Part 81 (2/2)

When the year was over he had not much money left, but he had by his second waterfall a small electrical plant, with a printing office attached; and by the third a solid little mill, its turbine wheel running merrily in the ceaseless pour. Millstones cost more money than he thought, but there they were--brought up by night from the Hudson River--that his neighbors might not laugh too soon. Over the mill were large light rooms, pleasant to work in; with the shade of mighty trees upon the roof; and the sound of falling water in the sun.

By next summer this work was done, and the extra workmen gone. Whereat our poet refreshed himself with a visit to his Ella, putting in some lazy weeks with her at Gloucester, happy and hopeful, but silent.

”How's the chestnut crop?” she asked him.

”Fine. Ver' good,” he answered. ”That's what Patsy says--and Patsy knows.”

She pursued her inquiries. ”Who cooks for you? Who keeps your camp in order? Who washes your clothes?”

”Mrs. Patsy,” said he. ”She's as good a cook as anybody need want.”

”And how is the prospect?” asked Ella.

Arnold turned lazily over, where he lay on the sand at her feet, and looked at her long and hungrily. ”The prospect,” said he, ”is divine.”

Ella blushed and laughed and said he was a goose; but he kept on looking.

He wouldn't tell her much, though. ”Don't, dear,” he said when she urged for information. ”It's too serious. If I should fail--”

”You won't fail!” she protested. ”You can't fail! And if you do--why--as I told you before, I like to camp out!”

But when he tried to take some natural advantage of her friendliness she teased him--said he was growing to look just like his father! Which made them both laugh.

Arnold returned and settled down to business. He purchased stores of pasteboard, of paper, of printers ink, and a little machine to fold cartons. Thus equipped he retired to his fastness, and set dark-eyed Caterlina to work in a little box factory of his own; while clever Guiseppe ran the printing press, and Mafalda pasted. Cartons, piled flat, do not take up much room, even in thousands.

Then Arnold loafed deliberately.

”Why not your Mr. Blake work no more?” inquired Mrs. Patsy of her spouse.

”O he work--he work hard,” replied Patsy. ”You women--you not understand work!”

Mrs. Patsy tossed her head and answered in fluent Italian, so that her husband presently preferred out of doors occupation; but in truth Arnold Blake did not seem to do much that summer. He loafed under his great trees, regarding them lovingly; he loafed by his lonely upper waterfall, with happy dreaming eyes; he loafed in his little blue lake--floating face to the sky, care free and happy as a child. And if he scribbled a great deal--at any sudden moment when the fit seized him, why that was only his weakness as a poet.

Toward the end of September, he invited an old college friend up to see him; now a newspaper man--in the advertising department. These two seemed to have merry times together. They fished and walked and climbed, they talked much; and at night were heard roaring with laughter by their hickory fire.

”Have you got any money left?” demanded his friend.

”About a thou--” said Arnold. ”And that's got to last me till next spring, you know.”

”Blow it in--blow in every cent--it'll pay you. You can live through the winter somehow. How about transportation?”

”Got a nice electric dray--light and strong. Runs down hill with the load to tidewater, you see, and there's the old motorboat to take it down. Brings back supplies.”

”Great!--It's simply great! Now, you save enough to eat till spring and give me the rest. Send me your stuff, all of it! and as soon as you get in a cent above expenses--send me that--I'll 'tend to the advertising!”

He did. He had only $800 to begin with. When the first profits began to come in he used them better; and as they rolled up he still spent them. Arnold began to feel anxious, to want to save money; but his friend replied: ”You furnish the meal--I'll furnish the market!” And he did.

He began it in the subway in New York; that place of misery where eyes, ears, nose, and common self-respect are all offended, and even an advertis.e.m.e.nt is some relief.

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