me have a bite, if you have anything to
spare."
Edith's face clouded. "Why did she have to come so soon?" she
thought, and her expression was not lost on Bronson.
"So this is the rich sister and step-mother," thought Bronson; "and
the eldest daughter doesn't like her coming. Now, I don't exactly
see why Gordon can't settle the balance if she has such a pile. But
I'll lie low and work him easily."
He watched his opportunity, and after luncheon he followed Neal to
the river-bank, where he was getting a pail of water for dish-washing
purposes.
"I say, Gordon, old fellow, I haven't had a chance before to thank
you for sending me the fifty. You see I was in a confounded hole
myself, and there was no way out of it but to ask you. I hated to
dun you. As for the rest, there's no hurry about that whatever."
Neal looked at him. His brown eyes could be very searching when
occasion required. Bronson stooped, and picking up a fiat stone from
the little beach on which they were standing, he tossed it across the
river.
"Five skips," said he, lightly, as he turned away.
"Hold on a minute," said Neal. "Your offer is very kind, but you may
be pretty sure that I'll pay you as soon as I can. I've no wish to
be under obligations to you any longer than is necessary."
"As you like," returned Bronson, with a shrug; "I only thought it
might ease your mind to know that there's no actual hurry. Ah, Miss
Franklin," as Cynthia drew near, "can't I persuade you to go out on
the river with me?"
"I am afraid not. I should think that you hadn't paddled a great
deal, as I noticed that you took your ease coming up."
"Miss Franklin, I never should have imagined that you were timid on
the water. How little one can tell!"
"I am not a bit timid, but I don't care to be upset."
"Upset!" laughed Bronson. "Why, I've been upset a dozen times. In
such a shallow ditch as this it wouldn't make much difference, as
long as we're suitably dressed."
Cynthia looked at him slowly, criticisingly, scornfully. Then she
said:
"I should think bathing clothes were the only things suitable for
upsetting. And the Charles River isn't a ditch. Of course you
didn't know, and we can pardon the ignorant a good deal."
Bronson turned away and left them.
"That last was a scorcher," chuckled Neal, who had been listening
attentively. "If there is one thing Bronson hates above another, it
is to be thought not to 'know it all,' and he caught on to what you
meant."
Cynthia, however, felt a little remorseful. She was quite sure that
she had been rude. Bronson was a stranger, and should have been
treated with the politeness due to such. But then he was Neal's
enemy, and Cynthia could never be anything but loyal to Neal. Thus
she soothed her conscience.
When luncheon had been cleared away and the baskets packed to go
home, Bronson asked Edith if she would go out with him on the river.
"Just for a little paddle, Miss Franklin," he said. "Do come!"
Cynthia heard him, and she frowned and shook her head vigorously at
her sister, hoping that she would not go, but Edith had no intention
of declining the invitation. She said yes, with one of her prettiest
smiles, and accompanied Bronson to the place where the canoes were
drawn up on the bank.
"I suppose it doesn't make any difference which one I take," he said,
and, either by accident or design, he singled out Neal's boat and put
it into the water. Edith stepped in, and then watched Bronson's
movements with some trepidation. He did not seem to know much about
the management of a canoe, and they rocked alarmingly with his short,
uncertain strokes.
"I'll soon get the hang of it," he said, reassuringly. "I have never
been much on a river, but it's easy enough."
Cynthia walked along the bank, watching them.
"I hope you've got a life-preserver, Edith! Mr. Bronson says he is
in the habit of upsetting--likes it, in fact--and I'm dreadfully
afraid for you. You know you can't swim, and Mr. Bronson will never
be able to save you _as well_ as himself. _Do_ be careful of my
sister, Mr. Bronson. The ditch is rather deep just there. Oh, look
at him wiggle!" she added to Neal, who had followed her.
"And the fellow has taken my canoe!" growled Neal.
"Poor Neal! You boasted too soon. You'll never again be able to say
there isn't a scratch on the bottom."
"I only hope I shall ever see the boat again. He'll probably smash
her all to smithereens."
"I suppose it makes no difference if Edith is 'smashed to
smithereens,' only the canoe," remarked Cynthia, demurely.
In the meantime Edith was having an exciting voyage. Bronson paddled
slowly and unevenly up the river until he found himself in the
rapids, which were much swifter and more dangerous than those they
had passed through on the way from Oakleigh. The canoe scraped and
creaked over the rocks. The only wonder was that a hole was not
stove at once in the bottom.
They were in the midst now of the rushing water. Suddenly the boat
lodged for a moment on a rock, and swayed to and fro. Down to the
very water's edge went first one side and then the other. A
half-inch more and they would have capsized.
Edith sat perfectly silent, scarcely daring to breathe. Bronson,
never before so quick in his movements, righted the craft, and with a
vigorous push of the paddle got off the dangerous rock.
"I--I think it would be rather pleasanter to tie up," faltered Edith.
"So do I. Wish you had said so before. Not that I mind exploring,
but it's hot work such a day as this."
They found a shady bank and drew up under the bushes. Edith gave a
sigh of relief.
"Do you mind if I smoke?" asked Bronson, getting out a silver
cigarette-case with a _blasé_ air.
"Oh, not at all."
"That's nice. Now we can be comfortable. I am so glad you came with
me this afternoon, for I want to talk to you, Miss Franklin. I want
to talk freely to you about something."
Edith's face expressed her astonishment.
"You look surprised," he continued, "but you will not be when I tell
you what it is. You are the only person whom I can rely on to manage
the matter well and to help me. It is connected with Neal Gordon."