Adventures of Bobby Orde

  II

  THE PICNIC

  One Saturday, shortly after, everybody was early afoot in preparationfor a picnic up the River. Bobby had on clean starched brown linenthings, and his hair was parted on one side and very smoothly brushedacross his forehead. His mother had been somewhat inclined to the darkgreen velvet suit with the lace collar, but to his great relief hisfather had intervened.

  "Give the boy a chance," said he, "He'll want to eat peaches and go downin the engine room, and perhaps catch sunfish."

  At the wharf, built along the front of the river at the foot of MainStreet, they could see, when they turned the corner at the engine-house,the single sturdy stack of the _Robert O_ pouring forth a cloud of graysmoke, while in front of it fluttered the white of the women's dresses.

  "We're going to be late," danced Bobby.

  "I guess they'll wait for us," replied Mr. Orde easily. "They knowwhat's in this," he smiled, patting the hamper he was carrying.

  At the wharf they were greeted by a chorus of exclamations from a largegroup of people. Mr. and Mrs. Taylor were there, the latter sweet anddainty in one of the very latest creations in muslin; Mr. and Mrs.Fuller with Tad and Clifford; young Mr. Carlin from the bank; Mr. andMrs. Proctor, and their young-lady daughter wearing a marvellous"waterfall"; Angus McMullen, alone, his father detained professionally;Mrs. Cathcart and Georgie; young Bradford carrying his banjo, hiswonderful raiment and his air of vast leisure; Welton, the lumberman,red-faced, jolly, popular and ungrammatical. The women guarded baskets.All greeted the Ordes with various degrees of hilarity. When the noisehad died down, a massive and impressive lady, heretofore unnamed,stepped forward. She held a jewelled arm straight before her, the handdrooping slightly, so that, although she was in reality of but mediumstature, she gave the impression of condescending from a height.

  "Good morning, Mrs. Owen," greeted Mrs. Orde, shaking the profferedhand.

  "Good morning, my dear," replied Mrs. Owen regally. She swept slowlysideways to reveal a woman and a little girl of seven or eight years,immediately behind her. "Allow me to present to you my very dear friend,Mrs. Carleton. Mrs. Carleton is from the city, staying at the Ottawa fora few weeks, and I knew you would like the chance to show her some ofour beautiful River." Mrs. Carleton, a pretty, modish woman, with theease of city manner, bowed quietly and murmured her pleasure. The littlegirl looked half bashfully through a wealth of natural curls at thegrown-ups to whom she was presented in the off-hand method one employswith children. She was altogether a charming little girl. Her hair wasof the colour of ripe wheat; her skin was of the light smooth brownpeculiar to an exceptional blonde complexion tanned in the sun; hermouth was full and whimsical; and her eyes, strangely enough in oneotherwise so light, were so black as to resemble spots. Her dress wasvery simple, very starched, very white. A big leghorn hat with red roseshalf hid her head. She was shy, that was easily to be seen; but shynesswas relieved from the awkwardness so usual and so painful in children ofher age by the results of what must have been a careful training. Sheanswered when she was spoken to, directly and to the point; and yet itcould not but be evident that her spirit fluttered.

  The combination was charming; and Mrs. Orde fell to it at once.

  "Celia, my dear," she said kindly, "come with me, we're going to have anice day together; and I have a little boy named Bobby who will show youeverything."

  But now the _Robert O_ gave two impatient toots. Everybody ceasedgreeting everybody else, and began to pile the shawls and lunch basketsaboard. The thick strong gunwale of the _Robert O_ was a foot or sobelow the chute level from the wharf. The women were helped aboardsoberly by the men. Miss Proctor, however, slipped little slips andscreamed little screams, while young Mr. Carlin, Bradford and Welton,with galvanized beaming smiles, all attempted to help her. Mrs. Owenmarched down the chute, waited calmly and without impatience until allthe available men were at hand, and then stepped down majestically withdignity unimpaired.

  Long before this, Bobby had quit the altogether uninteresting wharf. The_Robert O_ he had seen many times from a distance, and once of twicenear at hand lying at the cribs and piers, but this was his first chanceto explore. Accordingly he dropped down to her deck, and, with thenatural instinct to see as far ahead as possible, marched immediately tothe very prow. The deck proved to slope up-hill strangely, which, in itsunlikeness to any floor Bobby had ever walked on, was in itself apleasure. The hawser around the bitt interested him; and the glimpse hehad of the sparkling river slipping toward him from the yellow hills upstream. He could just rest his chin on the rail to look.

  Then he turned his gaze aft; and encountered the amused scrutiny of aman leaning on a wheel in a little house. The house had big windows, andon top was an iron eagle with spread wings. Two steps led up to a dooron each side; and Bobby without hesitation entered one of these doors.

  The inside of the house he found different from any house he had everbeen in before; and possessed of a strange fascination. There was thewheel, with projecting handles to every spoke, and above it, rackscontaining spyglasses, black pipes, tobacco-tins. At hand projected aspeaking-tube like that in the back hall at home, and two or threehandles connected with wires. Behind the wheel was a broad leather seat;and clothes on nails; and a chart; and a pilot's licence, of which Bobbyunderstood nothing, but admired the round gold seals.

  "Well, Bobby, what do you think of it?" asked the man.

  Bobby had not had time to look at the man. He did so now and liked him.The first thing he noticed was the man's eyes, which were steady andunwavering and as blue as the sky. Then he surveyed in turn gravely hisheavy bleached, flaxen moustache; his hard brown cheeks; the roundbarrel of his blue-clad body; and his short sturdy legs.

  "Think you'd like to run a tug?" inquired this man.

  "I don't know," replied Bobby; "what is your name?"

  "I'm Captain Marsh," replied the man. He glanced out the open door atthe group on the wharf. "If they're going up past the bend to-day,they'll have to get a move," he remarked. "Here, Bobby, want to blow thewhistle?"

  He lifted the boy up in the hollow of one arm. "There, that's it; thathandle. Pull down on it, and let go."

  Bobby did so and his little heart almost stopped at the shock of theblast, so loud was it, and so near.

  "Now again," commanded Captain Marsh.

  Bobby recovered and obeyed. The passengers began to embark.

  Captain Marsh watched until the last was safely aboard; then he setBobby gently to the floor.

  "If you want to see out, go sit on the bunk back there," he advised.

  Somebody cast off the lines. Captain Marsh pulled the other handle. Asharp tinkling bell struck somewhere far in the depths of the craft.Immediately Bobby felt beneath him the upheaval and trembling of somemighty force. The wharf seemed to slip back. In another moment at asecond tinkle of the bell the tug had gathered headway, and the littleboy was watching with delight the sandhills and buildings on one sideand the other slipping by in regular succession.

  Captain Marsh stood easily staring directly ahead of him, and paying nomore attention to the child. Bobby sat very straight in his absorption.New impressions were coming to him so fast that he had no desire tomove. The slow turn of the great wheel; the throb of the engine; theswift passing of water; the orderly procession of the river banks; thefeeling of smooth, resistless motion--these sufficed. How long he mighthave sat there if undisturbed, it would be hard to say; but at the endof a few moments Angus McMullen looked in at the door.

  "What you stayin' here for, Bobby?" he inquired with contemptuouswonder. "Come on out and see the big waves we're making."

  Outside Bobby found all the grown-ups gathered forward of the pilothouse. The older people were seated on folding camp chairs, theequilibrium of which they found some difficulty in maintaining on thesloping deck. Bradford, Carlin, Welton and Miss Proctor, however, hadestablished themselves in the extreme bow. Miss Proctor perched on thebitts, while the men stood or leaned near at hand. O
ccasionally, as thetug changed course, Miss Proctor would utter a little exclamation andthrust her arms out aimlessly, as though uncertain. All three of the menthereupon assured her balance for her. With the group Bobby saw thelittle girl with light hair.

  "Not up there," advised Angus. "This way." A very narrow passage ranbetween the thick gunwale and the deck-house. It sloped down and thengradually up toward the stern. At its lowest point it seemed to Bobbyfearfully near the river; and as he descended to that point hediscovered that indeed the displacement of rapid running appeared toforce the water even above the level of the deck. Bits of chip, sawdustand the like shot swiftly by in the smooth, oily curve of the liquid.The wet smell of it came to Bobby's eager nostrils, the subtle coolaroma of the river.

  But, from a little door level with the deck, smoking a pipe, leaned anegro who greeted them jovially. He dwelt in a narrow place down in thehull, filled with machinery and the glow of a furnace. The boys hung inthe opening fascinated by the regular rise and fall of the polishedrods; savouring the feel of heavy heated air and the clean smell of oil.In a moment the negro flung open an iron door whence immediately sprangglowing light and a blast of heat. Into this door he thrust two or threelong slabs which he took from the deck on the other side of the tug; andshut it to with a clang.

  After gazing their fill, the boys continued their way back. Thedeck-house ended. They found themselves on the broad, flat, spoon-shapedafter-deck occupied by the strong towing-bitts and coils of cable.

  "Isn't this great?" asked Angus.

  They joined the Fuller boys hanging eagerly over the stern. Here thewake boiled white and full of bubbles from the action of the powerfulpropeller necessary to a towing-tug. Along the edges it was light greenshot with blue; and the central line of its down-section waved from sideto side like a snake. On either side long, slanting waves pushed asideby the bow surged smoothly away; behind followed other round waves inregular and diminishing succession. Over them the chips and bark rodewith a jolly, dancing motion.

  Shortly, however, the younger people discovered the possibilities of theafter-deck. Miss Proctor leaned her back against the low gunwale astern.The men disposed themselves about her. They talked with a great deal oflaughter; but Bobby did not find their conversation amusing. Finallythey began to entreat Mr. Bradford to play his banjo. That younggentleman became suddenly afflicted with shyness.

  "I don't play much," he objected. "Honestly I don't--just picked up afew chords by ear."

  "Oh, Mr. _Bradford_," cried Miss Proctor, "I've heard you play_beautifully_. _Do_ get it."

  Mr. Bradford objected further; and was further cajoled by Miss Proctor.Bobby wondered why he had brought the banjo along, if he didn't want toplay on it. The other men did none of the persuading. Finally Mr.Bradford procured the instrument. He took some time to tune it; and hadsomething to say concerning damp air and the strings. Finally he playedthe "Spanish Fandango," to the enthusiasm of Miss Proctor and the politeattention of the other men. This he followed by a song called "Listen tothe Mocking Bird," the chorus to which consisted of complicated gurglingwhistling supposed to represent the song of the mocking bird, though itis to be doubted if that performer would have recognized himself in it.Miss Proctor approving of this, Bradford next played a trick piece, inthe course of which he did acrobatics with his instrument, but withoutmissing a note.

  Carlin and Welton finally strolled away unnoticed. The lumberman offeredthe other a cigar.

  "Ain't no use buckin' the funny man with the banjo, Tommy," he observedwith a rueful grin.

  Mr. Bradford now put two pennies under the bridge.

  "Makes it sound like a guitar," he explained; and drifted intothrillingly sentimental selections. He sang three in so low a voice thatBobby began to think it useless to listen any more; when a loud andprolonged whistle from the tug drowned all other sounds. Mr. Bradfordlooked savage; but the boys were delighted.

  "Going to pass the drawbridge!" shrieked Angus.

  They raced away to the bow in order to watch the imminence of the greatstructure over their heads; to see the smokestack dip back on its hingesas they passed beneath; and to gloat over the smash of their wavesagainst the piling of the bridge's foundation. Here Bobby was capturedby Mrs. Orde.

  "Here, Bobby," said she, "This is Celia Carleton, and I want you to benice to her."

  With that she left them staring at each other.

  "How do you do?" remarked Bobby gravely.

  "How do you do?" said she.

  They were no further along.

  "I got a new knife," blurted out Bobby, in desperation.

  "That's nice," said Celia politely. "Let's see it."

  "I haven't got it with me," confessed Bobby. He was ashamed to say thathe was not yet permitted to use it.

  He glanced at her sideways. Somehow he liked the fresh clean stiffnessof her starched, skirts, and the biscuit brown of her complexion. Hedesired all at once that she think well of him.

  "I can jump off our high-board fence to the ground," he boasted.

  Celia seemed impressed.

  "My knife's nothing," said Bobby, "My father's got a razor that can cutanything. He lets me take it whenever I want it. It's awful sharp. If Ihad it here I could cut this boat right in two with it."

  "My!" said Celia, "But I wouldn't want to cut it in two. Would you?"

  "Oh, I don't know," said Bobby, his legs apart, his head on one side. Hewas sure now that he liked this new acquaintance; she seemed pleasantlyto be awestricken. "Come on, let's go in the back part of the boat" hesuggested, "and I'll show you things."

  "All right," said she.

  Bobby led her past the scornful Angus to the narrow deck.

  "This is the engine room," he announced out of his new knowledge.

  But Celia did not care for it.

  "It's awfully dirty," said she.

  This was a new point of view; and Bobby marvelled. However, she wasdelighted with the after-deck, and the wake, and the attendant waves.Bobby showed them off to her as though they had been his privatepossessions. This was the first little girl he had ever known. Thenovelty appealed to him; the daintiness of her; the freshness andcleanness; the dependence of her on Bobby's ten years of experience--allthis brought out the latent and instinctive male admiration of thechild. He remained heedless of the other three boys hanging awkwardly inthe middle distance. All his small store of knowledge he poured outbefore her--he told her everything, without reservation--of Duke, andthe sand-hills, and the fort, and Sir Thomas Malory, and the booms, andthe Flobert Rifle, and the "Dutchmen" on the side street. She found itall interesting. They became very good friends.

  In the meantime Mr. Bradford had long since laid aside the banjo, andwas basking in Miss Proctor's unshared attention. The pleased smilenever left his face; the lean of his head bespoke deep deference; thecurve of his body respectful devotion. He talked in a low voice, andevery moment or so Miss Proctor would giggle, or exclaim, "Oh, Mr._Bradford_!" in a pleased and reproving voice.

  In the meantime the tug was going rapidly up river; and yet, with theexception of an occasional glance from some isolated individual, and thesporadic attention of the boys, no one saw what was passing. All wereabsorbed by the people, the little happenings and the talk aboard thecraft. So without comment they swept past the tall yellow sand-hillswith their fringe of crested trees on the left; and the wide plain onthe right. Only Bobby remarked the deep bayou in the bosom of the hillswhere dreamed in the peace and mystery of an honourable old age thehulks of a dozen vessels rotting in the sun. The shipyards and the millsthe other side the drawbridge nobody saw, for at that time even Bobbywas absorbed in his new acquaintance.

  But beyond that, the boy having offered and the girl received the firstburst of confidence, the children turned their attention to thingspassing. They saw the wide marshes of rushes and cat-tails, with theirbayous and channels wherein swam the white-billed mud-hens; and the longbooms to the left filled with brown logs. From this level, low to thewater, t
hese things seemed to them wonderful and vast. After a littlethe _Robert O_ whistled again. They passed the swing at the upper end ofthe booms. Old man North stood, in the doorway of his hut, smoking hisshort black pipe upside down. Bobby was astonished to see how differentthe hut looked from this point of view. He would hardly have recognizedit were it not for the swing-tender, who waved his pipe at Bobby whenthe tug passed.

  "I know him," said Bobby proudly to Celia.

  The _Robert O_ swept through, and the long slanting waves, and the roundfollowing waves sucked up and down among the piles.

  "Now we're going around the Bend!" cried Bobby excitedly. "I never beenaround the Bend!"

  But Celia suddenly arose.

  "I'm going back to mamma and the rest," she announced.

  "Why?" asked Bobby astonished. "Come on; stay here and see what there isaround the Bend."

  Celia stood on one foot, her black eyes wide and speculative, staringpast Bobby into some fair realm of feminine caprice. She shook her head,slowly, so that first a curl on one side, then on the other fell acrossher eyes. After a long deliberate moment she turned and went forward,followed at a distance by the grieved and puzzled Bobby. In the bow shesidled up to her mother, against whom she leaned lightly, her head onone side, her eyes dreamy, her hand slipped into one of her mother'sopen palms. Bobby, shut out, made his way to the prow, where he restedhis chin on the rail, and rather glumly contemplated the surprises of"around the Bend."

  But over the prow the little boy was the first--except for CaptainMarsh--to see from afar the landing, first as a glimmering shadow underthe reflection of the elms; then as a vague ill-defined form above theRiver's glassy surface; finally as a wide, low, T-shaped platform wharf,reaching its twenty feet from the grassy banks to shimmer in the heatabove its own wavering reflection.

  The tug sidled alongside with a great turmoil of white-and-greenbubble-shot water drifting around in eddies from her labouringpropeller. Captain Marsh, after one prolonged jingle of his bell emergedfrom his pilot-house, seized a heavy rope, and sprang ashore. The end ofthe rope he cast around a snubbing-pile.

  But some inset of current or excess of momentum made it impossible tohold her. The rope creaked and cried as it was dragged around the smoothsnubbing-pile. Finally the end was drawn so close that Captain Marsh wasin danger of jamming his hands. At once, with inconceivable dexterityand quickness, he cast loose, ran forward, wrapped the line three timesaround another pile farther on and braced his short, sturdy legs againstthe post for a trial of strength. Here the heavy, slow surge of the tugwas effectually checked. Captain Marsh turned his wide grin of triumphtoward his passengers. Everybody laughed, and prepared to disembark.

  Between the gunwale and the wharf's edge could be seen a narrow glintingstrip of very black water. The _Robert O_ slowly approached and recededfrom the dock; and this strip of water correspondingly widened andnarrowed. Over it every one must step; and the anxieties and precautionswere something tremendous. Bobby came toward the last, and was liftedbodily across, his sturdy legs curling up under like a crab's.

  The wharf he found broad and square and shady, with a narrow way leadingashore. In the middle of it were piled, awaiting shipment on the _LucyBelle_, three tiers of the old-fashioned, open-built, pail-shapedpeach-baskets containing the famous Michigan fruit. Each was filled to agentle curve above the brim, and over the top was wired pink mosquitonetting. This at once protected the fruit from insects; added to thebrilliancy and softness of its colouring; and lent to the rows ofbaskets a gay and holiday appearance. The men examined them attentively,talking of "cling stones," "free stones," "Crawfords," and othertechnicalities which Bobby could not understand. When the last lunchbasket had been passed ashore, all crossed to the bank of the river andthe grove of elms, leaving the _Robert O_ and Captain Marsh and theengineer.

  In the grove the boys immediately scattered in search of adventure. Allbut Bobby. He remained with the older people, wishing mightily to takeCelia with him; but suddenly afraid to approach her with the directrequest. So he contented himself with expressive gestures, which she,close to her mother, chose to ignore.

  Two of the men disappeared up the path, one carrying an empty pail. Theothers went busily about collecting wood, building a fire, smoothing outa place to spread the rugs which would serve as a table. All the womenfluttered about the lunch baskets examining the contents, discussingthem, finally distributing them in accordance with the mysterious systemconsidered proper in such matters. Bobby, left alone, without occupationon the one hand, nor the desire for his companions' amusements on theother, was then the only one at leisure to look about him, to observethrough the alders that fringed the bank the hide-and-seek glint of theRiver; to gaze with wonder and a little awe on the canopy of wavinglight green that to his childish sense of proportion seemed as far abovehim as the skies themselves; to notice how the sunlight splashed throughthe rifts as though it had been melted and poured down from above; tofeel the friendly warmth of summer air under trees; to savour the hotspringwood-smells that wandered here and there in the carelessirresponsibility of forest spirits off duty. This was Bobby's firstexperience with woods; and his keenest perceptions were alive to them.The tall trunks of trees rising from the graceful, fragile,half-translucence of undergrowth; little round tunnels to a distantdelicate green; lights against shadows, and shadows against lights; thewing-flashes of birds hidden and mysterious; and above all themarvellous green transparence of all the shadows, which tinted the veryair itself, so that to the little boy it seemed he could bathe in it asin a clear fountain--all these came to him at once. And each brought bythe hand another wonder for recognition, so that at last the picnicparty disappeared from his vision, the loud and laughing voices werehushed from his ears. He stood there, lips apart, eyes wide, spirithushed, looking half upward. The light struck down across him.

  The picnic party went about its business unaware of the wonderful thingtransacting in their very presence. Men do not grow as plants, so manyinches, so many months. The changes prepare long and in secret, withoutvisible indication. Then swiftly they take place. The qualities of thesoul unfold silently their splendid wings.

  After a moment the boys ran whooping through the woods from onedirection demanding food; the two men came shouting from the othercarrying a pail of water and an open basket of magnificent peaches.Bobby shivered slightly, and looked about him, half dazed, as though hehad just awakened. Then quietly he crept to a tree near the table andsat down. For perhaps a minute he remained there; then with a rush camethe reaction. Bobby was wildly and reprehensibly naughty.

  Once in a while, and after meals, Mrs. Orde allowed him a single pieceof sponge-cake; no more. But now, Bobby, catching the eye of Celia uponhim, grimaced, pantomimed to call attention, and deliberately _broke_off a big chunk of Mrs. Owen's frosted work of art and proceeded todevour it. Celia's eyes widened with horror; which to Bobby's depravedstate of mind was reward enough. Then Mrs. Orde uttered a cry ofastonishment; Mrs. Owen a dignified but outraged snort; and Bobby wasyanked into space.

  After the storm had cleared, he found himself, somewhat dishevelled,aboard the _Robert O_, entrusted to Captain Marsh, provided with threebread-and-butter sandwiches, and promised a hair-brush spanking for themorrow.

  Mrs. Orde was not only mortified, but shocked to the very depths of herfaith.

  "I don't know how to explain it!" she said again and again. "Bobby isalways so good about such things! I've brought him up--and_deliberately_. My dear Mrs. Owen, such a beautiful frosting, and tohave it ruined like that!"

  But Mrs. Fuller, fat, placid, perhaps slightly stupid, here rose to theheights of what her husband always admiringly called "horse sense."

  "Now, Carroll," she said, "stop your worrying about it. You'll getyourself all worked up and spoil your lunch and ours, all for nothing.Children will be naughty sometimes. I was naughty myself. So were you,probably. That's human nature. Just don't worry about it and spoil thegood time."

  Mrs. Orde thereup
on fell silent, for she was a sensible woman and couldsee the point as to lessening the other's enjoyment. Little by littleshe cooled off, until at last she was able to join in the fun; althoughalways in the background of her mind persisted the necessity of knowinga _reason_ for such an outbreak.

  The flurry over, Welton insisted that they all admire the peaches.

  "Best Michigan produces," he boasted. "Every one big as a coffee-cup;and perfect in shape, colour and flavour. Freestone, too. Nothingexceptional about them either. Millions more just like 'em. Can't matchthem anywhere in the world."

  "Saw by the paper this spring that the peach crop was ruined by thefrost," marvelled Carlin.

  Taylor laughed.

  "My dear fellow, the Michigan peach crop is destroyed regularly _every_spring. Seem to be enough peaches by August, however."

  They fell to on the lunch. When they had eaten all they could, therestill remained enough to have fed four other picnics of the same size astheir own.

  Bobby remained not long cast down, however.

  "Been at it, have you?" observed Captain Marsh after the irate parenthad departed. "What was it this time?"

  "I ate a piece of cake," replied Bobby.

  "H'm! That doesn't sound very bad."

  "It was Mrs. Owen's cake," supplemented Bobby.

  "I see," said the Captain gravely in enlightenment. "What are you goingto do now?"

  "I'm going to eat my lunch," Bobby informed him, showing the threebread-and-butter sandwiches.

  "H'm. So'm I," said the Captain. "Better join me."

  They entered the pilot-house and established themselves facing eachother on the wide leather seat. The Captain produced a tin dinner-pailwith a cupola top such as Bobby had often seen men carrying, and whichhe had always desired to investigate. This came apart in the middle. Thetop proved to contain cold coffee all sugared and creamed. The bottomhad a fringed red-checked napkin, two slabs of pie, two doughnuts, andfour thick ham sandwiches made of coarse bread. They ate. Captain Marshinsisted on Bobby's accepting a doughnut and a piece of pie. Bobby didso, with many misgivings; but found them delicious exceedingly becausethey were so different from what he was used to at home.

  "Now," said the Captain, brushing away the crumbs with one comprehensivegesture, "what do you want to do now? You got to stay aboard, youknow?"

  "Can't we fish?" suggested Bobby timidly.

  The Captain looked about him with some doubt.

  "Well," he decided at last, "we might try. The time of day's wrong, andthe place don't look much good; but there's no harm trying."

  Two long bamboo poles fitted with lines, hooks, and sinkers were slungalongside the deck-house. Captain Marsh produced worms in a can. The twosat side by side, dangling their feet over the stern, the poles slantingdown toward the dark water, silent and intent. In not more than twominutes Bobby felt his pole twitch. Without much difficulty he drew tothe surface a broad flat little fish that flashed as he turned in thewater.

  "Hi!" cried Bobby, "there _are_ fish here!"

  "Oh, that's a sunfish," said Captain Marsh.

  Bobby looked up.

  "Aren't sunfish good?" he inquired anxiously.

  Captain Marsh opened his mouth to reply, caught Bobby's apprehensive andhalf-disappointed expression, and thought better of it.

  "Why, sure!" said he. "They're a fine fish."

  At the end of an hour Bobby had acquired a goodly string. Captain Marshearly drew in his line, saying he preferred to smoke. Bobby had anexcellent time. He was very much surprised at the return of the picnicparty. The period of punishment had not hung heavy.

  By the time all had embarked, the steam pressure was up. The _Robert O_swung down stream for home.

  But now Celia, forgetting her earlier caprice of indifference, watchedBobby constantly. After a little he became aware of it, and wasflattered in his secret soul, but he attempted no more advances, nor didhe vouchsafe her the smallest glance. Soon she sidled over to him shyly.

  "What made you do it?" she asked in a whisper.

  "Do what?" pretended Bobby.

  "Break Mrs. Owen's cake."

  "'Cause I wanted to."

  "Didn't you know 't was very bad?"

  "'Course."

  Celia contemplated Bobby with a new and respectful interest. "I wouldn'tdare do it," she acknowledged at last. In this lay confession of thereason for her change of whim; but Bobby could not be expected torealize that. With masculine directness he seized the root of hisgrievance and brought it to light.

  "Why were you so mean this noon?" he demanded.

  She made wide eyes.

  "I wasn't mean. How was I mean?"

  "You went away; and you wouldn't look at me or talk to me."

  "I didn't care whether I talked to you or not," she denied. "I wanted tobe with my mamma."

  So on the return trip, too, Bobby had a good time. The wharf surprisedhim, and the flurry of disembarkation prevented his saying formalgood-bye to Celia. He waved his hand at her, however, and grinnedamiably. To his astonishment she gave him the briefest possible nod overher shoulder; and walked away, her hand clasping that of her mother,even yet a dainty airy figure in her mussed white dress still flaringwith starch, her slim black legs, and her wide leghorn hat with the redroses.

  The hurt and puzzle of this lasted him to his home, and caused him toforget the spanking in prospect. He ate his supper in silence, quiteunaware of his mother's disapproval. After supper he hunted up Duke andsat watching the sunset behind the twisted pines on the sandhills. Hedid much cogitating, but arrived nowhere.

  "Bobby!" called his mother. "Come to bed."

  He said good night to Duke, and obeyed.

  "Now, Bobby," said Mrs. Orde, "I don't like to do this, but you havebeen a very naughty boy to-day. Come here."

  Bobby came. The hair brush did its work. Usually in such case Bobbyhowled before the first blow fell, but to-night he set his lips anduttered no sounds. _Slap!_ _slap!_ _slap!_ _slap!_ with deliberatespaces between. Bobby was released. He climbed down, his soul tense,with agony, but his face steady--and laughed!

  It was not much of a laugh, to be sure, but a laugh it was. Mrs. Orde,shocked, scandalized, outraged and now thoroughly angry, yanked her sonagain across her knees.

  "Why! I never heard of anything like it!" she cried. "You naughty,_naughty_ boy! I don't see what's got into you to-day. I'll teach you tolaugh at my spankings!"

  Bobby did not laugh at this spanking. It was more than a stone couldhave borne. After the fifth well-directed and vigorous smack, he howled.

  Later, when the tempest of sobs had stilled to occasional gulps, Mrs.Orde questioned him about it. They were rocking back and forth in thebig chair, the twilight all about them. Bobby said he was sorry and hismamma had cuddled him and loved him, and all was forgiven.

  "Now, Bobby, tell mamma," soothed Mrs. Orde. "Why were you such a badlittle boy as to laugh at mamma when she spanked you just now?"

  "I wasn't bad," protested Bobby, "I was trying to be good. You told menot to cry when I got hurt, but to jump up and laugh about it."

  "Oh, my baby, my poor little man!" cried Mrs. Orde between laughter andtears.

  They rocked some more.

  "Now, Bobby, tell mamma," insisted Mrs. Orde gently. "Why did you breakMrs. Owen's cake? Were you as hungry as all that?"

  "No ma'am," replied Bobby.

  "Why did you do it, then?"

  "I don't know."

  Mr. Orde laughed uproariously when told of Bobby's attempt to be braveunder affliction.

  "The little snoozer!" he cried. "Guess I'll go up and see him."

  Bobby loved to have his father lie beside him on the bed. They neversaid much; but the little boy lay, looking up through the dimness,bathed in a deep comfortable content at the man's physical presence.

  To-night they lay thus in silence for at least five minutes. Then Bobbyspoke.

  "Papa," said he "don't you think Celia Carleton is pretty?"

  "Very pret
ty, Bobby."

  Another long silence.

  "Papa," complained Bobby at last, "why does Celia be nice to me; andthen not be nice to me; and change all the while?"

  Mr. Orde chuckled softly to himself.

  "That's the way of 'em, Bobby," said he. "There's no explaining it. Alllittle girls are that way--and big girls, too," he added.

  So long a pause ensued that Mr. Orde thought his son must be asleep, andwas preparing softly to escape.

  "Papa," came the little boy's voice from the darkness, "I like her justthe same."

  "Carroll," said Mr. Orde to his wife as blinking he entered the lightedsitting room, "you can recover your soul's equanimity. I've found outwhy he broke into the cake."

  "Why?" asked Mrs. Orde eagerly.

  "He was showing off before that little Carleton girl," replied Mr.Orde.