Carnacs Folly | Page 2

as
his mind was long. His face was covered by a well-cared-for beard of
dark brown, streaked with grey; his features were rugged and fine; and
his eyes were like two coals burning under a gnarled headland; for his
forehead, ample and full, had lines which were not lines of age, but of
concentration. In his motions he was quiet and free, yet always there
was a kind of stealthiness in his movements, which made him seem less
frank than he really was.
For a time, with salient sympathy in his eyes, he watched the two
children playing. The whisking of their forms among the trees and over
the rocks was fine, gracious, and full of life-life without alarm. At
length he saw the girl falter slightly, then make a swift deceptive
movement to avoid the boy who pursued her. The movement did not
delude the boy. He had quickness of anticipation. An instant later the
girl was in his arms.
As Denzil gazed, it seemed she was in his arms too long, and a sudden
anxiety took hold of him. That anxiety was deepened when he saw the
boy kiss the girl on the cheek. This act seemed to discompose the girl,
but not enough to make drama out of an innocent, yet sensuous thing.
The boy had meant nothing more than he had shown, and Denzil traced
the act to a native sense of luxury in his nature. Knowing the boy's

father and mother as he did, it seemed strange that Carnac should have
such demonstration in his character. Of all the women he knew,
Carnac's mother was the most exact and careful, though now and again
he thought of her as being shrouded, or apart; while the boy's father, the
great lumber-king, cantankerous, passionate, perspicuous, seemed to
have but one passion, and that was his business.
It was strange to Denzil that the lumber-king, short, thin, careless in his
clothes but singularly clean in his person, should have a son so little
like himself, and also so little like his mother. He, Denzil, was a
Catholic, and he could not understand a man like John Grier who, being
a member of the Episcopal Church, so seldom went to service and so
defied rules of conduct suitable to his place in the world.
As for the girl, to him she was the seventh wonder of the earth.
Wantonly alive, dexterously alert to all that came her way, sportive,
indifferent, joyous, she had all the boy's sprightliness, but none of his
weaknesses. She was a born tease; she loved bright and beautiful things;
she was a keen judge of human nature, and she had buoyant spirits,
which, however, were counterbalanced by moments of extreme timidity,
or, rather, reserve and shyness. On a day like this, when everything in
life was singing, she must sing too. Not a mile away was a hut by the
river where her father had brought his family for the summer's fishing;
not a half- mile away was a tent which Carnac Grier's father had set up
as he passed northward on his tour of inspection. This particular river,
and this particular part of the river, were trying to the river-man and his
clans. It needed a dam, and the great lumber-king was planning to make
one not three hundred yards from where they were.
The boy and the girl resting idly upon a great warm rock had their own
business to consider. The boy kept looking at his boots with the brass-
tipped toes. He hated them. The girl was quick to understand. "Why
don't you like your boots?" she asked.
A whimsical, exasperated look came into his face. "I don't know why
they brass a boy's toes like that, but when I marry I won't wear
them--that's all," he replied.

"Why do you wear them now?" she asked, smiling.
"You don't know my father."
"He's got plenty of money, hasn't he?" she urged. "Plenty; and that's
what I can't understand about him! There's a lot of waste in river-
driving, timber-making, out in the shanties and on the river, but he
don't seem to mind that. He's got fads, though, about how we are to live,
and this is one of them." He looked at the brass-tipped boots carefully.
A sudden resolve came into his face. He turned to the girl and flushed
as he spoke. "Look here," he added, "this is the last day I'm going to
wear these boots. He's got to buy me a pair without any brass clips on
them, or I'll kick."
"No, it isn't the last day you're going to wear them, Carnac."
"It is. I wonder if all boys feel towards their father as I do to mine. He
don't treat me right. He--"
"Oh, look," interrupted Junia.