I never shall forget...Ros, hold on!"But I was already at the door."Good night," I called again, and went out.I went straight home, ate supper, spent a half hour with Mother, and then went to my room and to bed.The excitement was over, for good or bad the thing was done beyond recall, and Isuddenly realized that I was very tired.I fell asleep almost immediately and slept soundly until morning.I was too tired even to think.
I had plenty of time to think during the fortnight which followed and there was enough to think about.The lawyer came and the papers were signed transferring to James W.Colton the strip of land over which Denboro had excited itself for months.Each day Isat at my desk expecting Captain Dean and a delegation of indignant citizens to rush in and denounce me as a traitor and a turncoat.
Every time Sam Wheeler met me at my arrival at the bank I dreaded to look him in the face, fearing that he had learned of my action and was waiting to question me about it.In spite of all my boasts and solemn vows not to permit "Big Jim" Colton to obtain the Shore Lane I had sold it to him; he could, and it was to be expected that he would, close it at once; Denboro would make its just demand upon me for explanations, explanations which, for George and Nellie's sake, I could not give; and after that the deluge.I was sitting over a powder mine and I braced myself for the explosion.
But hours and days passed and no explosion came.The fishcarts rattled down the Lane without hindrance.Except for the little flurry of excitement caused by the coming wedding at the Dean homestead the village life moved on its lazy, uneventful jog.Icould not understand it.Why did Colton delay? He, whose one object in life was to have his own way, had it once more.Now that he had it why didn't he make use of it? Why was he holding back?
Out of pity for me? I did not believe it.Much more likely that his daughter, whose pride I had dared to offend, had taken the affair in her hands and this agony of suspense was a preliminary torture, a part of my punishment for presuming to act contrary to her imperial will.
I saw her occasionally, although I tried my best not to do so.
Once we passed each other on the street and I stubbornly kept my head turned in the other direction.I would risk no more looks such as she had given me when, in response to her father's would-be humorous suggestion, she had offered me her "congratulations."Once, too, I saw her on the bay, I was aboard the Comfort, having just anchored after a short cruise, and she went by in the canoe, her newest plaything, which had arrived by freight a few days before.A canoe in Denboro Bay was a distinct novelty; probably not since the days of the Indians had one of the light, graceful little vessels floated there, and this one carried much comment among the old salts alongshore.It was the general opinion that it was no craft for salt water.
"Them things," said Zeb Kendrick, sagely, "are all right for ponds or rivers or cricks where there ain't no tide nor sea runnin'.
Float anywheres where there's a heavy dew, they say they will.But no darter of mine should go out past the flats in one of 'em if Ihad the say.It's too big a risk."
"Yup; well, Zeb, you ain't got the say, I cal'late," observed Thoph Newcomb."And it takes more'n say to get a skiff like that one.
They tell me the metal work aboard her is silver-plated--silver or gold, I ain't sure which.Wonder the old man didn't make it solid gold while he was about it.He'd do anything for that girl if she asked him to.And she sartin does handle it like a bird! She went by my dory t'other mornin' and I swan to man if she and the canoe together wan't a sight for sore eyes.I set and watched her for twenty minutes.""Um--ye-es," grunted Zeb."And then you charged the twenty minutes in against the day's work quahaugin' you was supposed to be doin'
for me, I suppose."
"You can take out the ten cents when you pay me--if you ever do,"said Newcomb, gallantly."'Twas wuth more'n that just to look at her."The time had been when I should have agreed with Thoph.Sitting in the canoe, bare-headed, her hair tossing in the breeze, and her rounded arms swinging the light paddle, she was a sight for sore eyes, doubtless.But it was not my eyes which were sore, just then.I watched her for a moment and then bent over my engine.Idid not look up again until the canoe had disappeared beyond the Colton wharf.
I did not tell Mother that I had sold the land.I intended to do so; each morning I rose with my mind made up to tell her, and always I put off the telling until some other time.I knew, of course, that she should be told; that I ought to tell her rather than to have her learn the news from others as she certainly would at almost any moment, but I knew, too, that even to her I could not disclose my reason for selling.I must keep George's secret as he had kept mine and take the consequences with a close mouth and as much of my old indifference to public opinion as I could muster.
But I realized, only too well, that the indifference which had once been real was now only pretense.
I have said very little about George Taylor's gratitude to me, nor his appreciation of what I had done for him.The poor fellow would have talked of nothing else if I had let him.
