"The captain told me. He pointed out you and Mr. Mathews, but he didn't
tell me any of the rest."
"A branch of your education that can afford to remain neglected," said
Mr. Hinton as he puffed at his pipe.
The door of the saloon swung open, and the chubby gentleman appeared in
the light, shading his eyes, and calling out that they were all waiting
for the little canary-bird.
"I don't want to go," whispered Guinevere, shrinking back into the
shadow.
The chubby gentleman peered up and down the deck, then, assailed by a
gust of wind, beat a hasty retreat.
"I don't like him," announced Guinevere, drawing a breath of relief. "It
isn't just because he's fat and ugly; it's the silly way he looks at
you."
"What a pity you can't tell him so!" said her companion, dryly. "Such
blasphemy might do him good. He is the scion of a distinguished family
made wealthy by the glorious sale of pork."
"Are all the gentlemen millionaires?" asked Guinevere in awe.
"Present company excepted," qualified Hinton.
"It'll seem awful small to them down in the Cove. Why, we haven't got
room enough at the two hotels to put them all up."
"Oh, you live there, do you?"
"Yes; I've just been up at Coreyville spending the night. I used to hate
it down at the Cove, it was so little and stupid; but I like it better
now."
There was a long silence, during which each pursued a widely different
line of thought.
"We have got a newspaper at the Cove now," announced Guinevere. "It's an
awful nice paper, called 'The Opp Eagle.'"
"Opp?" repeated Hinton. "Oh, yes, that was the man I telephoned to. What
sort of chap is he, anyhow?"
"He's awfully smart," said Guinevere, her cheeks tingling. "Not so much
book learning, but a fine brain. The preacher says he's got a natural
gift of language. You ought to see some of his editorials."
"Hiding his light under a bushel, isn't he?"
"That's just it," said Guinevere, glad to expatiate on the subject. "If
Mr. Opp could get in a bigger place and get more chances, he'd have a
lot more show. But he won't leave Miss Kippy. She's his sister, you
know; there is only the two of them, and she's kind of crazy, and has to
have somebody take care of her. Mother thinks it's just awful he don't
send her to an asylum, but I know how he feels."
"Is he a young man?" asked Mr. Hinton.
"Well--no, not exactly; he's just seventeen years and two months older
than I am."
"Oh," said Hinton, comprehensively.
There was another long pause, during which Guinevere turned things over
in her mind, and Mr. Hinton knocked the ashes from his pipe.
"I think girls seem a good deal older than they are, don't you?" she
asked presently.
"Some girls," Hinton agreed.
"How old would you take me for?"
"In the dark?"
"Yes."
"About twelve."
"Oh, that's not fair," said Guinevere. "I'm eighteen, and lots of people
take me for twenty."
"That is when they can see you," said Hinton.
Guinevere decided that she did not like him. She leaned back in her
corner and tried not to talk. But this course had its disadvantage, for
when she was silent he seemed to forget she was there.
Once he took a turn up and down the deck, and when he came back, he
stood for a long time leaning over the rail and gazing into the water.
As he turned to sit down she heard him mutter to himself:
"... That no life lives forever;
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea."
Guinevere repeated the words softly to herself, and wondered what they
meant. She was still thinking about them when a dim red light in the
distance told her they were approaching the Cove. She slipped off the
heavy overcoat and began to put on her gloves.
"Hello! we are getting in, are we?" asked Hinton, shaking himself into
an upright position. "Is that Cove City where the big red light bores
into the water like a corkscrew?"
They moved to the bow of the boat and watched as it changed its course
and made for the opposite shore.
"Did you mean," said Guinevere, absently, "that you wanted it all to end
like that? For us to just go out into nothing, like the river gets lost
in the ocean?"
Hinton glanced at her in surprise, and discovered that there was an
unusually thoughtful face under the sweeping brim of the red hat. The
fact that she was pretty was less evident to him than the fact that she
was wistful. His mood was sensitive to minor chords.
"I guess you _are_ eighteen," he said, and he smiled, and Guinevere
smiled back, and the chubby gentleman, coming suddenly out upon them,
went in again and slammed the door.
The lights on the landing twinkled brighter and brighter, and presently
figures could be seen moving here and there. The steamer, grumbling with
every chug of the wheel, was brought around, and the roustabouts crowded
along the rail, ready to make her fast.
Guinevere and Hinton stood on the upper deck under his umbrella and
waited.
Directly below them on the dock a small, fantastic figure made frantic
efforts to attract their attention. He stood uncovered, regardless of
the rain, madly waving his hat.
"Is that anybody you know?" asked Hinton.
Guinevere, who was watching the lights on the water, started guiltily.
"Where?" she asked.
"Down to the right--that comical little codger in the checked suit."
Guinevere looked, then turned upon Hinton eyes that were big with
indignation. "Why, of course," she said; "that's Mr. Opp."