CHAPTER XVI
En Famille
Horace Gower's town house straddled the low crest of a narrow peninsulawhich juts westward into the Gulf from the heart of the business sectionof Vancouver. The tip of this peninsula ends in the green forest ofStanley Park, which is like no other park in all North America, eitherin its nature or its situation. It is a sizable stretch of ancientforest, standing within gunshot of skyscrapers, modern hotels, greatdocks where China freighters unload tea and silk. Hard on the flank of amodern seaport this area of primitive woodland broods in the summer sunand the winter rains not greatly different from what it must have beenin those days when only the Siwash Indians penetrated its shadowydepths.
The rear of Gower's house abutted against the park, neighbor to greattall firs and massive, branchy cedars and a jungle of fern and thicketbisected by a few paths and drives, with the sea lapping all about threesides of its seven-mile boundary. From Gower's northward windows theCapilano canyon opened between two mountains across the Inlet. Southwardother windows gave on English Bay and beach sands where one could counta thousand swimmers on a summer afternoon.
The place was only three blocks from Abbott's. The house itself was notunlike Abbott's, built substantially of gray stone and set in amplegrounds. But it was a good deal larger, and both within and without itwas much more elaborate, as befitted the dwelling of a successful manwhose wife was socially a leader instead of a climber,--like so many ofVancouver's newly rich. There was order and system and a smooth,unobtrusive service in that home. Mrs. Horace A. Gower rather pridedherself on the noiseless, super-efficient operation of her domesticmachinery. Any little affair was sure to go off without a hitch, to bequite charming, you know. Mrs. Gower had a firmly established prestigealong certain lines. Her business in life was living up to thatprestige, not only that it might be retained but judiciously expanded.
Upon a certain March morning, however, Mrs. Gower seemed to be a trifleshaken out of her usual complacency. She sat at a rather late breakfast,facing her husband, flanked on either hand by her son and daughter.There was an injured droop to Mrs. Gower's mouth, a slightly indignantair about her. The conversation had reached a point where Mrs. Gowerfelt impelled to remove her pince-nez and polish them carefully with abit of cloth. This was an infallible sign of distress.
"I cannot see the least necessity for it, Norman," she resumed in aslightly agitated, not to say petulant tone. "It's simply ridiculous fora young man of your position to be working at common labor with suchterribly common people. It's degrading."
Norman was employing himself upon a strip of bacon.
"That's a mere matter of opinion," he replied at length. "Somebody hasto work. I have to do something for myself sometime, and it suits me tobegin now, in this particular manner which annoys you so much. I don'tmind work. And those copper claims are a rattling good prospect.Everybody says so. We'll make a barrel of money out of them yet. Whyshouldn't I peel off my coat and go at it?"
"By the way," Gower asked bluntly, "what occasioned this flying trip toEngland?"
Norman pushed back his chair a trifle, thrust his hands in his trouserspockets and looked straight at his father.
"My own private business," he answered as bluntly.
"You people," he continued after a brief interval, "seem to think I'mstill in knee breeches."
But this did not serve to turn his mother from her theme.
"It is quite unnecessary for you to attempt making money in such aprimitive manner," she observed. "We have plenty of money. There isplenty of opportunity for you in your father's business, if you must bein business."
"Huh!" Norman grunted. "I'm no good in my father's business, noranywhere else, in his private opinion. It's no good, mamma. I'm on myown for keeps. I'm going through with it. I've been a jolly fizzle sofar. I'm not even a blooming war hero. You just stop bothering aboutme."
"I really can't think what's got into you," Mrs. Gower complained in atone which implied volumes of reproach. "It's bad enough for your fatherand Betty to be running off and spending so much time at that miserablecottage when so much is going on here. I'm simply exhausted keepingthings up without any help from them. But this vagary of yours--I reallycan't consider it anything else--is most distressing. To live in a dirtylittle cabin and cook your own food, to associate with such men--it'ssimply dreadful! Haven't you any regard for our position?"
"I'm fed up with our position," Norman retorted. A sullen look wasgathering about his mouth. "What does it amount to? A lot of peoplerunning around in circles, making a splash with their money. You, andthe sort of thing you call our position, made a sissy of me right uptill the war came along. There was nothing I was good for but parlortricks. And you and everybody else expected me to react from that andset things afire overseas. I didn't. I didn't begin to come up to yourexpectations at all. But if I didn't split Germans with a sword or doany heroics I did get some horse sense knocked into me--unbelievable asthat may appear to you. I learned that there was a sort of satisfactionin doing things. I'm having a try at that now. And you needn't imagineI'm going to be wet-nursed along by your money.
"As for my associates, and the degrading influences that fill you withsuch dismay," Norman's voice flared into real anger, "they may not havemuch polish--but they're human. I like them, so far as they go. I'vebeen frostbitten enough by the crowd I grew up with, since I came home,to appreciate being taken for what I am, not what I may or may not havedone. Since I have discovered myself to have a funny sort of feelingabout living on your money, it behooves me to get out and make whatmoney I need for myself--in view of the fact that I'm going to bemarried quite soon. I am going to marry"--Norman rose and looked down athis mother with something like a flicker of amusement in his eyes as heexploded his final bombshell--"a fisherman's daughter. A poor but worthymaiden," he finished with unexpected irony.
"Norman!" His mother's voice was a wail. "A common fisherman'sdaughter? Oh, my son, my son."
She shed a few beautifully restrained tears.
"A common fisherman's daughter. Exactly," Norman drawled. "Terriblething, of course. Funny the fish scales on the family income nevertrouble you."
Mrs. Gower glared at him through her glasses.
"Who is this--this woman?" she demanded.
"Dolly," Betty whispered under her breath.
"Miss Dolores Ferrara of Squitty Cove," Norman answered imperturbably.
"A foreigner besides. Great Heavens! Horace," Mrs. Gower appealed to herhusband, "have you no influence whatever with your son?"
"Mamma," Betty put in, "I assure you you are making a tremendous fussabout nothing. I can tell you that Dolly Ferrara is really quite a nicegirl. _I_ think Norman is rather lucky."
"Thanks, Bet," Norman said promptly. "That's the first decent thing I'veheard in this discussion."
Mrs. Gower turned the battery of her indignant eyes on her daughter.
"You, I presume," she said spitefully, "will be thinking of marryingsome fisherman next?"
"If she did, Bessie," Gower observed harshly, "it would only be historyrepeating itself."
Mrs. Gower flushed, paled a little, and reddened again. She glared--noother word describes her expression--at her husband for an instant. Thenshe took refuge behind her dignity.
"There is a downright streak of vulgarity in you, Horace," she said,"which I am sorry to see crop out in my children."
"Thank you, mamma," Betty remarked evenly.
Mrs. Gower whirled on Norman.
"I wash my hands of you completely," she said imperiously. "I am ashamedof you."
"I'd rather you'd be ashamed of me," Norman retorted, "than that Ishould be ashamed of myself."
"And you, sir,"--he faced his father, speaking in a tone of formalrespect which did not conceal a palpable undercurrent of defiance--"youalso, I suppose, wash your hands of me?"
Gower looked at him for a second. His face was a mask, devoid ofexpression.
"You're a man grown," he said. "Your mother has
expressed herself as shemight be expected to. I say nothing."
Norman walked to the door.
"I don't care a deuce of a lot what you say or what you don't say, noreven what you think," he flung at them angrily, with his hand on theknob. "I have my own row to hoe. I'm going to hoe it my own style. Andthat's all there is to it. If you can't even wish me luck, why, you cango to the devil!"
"Norman!" His mother lifted her voice in protesting horror. Gowerhimself only smiled, a bit cynically. And Betty looked at the door whichclosed upon her brother with a wistful sort of astonishment.
Gower first found occasion for speech.
"While we are on the subject of intimate family affairs, Bessie," headdressed his wife casually, "I may as well say that I shall have tocall on you for some funds--about thirty thousand dollars. Fortythousand would be better."
Mrs. Gower stiffened to attention. She regarded her husband with an airof complete disapproval, slightly tinctured with surprise.
"Oh," she said, "really?"
"I shall need that much properly to undertake this season's operations,"he stated calmly, almost indifferently.
"Really?" she repeated. "Are you in difficulties again?"
"Again?" he echoed. "It is fifteen years since I was in a corner where Ineeded any of your money."
"It seems quite recent to me," Mrs. Gower observed stiffly.
"Am I to understand from that that you don't care to advance me whateversum I require?" he asked gently.
"I don't see why I should," Mrs. Gower replied after a second'sreflection, "even if I were quite able to do so. This place costssomething to keep up. I can't very well manage on less than two thousanda month. And Betty and I must be clothed. You haven't contributed muchrecently, Horace."
"No? I had the impression that I had been contributing pretty freely forthirty years," Gower returned dryly. "I paid the bills up to December.Last season wasn't a particularly good one--for me."
"That was chiefly due to your own mismanagement, I should say," Mrs.Gower commented tartly. "Putting the whole cannery burden on Norman whenthe poor boy had absolutely no experience. Really, you must havemismanaged dreadfully. I heard only the other day that the Robbin-Steeleplants did better last season than they ever did. I'm sure the Abbottsmade money last year. If the banks have lost faith in your businessability, I--well, I should consider you a bad risk, Horace. I can'tafford to gamble."
"You never do. You only play cinches," Gower grunted. "However, yourmoney will be safe enough. I didn't say the banks refuse me credit. Ihave excellent reasons for borrowing of you."
"I really do not see how I can possibly let you have such a sum," shesaid. "You already have twenty thousand dollars of my money tied up inyour business, you know."
"You have an income of twelve thousand a year from the Maple Pointplace," Gower recited in that unchanging, even tone. "You have overtwenty thousand cash on deposit. And you have eighty thousand dollars inVictory Bonds. You mean you don't want to, Bessie."
"You may accept that as my meaning," she returned.
"There are times in every man's career," Gower remarked dispassionately,"when the lack of a little money might break him."
"That is all the more reason why I should safeguard my funds," Mrs.Gower replied. "You are not as young as you were, Horace. If you shouldfail now, you would likely never get on your feet again. But we couldmanage, I dare say, on what I have. That is why I do not care to riskany of it."
"You refuse then, absolutely, to let me have this money?" he asked.
"I do," Mrs. Gower replied, with an air of pained but consciousrectitude. "I should consider myself most unwise to do so."
"All right," Gower returned indifferently. "You force me to a showdown.I have poured money into your hands for years for you to squander inkeeping up your position--as you call it. I'm about through doing that.I'm sick of aping millionaires. All I need is a comfortable place whereI can smoke a pipe in peace. This house is mine. I shall sell it andrepay you your twenty thousand. You--"
"Horace! Sell this house. Our home! _Horace._"
"Our home?" Gower continued inflexibly. "The place where we eat andsleep and entertain, you mean. We never had a home, Bessie. You willhave your ancestral hall at Maple Point. You will be quite able toafford a Vancouver house if you choose. But this is mine, and it's goinginto the discard. I shall owe you nothing. I shall still have thecottage at Cradle Bay, if I go smash, and that is quite good enough forme. Do I make myself clear?"
Mrs. Gower was sniffing. She had taken refuge with the pince-nez and thepolishing cloth. But her fingers were tremulous, and her expression wasthat of a woman who feels herself sadly abused and who is about toindulge in luxurious weeping.
"But, Horace, to sell this house over my head--what will p-people say?"
"I don't care two whoops what people say," Mr. Gower repliedunfeelingly.
"This is simp-ply outrageous! How is Betty going to m-meet p-people?"
"You mean," her husband retorted, "how are you going to contrive theproper background against which Betty shall display her charms to thedifferent varieties of saphead which you hit upon as being eligible tomarry her? Don't worry. With the carefully conserved means at yourdisposal you will still be able to maintain yourself in the station inwhich it has pleased God to place you. You will be able to see thatBetty has the proper advantages."
This straw broke the camel's back, if it is proper so to speak of amiddle-aged, delicate-featured lady, delightfully gowned and coiffedand manicured. Mrs. Gower's grief waxed crescendo. Whereupon herhusband, with no manifest change of expression beyond an unpleasantnarrowing of his eyes, heaved his short, flesh-burdened body out of thechair and left the room.
Betty had sat silent through this conversation, a look of profounddistaste slowly gathering on her fresh young face. She gazed after herfather. When the door closed upon him Betty's gray eyes came to rest onher mother's bowed head and shaking shoulders. There was nothing inBetty Gower's expression which remotely suggested sympathy. She saidnothing. She leaned her elbows on the table and rested her pretty chinin her cupped palms.
Mrs. Gower presently became aware of this detached, observing, almostcritical attitude.
"Your f-father is p-positively b-brutal," she found voice to declare.
"There are various sorts of brutality," Betty observed enigmatically. "Idon't think daddy has a corner on the visible supply. Are you going tolet him have that money?"
"No. Never," Mrs. Gower snapped.
"You may lose a great deal more than the house by that," Betty murmured.
But if Mrs. Gower heard the words they conveyed no meaning to heragitated mind. She was rapidly approaching that incomprehensible statein which a woman laughs and cries in the same breath, and Betty got upwith a faintly contemptuous curl to her red lips. She went out into thehall and pressed a button. A maid materialized.
"Go into the dining room and attend to mamma, if you please, Mary,"Betty said.
Then she skipped nimbly upstairs, two steps at a time, and went into aroom on the second floor, a room furnished something after the fashionof a library in which her father sat in a big leather chair chewing onan unlighted cigar.
Betty perched on the arm of his chair and ran her fingers through apatch on top of his head where the hair was growing a bit thin.
"Daddy," she asked, "did you mean that about going smash?"
"Possibility," he grunted.
"Are you really going to sell this house and live at Cradle Bay?"
"Sure. You sorry?"
"About the house? Oh, no. It's only a place for mamma to make a splash,as Norman said. If you hibernate at the cottage I'll come and keep housefor you."
Gower considered this.
"You ought to stay with your mother," he said finally. "She'll be ableto give you a lot I wouldn't make an effort to provide. You don't knowwhat it means really to work. You'd find it pretty slow at Squitty."
"Maybe," Betty said. "But we managed very well last
winter, just you andme. If there is going to be a break-up of the family I shall stay withyou. I'm a daddy's girl."
Gower drew her face down and kissed it.
"You are that," he said huskily. "You're all Gower. There's real stuffin you. You're free of that damned wishy-washy Morton blood. She made apoodle dog of Norman, but she couldn't spoil you. We'll manage, eh,Betty?"
"Of course," Betty returned. "But I don't know that Norman is such ahopeless case. Didn't he rather take your breath away with hisdeclaration of independence?"
"It takes more than a declaration to win independence," Gower answeredgrimly. "Wait till the going gets hard. However, I'll say there's achance for Norman. Now, you run along, Betty. I've got some figuring todo."