Sonnie-Boys People | Page 2

but his gaze was keen enough. It never left her face. "A tall man came running down to meet him," he resumed. "They seemed terribly glad to see each other."
"That must have been my brother to meet--Mr. Balfe, was it?--your fellow-passenger."
He hesitated a moment. "Mr. Balfe--yes, that was it. The captain--or was it the captain?--said that there was a Mr. Balfe who went on special missions for the government, but whether this was the Mr. Balfe or not he could not say."
She sewed serenely on. "I've heard that that steamer captain is developing into a great gossip. Our Mr. Balfe is my brother's dearest friend and godfather to my brother's boy--the boy you were speaking to on the beach--and if he ever found himself in this part of the world without calling on us, I don't know what my brother would think."
This time Miss Welkie looked up, and Necker smiled with her. Also he peered smilingly through the veranda vine. "So that is your brother's boy out there? Well, well! And a fine boy, too! A beautifully shaped head. Bright, I'll bet?"
"Naturally"--with a tender smile--"we think so."
"I'll bet he is. And of course your brother is laying great plans to assure his future?"
"I'm afraid you are not well acquainted with my brother, Mr. Necker."
[Illustration: "And of course your brother is laying great plans to assure his future?"]
"Not personally, Miss Welkie, but surely he won't neglect his own child's future?"
"I'm afraid that would not be his way of looking at it."
"And his way is a fine way, no doubt, Miss Welkie--if a man had only himself to think of. But can, or should, his family--" he paused.
"His family? Young Greg and I are his family, Mr. Necker, and I'm sure we're not worrying about the future." Her head bent lower to her sewing, but not too low for Necker to see the little smile, half of humor, half of something else, hovering on her lips.
"Because you're too young--and too unselfish."
This time her head came up and the smile developed into a soft laugh. "No, no, nothing quite so fine as that, nor quite so awfully young. At twenty-three----"
Necker tried to meet her eyes; but the eyes were not for him, nor for the boy on the beach this time, nor for the brave war-ships at anchor. Her eyes were for something farther away. Necker, twisting in his chair, could distinguish through the haze the fortification walls on the other side of the little bay.
There was another little smile hovering. Necker waited hopefully. She, catching his eye, flushed and returned to her sewing. "We're all very happy here," she added after a moment, and, still flushing, resumed her needle.
Presently he pointed his cane at the boy on the beach. "A great deal of your brother in him, isn't there?"
"Very much. Our older friends back home say that it is like Greg--that is, my brother--being born all over."
"A fine boy, yes, Miss Welkie, and ought to be a great man some day. But I'll be running along now, Miss Welkie."
"You won't wait for him? He will be glad to see you, I know."
"Thank you; but after a man's been out there under that sun all day is no time for a friend to bother him. And I am a friend of your brother's, believe me, Miss Welkie. It is because I am a friend and an admirer of his that I'm here."
"But you will return later?"
"I will, thank you--after he's had time to clean up and eat and smoke, and a chat with his friend, I'll drop in for a little talk, and in that little talk, Miss Welkie, I hope you won't be against me, for I mean it for his best. So until eight o'clock to-night, Miss Welkie--adios." Necker, swishing his gold-headed cane, strolled leisurely away.
"I wonder what he wants of Greg," murmured Marie Welkie. And until his pea-green suit was lost to sight she speculated on his probable errand.
By and by her eyes, now less speculative, detected the smudge against the concrete walls. She took down a pair of glasses from the wall. It was the towboat leaving the wharf. The glasses took the place of her sewing, and they were still to her eyes when a sharp "Auntie!" came to her ears. "Tention, auntie! Colors!" warned the voice. Lowering the glasses, Marie came obediently to attention.
The sun was cutting the edge of the sea. The last level light lay on the long, slow, swelling waters like a rolling, flaming carpet, and in that flaming path the gray war-ships bobbed to anchor; and on the quarter-deck of every ship a red-coated band was drawn up, and from the jack-staff of every ship an American ensign was slowly dropping down. The boy stood with his back to her, but Marie knew