Part 42 (2/2)

The impossible Mamise insisted on taking up her residence in one of the shanties. When he took the liberty of urging her to live at a hotel or at some of the more comfortable homes she snubbed him bluntly. When he desperately urged her to take lunch or dinner with him she drew herself up and mocked the virtuous scorn of a movie stenographer and said:

”Sir! I may be only a poor typist, but no wicked capitalist shall loor me to lunch with him. You'd probably drug the wine.”

”Then will you--”

”No, I will not go motoring with you. How dare you!”

”May I call, then?”

More as a punishment than a hospitality, she said:

”Yessir--the fourteenth house on the left side of the road is me.”

The days were still long and the dark tardy when he marched up the street. It was a gantlet of eyes and whispers. He felt inane to an imbecility. The whole village was eying the boss on his way to spark a stenog. His little love-affair was as clandestine as Lady G.o.diva's famous bareback ride.

He cut his call short after an age-long half-hour of enduring the ridicule twinkling in Mamise's eyes. He stayed just late enough for it to get dark enough to conceal his return through that street. He was furious at the situation and at Mamise for teasing him so. But she became all the dearer for her elusiveness.

CHAPTER IV

After the novelty of the joke wore off Mamise grew as uncomfortable as he. She was beginning to love him more and her job less. But she was determined not to throw away her independence. Pride was her duenna, and a ruthless one. She tried to feed her pride on her ambition and on an occasional visit to the s.h.i.+p that was to wear her name.

She met Sutton, the prima donna riveter. He was always clattering away like a hungry woodp.e.c.k.e.r, but he always had time to stop and discuss his art with her.

Once or twice he let her try the riveter--the ”gun,” he called it; but her thumb was not strong enough to hold the trigger against that hundred-and-fifty-pound pressure per square inch.

One day Marie Louise came on Jake Nuddle and Sutton in a wrangle. She caught enough of the parley to know that Jake was sneering at Sutton's waste of energy and enthusiasm, his long hours and low pay. Sutton earned a very substantial income, but all pay was low pay to Jake, who was spreading the gospel of sabotage through the s.h.i.+pyard.

Meanwhile the good s.h.i.+p _Clara_, weaned from the dock, floated in the basin and received her equipment. And at last the day came when she was ready for her trial trip.

That morning the smoke rolled from her funnels in a twisted skein.

What had once been ore in many a mine, and trees in many a forest, had become an individual, as what has been vegetables and fruits and the flesh of animals becomes at last a child with a soul, a name, a fate.

It was impossible to think now that the _Clara_ was merely an iron box with an engine to push it about. _Clara_ was somebody, a personality, a lovable, whimsical, powerful creature. She was ”she” to everybody.

And at last one morning she kicked up her heels and took a long white bone in her teeth and went her ways.

The next day _Clara_ came back. There was something about her manner of sweeping into the bay, about the proud look of her as she came to a halt, that convinced all the watchers in the s.h.i.+pyard of her success.

When they learned that she had exceeded all her contract stipulations there was a tumult of rejoicing; for her success was the success of every man and lad in the company's employ--at least so thought all who had any instinct of team-play and collective pride. A few soreheads were glum, or sneered at the enthusiasm of the others. It was strange that Jake Nuddle was a.s.sociated with all of these groups.

_Clara_ was not permitted to linger and rest on her laurels. She had work to do. Every s.h.i.+p in the world was working overtime except the German Kiel Ca.n.a.l boats. _Clara_ was gone from the view the next morning. Mamise missed her as she looked from the office window. She mentioned this to Davidge, for fear he might not know. Somebody might have stolen her. He explained:

”She's going down to Norfolk to take on a cargo of food for England--wheat for the Allies. I'm glad she's going to take breadstuffs to people. My mother used to be always going about to hungry folks with a basket of food on her arm.”

Mamise had Jake and Abbie in to dinner that night. She was all agog about the success of _Clara_, and hoped that _Mamise_ would one day do as well.

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