Elizabeth did not visit the Minot place that evening, as she had said
she meant to do. It may be that Sears was a trifle disappointed, but
even he would have been obliged to confess that that particular evening
was not the time for him to receive callers. He ate his supper--a very
small portion of the meal which Judah had provided for him--and, soon
afterward, retired to the spare stateroom and bed. Undressing was a
martyrdom, and he had hard work to keep back the groans which the pain
in his legs tempted him to utter. There was no doubt that he had twisted
those shaky limbs of his more than he realized. He had wrenched them
severely, how severely he scarcely dared think. But they forced him to
think all that night, and the next morning Judah insisted on going for
the doctor.
Doctor Sheldon examined the "spliced timbers," fumed and scolded a good
deal, but at last grudgingly admitted that no irreparable harm had been
done.
"You're luckier than you deserve, Cap'n," he declared. "It's a wonder
you aren't ruined altogether. Now you stay right in that bed until I
tell you to get up. And that won't be to-day, or to-morrow either.
Perhaps the day after that--well, we'll see. But those legs of yours
need absolute rest. Judah, you see that they get it, will you? If he
tries to get up you knock him back again. Those are orders. Understand?"
"Aye, aye, sir," replied Judah, promptly. "I'll have a handspike handy.
He won't turn out, I'll see to it."
Sears' protestations that he couldn't waste time in bed, that he had too
many important things to attend to, went for nothing. According to
Sheldon and Judah his legs were the only things of real importance just
then and they needed absolute rest. Down inside him the captain realized
that this was true, and so grumblingly resigned himself to the two days
of imprisonment. With the most recent issues of the _Cape Cod Item_ and
one or two books from the shelves in the sitting room closet, books of
the vintage of the '40's and '50's, but fortunately of a strong sea
flavor, he endeavored to console himself, while Judah attended to the
household duties or went down town on errands.
Elizabeth called that first forenoon, but did not see him. The doctor
had warned Judah to head off visitors. "They may not do any harm, but
they certainly won't do any good, and I want him to have absolute rest,"
said Sheldon. So Judah guarded the outer portal, and, when he went out,
hung up a warning placard. "OUT. NO ADMITENTS. DOORS LOKED. KEY UNDER
MAT." The information concerning the key was for the doctor's benefit.
But Elizabeth sent her good wishes and sympathy. So did her mother. So,
too, did Esther Tidditt, and Miss Snowden, and Miss Peasley, and in fact
all the Fair Harbor inmates. For the first day Mr. Cahoon was kept busy
transmitting messages to the spare stateroom.
But about this time Bayport began to rock with a new series of
sensations and, except by the very few, Captain Kendrick was forgotten.
The news of Judge Knowles' various legacies became known and spread
through the village like fire in a patch of dead weeds. The Fair Harbor
sat up nearly all of one night discussing and commenting upon the good
fortune which had befallen the Berrys. And by no means all of the time
was used in congratulations.
"Humph!" sniffed Susanna Brackett, her lips squeezed so tightly together
that her mustache stood on end. "Humph!"
Miss Snowden nodded. "Of course," she said, "I'm not a person to hint,
or anything of that sort. But--_but_ if somebody'll tell me _why_ the
judge left all that money to her I should like to hear 'em."
Mrs. Brackett opened her lips sufficiently to observe that so should
she. "Of course," she added, "the five thousand that Lobelia left
Cordelia might have been expected, they was real friendly always. But
why did Judge Knowles leave it all to Elizabeth and not one cent to her
mother? _That_ I _can't_ understand."
Miss Peasley smiled. "We used to wonder why Elizabeth kept runnin' to
the judge's all the time," she said. "He was sick and feeble and we
thought 'twas queer her pesterin' him so. _Now_--well, it pays to hang
around sick folks, don't it? They're easier to coax, maybe, than the
well kind.... Course I ain't sayin' there was any coaxin' done."
Little Mrs. Tidditt's feathers had begun to rise. "Oh, no!" she snapped.
"You ain't _sayin'_ anything, any of you. Judge Knowles was business
head of this--this old cats' home afore he app'inted Cap'n Kendrick to
the job, and you know that. Elizabeth _had_ to go to him about all sorts
of money matters, and you know that, too. As for her tryin' to coax him
to leave her money, that's just rubbish. He always liked her, thought
the world of her ever since she was a little girl, and he left her the
twenty thousand because of that and for no other reason. That's why _I_
think he left it to her; but, if some of the rest of you would be better
satisfied, I'll tell her what you say--or _ain't_ sayin', Desire--and
let her answer it herself."
This not being at all what Miss Peasley and the others wished, no more
was said about undue influence at the time. But much was said at times
when the pugnacious Esther was not present, and there was marked
speculation concerning what Miss Berry would do with her money, what Mr.
Phillips would do when he returned to Bayport, whether or not Cordelia
Berry would continue to be matron at the Harbor, and what Sears
Kendrick's plans for the future might be.
"Of course," said Mrs. Brackett, "the judge fixed it so he would get his
fifteen hundred so long as he stays manager. But will he stay long?
There's Mr. Phillips to be considered now, I should think. _He'll_ have
somethin' to say about the--er--retreat his wife founded, won't he?"
Mrs. Constance Cahoon made a remark.
"George Kent'll come in for a nice windfall some of these days, it looks
like," she observed, significantly. "What makes you look so funny,
Elviry?"
Miss Snowden smiled. "Will he?" she inquired.
"Well, won't he? When he marries Elizabeth----"
"Yes. Yes, _when_ he does."
"Well, he's goin' to, ain't he? Why, he's been keepin' comp'ny with her
for two years. Everybody cal'lates they're engaged."
"Yes. But _they_ don't say they are.... Oh, what is it Aurora?"
Mrs. Chase, who had been listening with her hand at her ears, had caught
a little of the conversation.
"If you mean her and George Kent is engaged, Constance," she declared,
"they ain't. I asked Elizabeth if they was, myself, asked her much as a
month ago, and she said no. Pretty nigh took my head off, too."
Elvira's smile broadened. She nodded, slowly and with mysterious
significance. "I'm not so sure about that engagement," she observed.
"Some things I've seen lately have set me to thinking. To thinking a
good deal.... Um ... yes. It looks to me as if somebody--_somebody_, I
mention no names--may have had a hint of what was coming and began to
lay plans according.... No, I shan't say any more--now. And I give in
that it seems too perfectly ridiculous to believe. But things like that
sometimes do happen, and ... Well, we'll wait and see."
Happy in the knowledge that she had aroused curiosity as well as envy of
her superior knowledge, she subsided. Mrs. Tidditt concluded that
portion of the discussion.
"Well," she remarked, crisply, "I don't see why we need to sit here
talkin' about engagements or folks' gettin' married. Nobody has shown
any symptoms of wantin' to marry any of _this_ crowd, so far as I can
make out."
While the town was at the very height of its agitation concerning the
Knowles will, there came another earthquake. Egbert Phillips returned.
He alighted from the train at the Bayport depot on the second morning of
Sears's imprisonment in the spare stateroom and before night the
information that he imparted--confidentially, of course--and the hints
he gave concerning his plans for the future, made the Berry legacies and
all the other legacies take second place as gossip kindlers.
Judah came rushing into the house later that afternoon, his arms full of
bundles--purchases at Eliphalet's store--and his mouth full of words. He
dropped everything, eggs, salt fish, tea and shoe laces, on the kitchen
table and tore pell-mell into his lodger's bedroom. Captain Kendrick,
propped up with pillows, was of course stretched out in bed. There was
what appeared to be a letter in his hand, a letter apparently just
received, for a recently opened envelope lay on the comforter beside
him, and upon his face was an expression of bewilderment, surprise and
marked concern. Judah was too intent upon his news to notice anything
else and Sears hastily gathered up letter and envelope and thrust them
beneath the pillow. Then Judah broke loose.
Egbert had come back, had come back to Bayport to live, for good. He had
come on the morning train. Lots of folks saw him; some of them had
talked with him. "And what do you cal'late, Cap'n Sears? You'll never
guess in _this_ world! By the crawlin' prophets, he swears he ain't
rich, the way all hands figured out he was. No, sir, he ain't! 'Cordin'
to his tell he ain't got no money at all, scarcely. All them stocks
and--and bonds and--and securitums and such like have gone on the rocks.
They was unfort'nate infestments, he says. He says he's in straightened
out circumstances, whatever they be, but he's come back here to spend
his declinin' days--that's what Joe Macomber says he called 'em, his
declinin' days--in Bayport, 'cause he loves the old place, 'count of
Lobelia, his wife, lovin' it so, and he can maybe scratch along here on
what income he's got, and--and----"
And so on, for sentence after sentence. Sears heard some of it, but not
all. The letter he had just read--the letter from Judge Knowles which
Bradley had handed him before he left Orham--was of itself too startling
and disturbing to be dismissed from his thoughts; but he heard some,
enough to make him realize that there might be, in all probability was,
trouble ahead. Just why Phillips had returned to Bayport, to take up his
abode there permanently, was hard to understand, but there certainly
must be some reason beside his "love" for the place and its people.
Neither place nor people should, so it seemed to the captain, appeal
strongly to a citizen of the world, of the fashionable world, like Mr.
Egbert Phillips. It is true that he might perhaps live cheaper there
than in most communities, but still.... No, Sears was sure that the
former singing teacher had returned to the Cape in pursuance of a plan.
What that plan might be he could not guess, unless the widower
contemplated contesting his wife's gift to the Fair Harbor. That would
be a losing fight, was certain to be, for Judge Knowles had seen to
that. But if not that--what?
He gave very little thought to the matter at the time, for Judge
Knowles' letter and its astounding proposition were monopolizing his
mental machinery. That letter would have, as he might have expressed it,
knocked him on his beam ends even if the Foam Flake's unexpected
outbreak had not knocked him there already. The letter was rather long,
but it was to the point, nevertheless. Judge Knowles begged him--him,
Sears Kendrick--to accept the appointment of trustee in charge of
Elizabeth Berry's twenty thousand dollar inheritance. The latter was
hers in trust until she was thirty.
"I have seen enough of you to believe in you, Kendrick," so the judge
had written. "Besides, you know the Berrys, mother and daughter, by this
time, better than any one else--even Bradley--and you know my opinion of
Cordelia's headpiece. I don't want her soft-headedness or foolishness to
get any of Elizabeth's money away from her. Elizabeth is a dutiful
daughter and an unselfish girl and she may feel--or be led to
feel--that her mother ought to have this money or a large part of it. I
don't want this to happen. Of course I expect Elizabeth to share her
income with her mother, but I don't want the principal disturbed. After
she is thirty she can, of course, do what she likes with it, but that
time isn't now by some years. And then there is that Egbert. Look out
for him. I say again, look out for him. If _he_ ever got a penny of this
money I should turn over in my grave. Perhaps you think I am an old fool
and am treating him with more seriousness than he deserves. You won't
think so when you know him as well as I do, mark my words. And I think
you are the one man around here that has had worldly experience enough,
backed by brains and common-sense, to see through him and handle him. I
don't mean that there aren't other smart men in town, but most of the
smartest are in active service and at sea a good share of the time. You
will be right here for a few years at least. And you are honest, and you
like Elizabeth Berry, and will look out for her interests.... Of course
I can't compel you to take this trusteeship, but I hope you will, as a
favor to her and to me. I have written her a letter similar to this, but
I have left her a free choice in the matter. If she does not want you
for her trustee then that ends it. Being the kind of girl she is, I
think she will be mighty glad to have you...."
And this was the proposition which was causing the captain so much
anxiety and perplexity. It interfered with the sleep which Doctor
Sheldon seemed to feel necessary to his patient's complete recovery from
the setback. It prevented his keeping those damaged legs of his
absolutely quiet. Time and time again Judah, at work in what he always
referred to as the "galley," heard his lodger tossing about in the spare
stateroom and occasionally muttering to himself.
For Sears, facing the problem of accepting or declining the trust, was
quite aware that the dilemma upon which the judge had perched him had
two very sharp horns. If he declined--always of course supposing that
Elizabeth Berry asked him to accept--if he declined he would be acting
contrary to her wishes and Judge Knowles'. If he did decline, then
Bradley would be the trustee. Knowles, in a part of the letter not
quoted, had said that he imagined that would have to be the alternative.
And Bradley--a good man, an honest and capable man--was not a resident
of Bayport and could not, as he could, keep an eye upon the Berrys nor
upon those who might try to influence them. And Bradley did not know
Bayport as he, Kendrick, did.
But on the other hand, suppose Elizabeth begged him to take the
trusteeship and he did take it? To begin with, he dreaded the added
responsibility and distrusted his ability to handle investments. His
record as a business man ashore was brief enough and not of a kind to
inspire self-confidence. And what would people say concerning it and
him? He and Elizabeth were in daily contact. Their association in the
management of the Fair Harbor was close already. If he should be given
charge of her fortune--for it was a fortune, in Bayport eyes--would not
his every action be liable to misconstruction? Would not malicious
gossip begin to whisper all sorts of things? To misconstrue motives and
...? Perhaps they were already whispering. He had seen Elvira Snowden
but once since she and Mrs. Chase surprised him and Elizabeth in the
Eyrie, but on that one occasion Elvira had, so it seemed to him, looked
queer--and knowing. It was foolish, of course; it was ridiculous, and
wicked. He and Elizabeth were friendly, had come to be very good friends
indeed, but----
And here his train of thought stopped dead, while the same guilty shiver
he had before felt ran up and down his spine.... Good Lord above! _what_
was he thinking of? What could be the matter with him? Why, even if
things were as they had been he would be crazy to.... And now she was a
rich woman, rich compared to him, at least.
No! And over and over again, No! He would decline the trusteeship. And
he would make it his business to get well and to sea again as soon as
possible. As soon as she came to him to mention the judge's letter and
its insane request he would settle that proposal once and for all.
But she did not come. On the third day the doctor refused to permit him
to leave the bed.
"You stay where you are for another two days," commanded Sheldon. "It
will do you good, and while I'm boss you shan't take chances. Cahoon and
I have got you where we want you now and we'll keep you there till we
pipe you on deck. Eh, Judah?"
Judah grinned. "Aye, aye," was his rejoinder. "Got the handspike ready
to my fist, Doctor. He'll stay put if I have to lash him to the bunk
with a chain cable. It's all for your good, Cap'n Sears. That's what my
ma used to tell me when she dosed me up every spring with brimstone and
molasses."
So, reluctantly realizing that it was for his good, Sears "stayed put."
He had a few callers, although Judah saw to it that their calls were
brief. Elizabeth was not one of these. She came at least once a day to
inquire about him, but she did not ask to see him. The captain, trying
not to be disappointed, endeavored to console himself with the idea that
she was following Judge Knowles' advice, as repeated by Bradley, and
meant to take plenty of time before making up her mind concerning the
trusteeship.
One of his visitors was George Kent. On the fourth day, on his way to
the Macombers for dinner, the young fellow called at the Minot place.
Judah was out, but Sears heard his visitor's voice and step through the
open doors of the dining room and kitchen and shouted to him to come in.
His manner when he entered was, so it seemed to the captain, a trifle
constrained, but his inquiries concerning the latter's health were
cordial enough. As for Sears, he, of course, made it a point to be
especially cordial.
They talked of many things, but not of their recent encounter on the
Orham road. Sears did not like to be the first to mention it and it
appeared as if Kent wished to avoid it altogether. But at last, after a
short interval of silence, a break in the conversation, he did refer to
it.
"Cap'n Kendrick," he said, reddening and looking rather nervous and
uncomfortable, "I--I suppose you thought I was--was pretty disagreeable
the other evening. I mean when we met in the rain and Elizabeth was with
you."
"Eh? Disagreeable?"
"Yes. I wasn't very pleasant, I know. I'm sorry. That--that was one of
the things I came to say. I lost my temper, I guess."
"Well, if you did I don't know as I blame you, George. A night like that
is enough to lose any one's temper. I lost mine. The Foam Flake ran away
with it. But he's repentin' in sackcloth and ashes, I guess. Judah says
the old horse is lamer than I am."
He laughed heartily. Kent's laugh was short. His uneasiness seemed to
increase.
"Yes," he said, returning to the subject which was evidently uppermost
in his mind. "Yes, I did--er--lose my temper, perhaps. But--but it seems
almost as if I had a--er--well, some excuse. You see--well, you see,
Cap'n Kendrick, I didn't like it very much, the idea of Elizabeth's
going over to Orham with--with you, you know."
Sears looked at him in surprise. "Why, she went with me because it was
the simplest way to get there," he explained. "I was goin' anyhow, and
Bradley had asked her to be there, too. So, it was natural enough that
we should go together."
"Well--well, I don't see why she didn't tell me she was going."
"Perhaps she didn't think to tell you."
"Nonsense!... I mean.... Well, anyhow, if she had told me I should have
looked out for her, of course. I could have hired a rig and driven her
over."
"But she knew you were at work down at the store. She said that, didn't
she? Seems to me I remember hearin' her say that she didn't want you
to--to feel that you must take the afternoon off on her account."
The young man stirred impatiently. "That's foolishness," he declared.
"She seems to think Bassett has a mortgage on my life. He hasn't, not by
a long shot. I don't mean to keep his books much longer; I've got other
things to attend to. My law is getting on pretty well."
"Glad to hear it, George."
"Yes. I shall read with Bradley for a while longer, of course, but after
that--well, I don't know. I was talking with--with a man who has had a
good deal of experience with lawyers--real city lawyers, not the
one-horse sort--and he says the thing for an ambitious young fellow to
do is to get into one of those city offices. Then you have a chance."
"Oh--I see. But isn't it kind of hard to get in, unless you have some
acquaintance or influence?"
"I don't know as it is. And I guess this man will help me if I want him
to."
"So? That's good. Did he say he would?"
"No-o, not exactly, but I think he will. And he's got the acquaintances,
all right enough. He knows almost everybody that's worth while."
"That's the kind to tie to. Who is he? Somebody up in Boston?"
George shifted again. "I'd rather not mention his name just now," he
said. "Our talks have been rather--er--confidential and I don't know
that I should have said anything about them. But I've got plans, you
see. Then there is my aunt's estate. I am the administrator of that."
"Oh? I didn't know. Your aunt, eh?"
"Yes, my Aunt Charlotte, mother's sister. She was single and lived up in
Meriden, Connecticut. She died about a month ago and left everything to
my half-sister and me--my married sister in Springfield, you know. I
have charge of--of the estate, settling it and all that."
Sears smiled inwardly at the self-satisfaction with which the word
"estate" was uttered. But outwardly he was serious enough.
"Good for you, George!" he exclaimed. "Congratulations. I hope you've
come in for a big thing."
His visitor colored slightly. "Well--well, of course," he admitted, "the
estate isn't very large, but----"
"But it's an estate. I'm glad for you, son."
"Yes--er--yes.... But really, Cap'n, I didn't mean to talk about that.
I--I just wanted to say that--that I was sorry if I--er--wasn't as
polite as I might have been the other night, and--well, I thought--it
seemed as if I--I ought to say--to say----"
Whatever it was it seemed to be hard to say. The captain tried to help.
"Yes, of course, George," he prompted. "Heave ahead and say it."
"Well--well, it's just this, Cap'n Kendrick: Elizabeth and you are--are
together a good deal, in the Fair Harbor affairs, you know,
and--and--she doesn't think, of course--and you _are_ a lot older than
she is--but all the same----"
Sears interrupted.
"Here! Hold on, George!" he put in, sharply. "What's all this?"
Kent's embarrassment increased. "Why--why, nothing," he stammered.
"Nothing, of course. But you see, Cap'n, people are silly--they don't
stop to count ages and things like that. They see you with her so
much.... And when they see you taking her to ride--alone----"
"Here! That'll do!" All the cordiality had left the captain's voice.
"George," he said, after a moment, "I guess you'd better not say any
more. I don't think I had better hear it. Miss Elizabeth is a friend of
mine. She is, as you say, years younger than I am. I _am_ with her a
good deal, have to be because of our Fair Harbor work together. I took
her to Orham with me just as I'd take her mother, or you, or any other
friend who had to go and wanted a lift. But--_but_ if you or any one
else is hintin' that.... There, there! George, don't be foolish. Maybe
you'd better run along now. The doctor says I mustn't get excited."
His visitor looked remarkably foolish, but the stubbornness had not
altogether left his face or tone as he said: "Well, that's all right,
Cap'n. I knew you would understand. _I_ didn't mean anything, but--but,
you see, in Elizabeth's case I feel a--a sort of responsibility.
You--you understand."
Even irritated and angry as he was, Sears could not help smiling at the
last sentence.
"George," he observed, "you've been fairly open and aboveboard in your
remarks to me. Suppose I ask you a question. Just what _is_ your
responsibility in the case? I have heard said, and more than once, that
you and Elizabeth Berry are engaged to be married. Is it so?"
The young man grew redder yet, hesitated, and turned to the door.
"I--I'm not at liberty to say," he declared.
"Wait! Hold on! There is this responsibility business. If you're not
engaged--well, honestly, George, I don't quite see where your
responsibility comes in."
Kent hesitated a moment longer. Then he seemed to make up his mind.
"Well, then, we are--er--er--practically," he said.
"Practically?... Oh! Well, I--I certainly do congratulate you."
George had his hand on the latch, but turned back.
"Don't--please don't tell any one of it," he said earnestly. "It--it
mustn't be known yet.... You see, though, why I--I feel as if you--as if
we all ought to be very careful of--of appearances--and--and such
things."
"Yes.... Yes, of course. Well, all right, George. Good-by. Call again."
Judah, who had been over at the Fair Harbor doing some general chores
around the place, came in a little later. His lodger called to him.
"Judah," he commanded, "come in here. I want to talk to you." When Mr.
Cahoon obeyed the order, he was told to sit down a moment.
"I want to ask you some questions," said the captain. "What is the
latest news of Egbert Phillips? Where is he nowadays? And what is he
doin'?"
Judah was quite ready to give the information, even eager, but he
hesitated momentarily.
"Sure you want me to talk about him, Cap'n?" he asked. "Last time I said
anything about him--day afore yesterday 'twas--you told me to shut up.
Said you had somethin' more important to think about."
"Did I, Judah? Well, 'twas true then, I guess."
"Um-hm. And you ordered me not to mention his name again till you
h'isted signals, or somethin' like that."
"Yes, seems to me I did. Well, the signals are up. What is he doin'?"
"Doin'? He ain't doin' nothin'--much. He's roomin' up to the Central
House yet, but from what I hear tell he ain't goin' to stay there. He's
cal'latin', so the folks down to the store say, to find some nice home
place where he can board. He don't call it boardin'. Thoph Black says he
said what he wanted was a snug little den where him and his few
remainin' household gods could be together. Thoph said he couldn't make
out what household gods was, and I'm plaguey sure _I_ can't. Sounds
heathenish to me. And I told Thoph, says I, 'That ain't no way to hunt a
boardin' house, goin' round hollerin' for a den. If I was takin' in
boarders and a feller hove alongside and says, "Can I hire one of them
dens of yours?" he'd get somethin' that he wan't lookin' for.' Huh! Den!
Sounds like a circus menagerie, don't it? Not but what I've seen
boardin'-house rooms that was like dens. Why, one time, over in
Liverpool 'twas, me and a feller named----"
"Yes, yes, all right, Judah. I've heard about it. But what else is he
doin'? Where does he go? Is he makin' friends? Is he talkin' much about
his plans? What do folks say about him?"
Judah answered the last question first.
"They like him," he declared. "All hands are so kind of sorry for him,
you see. Course we all cal'lated he was rich, but he ain't. And them
bonds and such that him and his wife had all went to nawthin' and he
come back here after she died, figgerin', I presume likely, same as
anybody would, that he owned the Fair Harbor property and that the fifty
thousand was just a sort of--er--loan, as you might say. He told Joe
Macomber--or George Kent, I forget which 'twas--he's with George
consider'ble; I guess likely 'twas him--that, of course, he wouldn't
have disturbed the property or the fifty thousand for the world, not for
a long spell anyhow, but ownin' it give him a feelin' of security, like
an anchor to wind'ard, you understand, and----"
"So folks like him, do they?"
"You bet you they do. He don't complain a mite, that's one reason they
like him. Says at first, of course, he was kind of took all aback with
his canvas flappin', but now he's thought it over and realizes 'twas his
dear wife's notion and her wishes is law and gospel to him, so he's
resigned."
"And he doesn't blame anybody, then?"
Mr. Cahoon hesitated. "Why--er--no, not really, fur's I hear. Anyhow, if
there was any influence used same as it shouldn't be, he says, he
forgives them that used it. And, so far as that goes, he don't repute no
evil motives to nobody, livin' or dead."
"Repute? Oh, impute, you mean."
"I guess so, some kind of 'pute'. He uses them old-fashioned kind of
words all the time. That's why he's so pop'lar amongst the Shakespeare
Readin' Society and the rest. _They've_ took him up, I tell ye! Minister
Dishup and his wife they've had him to dinner, and Cap'n Elkanah and his
wife have had him to supper and yesterday noon he was up here to the
Harbor for dinner."
"Oh, was he?"
"Yus. He made 'em a little speech, too. All hands came into the parlor
after dinner and he kind of--of preached to 'em. Told about his
travelin' in foreign lands and a lot about Lobelia and how she loved the
Harbor and everybody in it, and how him and her used to plan for it, and
the like of that. Desire Peasley told me that 'twas the most movin' talk
ever _she_ listened to. Said about everybody was cryin' some. 'Twas a
leaky session, I judged. Oh, they love him over to the Harbor, I tell
you!"
The captain was silent for a moment. Then he asked, "Did I understand
you to say he and young Kent were friendly?"
"Yes, indeed. He seems to have took quite a fancy to George. Drops in to
see him at the store and last night he went home along with him to your
sister's--to Sary's. Had supper and spent the evenin', I believe."
Judah was dismissed then and the talk ended, but Sears had now something
else to think about. There was little doubt in his mind who the "man of
experience" was, the person who had advised Kent concerning the getting
of a position with a law firm in the city. He wondered what other
advice might have been given. Was it Mr. Phillips who had suggested
to Kent the impropriety of Elizabeth's being seen so much in
his--Kendrick's--company? If so, why had he done it? What was Egbert's
little plan?
Of course it was possible that there was no plan of any kind. Sears had
taken a dislike to Phillips when they met and that fact, and Judge
Knowles' hatred of the man, might, he realized, have set him to hunting
mares' nests. Well, he would not hunt any more at present. He would
await developments. But he would not lie in that bed and wait for them.
He had been there long enough. In spite of Judah's protests and with the
latter's help, commandeered and insisted upon, he got up, dressed, and
spent the rest of that afternoon and evening in the rocking chair in the
kitchen.
And that evening Elizabeth came to see him. He was almost sure why she
had come, and as soon as she entered, sent Judah down town after smoking
tobacco. Judah declared there was "up'ards of ha'f a plug aboard the
ship somewheres" and wanted to stay and hunt for it, but the captain,
who had the plug in his pocket, insisted on his going. So he went and
Sears and Elizabeth were alone. He was ready for the interview. If she
asked him to accept the trusteeship of her twenty thousand dollars he
meant to refuse, absolutely.
And she did ask him that very thing. After inquiries concerning his
injured limbs and repeated cautions concerning his never taking such
risks again, "even with the old Foam Flakes," she came directly to the
subject. She spoke of Judge Knowles' letter to her, the letter which
Bradley had handed her at the time when he gave Sears his. She had read
it over and over again, she said.
"You know what he wrote me, Cap'n Kendrick," she went on. "I can't show
you the letter, it is too personal, too--too.... Oh, I can't show it to
any one--now, not even to mother. But you must know what he asked--or
suggested, because he says he has written you a letter asking you to
take charge of my money for me, to be my trustee. I suppose you must
think it queer that I have let all these days go by without coming to
speak with you about it. I hope----"
He interrupted. "Now, Elizabeth, before we go any further," he said,
earnestly, "don't you suppose any such thing. The judge wrote me he had
asked us both not to decide in a hurry, but to take plenty of time to
think it over. I have thought it over, in fact, I haven't thought of
much else since I opened that letter, and I have made up my mind----"
"Wait. Please wait a minute. I haven't been taking time to think over
that at all. I have been thinking about the whole matter; whether I
should accept the money--so very, very, very much money----"
"What! Not accept it? Of course you'll take it. He wanted you to take
it. It was what he wanted as much as anybody could want anything. Why,
don't you dare----"
"Hush! hush! You mustn't be so excited. And you mustn't move from that
chair. If you do I shall go home this minute. I am going to accept the
money."
"Good! Of course you are."
"Yes, I am. Because I do believe that he wanted me to have it so much. I
know people will say--perhaps they are already saying all sorts of
wicked, mean things. I don't--I won't let myself think what some of them
may be saying about my influencing the judge, or things like that. But I
don't care--that is, I care ever so much more for what _he_ said and
what he wished. And he wanted you to take care of the money for me. You
will, won't you, Cap'n Kendrick?"
Now it was Sears' turn. He had gone over a scene like this, the scene
which he had foreseen, many times. He was kind, but he was firm. He told
her that he should not accept the trusteeship. He could not. It was too
great a responsibility for a man with as little--and that little
unfortunate--business experience as he had had.
"It needs a banker or a lawyer for that job, Elizabeth," he declared.
"What does a sailor know about handlin' money? You go to Bradley;
Bradley's the man."
But she did not want Bradley. The judge only mentioned Bradley as second
choice.
"He wanted you, Cap'n Kendrick. He had every confidence in you. You
should see what he says about your ability and common-sense and--and
honesty in the letter. Please."
"No, Elizabeth. As far as honesty goes I guess he's right. I am honest,
at least I hope I should be. But for the rest--he's partial there. He
seemed to take a fancy to me, and goodness knows I liked him. But you
mustn't feel you've got to do this thing. He wrote me it was only a
suggestion. You are absolutely free--he wrote me so--to go to Bradley
or----"
"No." She rose to her feet. "I shan't go to Bradley or anybody but you.
I am like him, Cap'n Kendrick; I trust you. I have come to know you and
to believe in you. I like you. Why, you don't know how glad I was to
find that he wanted you to do this for me. Glad! I--I felt----"
"Why, Elizabeth!"
He had not meant to speak. The words were forced from him involuntarily.
Her tone, her eyes, the eager earnestness in her voice.... He did not
say any more, nor did he look at her. Instead he looked at the patchwork
comforter which had fallen from his knees to the floor, and fervently
hoped that he had not already said too much. He stooped and picked up
the comforter.
"And you will do it for me, won't you?" she pleaded.
"I can't. It wouldn't be right."
"Then I shall not take the money at all. _He_ gave it to me, _he_ asked
me--the very last thing he asked was that you should do it. He put the
trust in your hands. And you won't do it--for him--or for me?"
"Well, but--but---- Oh, good Lord! how can I?"
"Why can't you?"
The real reason he could not tell her. According to Kent--whether
inspired by Phillips or not made little difference--people were already
whispering and hinting. How much more would they hint and whisper if
they knew that he had taken charge of her money? The thought had not
occurred to her, of course; the very idea was too ridiculous for her to
imagine; but that made but one more reason why he must think for her.
"No," he said, again. "No, I can't."
"But why? You haven't told me why."
He tried to tell her why, but his words were merely repetitions of what
he had said before. He was not a good business man, he did not know how
to handle money, even his own money. The judge had been very ill when he
wrote those letters, if he had been well and himself he never would have
thought of him as trustee. She listened for a time, her impatience
growing. Then she rose.
"Very well," she said. "Then I shall not accept the twenty thousand. To
me one wish of Judge Knowles' is as sacred as the other. He wanted you
to take that trust just as much as he wanted me to have the money. If
you won't respect one wish I shall not respect the other."
He could not believe she meant it, but she certainly looked and spoke as
if she did. He faltered and hesitated, and she pressed her advantage.
And at last he yielded.
"All right," he said desperately. "All right--or all wrong, whichever it
turns out to be. I'll take the trustee job--try it for a time anyhow.
But, I tell you, Elizabeth, I'm afraid we're both makin' a big mistake."
She was not in the least afraid, and said so.
"You have made me very happy, Cap'n Kendrick," she declared. "I can't
thank you enough."
He shook his head, but before he could reply there came a sharp knock on
the outer door, the back door of the house.
"Who on earth is that?" exclaimed Sears. Then he shouted, "Come in."
The person who came in was George Kent.
"Why, George!" said Elizabeth. Then she added. "What is it? What is the
matter?"
The young man looked as if something was the matter. His expression was
not at all pleasant.
"Evenin', George," said the captain. "Glad to see you. Sit down."
Kent ignored both the invitation and the speaker.
"Look here," he demanded, addressing Miss Berry: "do you know what time
it is? It is ten o'clock."
His tone was so rude--so boyishly rude--that Sears looked up quickly and
Elizabeth drew back.
"It's nearly ten o'clock," repeated Kent. "And you are over here."
"George!" exclaimed Sears, sharply.
"You are over here--with him--again."
It was Elizabeth who spoke now. She said but one word.
"Well?" she asked.
There was an icy chill about that "Well?" which a more cautious person
that George Kent might have noticed and taken as a warning. But the
young man was far from cautious at that moment.
"_Well?_" he repeated hotly. "I don't think it's well at all. I come see
you and--I find you over here. And I find that every one else knows you
are here. And they think it queer, too; I could see that they did.... Of
course, I don't say----"
"I think you have said enough. I came here to talk with Cap'n Kendrick
on a business matter. I told mother where I was going when I left the
house. The others heard me, I suppose; I certainly did not try to
conceal it. Why should I?"
"Why should you? Why, you should because--because---- Well, if you don't
know why you shouldn't be here, he does."
"He? Cap'n Kendrick?"
"Yes. I--I told him why, myself. Only this noon I told him. I was here
and I told him people were beginning to talk about you and he being
together so much and--and his taking you to ride, and all that sort of
thing. I told him he ought to be more careful of appearances. I said of
course you didn't think, but he ought to. I explained that----"
"Stop!" Her face was crimson and she was breathing quickly. "Do you mean
to say that--that people are talking--are saying things about--about....
What people?"
"Oh--oh, different ones. Of course they don't say anything much--er--not
yet. But if we aren't careful they will. You see----"
"Wait. Are they--are they saying that--that---- Oh, it is _too_ wicked
and foolish to speak! Are they saying that Cap'n Kendrick and I----"
Sears spoke. "Hush, hush, Elizabeth!" he begged. "They aren't sayin'
anything, of course. George is--is just a little excited over nothin',
that's all. He has heard Elvira or some other cat over there at the
Harbor, probably. They're jealous because you have had this money left
you."
"It is nothing to do with the money," Kent asserted. "Didn't I tell you
this noon that you--that we had to be careful of appearances? Didn't I
say----"
Again Elizabeth broke in.
"You have said all I want to hear--in this room, now," she declared.
"There are a good many things for us both to say--and listen to, but not
here.... Good night, Cap'n Kendrick. I am sorry I kept you up so late,
and I hope all this--I hope you won't let this wicked nonsense trouble
you. It isn't worth worrying about. Good night."
"But, Elizabeth," urged Sears, anxiously, "don't you think----"
"Good night. George, you had better come with me. I have some things to
say to you."
She went out. Kent hesitated, paused for a moment, and then followed
her. When Judah returned with the tobacco and a fresh cargo of rumors
concerning Egbert Phillips he found his lodger not the least interested
in either smoke or gossip.