THE CALL
For a week, Kit was happy at Netherhall.
Although he liked to joke and sometimes music carried him away, he had
sober ambitions. Kit was modest, but his modesty was not exaggerated
and he thought his efforts to some extent accounted for the
_Mariposa’s_ doing all her builders claimed. Then, although frankness
was not Jasper Carson’s habit, he owned himself satisfied. Mrs. Carson
was gracious, and Kit thought it important that Mrs. Haigh left him
and Evelyn alone.
Ledward’s arrival, however, annoyed Kit. Ledward was Mrs. Carson’s
relation and rather a handsome fellow, but he began to get fat and Kit
thought him sleek. Although he had not much money, he was not forced
to follow an occupation, and when town bored him he visited at
Netherhall. At Oxford he was famous for his scholarship and debating
skill; his talk was interesting and he was an accomplished
philanderer. In fact, there was the trouble, since Kit imagined Harry
tried to interest Evelyn. For all that, so long as the trout fishing
was good, Kit did not bother. Evelyn was a sport, but to wade about
angry pools and crawl under branches had not much charm for Harry.
Kit and Evelyn returned one afternoon from an excursion to a tarn some
distance off, and although Kit’s basket was not full his mood was
buoyant. They had caught some trout and picnicked on the moor. After
the noisy shipyard, the spaciousness and calm were bracing, and Evelyn
was kinder than Kit had known. When they reached the gate at
Netherhall they saw a group about the tea-table under a copper beech
on the lawn, and Kit pulled out his watch.
“Four o’clock. Did you know?”
Evelyn did know, but she saw Kit did not.
“When one is happily engaged, one does not . bother about the time,”
she said and smiled. “Until the sun got bright, the trout rose nobly.”
“Ah,” said Kit, “I did not bother about the trout. So long as you were
not bored, I was content to loaf and talk.”
“One can talk on the lawn,” Evelyn remarked.
“That is so. The drawback is, when one finds a quiet, shady spot
somebody arrives. In fact, I begin to feel Harry, so to speak, is
ubiquitous, but he has not much use for the climb to the tarn. Then to
see the shadows sweep the hills and hear the wind in the heather was
worth some effort. The day was glorious. Let’s go back in the
morning?”
Evelyn shook her head. “You don’t know where to stop, Kit, and
greediness is rash. If you got another day, it might not be glorious.
But the others see us, and I want some tea.”
They crossed the grass and Kit threw down his creel by Mrs. Carson’s
chair and pushed back his cap. His unconscious pose was firm and
somewhat alert; his eyes sparkled joyously. Agatha thought him vivid;
it was perhaps the proper word, but her calm glance got disturbed. She
knew much about pain and suffering, and Kit could not escape man’s
common inheritance. So far, he was marked by a careless happiness, but
he must face trouble, and she wondered. Mrs. Haigh studied Evelyn, but
saw nothing to account for Kit’s satisfaction. Evelyn’s look was
rather tired.
“Was the fishing good?” Mrs. Carson asked.
“Pretty good,” said Kit, and opened his basket.
“Troutlings! The best is hardly four ounces,” Ledward remarked. “You
are a queer fellow, Kit. When there are big fish in a pool three
hundred yards off, you climb the moor for things like these.”
“The tarn is a long way off; perhaps that accounts for it. I expect
you don’t know the satisfaction going somewhere gives. Then the peat
water was amber and silver, the yellow bent-grass shone, and the moors
melted into glorious blue. Sunshine, line and color! When you get all
that, you don’t bother about fish.”
“Evelyn waits for some tea, and you might give me your cup,” said Mrs.
Carson. “A telegram for you arrived two or three hours ago. Perhaps
you ought to see what it is about.”
Kit sat down and when he tore open the envelope he frowned.
“They want me at the office. I must report to Colvin, the manager, at
ten o’clock in the morning, and he does not apologize for bothering
me. If I dared refuse, I wouldn’t go.”
“Perhaps they want you to design a liner,” Ledward remarked.
“The telegram does not indicate anything like that, but the fellow
states he expects me to be there. Politeness would cost an extra
twopence; they’re a parsimonious lot,” said Kit, and turned to Mrs.
Carson. “Well, I suppose I must get the evening train. May I use the
car?”
Mrs. Carson agreed, and soon afterwards Kit drove to the station. When
he reached the town at the river mouth, he pulled out his watch, and
after pondering for a few moments, started for Blake’s flat.
The night was hot, shipyard and steel works smoke floated across the
grimy houses, and the street was crowded. After the spacious moors and
the calm at Netherhall, the noisy traffic jarred; Kit shrank from the
smell of stale fish by the dark shops, and when he was stopped by the
crowd coming from a glittering music hall he frowned. He had not
bothered about things like that before, but he admitted he was
annoyed. His glorious day had not ended as he had thought, and the
manager’s call was ominous. Blake, however, might know something about
it, and Kit pushed savagely through the noisy groups that blocked the
pavement.
When he got to the flat, Blake was not at home. Mrs. Blake said he had
gone to a seaport where a dredger the company had built was at work.
She forced Kit to stay for supper and he remarked that her appetite
was not good. She pushed the plates about nervously, and he thought
her highly strung. When the meal was over, she rested her arms on the
table and with something of an effort faced Kit.
“Now we must talk about the telegram. You don’t know what Colvin
wants?”
“I’m altogether in the dark,” Kit replied.
Mrs. Blake’s glance was searching, but he knew she did not doubt him.
“Then, I can give you some light. The opposition boat has run her
trial and has beaten yours. She is half a knot faster, but that is not
all. She gets up steam in a shorter time.”
“It’s awkward,” said Kit, and frowned, for the news disturbed him.
“Fast steaming’s important, but I’m puzzled. Our boiler’s famous, and
we reckoned we had adapted it to the job. Robbins declared it would
beat the other.”
“Perhaps he didn’t boast. Mr. Colvin reckons the other people’s
draftsman knew the improvements you had made, and used your plans.”
“By George!” said Kit, and clenched his fist. “But it’s impossible! We
locked up the plans, and nobody but men we trust saw the boiler in the
erecting shop.”
“You don’t yet see!” said Mrs. Blake in a trembling voice. “Colvin
claims somebody at the drawing office copied the plans.”
“His notion’s ridiculous!” Kit declared, with a laugh, although the
laugh was forced. “Colvin ought to know a respectable shipbuilding
company doesn’t bribe another’s servants. Besides, he ought to know
nobody at the office would take a bribe.”
“All the same, he’s convinced your competitors got the plans. Tom was
in his private room for half an hour. Colvin was furious——”
Kit set his mouth. The thing was awkward, but he saw Mabel waited and
he felt she expected him to be frank.
“One sympathizes with Colvin, but he’s a fool. Old Robbins is
altogether trustworthy and was at the yard when the company was
floated. If we leave him out, only Tom and I could get at the
drawings.”
“Colvin argued like that, Kit. There’s the trouble!”
“Now I do see,” said Kit, in a hoarse voice, and looked at Mabel hard.
Her face got red, and then her color went. Kit thought she blushed for
her husband, and he knew her afraid. She pulled straight the
tablecloth and pushed back a plate. Her pose was stiff but her hands
shook.
“Only you and Tom,” she said. “It’s rather horrible, Kit!”
For a minute or two Kit was quiet and he looked about the room.
Although the furniture and ornaments were cheap, they had cost stern
self-denial. Mabel loved her home and to let it go would hurt, but if
Blake were forced to leave the office, they could not stay at the
flat. Tom would not get another post and to reckon on his invention’s
supporting him was rash. Kit saw Mabel doubted Tom, but although he
thought her ashamed, she was somehow resolute. Kit was sorry for her
and humiliated for his friend.
Brooding unhappily, he saw a fresh light, and thought he could account
for Mabel’s resolution. In fact, he wondered whether he had not been
very dull. Perhaps she was entitled to think for her husband; but
suppose she soon must think for another? A woman’s instinct was to
fight for her child. Unconsciously he looked up. Mrs. Blake blushed
and turned her head, and he knew his supposition accurate. Kit’s mouth
got very tight. If the company had been cheated, Mabel must not pay.
“When will Tom be back?” he inquired.
Mrs. Blake said she did not expect him for two or three days; the
dredger’s machinery did not work properly, and Tom and a foreman must
find out the defect. Kit got up, and although the effort was hard, he
smiled.
“Since Colvin gave Tom an important job, he obviously does not think
he copied the plans. When he knew our boat was beaten he got savage
and felt he must hit out, but he’s not a bad sort, and when I see him
in the morning I expect to put all straight. Anyhow, you mustn’t
bother. Colvin will soon admit Tom is not the man.”
Mrs. Blake gave him her hand, hesitated for a moment, and then let him
go. The door shut, but the panels were thin, and Kit, in the passage,
heard uneven steps and a chair crack. Then a plate jarred and he knew
Mrs. Blake had thrown herself down in the chair and stretched her arms
across the table. Kit pictured her bent head and her slack body.
Sometimes perhaps he indulged his imagination, but he knew the picture
accurate, and his look got stern.
When he reached his lodgings he lighted his pipe and reflected with
grim humor that one ought not to talk about a glorious day until the
day was gone. All the same, it was not important, and he pondered
moodily. To begin with, Blake had paid his debt and stated he was
sorry he had not taken his model to Allinson before. Moreover, the
money he gave Kit had melted, and Kit imagined his relations at
Netherhall had remarked his extravagance.
Tom stayed late at the office, and sometimes Kit went across to the
boiler shop. Then somebody left an eraser on Kit’s drawing-board, and
the eraser was Tom’s. Kit recaptured other incidents he now thought
significant, and weighing the evidence carefully, knew his friend
condemned. The trouble was, Tom’s wife must bear his punishment. Their
relations were poor and shipbuilding was very slack. Tom would not get
another post and his invention might carry him nowhere. If the engine
worked, somebody would use his model, and Tom and Allinson must
enforce their claims. A dispute about a patent was a slow and
expensive business. Then before shipbuilders tried the machine some
time must go.
Kit refused to picture Mabel and her baby in the streets. Yet the
company had been cheated, and somebody must pay. He was not going to
think about his relations; they must take the knock, but it looked as
if he had not thought much for Evelyn. Well, it was done with. He had
promised to put all straight, and his word went. Evelyn knew him, and
he had not thought they could marry for some time. He was young, and
if he could not get a post in England, he must emigrate. In the
Dominions an engineer was a useful man.
Kit knocked out his pipe, stretched his arms as if he were tired, and
resolved to go to bed. Now he thought about it, he was tired, and his
brain was dull, but he began to see his line, and that was something.
He went to bed and was soon asleep.