That old office from whose windows one could see the rows of oil casks
and the fence of old ships' sheathing and the black dust of the road
and the yards of vessels--that old office which had been sleeping for
something more than a year--that old office which had been left behind
when the business centre of Whitby began to move uptown, so many years
ago--that old office, as I started to say at the beginning, was waking
up again.
One hot morning in early August, Horry Carling stood at the window,
his hands thrust deep into his pockets, and he gazed at a row of oil
casks; gazed thoughtfully and for a long time. Then a smile began to
curl the corners of his mouth. Presently he chuckled.
"I s--s--say, O--Ol--lie, c--c--come here; th--that is, if--f--f
S--S--Sally c--can s--s--spare you."
Sally looked up from her papers. Her hair was in a pretty disorder; in
a disorder that was very attractive, indeed, being somewhat rumpled in
the front and running over with little ringlets, formed by the heat
and the dampness, at her forehead and by the sides of her ears and
down at her neck. She was busy, but she was interested and she was
happy, for which I, for one, am thankful. She brushed the ringlets out
of her eyes, impatiently, and smiled.
"Go ahead, Ollie," she said. "What is it, Horry?"
"O--only a r--r--row of b--b--bar--r--rels," he replied. Ollie Pilcher
was standing at his elbow now, looking over his shoulder. "D--d--do
y--y--you rem--em--mmb--ber th--that r--r--row?" Horry asked.
"M--m--might b--b--be the th--the v--v--very s--same b--b--b--barrels."
Ollie burst out laughing. He did remember. "How long ago was that,
Horry?"
"S--s--sev--ven years," he answered. "Ab--b--bout th--this t--t--time
o' y--year, w--w--wasn't it?"
Ollie nodded.
"Oh," Sally cried, "I remember that, too."
Horry turned. "Y--y--you d--do!" he spluttered in surprise.
"Wh--wh--where w--w--were y--you?"
"Sitting at that very window," she returned. "Uncle John saw it,
too,--some of it."
Horry chuckled again. "Y--y--your Un--n--cle"--here he winked and gave
a peculiar twitch to his eyebrows, as though that last syllable hurt
him--"J--J--John w--was a b--brick, S--S--Sally."
"He was, Horry. You don't know what a brick he was." She sighed
lightly and then she laughed. "Whatever did you do with your jacket?"
"M--m--most s--set th--the h--house af--f--fire w--with it. I--it
w--w--was a p--pretty n--n--new j--j--j--th--there!--c--coat, and
m--m--moth--ther c--c--couldn't b--b--bear to th--throw it aw--w--way,
s--so sh--sh--she k--k--kept it l--lying ar--r--round 'n--n--ntil
w--w--winter. Th--then sh--she t--t--told m--me t--to p--p--put it
in--n--to th--the f--f--furnace. M--m--most s--set th--the h--house
af--f--f--fire. F--f--full o' o--o--oil, y' kn--n--now. H--h--hor--rid
sm--sm--smoke."
Ollie and Sally were chuckling in little bursts.
Horry sighed. "Th--those t--t--times w--were f--f--fun, th--though,"
he said; "g--great--t--test f--f--fun th--that e--ever w--was.
N--never c--c--come ag--g--gain, w--will th--they, Ol--Ollie?"
"Oh," Ollie replied lazily, grinning, "I don't know. I'd like to run
'em again, right now."
"You boys had better not," Sally remarked, with a shake of the head.
"Those barrels belong to the firm, you know. You'd be the losers, as
well as I--and the Hazen Estate."
"'T--t w--w--would b--be m--m--more f--f--fun th--than s--some
th--things I kn--n--now ab--b--bout," Horry observed cryptically,
"an' l--l--less ex--x--xpen--s--sive."
Ollie looked at him and they both grinned and went back to their
desks.
As may have been inferred, Horry Carling and Ollie Pilcher were, if
not members of the firm of John Hazen, Inc., at least stockholders.
Harry Carling would have liked to enter the Law School; but being
debarred, for obvious reasons, from practising law, he had chosen
engineering. Which, it may be remarked in passing, having been chosen
rather from reasons of expedience than because he had any natural
taste or aptitude in that direction, may not have been a wise choice.
Horry, who had gone into what he liked the best and wanted the most,
stood a much better chance of making a success of his life. Had not
his grandfather been a great ship captain almost all the days of his
life? And Ollie's grandfather, too? It was in their blood. If the salt
is in a man's blood--or a boy's--it must come out, sooner or later, or
engender a ferment which will trouble that man as long as he lives.
And Horry and Ollie, having the natural taste for what they were doing
and having had a pretty fair training for it all through their
boyhood, fitted into the new firm of John Hazen, Inc., like new parts
into a machine. It needed only a little polishing by wear for that
machine to run as smoothly as it had been running for fifty years.
Sally worked hard at her new business. She had compounded with her
conscience by not giving up her teaching yet--definitely. She would
teach one more year, at least. Then, she said to herself, if she still
felt as she did now, it would not be right for her to keep on with it.
Meanwhile, she would have some time every afternoon, and, with Horry
and Ollie,--really, it was going pretty well, much better than she had
sometimes feared. And at this point she would sigh and smile and fall
to looking out of the window at the yards of the ships--_her_ ships,
she liked to think, although, of course, they were not all hers, but
they belonged to the stockholders in John Hazen, Inc., according to
their holdings, and that list included Patty and Dick and Horry
Carling and Ollie Pilcher and some others; but she liked to look out
at the vessels and imagine that they were all hers. And she saw the
rows of oil-barrels and the black dust of the road, which was kept
pretty well stirred up by the feet of the horses which dragged the
heavy trucks in an almost continuous procession. At any rate, she
could call the dust hers,--if she wanted to,--for it would not have
been stirred up if it had not been for her, but would have lain
quietly there until it ceased to be dust at all and became no more
than the surface of a street that was almost abandoned; baked hard by
the sun and gullied by the rain and somewhat grass-grown. Then she
would laugh and decide that she did not want the dust anyway; she had
quite enough of that. As for her method of compounding with her
conscience, it pleased her better than it pleased Mr. MacDalie, who
did not share her misgivings.
Sally's efforts were not enough to induce Charlie to spend his
vacation slaving in an office. Every one might not call the occupation
of Horry and Ollie slaving. Sally mildly suggested that view of the
matter.
"If I owned some stock in it, the matter would have a different
aspect, no doubt," Charlie replied sarcastically. "As it is, I should
be nothing but a clerk."
He was lucky to have the chance to start with that, Sally pointed out.
It was possible that he was not fitted to be more than office boy.
With this shot, which may have been unduly hard upon Charlie, Sally
turned away. Charlie, at any rate, thought it unduly hard, and felt
much injured. Sally was always hard on him; unfair. What could she
know against him? And, having procured a horse at a livery
stable,--the liveliest young horse they had, with the most stylish
rig, which, by the way, Sally would have the privilege of paying
for,--Charlie took his way out to Doctor Sanderson's to see Patty and
to be consoled and, incidentally, with the secret hope that Patty had
a few dollars to spare for a deserving and much misunderstood boy. For
Patty managed to save up a few dollars for that purpose now and then,
although Dick had greatly curtailed her sources of supply. No, they
were _his_ sources of supply which had been curtailed by Dick, Charlie
said to himself. Damn Dick anyway! What right had he to do such a
thing? Where should he, Charlie, get money in time of need? Where
should he, indeed? Damn Dick! And Charlie gave the lively young horse
a cut with the whip, as if the horse were responsible. The lively
young horse resented cuts with the whip and proceeded to run; which
gave Charlie so much occupation that he forgot, for the moment, about
Dick.
Charlie was getting more and more into the habit of getting rigs at
the livery stable, as the summer went on,--rigs which were invariably
charged to Sally, she having made no objection to previous charges of
a like nature--and of going out to see Patty. Doctor Sanderson's place
was so indecently far out anyway that you had to have a horse or an
automobile. He couldn't be expected to walk it, and, of course, he had
to see Patty occasionally. You wouldn't have him so ungrateful as not
to go to see her at all, would you? He supposed Sally would have to
pay for the rigs, for _he_ hadn't any of Uncle John's money, had he?
The fact that this was not strictly true did not seem to occur to him;
and the fact that Patty had put the stout horse at his disposal made
no difference, so far as the livery stable was concerned.
They--meaning Sally--might consider themselves lucky that he did not
get an automobile to make the journey of two miles and a half. He
couldn't be expected to drive a horse that was thirty years old and
was only fit for the bone-yard, now, could he? You could make it in
five minutes with an auto and he thought that they--meaning Sally
again--might save money if he did get one. Of course he wasn't going
to. He would defer to their absurd prejudice on that point. And more
to the same effect.
It was no wonder that Sally turned away without speaking. She was
afraid to answer; afraid of what she might be led to say. And she
would go down to the office and sit looking out of the window and
wondering what was to become of Charlie and what she could do about
it; wondering what it was that he did in college that it seemed to
have such an unfortunate influence on him; wondering whether it would
not be better for him, after all, to come out and be made to go to
work. She almost decided that it would. Then she remembered that she
had not the only word to say about that. There were others who would
have something to say and the attempt would raise a storm. Sally was
not afraid of storms, but--well--and she would look up to find Horry
staring at her as if he wanted to tell her something.
"What is it, Horry?" she would ask, smiling.
Horry would be distinctly embarrassed. He always was: and he always
made the same reply. "N--no--noth--th-thing, S--S--Sally," he would
say, with a sigh. "I--i--it's n--n--noth--th--thing, o--only I
h--h--hate t--to s--s--see you s--so b--b--both--thered ab--b--b--bout
an--n--nyth--th--thing. Ch--er--n--n--nob--body's wo--worth it."
That was as much as she could get out of him, although, to tell the
truth, she did not try very hard. She only asked her question for his
sake, he seemed to want so much to tell something. It did not occur to
her that what Horry wanted to say he wanted to say for her sake; and
it was for her sake that he did not say it, although it trembled on
the very tip of his tongue. Perhaps it trembled too much. Perhaps, if
he had found speaking an easier matter, he would have told what he
seemed to be on the point of telling.
Toward the last of August, Henrietta and Dick came back. Henrietta, of
course, did not have much time, but she did manage to come and see
Sally at the office, one afternoon, on which occasion she completely
upset the business of John Hazen, Inc., and all the members of the
firm, both present and prospective, fluttered about her and gave her
their undivided attention. Naturally, this state of affairs pleased
Henrietta, but it embarrassed her, too, for you can't--or a girl who
has been recently married can't--speak out freely concerning the
secrets which burden her bosom before two unmarried young
fellows,--not that the fact of their being unmarried made any
difference, of course,--but before two young fellows whom she had
never seen before in her life. But Henrietta made an effort to see
Sally alone, and on the occasion of that effort, which was successful,
she talked a steady stream about Dick, to all of which Sally assented
with a smile and with as much enthusiasm as even Henrietta could wish.
"And, you know, Sally," she said at the end of this eulogium--and
otherwise, "you know, we are in a difficulty now. It is not a very
great difficulty and yet it is, too. We don't know where to live."
"How terrible!" said Sally.
"There are so few houses that are--well, dignified enough; suited to
Dick's position, you know."
"Why don't you build?"
"We might, of course, but that would take a long time, and--and, to
tell the truth, I've set my--we have set our hearts on an old house;
not too old, you know."
"I see," said Sally; "just old enough."
"Exactly," Henrietta agreed. "Just old enough. Now there's Miss
Patty's house. It's restored and the work's done."
"Well?"
"And Miss Patty doesn't seem inclined to live in it. She doesn't like
to leave Fox's. I saw her and spoke about it, and she said so."
"Well, then, where is the difficulty? Patty's house is a very
pleasant, homelike house. I judge that it is just old enough. Can't
you rent it?"
"No," said Henrietta in accents of despair. "Patty won't rent it. She
says she may want to go back at any minute. She said she'd be glad to
oblige me, as Doctor Sanderson's sister, but my being Mr.
Torrington's wife changes the aspect of the matter. She seems to have
some grudge against Dick."
Sally laughed. "That isn't so strange. Knowing Patty, I should think
you'd better give up the idea for the present."
"That's just it," Henrietta replied hastily. "For the present. That
makes it unwise for us to build, when we may be able to get that house
at any time almost. Of course, Dick must not seem to force Miss Patty
in any way. He had to use his authority under the will, you know. Mr.
Hazen would have expected him to and would have _wished_ him to, or
why should he have made his will that way? He _had_ to--Dick, I mean,
of course--Dick simply _had_ to, don't you see, Sally, when he found
that Patty had been using all that money and she wouldn't tell what
she had used it for--wouldn't give a hint, you know. Dick only wanted
a hint, so that he could keep his accounts straight, or something of
that sort. It wasn't evident at all that Patty had used it for
herself--Oh!" And Henrietta suddenly clapped her hand over her pretty
mouth. "Have I been telling secrets, Sally? Have I?" She looked rather
scared, as people were apt to be in any matter which concerned Sally,
though I can't see why. Sally was as mild as a lamb in such cases.
She was mild now, but she was gazing at Henrietta with solemn and
serious eyes, as if she had discovered a new country.
"I don't know, Henrietta," she replied, "whether you are telling
secrets or not. What you were telling was news to me. If you are in
any doubt about it, I should think you'd better not tell any more. But
you can see why Patty is not inclined to do any favor for Dick."
"Well," returned Henrietta slowly--slowly for her, "I suppose I can,
although _I_ think that Dick is doing her the _greatest_ favor. As far
as her house is concerned, Dick might feel at liberty to rent to any
one else, but not to himself. I'm sure I hope he won't rent to anybody
else, whatever he does or Patty doesn't do. He ought not to do
anything that could be considered dishonorable, of course, but I
can't quite see why this would be. But he simply won't."
"No," said Sally. "I should expect that of Dick."
"There doesn't seem to be anything to do about it," Henrietta
continued, "unless--unless," she suggested with hesitation, "you would
see Patty, Sally."
Sally smiled with amusement. "Of course I will if you want me to,
Henrietta. But I'm not the one to make a successful emissary to Patty.
I'm not in favor any more than Dick. You'd much better make up to
Charlie if you want anything of Patty; much better."
"That seems to be a good idea," Henrietta murmured, gazing
thoughtfully at Sally the while, "and easy too. I'll do it."