Part 7 (1/2)

At Garrison's Neck was the old Garrison ”shanty”--Notely's ideal; well preserved; built onto it a s.p.a.cious dwelling, with stables attached, after Mrs. Garrison's idea.

Notely's shanty was a mixture of elegant easy-chairs and drying oil-skin raiment, black tobacco pipes, books, musical instruments, fis.h.i.+ng-tackle, mirth and evening firelight; all the gravitation of the premises was toward it--the Garrison guests yearned for it.

His mother was with him now.

”You will drive down to the boat with me and meet them, Notely?”

Notely whistled with respectful concern, but his eyes were as happy as the dawn.

”Oh, well, ah--h--I'll have to ask you to let Tom drive you down to-day, mother. I've an engagement to sail over to Reef Island.”

Mrs. Garrison did not condescend to look annoyed. She smiled, sweet and high.

”Considering the social position of Mrs. Langham and her daughter, and their wealth, Notely, you might postpone even that engagement.

Possibly you could arrange to play with the fisher girl some other day.”

When Notely was puzzled or provoked he felt for the pipe in his pocket, just like old Captain Pharo, laughed, and came straight again.

”Why, mother! you were a Basin girl yourself--the 'Beauty of the Basins,'” he said, with soft pride--he knew no better--and smiled as though he saw another face.

”Are you foolish?” said his mother, giving way sharply.

When one has come from such degree, has sought above all earthly good, and earned, a social eminence such as Mrs. Garrison had attained, it will leave some unbending lines on lip and brow; the eyes will not melt easily, although it wrings one's heart to find that one's only child is, after all, an ingrained Basin; yet their features were the same, only Notely's were simple, expressive Basin eyes--hers had become elevated.

”You! who have _in_ you such success, if you only would!” she cried.

”'Success,' I'm afraid, mother,” said Notely, with one of those sighs that was like a wayward note on his violin; ”it 's a diviner thing, however, you know, to have in you the capacity for failure.”

”You are as remarkable a mixture of barbarism and sentiment as your shanty,” sneered Mrs. Garrison, looking about. ”Do you speak in the Basin 'meetings'?”

”No,” said Notely. ”I ought to. Think of what I have had, and their deprivations. But there 's always something comes up so d--d funny!”

Mrs. Garrison smiled sympathetically now. ”O Notely, think of the Langhams, and Grace even willing to show her preference for you, decorously, of course, but we all know.”

Notely grabbed his pipe hard and shook his head.

”Why?” said his mother again, sharply. ”I am sure Miss Langham is nearly as boisterous and in as rude health as the fisher girl. I have even known her to make important endearing lapses in grammar.”

Notely was silent.

”Do you think, after a life-struggle to earn a place in society, it is filial and generous on your part, for the sake of a fisher sweetheart, to be willing to sink your family back again into skins and Gothicism?”

”Yes,” said the young man, a hurricane in his blue eyes, which his strong hands gripped back.

”Very well; if you so elect, go back then, and be a common fisherman; but you shall have no countenance of mine.”

”Shouldn't wonder if it would be a good thing. With the health I have, give me leisure and plenty of money, and I'm always certain to break the traces and make a run. Common fisherman it is.” But he stood out bravely at the same time in an extravagant new yachting costume, for he was going by appointment to meet his sweetheart.

”You might help her up, mother--socially, that is; she needs no other help.”

”Never!”