Flood Tide

by Sara Ware Bassett

  CHAPTER V

  AN APPARITION

  The next morning, after loitering uneasily about the workshop asufficiently long time for Janoah Eldridge to make his appearance andfinding that his crony did not make his appearance, Willie reluctantlytook his worn visor cap down from the peg and drew it over his brows,with the remark:

  "Looks like Jan ain't headed this way to-day, either." He cast atroubled glance through the dusty, multi-paned window of the shed."Much as I'm longin' to go ahead with this model, Bob, before I gofarther I've simply got to step over to the Eldridges an' straightenhim out. There's no help fur it."

  "All right. Go ahead, Sir," reassuringly returned Bob. "I'll workwhile you're gone. Things won't be at a complete standstill."

  "I know that," Willie replied with a pleasant smile. "'Tain't thatthat's frettin' me. It's just that I don't relish the notion ofshovin' my job onto your shoulders. 'Tain't as if you'd come to Wiltonto spend your time workin'. Celestina hinted last evenin' she wasafraid you bid fair to get but mighty little rest out of your vacation.'Twas unlucky, she thought, that you hove into port just when Ihappened to be kitched with a bigger idee than common."

  "Nonsense!" Bob protested heartily. "Don't you and Aunt Tiny giveyourselves any uneasiness about me. I'm happy. I enjoy fussing roundthe shop with you, Mr. Spence. I'd far rather you took me into whatyou're doing than left me out. Besides, I don't intend to work everyminute while I'm here. Some fine day I mean to steal off by myself andexplore Wilton. I may even take a day's fishing."

  "That's right, youngster, that's right!" ejaculated Willie. "That'sthe proper spirit. If you'll just feel free to pull out when youplease it will take a load off my mind, an' I shall turn to tinkerin'with a clear conscience."

  "I will, I promise you."

  "Then that's settled," sighed the inventor with relief. "I must sayyou're about the best feller ever was to come a-visitin', Bob. Youain't a mite of trouble to anybody."

  With eyes still fastened on the bench with its chaos of tools, the oldman moved unwillingly toward the door; but on the threshold he paused.

  "I'll be back quick's I can," he called. "Likely I'll bring Jan intow. I'd full as lief not tell him what we're doin' 'til next week ifI had my choice; still, things bein' as they are, mebbe it's as wellnot to shut him out any longer. He gets miffed easy an' I wouldn'thave his feelin's hurt fur a pot of lobsters."

  With a gentle smile he waved his hand and was gone.

  Left alone in the long, low-studded room, Bob rolled up his sleeves andto a brisk whistle began to plane down some pieces of thin board.

  The bench at which he worked stood opposite a broad window from which,framed in a wreath of grapevine, he could see the bay and the shelvingdunes beyond it. A catboat, with sails close-hauled, was making herway out of the channel, a wake of snowy foam churning behind her in theblue water. Through the door of the shed swept a breeze that rustledthe shavings on the floor and blended the fragrance of newly cut woodwith the warm perfume of sweet fern from the adjoining meadow.

  For all its untidiness and confusion, its litter of boards, tools andbattered paint pots, the shop was unquestionably one of the most homeycorners of the Spence cottage. Its rough, unsheathed walls, mellowedto a dull buff tone, were here and there adorned with prints culled byWillie from magazines and newspapers. Likenesses of Lincoln andRoosevelt flanked the windows with an American flag above them, and aseries of battleships and army scenes beneath. The inventor's taste,however, had not run entirely to patriotic subjects, for scatteredalong the walls, where shelves sagged with their burden of oilcans,putty, nails and fishing tackle, were a variety of nauticalreproductions in color--a prize yacht heeling in the wind; a reach ofrough sea whose giant combers swirled about a wreck; glimpses of marshand dune typical of the land of the Cape dweller.

  An air-tight stove, the solitary defence against cold and storm, stoodin the corner, and before its rusty hearth a rickety chair and anoverturned soap box were suggestively placed. But perhaps what told anobserver more about Willie Spence than did anything else was a bunch ofrarely beautiful sabbatia blooming in a pickle bottle and a wee blackkitten who disported herself unmolested among the tools cluttering thedeeply scarred workbench.

  She was a mischievous kitten, a spoiled kitten; one who vented hercaprice on everything that had motion. Did a curl of shavings drop tothe ground, instantly Jezebel was at hand to catch it up in herdiminutive paws; toss it from her; steal up and fall upon it again; anddragging it between her feet, roll over and over with it in a mad orgyof delight. A shadow, a string, a flicker of metal was the signal fora frolic. Let one's mood be austere as a monk's, with a single twistof her absurdly tiny body this small creature shattered its gravity toatoms. There was no such thing as dignity in Jezebel's presence.Already three times Bob Morton had lifted the mite off the table andthree times back she had come, leaping in the path of his gleamingplane as if its metallic whir and glimmering reflections were designedsolely for her amusement. In spite of his annoyance the man hadlaughed and now, stooping, he caught up the tormentor and held heraloft.

  "You minx!" he cried, shaking the sprite gently. "What do you think Iam here for--to play with you?"

  The kitten blinked at him out of her round blue eyes.

  "You'll be getting your fur mittens cut off the next thing you know,"went on Bob severely. "Scamper out of here!"

  He set the little creature on the floor, aimed her toward the doorwayand gave her a stimulating push.

  With a coquettish leap headlong into the sunshine darted Jezebel, onlyto come suddenly into collision with a stranger who had crossed thegrass and was at that instant about to enter the workshop.

  The newcomer was a girl, tall and slender, with lustrous masses of darkhair that swept her cheek in wind-tossed ringlets. She had acomplexion vivid with health, an undignified little nose and a mouthwhose short upper lip lent to her face a half childish, half poutingexpression. But it was in her eyes that one forgot all else,--eyeslarge, brown, and softly deep, with a quality that held the glancecompellingly. Her gown of thin pink material dampened by the sea airclung to her figure in folds that accentuated her lithe youthfulness,and as she stumbled over the kitten in full flight she broke into adelicious laugh that showed two rows of pretty, white teeth and luredfrom hiding an alluring dimple.

  "You ridiculous little thing!" she exclaimed, snatching up the fleeingculprit before she could make her escape and placing her in the warmcurve of her neck. "Do you know you almost tripped me up? Where areyour manners?"

  Jezebel merely stared. So did Robert Morton.

  The girl and the kitten were too disconcerting a spectacle. By herselfJezebel was tantalizing enough; but in combination with the creaturewho stood laughing on the threshold, the sight was so bewildering thatit not only overwhelmed but intoxicated.

  It was evident the visitor was unconscious of his presence, for insteadof addressing him, she continued to toy with the wisp of animationsnuggled against her cheek.

  "I do believe, Willie," she observed, without glancing up, "thatJezebel grows more fascinating every time I see her."

  Bob did not answer. He was in no mood to discuss Jezebel. If hethought of her at all it was to contrast her inky fur with the whitethroat against which she nestled and speculate as to whether she sensedwhat a thrice-blessed kitten she was. It did flash through his mind ashe stood there that the two possessed a bewitching, irresistiblesomething in common, a something he was at a loss to characterize. Itdid not matter, however, for he could not have defined even thesimplest thing at the moment, and this attribute of the kitten's andthe girl's was very complex.

  Perhaps it was the silence that at last caused the visitor to raise hereyes and look at him inquiringly. Then he saw a tremor of surprisesweep over her, and a wave of crimson surge into her face.

  "I beg your pardon," she gasped. "I thought Willie was here."

  "Mr. Spence has stepped over to the Eldredges'. I'm expect
ing him backevery instant," Bob returned.

  The girl's lashes fell. They were long and very beautiful as they layin a fringe against her cheek, yet exquisite as they were he longed tosee her eyes again.

  "I'm Miss Morton's nephew from Indiana," the young man managed tostammer, feeling some explanation might bridge the gulf ofembarrassment. "I am visiting here."

  "Oh!"

  Persistently she studied the toe of her shoe. If Bob had thought herappealing before, now, demure against the background of budding appletrees, with a shaft of sunlight on her hair, and the kitten cuddledagainst her breast, she put to rout the few intelligent ideas remainingto the young man.

  Wonderingly, helplessly, he watched while she continued to caress theminute creature in her arms.

  "Are you staying here long?" she asked at length, gaining courage tolook up.

  "I--eh--yes; that is--I hope so," Bob answered with sudden fervor.

  "You like Wilton then."

  "Tremendously!"

  "Most strangers think the place has great beauty," observed his guestinnocently.

  "There's more beauty here in Wilton than I ever saw before in all mylife," burst out Bob, then stopped suddenly and blushed.

  His listener dimpled.

  "Really?" she remarked, raising her delicately arched brows. "You areenthusiastic about the Cape, aren't you!"

  "Some parts of it."

  "Where else have you been?"

  The question came with disturbing directness.

  "Oh--why--Middleboro, Tremont, Buzzard's Bay and Harwich," answered theman hurriedly. As he named the list he was conscious that it smackedrather too suggestively of a brakeman's, and he saw she thought so too,for she turned aside to hide a smile.

  "You might sit down; won't you?" he suggested, eager that she shouldnot depart.

  Flecking the dust from the soap box with his handkerchief, he draggedit forward and placed it near the workbench.

  As she bent her head to accept the crude throne with a queen'sgraciousness, Jezebel, roused into playful humor, thrust forth herclaws and, encountering Bob as he rose from his stooping posture, fixedthem with random firmness in his necktie.

  Now it chanced that the tie was a four-in-hand of raw silk, very choicein color but of a fatally loose oriental weave; and once entangled inits meshes the task of extricating its delicate threads from the clutchthat gripped them seemed hopeless. It apparently failed to dawn oneither of the young persons brought into such embarrassingly closecontact by the dilemma that the kitten could be handed over to Bob; orthat the tie might be removed. Instead they drew together, tryingvainly to liberate the struggling Jezebel from her imprisonment. Itwas not a simple undertaking and to add to its difficulties theungrateful beast, irritated by their endeavors, began to protestviolently.

  "She'll tear your tie all to pieces," cried the stranger.

  "No matter. I don't mind, if she doesn't scratch you."

  "Oh, I am not afraid of her. If you can hold her a second longer, Ithink I can free the last claw."

  As the girl toiled at her precarious mission, Bob could feel her warmbreath fan his cheek and could catch the fragrant perfume of her hair.So far as he was concerned, Jezebel might retain her hold on hisnecktie forever. But, alas, the slim, white fingers were too deft andhe heard at last a triumphant:

  "There!"

  At the same instant the offending kitten was placed on the floor.

  "You little monkey!" cried the man, smiling down at the furry object athis feet.

  "Isn't she!" echoed the visitor sympathetically. "There she goes, theimp! What is left of your tie? Let me look at it."

  "It's all right, thank you."

  "There is just one thread ruffed up. I could fix it if I had a pin."

  From her gown she produced one, but as she did so a spray of wild rosesslipped to the ground.

  "You've dropped your flowers," said Bob, picking them up.

  "Have I? Thank you. They are withered, anyway, I'm afraid."

  Tossing the rosebuds on the bench, she began to draw into smoothnessthe silken loop that defaced the tie.

  "There!" she exclaimed, glancing up into his eyes and tilting her headcritically to one side. "That is ever so much better. You wouldhardly notice it. Now I really must go. I have bothered you quiteenough."

  "You have not bothered me at all," contradicted Bob emphatically.

  "But I know I must have," she protested. "I've certainly delayed you.Besides, it doesn't look as if Willie was coming back."

  "Isn't there something I can do for you?"

  "No, thank you. It was nothing important. In fact, it doesn't matterat all. I just came to see if he could fix the clasp of my beltbuckle. It is broken, and he is so clever at mending things that Ithought perhaps he could mend this."

  "Let me see it."

  "Oh, I couldn't think of troubling you."

  "But I should be glad to fix it if I could. If not, I could at leasthand it over to Willie's superior skill."

  She laughed.

  "I'm not certain whether Willie's skill is superior," was her archretort.

  "Why not make a test case and find out?"

  Still she hesitated.

  "You're afraid to trust your property to me," Bob said, piqued by herindecision.

  "No, I'm not," was the quick response. "See? Here is the belt."

  She drew from her pocket a narrow strip of white leather to which ahandsome silver buckle was attached and placed it in his hand.

  He took it, inspected its fastening and looked with beating pulse atthe girdle's slender span.

  "Do you think it can be mended?" she inquired anxiously.

  "Of course it can."

  "Oh, I'm so glad!"

  "Give me a few days and you shall have it back as good as new."

  "That will be splendid!" Her eyes shone with starry brightness. "Yousee," she went on, "it was given me on my birthday by my--my--by someone I care a great deal for--by my--" she stopped, embarrassed.

  Robert Morton was too well mannered to put into words the interrogationthat trembled on his lips, but he might as well have done so, sotransparent was the questioning glance that traveled to her left handin search of the telltale solitaire. Even though his search was notrewarded, he felt certain that the hand concealed in the folds of herdress wore the fatal ring. Of course, mused he, with a shrug, he mighthave guessed it. No such beauty as this was wandering unclaimed aboutthe world. Well, her fiance, whoever he might be, was a lucky devil!Without doubt, confound his impudence, his arm had traveled the pathwayof that band of leather scores of times.

  One couldn't blame the dog! For want of a better vent for hisirritation, Bob took up the belt and again examined it. He had beenquite safe in boasting that the bauble should be returned to its owneras good as new, for although he did not confess it, on its silver clasphe had discovered the manufacturer's name. If the buckle could not berepaired, another of similar pattern should replace it. Unquestionablyhe was a fool to go to this trouble and expense for nothing. Yet wasit quite for nothing? Was it not worth while to win even a smile fromthis creature whose approval gave one the sense of being knighted?True, titles meant but little in these days of democracy but whenbestowed by such royalty-- She broke in on his reverie by extendingher hand. "Good-by," she said. "You have been very kind, Mr.--"

  "My name is Morton--Bob Morton."

  "Why! Then you must be the son of Aunt Tiny's brother?"

  "_Aunt Tiny_!"

  As she laughed he saw again the ravishing dimple and her even, whiteteeth.

  "Oh, she isn't my real aunt," she explained. "I just call her thatbecause I am so fond of her. I adore both her and Willie."

  "Who is takin' my name in vain?" called a cheery voice, as the littleinventor rounded the corner of the shed and entered the room."Delight--as I live! I might 'a' known it was you. Well, well, dearchild, if I'm not glad to see you."

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and b
eamed into her blushing facewhile she bent and spread the loops of his soft tie out beneath hischin.

  "How nice of you, Willie dear, to come back before I had gone!" shesaid, arranging the bow with exaggerated care.

  "Bless your heart, I'd 'a' come back sooner had I known you were here,"declared he affectionately. "What brings you, little lady?"

  She pointed to the trinket dangling from Robert Morton's grasp.

  "I snapped the clasp of my belt buckle, Willie--that lovely silverbuckle Zenas Henry gave me," she confessed with contrition. "How doyou suppose I could have been so careless? I have been heart-brokenever since."

  "Nonsense! Nonsense!" cried the old man, patting her hand. "Don't gogrievin' over a little thing like that. 'Tain't worth it. Break allthe buckles ever was made, but not your precious heart, my dear. Likeas not the thing can be mended."

  "Mr. Morton says it can."

  "If Bob says so, it's as good as done already," replied Williereassuringly. "He's a great one with tools. Why, if he was to stay inWilton, he'd be cuttin' me all out. So you an' he have been gettin'acquainted, eh, while I was gone? That's right. I want he should knowwhat nice folks we've got in Wilton 'cause it's his first visit to theCape, an' if he don't like us mebbe he'll never come again."

  "I thought Mr. Morton had visited other places on Cape Cod," observedDelight, darting a mischievous glance at the abashed young man opposite.

  "No, indeed!" blundered Willie. "He ain't been nowheres. Somebody'sgot to show him all the sights. Mebbe if you get time you'll take ahand in helpin' educate him."

  "I should be glad to!"

  Notwithstanding the prim response and her unsmiling lips, the young manhad a discomfited presentiment that she was laughing at him, and eventhe farewell she flashed to him over her shoulder had a hectoringquality in it that did not altogether restore his self-esteem.

  "Who is she?" he gasped, when he had watched her out of sight.

  "That girl? Do you mean to say you don't know--an' you a-talkin' toher half the mornin'?" demanded the old man with amazement. "Why, itnever dawned on me to introduce you to her. I thought of course youknew already who she was. Everybody in town knows Delight Hathaway,an' loves her, too," he added softly. "She's Zenas Henry's daughter,the one he brought ashore from the _Michleen_ an' adopted."

  "Oh!"

  A light began to break in on Bob's understanding.

  "It's Zenas Henry's motor-boat we're tinkerin' with now," went onWillie.

  "I see!"

  He waited eagerly for further information, but evidently his hostconsidered he had furnished all the data necessary, for instead ofenlarging on the subject he approached the bench and began to inspectthe model.

  "I s'pose, with her bein' here, you didn't get ahead much while I wasgone," he ventured, an inflection of disappointment in his tone.

  "No, I didn't."

  "I didn't accomplish nothin', either," the little old man went on."Jan warn't to home; he'd gone fishin'."

  His companion did not reply at once.

  "I don't quite get my soundin's on Jan," he at length ruminated aloud."Somethin's wrong with him. I feel it in my bones."

  "Perhaps not."

  "There is, I tell you. I know Janoah Eldridge from crown to heel, an'it ain't like him to go off fishin' by himself."

  "I shouldn't fret about it if I were you," Bob said in an attempt tocomfort the disquieted inventor. "I'm sure he'll turn up all right."

  Had the conversation been of a three-master in a gale; of buriedtreasure; or of the ultimate salvation of the damned, the speaker wouldat that moment have been equally optimistic.

  The universe had suddenly become too radiant a place to harborcalamity. Wilton was a paradise like the first Eden--a garden ofsmiles, of dimples, of blushing cheeks--and of silver buckles.

  He began to whistle softly to himself; then, sensing that Willie wasstill unconvinced by his sanguine prediction, he added:

  "And even if Mr. Eldridge shouldn't come back, I guess you and I couldmanage without him."

  "That's all very well up to a certain point, youngster," was theretort. "But who's goin' to see me through this job after you've takenwing?"

  He pointed tragically to the beginnings of the model.

  "Maybe I shan't take wing," announced Bob, looking absently at thecluster of withered roses in his hand. "You--you see," he went on,endeavoring to speak in off-hand fashion, "I've been thinking thingsover and--and--I've about come to the conclusion--"

  "Yes," interrupted Willie eagerly.

  "That it is perhaps better for me to stay here until we get theinvention completed."

  "You don't mean until the thing's done!"

  "If it doesn't take too long, yes."

  "Hurray!" shouted his host. "That's prime!" he rubbed his handstogether. "Under those conditions we'll pitch right in an' scurry thework along fast as ever we can."

  Robert Morton looked chagrined.

  "I don't know that we need break our necks to rush the thing through ata pace like that," he said, fumbling awkwardly with the flowers. "Afew weeks more or less wouldn't make any great difference."

  "But I thought you said it was absolutely necessary for you to gohome--that you had important business in New York--that--" the old manbroke off dumbfounded.

  Bob shook his head. "Oh, no, I think my affairs can be arranged," wasthe sanguine response. "A piece of work like this would give me lotsof valuable experience, and I'm not sure but it is my duty to--"

  The little old inventor scanned the speaker's flushed cheeks, hisaverted eye and the drooping blossoms in his hand; then his browcleared and he smiled broadly:

  "Duty ain't to be shunned," announced he with solemnity. "An' as forexperience, take it by an' large, I ain't sure but what you'll get aheap of it by lingerin' on here--more, mebbe, than you realize."