The Barrier: A Novel

  CHAPTER VII

  CHEBASSET

  At the conference between Mather and Pease various matters werediscussed which are not to the direct purpose of this story. Such were,for instance, the electrical and mechanical devices by which a metal wasto be produced from its ore, either in sheets, pure, or plated on iron.Pease had bought the patent; the plan commended itself to Matherimmediately; there was "good money" in it. But before anything elsecould be done a plant must be secured, a work which Pease expected wouldtake much time. He watched to see how Mather would propose to go aboutit.

  "We must have a good water-supply for the vats," mused Mather. "Aharbour-front will be needed for the coal and ore; that means a suburbanlocation, which calls again for railroad facilities."

  "Of course there is no mill ready-made?"

  "There is! The old Dye Company's plant at Chebasset."

  "Impossible!" answered Pease at once.

  "Because rich people have summer places thereabouts, and wouldn't like amill as neighbour?"

  "Those rich people are our friends," reminded Pease.

  "Mr. Pease," said Mather positively, "I know all the mills of thisneighbourhood. There is no other suitable. To use this plant will saveus a year's time, as well as great expense. The buildings are in goodcondition; the vats are large. The harbour is deep; all we need is toenlarge the wharf and put in new engines. What more could one ask?"

  "Nothing," admitted Pease.

  "Then why not buy? Colonel Blanchard has been trying to sell these tenyears; he lost much money there. The price is so low that Fenno orBranderson could easily have protected themselves."

  Pease still hesitated.

  "One thing more," said Mather. "I have visited in Chebasset, for shortperiods; I know the place fairly well. The mill is in the remotestcorner of the town, and the dirtiest; there are poor houses there,wretched sanitation, and a saloon on mill property. It's a good placegone to seed. I'd like to clean it out."

  Mr. Pease thought he saw a way. "Let this settle it. If the Colonel iswilling to sell, there will be no reason why we should not buy."

  "I may go ahead on that understanding?"

  "You may."

  Mather rose. "The Colonel will be willing to sell. If you put this in myhands, and will not appear, I can get the place cheap. People are readyto see me start on another fool's errand at any time."

  "Go ahead, then; you know how much I am willing to spend. Attend toeverything and spare me the details. But," added Pease kindly, "I amsorry to see you quite so bitter. Your friends will yet put you back inEllis's place."

  "When he has a clear majority of fifty votes in our small issue ofstock? Ah, let me go my own way, Mr. Pease. I see here a chance to do agood thing; I need a wrestle with business. After I have been a month atthis you will find me a different man."

  They parted, each with a little envy of the other. Mather envied Peasehis accomplishments, the work that stood in his name; Pease coveted theother's youth. But each was glad that they were working together. Peasefound that the purchase was accomplished within a fortnight, and thatmen were soon at work on alterations in the mills. Those were matters inwhich he did not concern himself; the scheme was bound to succeed; hehad little money in it (as money went with him), and he was interestedto see what Mather would make of the business. Trouble in the form ofcriticism was bound to come.

  When it came the ladies took an active hand in it. Mrs. Fenno complainedthat the sky-line of her view would be broken by the new chimney; Mrs.Branderson had no relish for the aspect of the projected coal-wharf.Young people believed that the river would be spoiled for canoeing, andall agreed that the village would be no longer bearable, with thefamilies of fifty imported workmen to make it noisy and dirty. Moreover,if the villagers themselves should give up their old occupations offishing, clam-digging, and market-gardening, for the steadier work inthe mill, then where would the cottagers look for their lobsters, theirstews, and their fresh vegetables? But the plan was put through. Thechimney went up, the wharf was enlarged, coal and ore barges appeared inthe little harbour, and in a surprisingly short time the old DyeCompany's mill was ready for work. Pease saw his returns promised a yearbefore he had expected, but George Mather was no longer popular. Mrs.Fenno frowned at him, Mrs. Branderson scolded, and though their husbandslaughed at the young man and said he had been clever, many peopleclamoured, and among them Judith Blanchard.

  This move of Mather's had taken her by surprise; at a step he had gaineda new position. No offers from the rich men moved him to sell; hereplied that he meant to carry out his plans. So a whole section of thetown was put in order for the families of the new workmen. Judith,hearing of all this, complained to Mather when she met him.

  "And yet," he responded, "the mill is a mile from the nearest estate;the whole town lies between. As for what clearing up I've done, I valuepicturesqueness, Judith, but the place is now ten times healthier. Andwe are putting in smoke-consumers."

  "Yet from most of our houses we can see your chimney."

  "Judith, for that one eyesore which I put up I will remove ten from thetown."

  "But who asked you to do it? You never lived here; you have no love forthe place."

  "I have lived," he replied, "in other New England towns, equallydegenerate."

  "I am not speaking of the townspeople," she said. "I mean the summerresidents."

  "Wasn't it your father's matter to think of them?"

  Judith had felt the discussion to be going against her. Therefore sheanswered with some warmth: "That is another question entirely!"

  "I beg your pardon, Judith," he said. "But mayn't I describe my plans?"

  "No," she answered; "I don't think it is necessary."

  "Very well," he returned, and made no attempt to say more. Hurt, he fellinto a mood of dogged endurance. "Very well," he repeated, and let thematter drop. Then Judith's interest was roused too late; he might reallyhave had something to say. She knew that dirt was unhealthy; sheremembered that in Chebasset drunkards on the street were more plentifulthan in Stirling. Yet her generosity did not quite extend to recallingher words--partly because of natural pride, partly because she knew hisinterest in her and would not encourage it, partly again because shestill resented his words to Ellis in her presence. And so the breachbetween them remained.

  Yet he had already impressed her, by his manly readiness to begin lifeagain, and by his steadiness under her fire. Confidence was, to Judith,almost a virtue. And the idea of reform always appealed to her: had theplace been really so bad?

  One by one the households had been moving down to Chebasset, and Bethhad already opened the Blanchard cottage. On the evening after Judithhad spoken with Mather she asked if Beth had noticed the changes inChebasset.

  "George's? At his mill?" asked Beth. "I think it's much improved. Thosehorrid tumble-down shanties are gone, and there are new houses therenow--shingled and stained they are to be--with new fences."

  "Father," asked Judith, "why didn't you do that?"

  "My dear child," was his response, "how could I afford it?" The Colonelwas always nervous when the subject of the new mill was broached, andquitted it as soon as possible. But Judith pursued him.

  "I asked George if he had not treated us unfairly--the property owners,I mean. He seemed to think that was your affair."

  Beth was up in arms at once. "For that chimney? He laid the blame onpapa?"

  The Colonel wiped his flowing mustache, and looked at Judith; Beth'soutraged cry did not interest him so much as his elder daughter's stand."What did you say to him?" he asked.

  "I said that was another question."

  "So it is," agreed the Colonel. "Entirely different." He looked at Bethto see if she were satisfied; she rose and came behind his chair, whereshe began smoothing his hair.

  "Poor papa," she purred.

  Blanchard swelled his chest. "Thank you, Beth," he said, but histhoughts went back to Judith. People took different stands on thismatter; he was anxious to have Judith on his
side. Fenno had told theColonel that he, Fenno, ought to have been informed of the proposedsale; Branderson, less bluntly, had intimated the same. It was possiblethat Judith might take a similar view.

  "I had others beside myself to consider," he said. "Dear papa!" murmuredBeth. But Judith took it differently.

  "I don't want to profit by the sale," she stated.

  The Colonel offered no explanation. At the time of the sale he had notbeen thinking of his daughters, but of certain pressing creditors. Sothe money had been welcome and was already partly gone. He answered withgrim knowledge of a hidden meaning.

  "I'll take care you shall not profit by the transaction, Judith. But Iam sorry that the mill is sold. I hate a disturbance."

  "Don't you be sorry, papa!" exhorted Beth. But Judith delivered a shotwhich hit her parent between wind and water. It was one of thoseimpromptus which come too quickly to be checked.

  "Perhaps Mr. Fenno would have given more."

  "Judith!" shouted her father, bouncing in his chair.

  "I beg your pardon, papa," she said humbly.

  When Judith was humble she was charming; the Colonel accepted her kissand pardoned her. As for herself, she felt her spirit lightened, as byan electric discharge, and began to look at the whole question ofMather's mill more temperately. Why should she grudge him his success?It was so much less than Ellis's. When next she met Mather she wasgracious to him, and was ready to hear a full account of all his plans,if only he would open the subject. He avoided it.

  Then the Blanchards moved to Chebasset, and Judith saw the mill andchimney with her own eyes. People had stopped scolding about them; shefound them not so bad as had been reported, and the chimney, thoughcertainly tall, gave off but the slightest film of smoke. So thoroughwere Mather's improvements that they forced Judith's admiration. Whenshe first went to the grocer's and, after making her purchases, inquiredof the changes in the town, she heard a torrent of praise of Mather.

  "It's a bad place he's cleaned out," the grocer said, coming very closeand speaking confidentially. "Many young fellows were led wrong there,but the biggest saloon's gone now, and some of the worst men have leftthe town, and a man can feel that his own children have a chance ofgrowing up decent. It's two boys I have, Miss Blanchard, that I wasworrying about till Mr. Mather came."

  "I am glad things are so much better," Judith said.

  "They'll be better yet," the grocer responded. "Gross, the othersaloon-keeper, has got to look after himself now. Mr. Mather had him incourt only the other day--look, there they are now."

  On the sidewalk outside stood a large man, gross as was his name; acrossthe street Mather was unconcernedly walking. The saloon-keeper raised afist and shouted at Mather, who paused and looked over at himinquiringly.

  "I'll be even with you!" shouted Gross again.

  "Wait a bit," answered Mather cheerfully, "I'll come over." He crossedthe street and stepped directly to the saloon-keeper. "You'll be evenwith me for what, Mr. Gross?"

  "For that fine," answered the other. "I'll have you in court yet, see ifI don't."

  "You'll have me in court," rejoined Mather, "when you catch me sellingwhisky to minors, not before, Mr. Gross. And while we're on this subjectI may as well say that I've just sworn out a second warrant againstyou."

  The saloon-keeper backed away from the very cool young man. "What yergoin' ter do?" he asked.

  "I'm going to see," Mather answered, "that you observe the liquor laws.And when your license comes before the selectmen for renewal, I shall beat the hearing."

  On Gross's face appeared blotches of white. "We'll see!" he blustered.

  "We'll see," agreed Mather, and turned away.

  The grocer spoke in Judith's ear. "That's the stuff! That's what, MissBlanchard!" Waiting till Mather was gone, Judith left the shop and wenthome very thoughtful. So George was working, on however small a scale,for reform and progress. She could not fail to see that for his comingthe whole town had a brisker, brighter look. Chebasset streets had beendull, sleepy, unpainted. Now fences were repaired, houses werefreshened, and the townspeople looked better dressed, because the menwere earning more money at the mill, or the women were gaining livingsby boarding and lodging the new-comers. The town was changed, and Matherwas the cause.

  Then she learned more of him. He was domesticating himself there, kept acat-boat, and had even bought a cottage. Beth pointed out the littlehouse, a good example of provincial architecture.

  "You didn't tell us you were going to buy," Judith reproached him whenhe came to call.

  "Oh," he answered indirectly, "I fell in love with the place, and thefamily mahogany fits in there exactly. Did you notice my roses?"

  Then he spoke of gardening, and gave Judith no chance to tell him whatshe thought about his work. Had he done so, she might even have let himknow that she had overheard his talk with Gross, and that his actionpleased her. But he avoided the subject; his call was brief, and afterhe had gone he did not return for a number of days. Chebasset was notlively that summer; Judith grew lonesome, and more than once thought ofMather. His conduct piqued and puzzled her. Now was his chance, as heought to know. What had become of the lover who used to bring to her hishopes and fears?

  As for that lover, he had less time at his disposal than Judithsupposed. All day he was at the mill, or else went to Stirling onnecessary business; at night he was very tired. Yet though he knew hewas leaving Judith to her own devices, he did it deliberately. Until shewas tired of freedom, until she had satisfied her interest in the greatworld, she would come to no man's call. Perhaps his conclusion was wise,perhaps it was not, for while at a distance he watched Judith andweighed his chances, Ellis was doing the same.

  To the outsider, Mather's path seemed clear; he lived in the same townwith Judith, might see her every day, and, worst of all, was prospering."I'll touch him up," said Ellis grimly to himself. "He'll buy a house,will he?" And from that time he kept well informed of Mather's businessacts, watching for a chance to trip him. Ellis knew all the ways ofthose three great forces: politics, capital, and labour; he could pullso many wires that he counted on acting unobserved.

  Minor annoyances met Mather in his business, traceable to no particularsource. There was evident discrimination in railroad rates, and yet sosmall was the increase that proof was difficult. Freight was mislaid andmishandled; it was frequently very vexing. But the real attempt tocripple the new business came toward the middle of the summer, whenEllis, weary of the weak attempts of his subordinates at annoyance, tooka hand himself, and looked for some vital flaw in the safeguards of theElectrolytic Company. He believed he found it, and various legal noticescame to Mather, all of which remained unanswered. Finally an importantofficial came in person to the office. He introduced himself as Mr.Daggett of the harbour commission.

  "I have written you several times," he complained.

  "So you have," answered Mather. "Miss Jenks, may Mr. Daggett and I havethe office to ourselves for a while? I take it," he added, when the doorclosed behind the stenographer, "that we are going to be rude to eachother. Have a cigar?"

  "Thanks," said Daggett, "but I don't see why ye didn't answer."

  "I was too busy. Besides, I wanted to get you down here, so as to settlethe matter once for all. Will you state the matter plainly; your letterswere vague? That is the wharf out there."

  Mr. Daggett viewed it through the window. "Yes, it's surely a longwharf. Twenty feet beyond the harbour line. Ye'll have to take it down."

  "Or else?" demanded Mather.

  "Show a permit."

  "Come, there's one other choice."

  "Pay a fine," grinned Daggett. "We've set a pretty large sum. Theboard's irritated, ye see, because ye've paid so little attention tous."

  "The board never fails to answer letters, does it?" inquired Mather.

  "What do you mean?"

  "You're too busy, I suppose. And you don't appear to remember seeing mebefore, Mr. Daggett."

  "Have I?" asked the commission
er.

  "You don't recollect that I wrote about this matter two months ago? Ihad to go to the office to get an answer. You were deep in affairs, Mr.Daggett. I found you and two others playing cards."

  "Was I?" asked Daggett.

  "When was this harbour line established, anyway? Wasn't it about twoweeks ago?"

  "Certainly," Mr. Daggett answered. "That has nothing to do with it. Butwhat did we tell you at the office--I can't remember your coming."

  "I wasn't there long enough to make much impression," said Mather. "Oneof your friends told me that all fools knew there was no harbour linehere, and I didn't need your permission."

  "Hm!" remarked Daggett doubtfully. Then he brightened. "Did we give youthat in writing?"

  "I didn't ask you for it. You seemed so anxious to go on with your gamethat I didn't trouble you further."

  "Then you have no permission," stated Daggett. "And now that there is aharbour line, what will you do about it?"

  "I learned all I wanted of you," said Mather. He had not yet risen fromhis desk, but now he did so, and going over to his safe, he threw itopen. "I asked nothing further because, there being no harbour line, apermit wouldn't have been worth the paper it was written on. I wrote tothe Secretary of the Navy." Mather drew a document from a drawer of thesafe. "Do you care to see his answer?"

  "Whew!" whistled Daggett. "Well, I suppose I might as well."

  Mather gave him the paper. "You will see that I have permission to buildten feet farther if I want to, and fifteen broader. I may also buildanother wharf if I wish, lower down. Are you satisfied?" He touched thebell. "You may come in now, Miss Jenks. Thank you for taking it soeasily, Mr. Daggett. I won't keep you from your game any longer.Good-day."

  --"And before I left the office he was hard at work again, Mr. Ellis,"reported Daggett. "Save me, but he's taken pretty good care of himself,and that's a fact."

  Ellis had no comments to make; he did his growling to himself. Seeingnothing further to do, he left Mather alone.

  Thus time passed by till that midsummer day when Ellis took the trolleyto Chebasset and, once there, strolled among its streets. He viewed themill from a distance and gritted his teeth at the sight. Mather was wellensconced; it seemed altogether too likely that he might win a wife,among his other successes. Then the promoter left the town and climbedabove it on the winding road, viewing the estates of the summerresidents as one by one he passed their gates. Should he enter at theJudge's?

  A light step sounded on the road as he hesitated at the gate. Someonespoke his name, and there stood Judith Blanchard.

  "Here, and in business hours?" she asked.

  "My day's work was done," he answered. "Besides, it was not all pleasurethat brought me."

  Judith's eyes brightened. "Tell me," she suggested.

  "Why should I tell you?" he asked bluntly. But the brusqueness onlypleased her; he was a man of secrets.

  "No reason at all," she answered.

  "And yet," he said, "your advice would be valuable, if you will nottell."

  "I! I tell?" she asked. "You do not know me."

  "Then," he said, "I came to look at land here."

  "To look at land here?" she repeated, questioning. "Can you buy here?"

  "There is land," he said. "The price would be doubled if it were known Iam after it. I have the refusal of it, through agents."

  "Where does it lie?" she asked.

  "Farther up the road."

  "You must not be seen going to it," she declared. "People would takealarm----" She stopped, embarrassed.

  "I do not mind," he said, and yet she felt his bitterness. "I am notconsidered a good neighbour."

  "It is wrong of people," she declared earnestly.

  "I should not be welcome on any one of these piazzas," he said,indicating the villas beyond them. "The Judge doesn't like me--your ownfather has no use for me."

  "Will you come and try?" she cried. "I should like to see if my fatherwill be rude to my guest."

  "You are very kind," he said, "but do you consider----?"

  "I have invited you," she interrupted. "Will you come?"

  "With pleasure," he answered. They went up the hill together.