"Getting me?"

"Yes," she declared with vigor, yet coloring a little. "A man should work."

"But I'm not idle."

"He should work to get ahead--to save--to make something of himself--to establish himself in life--to have a home."

He smiled then and likewise colored. "I--I------A man can't do that alone. Especially the home-making part."

"You don't suppose any of these girls about here--the nice girls, I mean--want a man who is not a home provider?"

He laughed outright then. "Some of them get that kind, I fear, Miss Grayling. Mandy Card, for instance."

"Are you planning to be another Milt Baker?" she responded with scorn.

"Oh, now, you're hard on a fellow," he complained. "I'm always busy.

And, fixed as I am, I don't see why I should grub and moil at unpleasant things."

Louise shrugged her shoulders and made a gesture of finality. "You are impossible, I fear," she said and put aside--not without a secret pang--her interest in Lawford Tapp, an interest which had been developing since she first met the young man.

He allowed the subject to lapse and began telling her about the ledges on which the rock cod and tautog schooled; where bluefish might be caught on the line, and snappers in the channels going into the Haven.

"Good sport. I must take you out in the _Merry Andrew_," he said.

"She's a peach of a sailer--and my very own."

"Oh! do you own the sloop, Mr. Tapp?"

"I guess I do! And no money could buy her," he cried with boyish enthusiasm. "She's the best lap-streak boat anywhere along the Cape.

And _sail_!"

"I love sailing," she confessed, with brightening visage.

"Say! You just set the day--so it won't conflict with your work--and I'll take you out," he declared eagerly,

"But won't it conflict with your duties?"

"Humph!" he returned. "I thought your idea was that I didn't have any duties. However," and he smiled again, "you need not worry about that.

When you want to go I will arrange everything so that I'll have a free day."

"But not alone, Mr. Tapp?"

"No," he agreed gravely. "I suppose that wouldn't do. But we can rake up a chaperon somewhere."

"Oh, yes!" and Louise dimpled again. "We'll take Betty Gallup along.

She's an able seaman, too."

"I _bet_ she is!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Lawford with emphasis.

He handled the boat with excellent judgment, and his confidence caused Louise to see no peril when they ran almost on the edge of the maelstrom over Gull Rocks. "I know this coast by heart," he said. "I believe there's not one of them sailing out of the Haven who is a better pilot than I am. At least, I've learned _that_ outside of textbooks," and he smiled at her.

Louise wondered how good an education this scion of a Cape Cod family really had secured. The longer she was in his company the more she was amazed by his language and manners. She noted, too, that he was much better dressed to-day. His flannels were not new; indeed they were rather shabby. But the garments' original cost must have been prohibitive for a young man in his supposed position. Very likely, however, they had been given him, second-hand, by some member of the family for which he worked.

The more she saw of him, and the more she thought about it, the greater was Louise's disappointment in Lawford Tapp. She was not exactly sorry she had come out with him in the motor boat; but her feeling toward him was distinctly different when she landed, from that which had been roused in her first acquaintance.

It was true he was not an idle young man--not exactly. But he betrayed an ability and a training that should already have raised him above his present situation in the social scale, as Louise understood it. She was disappointed, and although she bade Lawford Tapp good-bye pleasantly she was secretly unhappy.

The next morning she chanced to need several little things that were not to be found in Cap'n Abe's store and she went uptown in quest of them. At midday she was still thus engaged, so she went to the Inn for lunch.

Gusty Durgin spied her as she entered and found a small table for Louise where she would be alone. A fat woman whom Gusty mentioned as "the boss's sister, Sara Ann Whipple," helped wait upon the guests.

Several of the business men of the town, as well as the guests of the Inn, took their dinners there.

To one man, sitting alone at a table not far distant, Louise saw that Gusty was particularly attentive. He was typically a city man; one could not for a moment mistake him for a product of the Cape.

He was either a young-old or an old-young looking man, his hair graying at the temples, but very luxuriant and worn rather long. A bright complexion and beautifully kept teeth and hands marked him as one more than usually careful of his personal appearance. Indeed, his character seemed to border on that of the exquisite.

His countenance was without doubt attractive, for it was intelligent and expressed a quiet humor that seemed to have much kindliness mixed with it. His treatment of the unsophisticated Gusty, who hovered about him with open admiration, held just that quality of good-natured tolerance which did not offend the waitress but that showed discerning persons that he considered her only in the light of an artless child.

"D'you know who that is?" Gusty whispered to Louise when she found time to do so. The plump girl was vastly excited; her hands shook as she set down the dishes. "That's Mr. Judson Bane."

"Yes. I chanced to meet Mr. Bane once, as I told you," smiled Louise, keeping up the illusion of her own connection with the fringe of the theatrical world.

"And Miss Louder and Miss Noyes have come. My, you ought to see _them_!" said the emphatic waitress. "They've got one o' them flivvers. Some gen'leman friend of Miss Noyes' lent it to 'em.

They're out now hunting what they call a garridge for it. That's a fancy name for a barn, I guess. And dressed!" gasped Gusty finally.

"They're dressed to kill!"

"We shall have lively times around Cardhaven now, sha'n't we?" Louise commented demurely.

"We almost always do in summer," Gusty agreed with a sigh. "Last summer an Italian lost his trick bear in the pine woods 'twixt here and Paulmouth and the young 'uns didn't darest to go out of the houses for a week. Poor critter! When they got him he was fair foundered eating green cranberries in the bogs."

"Something doing," no matter what, was Gusty's idea of life as it should be. Louise finished her meal and went out of the dining-room.

In the hall her mesh bag caught in the latch of the screen door and dropped to the floor. Somebody was right at hand to pick it up for her.

"Allow me." said a deep and cultivated voice. "Extremely annoying."

It was Mr. Bane, hat in hand. He restored the bag, and as Louise quietly thanked him they walked out of the Inn together. Louise was returning to Cap'n Abe's store, and she turned in that direction before she saw that Mr. Bane was bound down the hill, too.

"I fancy we are fellow-outcasts," he said. "You, too, are a visitor to this delightfully quaint place?"

"Yes, Mr. Bane," she returned frankly. "Though I can claim relationship to some of these Cardhaven folk. My mother came from the Cape."

"Indeed? It is not such a far cry to Broadway from any point of the compa.s.s, after all, is it?" and he smiled engagingly down at her.

"You evidently do not remember me, Mr. Bane?" she said, returning his smile. "Aboard the Anders Liner, coming up from Jamaica, two years ago this last winter? Professor Ernest Grayling is my father."

"Indeed!" he exclaimed. "You are Miss Grayling? I remember you and your father clearly. Fancy meeting you here!" and Mr. Bane insisted on taking her hand. "And how is the professor? No need to ask after your health, Miss Grayling."

As they walked on together Louise took more careful note of the actor.

He had the full habit of a well-fed man, but was not gross. He was athletic, indeed, and his head was poised splendidly on broad shoulders. Louise saw that his face was ma.s.saged until it was as pink and soft as a baby's, without a line of close shaving to be detected.