CHAPTER IX
BARBARA PLAYS A PART
Lister returned to the railroad camp and stayed until the company sent aman to fill his post. In the meantime, he wrote to some of his father'srelations, whom he had not seen, and their reply was kind. They statedthat while he was in England he must make their house his home. When hissuccessor arrived he started for Montreal, and one afternoon sat under atree in the square by the cathedral.
The afternoon was calm. A thunderstorm that wet the streets had gone,and an enervating damp heat brooded over the city. After the fresh windsthat sweep the woods and plains, Lister felt the languid air made himslack and dull. His steamer did not sail until daybreak, and since hehad gone up the mountain and seen the cathedral and Notre Dame, he didnot know what to do. The bench he occupied was in the shade, and hesmoked and looked about.
Cabs rolled up the street to the big hotel across the square, and behindthe trees the huge block of the C.P.R. station cut the sky. One heardwhistles, the rumble of heavy wheels, and the tolling of locomotivebells. Pigeons flew down from the cathedral dome and searched the dampgravel.
A group of foreign emigrants picnicked in the shade. Their clothes wereold and greasy; they carried big shapeless bundles and looked tired andworn. Lister could not guess their nationality, but imagined they hadknown poverty and oppression in Eastern Europe. It was obvious they hadrecently disembarked from a crowded steerage and waited for an emigranttrain. They were going West, to the land of promise, and Lister wishedthem luck. He and they were birds of passage and, with all old landmarksleft behind, rested for a few hours on their journey.
He studied the group. The men looked dull and beaten; the women had nobeauty and had grown coarse with toil. Their faces were pinched andtheir shoulders bent. Only the children, in spite of rags and dirt,struck a hopeful note. Yet the forlorn strangers had pluck; they hadmade a great adventure and might get their reward. Lister had seenothers in the West, who had made good, breaking soil they owned andwalking with the confident step of self-respecting men. On the plains,stubborn labor was rewarded, but one needed pluck to leave all one knewand break custom's familiar but heavy yoke.
By and by Lister remembered he wanted to take his relations a fewtypically Canadian presents. He had seen nothing that satisfied him atWinnipeg, and had better look about the shops at Montreal. Anyhow, itwould amuse him for an hour or two. He got up, went along the path for afew yards, and then stopped.
Across the clanging of the locomotive bells and the roll of trolley carsat the bottom of the hill he heard sweet voices. The music was faint andsomehow ethereal, as if it fell from a height. One lost it now and then.It came from the cathedral and Lister stopped and listened. He did notknow what office was being sung, but the jaded emigrants knew, for achild got up and stood with bent head, holding a greasy cap, and aragged woman's face got gentle as she signed herself with the cross. Itlooked as if the birds of passage had found a landmark in a foreignland. Lister was moved, and gave the child a coin before he went off.
He strolled east, past Notre Dame, towards the post office, about whichthe stately banks and imposing office blocks stand. This quarter of thecity drew him, for one saw how constructive talent and imagination couldbe used, and he wondered whether England had new buildings like these.Sometimes one felt the Western towns were raw and vulgar, but one sawthe bold Canadian genius at its best in Montreal.
After a time he stopped in front of a shop in a short side street.Indian embroidery work and enameled silver occupied the window, andalthough Lister was not an artist he had an eye for line and knew thethings were good. The soft, stained deerskin was cleverly embroidered;he liked the warm colors of the enamel, and going in was shown a tray ofspoons.
The shop, shut in by high buildings, was dark and smelt of aromatic woodand leather, but a beam from a window pierced the gloom and sparkled onthe silver. This was emblazoned with the arms of the Provinces; theShip, the Wheatsheaves, and the red Maple Leaf. Lister picked up thearticles, and while he did so was vaguely conscious that a girl at theopposite counter studied him. He, however, did not look up until he hadselected a few of the spoons, and then he started.
The light that touched the girl's face did not illuminate it all. Herprofile was sharp as an old daguerreotype: he saw the flowing line frombrow to chin, drawn with something of austere classic beauty, the archedlips and the faint indication of a gently-rounded cheek. The rest was inshadow, and the contrast of light and gloom was like a Rembrandtpicture. Then the enameled spoons rattled as Lister put down the tray.He knew the picture. When he last saw the girl, her face was lightedlike that by the blaze of a locomotive head-lamp.
"I'll take these things," he said, and crossed the floor.
The girl moved back, but he indicated a bundle of deerskin articles hethought her business was to sell. Her color was high; he noted the vividwhite and pink against the dull background of stained leather.
"What does one do with those bags?" he asked.
"They're useful for keeping gloves and handkerchiefs," she replied. "Thepattern is worked in sinews, but we have some with a neat coloredembroidery." She paused and signed to a saleswoman farther on. "Will youbring this gentleman the Revillon goods?"
Lister's object for stopping her was not very plain, but he did not meanto let her go.
"Please don't bother. I expect to find something in this bundle," hesaid to the approaching saleswoman. Then he turned to the girl in front."Let me look at the bag with the arrow-head pattern."
She gave him the bag, and although her glance was steady he knew she wasembarrassed.
"If you will wrap it up, I'll keep this one," he resumed. "I expect youhave not forgotten me. When I came into the shop I didn't imagine Ishould meet you, but if you'd sooner I went off, I'll go."
"I have not forgotten," she admitted, and her color faded and came backto her delicate skin.
"Very well! Since I sail to-night on the Allan boat, it's plain youneedn't be afraid of my bothering you. All the same, we were partners inan adventure that ought to make us friends. Can't I meet you for a fewminutes when you stop work?"
She hesitated, and then gave him a searching glance.
"Come to the fountain up the street in an hour. This is my earlyevening."
Lister went off with the bag and spoons, and when he returned to thefountain saw her crossing the square in front. She was dressed like theshop-girls he had seen hurrying on board the street cars in the morning;her clothes were pretty and fashionable, but Lister thought the materialwas cheap. He felt she ought not to wear things like that. While sheadvanced he studied her. She was attractive, in a way he had hardlyremarked on board the train. One rather noted her quick, resolutemovements, the sparkle in her eyes, and her keen vitality. Lister beganto think he had unconsciously noted much.
"I'm going to take you to supper, and you can send me off when you likeafterwards," he said and started across the square. A famous restaurantwas not far off.
"No," she said, as if she knew where he was going. "If I go with you, itmust be the tea-rooms I and my friends use." She gave him a rather hardsmile and added: "There's no use in my going where I don't belong."
Lister said nothing, but while they walked across the town she talkedwith a brightness he thought forced, and when they stopped at a smalltea-room in a side street he frowned. He was persuaded she did notbelong there. She was playing a part, perhaps not very cleverly since hehad found her out. She wanted him to think her a shop-girl enjoying anevening's adventure; her talk and careless laugh hinted at this, butLister was not cheated.
They went in. The room was small and its ornamentation unusual.Imitation vines crawled about light wooden arches, cutting up the floorspace into quiet corners. The room was rather dark, but pink lamps shoneamong the leaves and the soft light touched the tables and clusters ofartificial grapes. Lister thought the plan was well carried out, for thegrapes were the small red Muskokas that grow in Canada. When he pickedup the menu card he understood why girls
from the stores and officesused the place.
Lister ordered the best supper the French-Canadian landlady could serve,and then began to talk while he helped his companion. The corner theyoccupied was secluded and he owned that to sup with an attractive girlhad a romantic charm. He noted that she frankly enjoyed the food and heliked her light, quick laugh and the sparkle in her eyes. Her thinsummer clothes hinted at a slender, finely-lined form, and her carelesspose was graceful.
He wondered whether she felt her meeting him was something of anadventure, but he was persuaded she was playing a part. Her franknesswas not bold, the little, French-Canadian gestures were obviouslyborrowed, and some of the colloquialisms she used were out of date.Except for these, her talk was cultivated. For a time Lister tried toplay up, and then resolved to see if he could break her reserve.
"It looks as if you made Malcolm all right on board the gravel train,"he remarked.
She gave him a quick glance and colored. "Yes, I made it and got theEast-bound express. The engineer was kind. I expect you told him he musthelp?"
"When I put you on board the locomotive I knew Roberts would see youout. He's a sober fellow and has two girls as old as you."
"You don't know how old I am," she said with an effort for carelessness.
"Anyhow, it's plain you are young enough to be rash," Lister rejoined.
She put down her cup and her glance was soft. He saw she was not acting.
"I don't think I really was rash--not _then_. It's something to knowwhen you can trust people, and I did know."
Lister was embarrassed, but her gentleness had charm. He did not wanther to resume her other manner. Then he was tempted to make anexperiment.
"You know Shillito got away?"
Her lips trembled and the blood came to her skin, but she fronted himbravely and he felt ashamed.
"Yes," she said. "I think I would sooner he had been caught! But why didyou begin to talk about Shillito?"
"Perhaps I oughtn't; I'm sorry."
She studied him and he thought she pondered, although it was possibleshe wanted to recover her calm.
"Unless you are very dull, you know something," she resumed with aneffort. "Well, I was rash, but just before I saw you on the platform Ifound out all I'd risked. I think I was desperate; I meant to jump offthe train, only it was going fast and water shone under the bridge. Thenyou pushed me from the step and I felt I must make another plunge andtry to get your help. Now I'm glad I did so. But that's all."
Lister understood that the thing was done with. She would tell himnothing more, and he was sorry he had indulged his curiosity.
"Oh, well," he said, "there's not much risk of my bothering you aboutthe fellow again. I start for England in a few hours."
Her glance got wistful. She moved her plate and her hand trembled.
"You are English?" he resumed.
"I met you first on board a Canadian train and now you find me helpingat a Montreal store. Isn't this enough? Why do you try to find out whereI come from?"
"I'm sorry. All the same, you're not a Canadian."
"I am a Canadian now," she rejoined, and then added, as if she wereresolved to talk about something else, "There's a mark on your forehead,like a deep cut. You hadn't got it when I saw you on the platform."
"No," said Lister. "I fell down some steps not long afterwards."
She looked at him sharply and then exclaimed: "Oh! the newspapers saidthere was a struggle on the train! Somebody helped the police and gothurt. It was you. Shillito knew you had meddled. You got the cut forme!"
"We agreed we wouldn't talk about Shillito. I got the cut because Ididn't want to see a young police trooper knocked out. People who meddledo get hurt now and then. Anyhow, it's some time since and I think we'lllet it go. Suppose you tell me about Montreal and your job at thestore?"
She roused herself and began to talk. Lister thought it cost hersomething, but she sketched her working companions with skill and humor.She used their accent and their French-Canadian gestures. Lister laughedand led her on, although he got a hint of strain. The girl was not happyand he had noted her wistful look when she talked about England. Atlength she got up, and stopping at the door for a moment gave him herhand.
"Thank you. I wish you _bon voyage_," she said.
"Can't we go somewhere else? Is there nothing doing at the theaters?"Lister asked.
"No," she said resolutely; "I'm going home. Anyhow, I'm going where Ilive."
Lister let her go, but waited, watching her while she went up thestreet. Somehow she looked forlorn and he felt pitiful. He rememberedthat he did not know her name, which he had wanted to ask but durst not.
When he returned to his hotel he stopped at the desk and gave the clerka cigarette. As a rule, a Canadian hotel clerk knows something abouteverybody of importance in the town.
"I bought some _souvenirs_ at a curiosity depot," he said, and told theother where the shop was. "Although they charged me pretty high, thethings looked good."
"You haven't got stung," the clerk remarked. "The folks areFrench-Canadians but they like a square deal. If you put up the money,they put up the goods."
"The shop hands looked smart and bright. If you study the sales people,you can sometimes tell how a store is run."
"That's so. Those girls don't want to grumble. They're treated allright."
"Oh, well," said Lister, "since I don't know much about enameled goodsand deerskin truck, I'm glad I've not got stung."
When he went off the other smiled, for a hotel clerk is not oftencheated, and he thought he saw where Lister's remarks led. Lister,however, was strangely satisfied. It was something to know thestorekeepers were honest and kind to the people they employed.