Glory of Youth | Page 4

"and a place by your fire. It's another of his pussy-cat traits--so if you'll be good to him, I'll have another cup, and he shall tell us about his hydro-aeroplane."
Justin, standing in front of the fire, was like a young god fresh from Olympus. His nose was straight, his mocking eyes a golden-brown, and, with his cap off, his upstanding shock of hair showed glittering lights. In deference to the prevailing fashion, his fair little mustache was slightly upturned at the corners. He had doffed his rain coat, and appeared in a brown Norfolk suit with leather leggins that reached his knees.
"I'm afraid I've intruded upon your hospitality," he said to Bettina, as she handed him a steaming cup, "but I'm always falling into pleasant things--and I haven't the will power to get out when I should, truly I haven't. But it isn't my fault--it's just a part of my pussy-cat inheritance."
"He can afford to say such things," Anthony remarked; "he's really more like a bird than a pussy cat. You should see him up in the air."
Justin's eyes flashed. "You should see me coming down on the water after a flight. By Jove, Anthony, that's the most wonderful little machine. I've called her 'The Gray Gull' because she not only flies but swims--cuts through the water like a motor boat."
As he talked his eyes were on Bettina. "You beauty, you beauty," was the thought which thrilled him.
When, at last, he stood up, he apologized somewhat formally. "I've stayed too long," he said, "but Anthony must make my excuses. I was down there in Purgatory--and he showed me--Paradise."
The doctor looked at him sharply. He knew Justin as a man of the world--gay, irresponsible--and Bettina had no one to watch over her.
"I'll take you as far as the shops," he said, crisply, "and then I must get at once to my old man with the pneumonia."
As the two men rode away in the doctor's small covered car, Justin asked, "Where did you discover her?" Anthony, his eyes fixed on the muddy road ahead of them, gave a brief outline: "Professionally. The mother died in those rooms. The girl is alone, except for Miss Matthews and the old Lane sisters who own the house and live in the lower part. I have constituted myself a sort of guardian for Bettina--the mother requested it, and I couldn't refuse."
"I see." Justin asked no more questions, but settled himself back in a cushioned corner, and as the two men rode on in silence, their thoughts were centered on the single vision of a shadowy room, and of a slender golden-haired, black-robed figure against a background of glowing flame.
All that night and the next day the doctor battled with Death, and came out triumphant. By four o'clock in the afternoon the old man with pneumonia showed signs of holding his own.
Worn out, Anthony drove back toward the sanatorium. The rain was over, but a heavy fog had rolled in, so that the doctor's little car seemed to float in a sea of cloud. Now and then another car passed him, specter-like amid the grayness. Silent figures, magnified by the mist, came and went like shadow pictures on a screen. From the far distance sounded the incessant moan of fog-horns.
Anthony stopped his car in front of a small shop, whose lights struggled faintly against the gloom.
Crossing the threshold, he went from a world of dampness and chill into the warmth and cheer of an old-fashioned fish house.
For fifty years there had been no change in Lillibridge's. The floor of the main room was bare and clean, and, in the middle, a round black stove radiated comfort on cold days. Along one side of the room ran three stalls, in which were placed tables for such patrons as might desire partial privacy. On the spick and span counter were set forth various condiments and plates of crackers. A card, tacked up on the wall, tempted the appetite with its list of sea foods.
Anthony wanted nothing to eat. He ordered coffee, and went into one of the stalls to drink it.
But a man at one of the tables in the main part of the room wanted more than coffee. He was a little man in a blue reefer, but he had, evidently, more than a little appetite. As Anthony sat down, he was just finishing a bowl of chowder, and was gazing with eyes of hungry appreciation upon various dishes of fried fish and fried potatoes, of hot rolls and pickles which were being set before him.
"You'd better have some, doctor," was his hoarse invitation.
"Too tired," said Anthony. "I'll wait till I've had a bath and rub-down before I eat----"
"What you need," said the little man, between large mouthfuls, "is a good day's fishin'. You come out to-morrow morning,