THE CABIN
Having decided upon a course of action, I lost no time in setting
forth, following the Sweetwater to the wall and then, not finding
Jerry, making as though by instinct for the cabin. Perhaps I may be
pardoned for approaching the place with cautious footsteps. I was
justified, I think, by the anxiety of the moment and the fear of a
damage that might be irreparable. I am sure that the somber shade of
old John Benham guided me upon my way and made light my footsteps as I
crept through the bushes and peered through the window of the cabin.
There upon the floor, before the hearth, in which some fagots were
burning, sat Jerry and the minx, as thick as thieves, oblivious of the
fall of night, wrapped in their own conversation and in themselves. I
am willing to admit that the girl was pretty, though from the glimpses
I had of it, her profile gave no suggestion of the classical ideals of
beauty, for her nose made a short line far from regular and her hair,
though carelessly dressed, was worn, in some absurd modern fashion
with which I was unfamiliar. And yet in a general way I may say that
there seemed to be no doubt as to her comeliness. She was quite small
and crouched as she was upon the floor before the fire she even seemed
childish--quite too unimportant a creature to have made such a
hullabaloo in this small world of ours.
Nevertheless I felt justified in keeping silence and even in listening
to their conversation.
"You didn't mean it," I heard Jerry ask, "about all those girls'
mothers, did you?"
She laughed.
"Of course I did. You're a catch, you know."
"You mean, they want to catch _me_? Nonsense. I don't believe you."
"It's true. You're too rich to escape."
"If that's the way marriage is made I don't think much of it."
"It isn't always like that." She smiled. "People aren't all as rich as
you are."
"It's queer," he said after a pause. "I've never thought of myself as
being different from other people. If money makes one man more
desirable than another then money sets false standards of judgment.
The people here I like for what they are, not for what they have.
That's all wrong somehow, Una. It makes me think crooked."
"I suppose I'm talking too much. You don't have to believe what I
say," she said slowly.
"But I want to know and I want you to talk. You've stirred something
deep in me. You somehow make me think I've been looking at everything
sideways without being able to walk around it. Roger knows what he's
about, of course, and I suppose he has reasons of his own, but I'm a
not a child any longer. And if he does not care to tell me the whole
truth, I've got to find out things for myself from somebody else."
And then, turning upon her suddenly: "You aren't lying to me, are
you?"
"Do you think I would?" she asked.
"No, I don't. But I thought you might say queer things, just as a
joke."
She shook her head. "No," she said calmly. "I laughed a little at
first, because I didn't understand, but I'm quite serious now."
"You said Roger was a fossil. I know what a fossil is. That wasn't
kind."
"But it's true," she repeated warmly. "He might keep things from you,
but he has no right to misrepresent women."
"_Are_ women as fine as men?" he asked.
She looked around at him.
"Why shouldn't they be? I think they're finer. Your Roger wouldn't
agree with me. I've told you the kind of things they do--that men
can't and won't do. You may believe me or not as you choose. Some day
you'll find out."
"But I want to find out now. I want to find out everything."
She smiled into the fire.
"That's a great deal, isn't it?" she said.
He went on soberly:
"You see, I don't want you to think I'm an idiot and I don't want you
to think Roger is narrow-minded. If you only knew him--"
"I'm sure he has a long nose, sandy hair, grayish? watery eyes and
spectacles."
"There. I knew you hadn't a notion of him. He's nothing like that."
"Well, what _is_ he like?"
"Why, I've never thought. But he isn't like that. He has a beautiful
mind. I think that is what matters more than anything. What do looks
count for? I would rather think fine thoughts than be the handsomest
person in the world."
He might have been the handsomest person in the world but he wouldn't
have been aware of it. Through the window I saw the girl search his
bent head quickly and then peer into the fire smiling. But Jerry did
not know what she was thinking about and went on slowly:
"You've said some things that make me believe I ought to know more
about women and their work. I didn't know that they ever did the sort
of things you tell me of. It's strange I don't know, but I've always
been pretty busy in here and I've never really thought much about
them. What did you mean by 'the plague-spots of the cities'?" he
asked. "Surely there can be no such a disease as the plague in a
modern city when science has made such progress."
She smiled.
"Moral plague-spots, Jerry, civic sores." She paused.
"I don't understand."
"You will in time. The world isn't all as beautiful as you think it
is. There are men and women with diseased minds, diseased bodies that
no medicine can cure. There are hospitals and homes for them, but
there never seems to be enough money or skill or civic righteousness
to make such people well."
"How do you know all this?" he asked in wonder.
"I've always been interested in social problems. I can't abide being
idle."
"Social problems! And do you mean that you go among these diseased
people and try to make them well?"
She nodded.
"I begin to understand," he said slowly, "why you said you thought I
wasn't doing my work in the world. It's true. I've been sheltered from
evil. Things have been made easy for me. And you"--he burst forth
admiringly--"I think you're very wonderful. Perhaps some day I can
help. You'll let me help, won't you?"
"Oh, would you, Jerry?" she cried.
"I don't see any reason why I shouldn't. I shall be twenty-one in
December. I can do what I please. The executors want to make me a
business man--to go to board meetings and help run some companies my
money is in. But I don't want to. Finance makes my head tired. I've
been working at it some. Seems like awful rubbish to me. They want me
to make a lot more money. I suppose I've got enough to get along on. I
don't want any more than I've got. I'd much rather do something
useful."
She laughed.
"Useful! I'm afraid your executors have different ideals of utility."
Jerry sighed.
"Of course, I've got to go through with the thing for awhile. But
I--I'd rather give you my money to cure the plague spots."
"Not all of it, Jerry," she cried, "but would you, some of it? Just a
very little?"
"Of course--as much as you like. You can do a lot more with it than I
can."
In my hiding place, I didn't know whether to be alarmed or amused. She
had done well. Jerry was already giving her his twenty millions. She
was a capital missionary. It seemed about time I made my entrance, so
I coughed, then walked through the door and faced them.
"I beg pardon for intruding," I said dryly, "but the fact is that it's
almost if not quite bedtime."
They got to their feet in some haste, Jerry red as a turkey-cock, the
girl, I think, a little pale.
"Is it--_is_ it Roger?" stammered Jerry. "I hadn't the slightest
notion--" And from his appearance I could readily believe him. "Is it
dinner--bedtime? Why, of course, it _must_ be." He shuffled his feet
awkwardly and looked from me to the girl. "This is--Una, Roger. We've
been talking."
"So I should suppose," I remarked, aware of the cool and rather
contemptuous glances that the young lady was sending in my direction.
"It's too bad that I interrupted. I hope that Miss--er--"
"Smith," sniffed the girl.
"Quite so. I hope that Miss Smith will forgive me. We are a little
unused to visitors and of course--"
"I'm going at once," she said, moving a step or two, but seeing that I
stood in the door, hesitated.
"I don't want you to go yet, please," said Jerry, recovering his
coolness amazingly. "I want you and Roger to know each other. I've
been telling her all about us, Roger. She's awfully interested. She
just happened in, you know. It's all been very agreeable."
"I don't doubt it in the least," I remarked. "Of course, you have
settled all the affairs of the nations between you."
"Oh, not quite that," laughed Jerry uneasily. "But we did have a talk,
didn't we, Una?"
"I'm sure I--I hadn't the slightest idea how late it was," said the
girl stiffly, fingering at her hair.
"Time passes so quickly when one is amused or interested," I said.
"I was thinking, Roger, how nice it would be if Una would come to
dinner at the Manor."
"Oh, no, thanks--not now. I must be going."
"Couldn't you? I'll show you my specimens. Then we could send you on
in the machine afterwards."
"No--no, thanks."
"Doubtless the friends of Miss--er--Miss Smith will be worried about
her."
She shot a malevolent glance at me.
"Not at all. I'm accustomed to doing exactly as I please."
"But I couldn't think of letting you go through the forest alone. It's
fully half a mile beyond the wall to the highroad."
"Thanks, but I won't bother you at all. If you'll let me pass--"
But Jerry had caught her by the arm.
"Roger's right," he said quickly. "I didn't think. Of course you can't
go alone. I--"
"If you'll leave it to me, Jerry, I'll see that the lady reaches the
highroad in safety. I would suggest that you go at once to the house.
I will join you later."
"But--"
"Will you do as I ask?"
Our glances met in a level gaze. There was a moment of rebellion in
Jerry's, but it flickered out.
"I think I know best, Jerry," I said quietly.
"Yes, but I don't want her to think--"
"Please don't worry about me," said the girl. "I'm accustomed to
looking out for myself." She brushed by me quickly and before I could
restrain her, was merged into the shadows of the trees. But Jerry was
after her in a hurry while I followed.
"Please go with Roger," I heard Jerry say when I came up.
"I don't need a _keeper_!" she flared at him.
"Una!"
"Go, Jerry," I said again.
He paused but the girl went on, so I followed quickly, and wisely, it
seemed, for she wandered blindly and would have been lost in a moment.
"If you'll follow me," I ventured, "you will find the way out much
more quickly. Otherwise you will probably scratch your face."
I'm sure by the sound of her feet in the dry leaves and her hurried
breathing behind me that she would have liked to scratch _my_ face.
But she didn't. I think she realized for the first time that without
my guidance she would probably spend the rest of the night in the
woods.
"I'm sorry to have been obliged to be so unceremonious," I said at
last over my shoulder. No reply. But I wasn't in the least daunted. I
had made up my mind that she shouldn't venture in again.
"It's rather lucky you weren't seen by any of the gamekeepers. You
might have spent the night in the lockup."
Still no reply.
"You see, the trespass rules here are very strictly enforced. It's too
bad you didn't know about them. They've been in force for ten years.
This is the first time, I think, that a woman has been inside the
wall."
"I--I'm a stranger," she gasped. "I'm only visiting here."
"Of course, that explains it. I couldn't imagine your having ventured
in otherwise."
We had come to an opening where the trail was wider and I slowed my
pace so that in a moment she walked beside me. She forged ahead at
once, but I kept my place.
"Since you're interested in sociological questions, Miss--er--Smith,
perhaps--"
"You listened?" she asked scornfully.
"I did," grimly. "I listened for at least ten minutes."
"I'm sure you're quite welcome," she gasped.
"Since you're interested in sociological questions," I repeated,
"perhaps you may be interested in educational ones."
"I'm not."
"That's not consistent, for sociological problems can hardly be solved
without the aid of--"
"Oh!" Her pent-up temper exploded. "I didn't come in here to--to
listen to a dissertation on--" Rage choked her and she couldn't go on.
"I should be very much interested to learn what you _did_ come in
for."
"You're a beast!" she flashed at me.
"Come now, you don't mean that. As a matter of fact, I'm merely a
mild-mannered person of studious instincts hired to carry out a most
valuable experiment in comparative psychology."
"I have no interest in your experiments."
"Or the object of them?" I put in quickly. She found that difficult to
answer.
"You must admit that my inquiry is natural," I went on suavely. "Since
Jerry has just promised to give you his entire fortune, it seems to me
only fair that his executors--"
"Will you be silent?" she cried, stopping suddenly. "It seems that I'm
at your mercy. You will at least have the decency to let me go in
peace."
She broke away, running aimlessly. I followed rapidly, my conscience
hurting, but my purpose relentless.
"This way," I said coolly. "You've left the trail."
"I don't care," she gasped. "Leave me."
"I can't do that. You see, I promised Jerry. But I will lead the way
if you like. The stream is not far."
I set out again and I heard her trudging behind me. If she had stuck
me in the back with a hatpin, I shouldn't have been surprised. But she
was more tractable now.
"How are you getting on?" I asked as I neared the Sweetwater. But she
wouldn't reply. Her sentiments toward me, I am sure, were too deep for
words.
"Where did you come in?" I asked again.
"The iron railing--at the stream," she mumbled.
"Oh! It must be repaired at once."
"You needn't bother," she said scornfully, "so far as I am concerned."
"That's very kind of you. Ah, here we are."
We went carefully over the rocks and in a short while the dim bulk of
the wall rose before us. I descended, preceding her, found the opening
and went through it.
"You're not going any further with me," she commanded in a suppressed
tone. "I forbid it."
I rose on the other side of the grille and dusted my knees.
"I should be sorry to disobey your commands," I said firmly, "but the
dangers of the woods at night--"
"Oh! How I abominate you!"
"Really? I am sorry."
But she followed me through the aperture and I led the way down a
path, which seemed fairly well worn, alongside the wall.
"Of course, your real name isn't Smith," I began again in a moment.
And then after waiting in vain for a reply: "Are you staying with the
Laidlaws? The Carews? The Van Wycks then? You won't tell me? Oh, very
well, I'll inquire."
My threat brought her to her senses.
"You wouldn't do that!" she said in an agonized tone, catching me by
the arm.
"I'm quite capable of it," I replied, stopping beside her.
"I--I beg of you not to do that."
"_Am_ I a beast?" I smiled.
"No, no--not a beast. I'm sorry."
"Why do you wish to remain unknown?"
"I--I had no business coming. No one knows. It was mere--mere feminine
curiosity." She turned away, "Does _that_ satisfy you?" she cried.
"I think it does," I said more gently. "And you'll not return?"
"No--no, never."
"Good. I ask no questions. You stay out. It's a bargain."
She led the way now silently, and I hurried after her, a little sorry
for my own part in the matter, but still jealous for our violated
sanctuary. She had force, this girl, and not a little courage. Modern
she was, if you like, but very spirited and human. When we reached the
highroad I paused.
"If you wish, I will go on with you."
"Our paths separate here."
I offered her my hand.
"Forgive me," I said gently. "I am only doing my duty."
But she turned quickly and in a moment was running down the road where
the night soon swallowed her.
Women are queer animals. She might at least have given me her hand.