Listers Great Adventure | Page 4

had removed Shillito, and she was satisfied but imagined he was not.
Cartwright knitted his white brows and drew hard at his cigar.
"You had better watch Barbara until the fellow starts," he resumed.
"Then I think you and the girls might join the Vernons at their fishing
camp. Vernon would like it, and he's a useful friend; besides, it's
possible Shillito's obstinate. Your letters needn't follow you; have them
sent to me at Montreal, which will cover your tracks. I must go back in
a few days."
Mrs. Cartwright weighed the suggestion. Vernon was a Winnipeg
merchant, and his wife had urged her to join the party at the fishing
camp in the woods. The journey was long, but Mrs. Cartwright rather
liked the plan. Shillito would not find them, and Mrs. Vernon had two

sons.
"Can't you come with us?" she asked. "Mortimer is going to Detroit."
"Sorry I can't," said Cartwright firmly. "I don't want to leave you, but
business calls."
He was relieved when Mrs. Cartwright let it go. Clara was a good sort
and seldom argued. He had loafed about with her family for two weeks
and had had enough. Moreover, business did call. If the Conference
found out before his boat arrived that he had engaged _Oreana's_ return
load, they might see the shippers and make trouble. Anyhow, they
would use some effort to get the cargo for their boats. Sometimes one
promised regular customers a drawback on standard rates.
"I'll write to Mrs. Vernon in the morning," Mrs. Cartwright remarked.
"Telegraph" said Cartwright, who did not lose time when he had made
a plan. "When the lines are not engaged after business hours, you can
send a night-letter; a long message at less than the proper charge."
Mrs. Cartwright looked pleased. Although she was rich and sometimes
generous, she liked small economies.
"After all, writing a letter's tiresome," she said. "Telegrams are easy.
Will you get me a form?"

CHAPTER II
IN THE DARK
In the morning Cartwright told the porter to take his chair to the beach
and sat down in a shady spot. He had not seen Barbara at breakfast and
was rather sorry for her, but she had not known Shillito long, and
although she might be angry for a time, her hurt could not be deep.
Lighting his pipe, he watched the path that led between the pines to the
water.

By and by a girl came out of the shadow, and going to the small
landing-stage, looked at her wrist-watch. Cartwright imagined she did
not see him and studied her with some amusement. Barbara looked
impatient. People did not often keep her waiting, and she had not
inherited her mother's placidity. She had a touch of youthful beauty,
and although she was impulsive and rather raw, Cartwright thought her
charm would be marked when she met the proper people and, so to
speak, got toned down.
Cartwright meant her to meet the proper people, because he was fond
of Barbara. She had grace, and although her figure was slender and
girlish, she carried herself well. Her brown eyes were steady, her small
mouth was firm, and as a rule her color was delicate white and pink.
Now it was high, and Cartwright knew she was angry. She wore
boating clothes and had obviously meant to go on the lake. The trouble
was, her companion had not arrived.
"Hallo!" said Cartwright. "Are you waiting for somebody?"
Barbara advanced and sat down on a rocky ledge.
"No," she said, "I'm not waiting now."
Cartwright smiled. He knew Barbara's temper, and his line was to keep
her resentment warm.
"You mean, you have given him up and won't go if he does arrive?
Well, when a young man doesn't keep his appointment, it's the proper
plan."
She blushed, but tried to smile. "I don't know if you're clever or not just
now, although you sometimes do see things the others miss. I really
was a little annoyed."
"I've lived a long time," said Cartwright. "However, perhaps it's
important I haven't forgotten I was young. I think your brother and
sister never were very young. They were soberer than me when I knew
them first."

"Mortimer is a stick," Barbara agreed. "He and Grace have a calm
superiority that makes one savage now and then. I like human people,
who sometimes let themselves go--"
She stopped, and Cartwright noted her wandering glance that searched
the beach and the path to the hotel. He knew whom she expected, and
thought it would give her some satisfaction to quarrel with the fellow.
Cartwright did not mean to soothe her.
"Mr. Shillito ought to have sent his apologies when he found he could
not come," he said.
Barbara's glance got fixed, and Cartwright knew he had blundered.