Listers Great Adventure | Page 2

merchants and offered to carry their goods at something under the
standard rate, if the shippers would engage to fill up his boat. As a rule,
secrecy was important, but sometimes, when cargo was scarce,
Cartwright let his plans be known and allowed the Conference to buy
him off. Although his skill in the delicate negotiations was marked, the
company paid small dividends and he had enemies among the
shareholders. Now, however, he was satisfied. Oreana had sailed for
Montreal, loaded to the limit the law allowed, and he had booked her
return cargo before the Conference knew he was cutting rates.
Mrs. Cartwright talked, but she talked much and Cartwright hardly
listened, and looked across the lake. A canoe drifted out from behind a

neighboring point, and its varnished side shone in the fading light.
Then a man dipped the paddle, and the ripple at the bow got longer and
broke the reflections of the pines. A girl, sitting at the stern, put her
hands in the water, and when she flung the sparkling drops at her
companion her laugh came across the lake. Cartwright's look got keen
and he began to note his wife's remarks.
"Do you imply Barbara's getting fond of the fellow?" he asked.
"I am afraid of something like that," Mrs. Cartwright admitted. "In a
way, one hesitates to meddle; sometimes meddling does harm, and, of
course, if Barbara really loved the young man--" She paused and gave
Cartwright a sentimental smile. "After all, I married for love, and a
number of my friends did not approve."
Cartwright grunted. He had married Clara because she was rich, but it
was something to his credit that she had not suspected this. Clara was
dull, and her dullness often amused him.
"If you think it necessary, I won't hesitate about meddling," he
remarked. "Shillito's a beggarly sawmill clerk."
"He said he was treasurer for an important lumber company. Barbara's
very young and romantic, and although she has not known him long--"
"She has known him for about two weeks," Cartwright rejoined.
"Perhaps it's long enough. Shillito's what Canadians call a looker and
Barbara's a romantic fool. I've no doubt he's found out she'll inherit
some money; it's possible she's told him. Now I come to think about it,
she was off somewhere all the afternoon, and it looks as if she had
promised the fellow the evening."
He indicated the canoe and was satisfied when Mrs. Cartwright agreed,
since he refused to wear spectacles and own his sight was going.
Although Clara was generous, he could not use her money, and, indeed,
did not mean to do so, but he was extravagant and his managing
owner's post was not secure. When one had powerful antagonists, one
did not admit that one was getting old.

"I doubt if Shillito's character is all one could wish,'" Mrs. Cartwright
resumed. "Character's very important, don't you think? Mrs. Grant--the
woman with the big hat--knows something about him and she said he
was fierce. I think she meant he was wild. Then she hinted he spent
money he ought not to spend. But isn't a treasurer's pay good?"
Cartwright smiled, for he was patient to his wife. "It depends upon the
company. A treasurer is sometimes a book-keeping clerk. However, the
trouble is, Barbara's as wild as a hawk, though I don't know where she
got her wildness. Her brother and sister are tame enough."
"Sometimes I'm bothered about Barbara," Mrs. Cartwright agreed.
"She's rash and obstinate; not like the others. I don't know if they're
tame, but they had never given me much anxiety. One can trust them to
do all they ought."
Cartwright said nothing. As a rule, Clara's son and elder daughter
annoyed him. Mortimer Hyslop was a calculating prig; Grace was
finicking and bound by ridiculous rules. She was pale and inanimate;
there was no blood in her. But Cartwright was fond of the younger girl.
Barbara was frankly flesh and blood; he liked her flashes of temper and
her pluck.
When the canoe came to the landing he got up. "Leave the thing to
me," he said. "I'll talk to Shillito."
He went off, but when he reached the steps to the veranda in front of
the hotel he stopped. His gout bothered him. At the top Mortimer
Hyslop was smoking a cigarette. The young man was thin and looked
bored; his summer clothes were a study in harmonious colors, and he
had delicate hands like a woman's. When he saw Cartwright stop he
asked: "Can I help you up, sir?"
Cartwright's face got red. He hated an offer of help that drew attention
to his infirmity, and thought Mortimer knew.
"No, thanks! I'm not a cripple yet. Have you seen Shillito?"

"You'll probably find him in the smoking room.