PUPPY PLAY
"BELL, may I speak to you a moment?" said Margaret.
Bell looked up from a critical inspection of the _Tintinnabula_, which
had been somewhat injured in the race. "Certainly, May Margaret!" she
said. "Do you want to know why my poor boatie did not win? I have just
found out." Then, looking up, and seeing Margaret's disturbed face, she
rose instantly.
"Something is wrong?" she said, quickly. "Come this way, under the
trees, where it is quiet. You have had no bad news, dear?"
"Oh, no!" said Margaret. "But--Bell, I have something very disagreeable
to tell you. It seems terrible to say anything that may make trouble,
but nothing makes so much trouble as untruth, and I do think you ought
to know this. I don't think the _Jollycumpop_ really won the race!"
"My dear Margaret! she came in well ahead; didn't you see--"
"Listen, Bell!" and Margaret told in a few words the story of the
dropped oar.
Bell listened with keen attention, and when Margaret had finished,
whistled two bars of the Siegfried _motif_ very correctly before she
spoke.
"The little animal!" she said at last. "Well, Margaret, do you know, the
best thing to do, in my opinion, is--to say nothing about it, at
present."
"But--Bell! Gerald really won!"
"I know! but, even as it is, Jerry can hardly keep his hands off Claud.
My one prayer is that we may be able to get the boy off to-morrow
without an open quarrel breaking out. You see, Margaret, when they were
little, it was all right for Jerry to thrash him. He did it punctually
and thoroughly, every time they met, and it was very good for the boy;
but now of course it is out of the question."
"Why did he come here?" inquired Margaret. "Did ever any one manage to
make so much trouble in so short a time? the very air seems changed."
Bell shrugged her shoulders. "His mother made him come, probably," she
said. "He is really devoted to his mother; when you see him with her,
you forgive a great deal. She is very fond of my father, and is always
hoping that he may be able to influence Claud, and to appreciate him.
After all, the boy has no father, and he has been systematically spoiled
ever since he was born. I wish to-morrow were over."
"Then," said Margaret, slowly, "I am to say nothing about this matter."
"Please not!" said her friend. "My dear, I see you are troubled, because
you saw the horrid thing done; and you don't think it right to conceal
the truth, even for a time. I am just as angry as you, but remember,
there is 'a time to speak and a time to be silent.' This is a time to be
silent, I am very sure; if we were to tell the boys now, it would be a
match thrown into a powder-magazine. To-morrow, when Claud is safely off
to his Dunderblincks, we will tell them; there will be an explosion
then, but it will do no harm; and in a day or two the two boats can have
a race by themselves, and that will decide the case. Are you convinced,
Justitia?"
"Entirely!" said Margaret. "You are very wise, Bell; I suppose I was too
angry to see clearly; I have never been so angry in my life. As you say,
I suppose it is because I saw it; and it _was_ a horrid thing to see. I
too wish to-morrow were over."
* * * * *
The morrow came, and the morning passed peacefully enough. The wagon was
ordered which was to carry the visitor to the evening train. The elders
began to breathe freely, and it was with a mind comparatively at rest
that Mr. Merryweather strolled down to the float after dinner, to
inspect a boat which had been hauled up for repairs. The other
"menfolks" of the family followed him, and all stood round after the
fashion of their kind, saying little, but enjoying themselves in their
own way.
"I'd caulk her a bit, Jerry," said the Chief; "and then give her a
couple of coats of shellac. She'll do then for the rest of the season."
"All right, Pater!" said Jerry.
"And if it be possible," his father went on, "so far as in you lies, do
not spill the shellac about. Shellac is an excellent thing in its place,
but I don't like it on the seat of my chair, where I found it this
morning, nor sprinkled over the new 'Century,' as it was last night. And
it isn't as if there were any to spare; the can is very low."
"I know!" said Gerald, penitently. "I am awfully sorry, Pater. I threw a
cushion at Fergs, and it upset the can. I scraped up as much as I could;
I think there is enough left for this job. If not, would that varnish
do?"
"Varnish--" said Mr. Merryweather; and he plunged into a dissertation
upon the abominations of most varnishes and the iniquities of their
makers. Gerald replied, defending certain kinds for certain purposes;
the others chimed in, and a heated discussion was going on, when Claud
Belleville joined the party. In spotless gray tweeds, with a white
Manila hat and a lavender necktie, he made a singular contrast to the
campers in their flannel shirts and dingy corduroys.
At his appearance, Gerald rose from his squatting posture at the stern
of the boat, while Phil and Jack amiably made way for the newcomer at
the edge of the wharf, where, for some unexplained reason, men always
like to stand. Claud, finding himself between Gerald and his father,
turned toward the latter with an air of cheerful benevolence.
"Cousin Miles," he said, "you must promise me, you really must, to come
to us at Bar Harbor before the end of the summer. I gave my word to
Mamma that I would induce you to come. She longs to see you."
"I should like very much to see her," said Mr. Merryweather. "We were
always very good friends, your mother and I. Give her my love, and tell
her that some time when she is in New York I shall run on to see her;
possibly this autumn, before you sail. It would not be possible for me
to leave here now."
"Oh, but yes!" cried Mr. Belleville, airily. "It could be possible,
Cousin Miles. Here are the boys, absolutely _au fait_ in bog-trotting of
every description; in fact, suited to the life--in all its aspects." He
swept Gerald with a comprehensive glance, from his mop of red hair,
tanned into rust-color, to his feet, clad in superannuated "sneakers."
"They can do all the honors of the place as they should be done," he
added. "But you, Cousin Miles, you must positively come to Bar Harbor.
You live too much the life of the fields. Mamma is constantly deploring
it. We will show you a little life, Mamma and I. I will put you up at my
Club, and take you out in my new auto; in a week, you will not know
yourself, I give you my word. Oh, very, very, very!"
As the speaker stood beaming benevolence at Mr. Merryweather, and
diffusing contempt among the rest of the party, two hands were laid on
his shoulders; hands which gripped like steel, and propelled him forward
with irresistible force. He staggered, struggled to save himself--and
the next instant disappeared with a loud splash beneath the water.
Gerald confronted his father with a face of white fire.
"I told him, sir, plainly and distinctly, that if he patronized you I
should duck him!" he said. "He has had fair warning: this has gone on
long enough."
"Gerald," said Mr. Merryweather, gravely, "you are behaving like a
foolish and ill-tempered child. I am fully able to take care of myself.
We will talk of this later. Meantime you will apologize to your cousin."
"Oh, certainly, sir! I intended to, of course."
While this brief colloquy had been going on, Phil and Jack, with
sparkling eyes, waited at the edge of the wharf for the reappearance of
Mr. Belleville. Up he came presently, splashing and sputtering, his eyes
flashing angry sparks. Phil held out a hand; a vigorous pull, a
scramble, and he stood once more on the wharf. Gerald walked up to him
at once. "I beg your pardon, Claud!" he said. "I had no business to do
it, and I apologize."
Claud gave a spiteful laugh, and shook himself in his cousin's
direction, spattering him with drops. "Don't mention it, dear fellow!"
he said, through his chattering teeth. "It serves me right for expecting
civilized manners in the backwoods. This no doubt appears to you an
exquisite pleasantry, and its delicacy will be appreciated, no doubt, by
others of your circle. _Enfin_, in the presence of your father, whom I
respect, I can but accept your apology. Since you are sorry--"
"I did not say I was sorry!" Gerald broke in. "I said I begged your
pardon."
"My son, will you go at once and attend to the fire?" said Mr.
Merryweather.
"Father--"
"_At once!_" repeated Mr. Merryweather.
Gerald went.
"Phil, take your cousin in, and get him some dry clothes. His own will
be dry before the wagon comes, if you hang them by the kitchen stove.
Hurry now!"
Phil and Claud went off in surly silence, and Mr. Merryweather turned to
Jack Ferrers, who had remained an amused but somewhat embarrassed
spectator of the scene.
"Puppy play, Jack!" he said, quietly. "You have seen plenty of it in
Germany. One puppy _is_ a puppy, more's the pity, and the other has red
hair. Well! well! I did hope this could have been avoided; but we must
not let it go any further. I wish Roger were here. I wonder if you can
help me out, Jack."
"I'll do my best, sir!" said Jack, heartily.
"You see, I must go off; I ought to be at the village landing this
moment, to see about that freight that is coming. Do you think you can
keep the peace till I come back?"
"I think I can," said Jack. "I'll make a good try for it, anyhow, Mr.
Merryweather."
"That's a good lad!" said the Chief. "You could knock both their heads
together, if you put your mind--and your biceps--to it; but I hope that
will not be necessary. In any case, don't let them fight! I promised his
mother."
He nodded, and, settling himself in a boat, departed with long, powerful
strokes.
Jack, left alone, shook his curly head, and felt of his arms.
"Ah'm fit!" he said, quoting another and a bigger Jock than himself.
"But it's a pity. That fellow is not only a puppy, he is a cur. I never
saw anybody who needed a thrashing more." And he went and coiled himself
in a hammock, and prepared to keep watch.
An hour later Mr. Claud Belleville, once more dry, if somewhat shorn of
his glory, reappeared upon the scene. As he came out of his tent, Gerald
strolled carelessly out of the boat-house, his hands in his pockets.
"Cousin Rowdy, a word with you, if you please!" said Claud.
"Cousin Cad, two, if you like!" said Gerald.
"In France, where I live," Mr. Belleville resumed, "when we are
insulted, we fight."
"No! do you really?" cried Gerald, his eyes sparkling as he began
eagerly to turn back his cuffs. "Hooray! I say, shake hands, Claud. I
didn't think you had it in you. There's a bully place up behind the
woodshed. Come on!"
Claud Belleville, who really was no coward, started forward readily: but
at this moment Destiny intervened, in the shape of six foot four of John
Ferrers. Uncoiling his length from the hammock, he took two strides
forward, and lifting Gerald in his arms as if he were an infant, carried
him off bodily. Gerald, who was strong and agile as a young panther,
fought and struggled, pouring out a torrent of angry protest; but in
vain. When Jack put forth his full strength, there was no possibility of
resistance. He bore the furious lad to his tent, and throwing him on
the cot, deliberately sat down on his feet, in calm and cheerful
silence. Gerald twisted and writhed, exhausted himself in struggles,
threats, prayers; all in vain! Jack sat like a statue. Finally the boy
relapsed into sullen silence, and lay panting, his hand clenched, his
blue eyes dark with anger and chagrin.
By and by came the sound of wheels; a wagon stopped in front of the
camp. There were sounds of leave-taking; "Good-by, Claud!" "Our love to
your mother!" in various tones and modulations; then the sound of wheels
once more, rattling up the hill and away in the distance. Then Jack
Ferrers rose, and smiled down on his prostrate friend.
"Awfully sorry, old man!" he said.
Gerald was silent.
"Jerry! you're not going to cut up rough?"
"I have nothing to say," said Gerald, coldly.
"You are my guest, and manners forbid. We will change the subject, if
you please."
"Manners didn't forbid your chucking the Charmer into the drink!" said
Jack. "Ho! did you see him blink when he came up? It was worth while,
Jerry, even if I have to fight you, but I don't believe I shall. You
see, your father had to go off, and he asked me to keep the peace, and I
said I would; and I didn't see any other way, wildcat that you are. A
sweet condition the Charmer would have been in to go back to his Mamma,
if I had not done as I did!"
"I might have known the Pater was at the bottom of it!" said Gerald, his
face lightening, and his voice taking on its own kindly ring. "Fine man;
but the extent to which he won't let me thrash Claud is simply
disgusting. When it comes to setting a Megatherium on a man--"
"And to the Megatherium sitting on the man--" said Jack, laughing.
"No more o' that, Jack, if thou love me! There's the horn! Come on, and
let that flint-hearted parent see that we are all right."
The pair strolled in to supper, arm in arm, singing, to the tune of
"Home, Sweet Home!"
"Claud, Claud, sweet, sweet Claud!
There's no ass like Claud,
There is no ass like Claud!"
and were promptly silenced by Mrs. Merryweather.