"Mr.Atwood," she said, "I presume you are going to be kind enough to take me to Wellmouth?""Why, Miss, I--I wan't cal'latin' to.Mr.Paine here, he's got all the gas he needs now and he'll take you over in his launch.""Oh! But you will go, if I ask you to?"
"Sartin sure."
"You have been so very kind that I dislike to ask another favor;but I hoped you would send a telegram for me.My father and mother will be very much alarmed and I must wire them at once.You will have to send it 'collect,' for," with a rueful smile, "I haven't my purse with me.""Land sakes! that'll be all right.Glad to help you out."I put in a word."It will not be necessary," I said, impatiently.
"I have money enough, Miss Colton."
I was ignored.
"Thank you so much, Mr.Atwood.You will come with me and look out for the telegram?""Yes.Yes--yes.But I don't see what you need to send no telegram for.Mr.Paine here, he telephoned to your folks last night."She looked at me and then at Joshua.
"Last night?" she repeated.
"Why yes--or this mornin' after you'd gone to bed.He was dead set on it.I could see he was 'most tired and wore out, but he wouldn't rest till he'd 'phoned your folks and told 'em you was safe and sound.Didn't seem to care nothin' about himself, but he was bound your pa and ma shouldn't worry."She turned to me.
"Did you?" she asked.
"Yes," I answered."Your father is to meet us at the Wellmouth wharf.""Why didn't you tell me?"
"I intended to.I meant to tell you when I saw you in the lighthouse, but--I forgot it."She said no more, but when Joshua, hat and boots on, met us at the door she spoke to him.
"You need not go, Mr.Atwood," she said."It will not be necessary--now.""Godfreys! I'd just as soon as not.Ruther, if anything."He hurried down to the beach.I was about to follow when a hand touched my arm.I turned, to find a pair of brown eyes, misty but wonderful, looking into mine.
"Thank you," said Miss Colton.
"Don't mention it."
"But I shall.It was thoughtful and kind.I had forgotten, or--at least--I took it for granted there was no 'phone here.But you did not forget.It was thoughtful, but--it was like you."I was breathing hard.I could not look at her.
"Don't," I said, roughly."It was nothing.Anyone with common sense would have thought of it and done it, of course.""I did not.But you-- Oh, it was like you! Always some one else and never yourself.You were worn out.You must have been, after--"with a shudder--"last night.Oh, I have so much to thank you for! I--""Come on! Heave ahead!" It was Mr.Atwood, bellowing from the beach."All aboard for Wellmouth and pints alongshore."Betsy appeared in the door behind us.
"All ready, be you?" she asked.
I could not have answered, but my companion was once more as calm and cool as the morning itself.
"All ready," she answered."Good-by, Mrs.Atwood.And thank you over and over again.You have been so kind." With a sudden flash of enthusiasm."Every one is kind.It is a beautiful world.
Good-by."
She ran lightly down the slope and I followed.
The trip to Wellmouth was of but a half hour's duration.Atwood talked all the time.Miss Colton laughed at his stories and seemed to be without a care.She scarcely looked at me during the passage, and if she caught me looking at her and our glances met she turned away.On the wharf was a big automobile, surrounded by a gaping crowd of small boys and 'longshore loafers.
We drew up beside the landing.Our feminine passenger sprang ashore and ran up the steps, to be seized in her father's arms.
Mrs.Colton was there also, babbling hysterically.I watched and listened for a moment.Then I started the engine.
"Shove off," I ordered.The lightkeeper was astonished.
"Ain't ye goin' ashore?" he demanded.
"No," I answered, curtly."I'm going home.Shove off."The launch was fifty feet from the pier when I heard a shout.
Colton was standing on the wharf edge, waving his hand.Beside him stood his daughter, her mother's arms about her.
"Here! Paine!" shouted Colton."Come back! Come back and go home with us in the car.There is plenty of room."I did not answer.
"Come back! Come back, Paine!" he shouted again.Mrs.Colton raised her head from her daughter's shoulder.
"James! James!" she cautioned, without taking the trouble to lower her voice, "don't make a scene.Let him go in his dreadful boat, if he prefers to.""Paine!" cried her husband again.
"I must look out for the launch," I shouted."I shall be home almost as soon as you are.Good-by."I left the lightkeeper at his island.He refused to accept a cent from me, except in payment for the gasolene, and declared he had had a "fust-rate night of it.""Come and see us again, Mr.Paine," he said."Come any time and fetch your lady along.She's a good one, she is, and nice-lookin', don't talk! You're a lucky critter, did you know it? Haw! haw!
Good-by."
The Comfort never made better time than on that homeward trip.Ianchored her at her moorings, went ashore in the skiff, and hastened up to the house.It was past ten o'clock and I would be over an hour late at the bank.A fine beginning for my first day in charge of the institution!
The dining-room door was open, but no one was in the dining-room.
The kitchen door, however, was shut and from behind it I heard Dorinda's voice.
"You can get right out of this house," she said."I don't care if you've got a mortgage on the rest of the Cape! You ain't got one on this house, and you nor nobody else shall stay in it and talk that way.There's the door.""Dorindy!" wailed another voice--Lute's."You mustn't talk so--to him! Don't you realize--""I realize that if I had a husband instead of a jellyfish Ishouldn't have to talk.Be still, you!"
A third voice made itself heard.
"All right," it growled."I ain't anxious to stay here any longer than is necessary.Bein' an honest, decent man, I'm ashamed to be seen here as it is.But you can tell that low-lived sneak, Ros Paine, that--"I opened the door.
"You may tell him yourself, Captain Dean," said I."What is it?"
