Kitty Hawk was on the chart--of so much he was certain--and he guessed
that it contained a shop to supply its needs. He determined to purchase
some sadly needed apparel for himself. In the shop, too, he would be
certain to find Betty.
Still a little languid from his experiences of the night, he strolled
leisurely along the sandy path. The day was clear and pleasantly warm.
On his left the sun glinted upon the now kindly sea, and on his right
the seagulls shrieked and fought above the waters of the sound. And
presently he would see Betty.
He entered the village. The few people he met greeted him with a stare
of frank curiosity, a stare generally followed by a friendly nod.
As he had anticipated, he soon came upon a building bearing a sign:
BAZAAR. DRYGOODS AND GROCERIES.
POST-OFFICE.
In front of it a wooden bench extending along the sidewalk, and three or
four lank loungers thereupon, furnished irrefutable proof that the
centre of Kitty Hawk's business activities was at hand.
He remembered that he had not had a sight of Betty for five hours, and
he pushed open the door of the "Bazaar" eager to see again the roguish
mouth.
To his disappointment, she was not in the shop. However, the proprietor,
a sandy-haired native inclining to corpulency, was prompt to supply his
needs, nor was he backward in answering Fessenden's question as to
whether or not he had seen a young woman in a white sailor-suit.
"You-all are off the sloop 'at come in jest aftah the big yacht, I
reckon. Yes, suh, yoah wife's jest been heah."
"My wife!"
He could have bitten his tongue off the next instant, for the man gave
him a sharp, not to say suspicious, look.
"Yes. The young lady's yoah wife, I reckon, suh. Her and you-all come
togethah, didn't yo'?"
"Yes--no--that is--" stammered Fessenden.
The shopkeeper stopped in the act of wrapping the assortment of
haberdashery and razors Fessenden had picked out.
"It ain't my way to quawl with good money," he said, "but I'm a
professin' Baptist, and I'm _obliged_ to say if yo' two folks have come
sailin' round these parts 'ithout bein' lawfully married--well"--he
sighed regretfully--"then, suh, you-all can't buy nothin' in my stoah."
But by this time Fessenden had recovered his wits. "No, no, man," he
said. "You don't understand. She's my daughter."
"Oh, yoah daughtah? Then it's all right, of co'se. Yes, suh, I can see
now she does favah you-all a heap." Although desirous of being
convinced, his suspicions still lingered. "But you-all are a pretty
young-lookin' fathah, that's a fact, suh."
"Forty isn't very young," returned Fessenden mendaciously. "Which way
did you say she went?"
"Why, she met some of yoah friends from the big yacht. They was in aftah
theyah mail. They-all went out togethah. Yoah friends beat you-all
consid'abul, didn't they?"
His friends on the big yacht? What was the fellow talking about?
Fessenden repressed a half-uttered question. No need to reawaken the
man's slumbering suspicions as to the character of himself and Betty! He
settled his bill, and left the "Bazaar," bundle in hand.
The shopkeeper's talk had stirred him profoundly. Betty? Good Lord! For
the first time he saw how others might look upon their enforced cruise
together. She was almost a child, true; but was she near enough to
childhood to be beyond the breath of scandal? This was a devilish mess!
He could not bear to think of himself in such a light. Far less could he
patiently endure that through any fault of his--yet his fault was only
his presence--her name should be blackened. What could he do? His feet
lagged as he pondered, his head hanging.
He knew that Aunty Landis must have borne the news of their disaster to
Sandywood. What would thoughtless Polly Cresap say when she learned that
he and the farmer's pretty daughter were not drowned after all? And
impertinent Harry Cleborne? How would Madge Yarnell judge him? With
brooding scorn, perhaps. As for Charlie Danton--Fessenden could picture
all-too-clearly his bitter smile, the scar-line twitching the corner of
his mouth. By God! he would suffer no sneer from Danton.
He wondered if any of the villagers had conveyed to Betty, even by a
look, the suspicions that accursed shopkeeper had thrust upon him! He
would find her at once. His presence might act as some sort of shield
for her.
Conscious that some one blocked his way, he glanced up sharply. Charlie
Danton stood before him--Danton, not sneering, not even smiling, but
watching him very gravely.