Fair Harbor Part 19

Before Mrs. Berry could answer--her embarra.s.sment and distress seemed to be bringing her again to the verge of tears--her daughter went on.

"It doesn't make a bit of difference what mother and I think about their--beauty--and all that," she said. "The whole thing comes down to the matter of whether or not we can afford to buy them. And we simply cannot. We haven't the money to spare. Spending seventy-five dollars for anything except the running expenses of the Harbor is now absolutely impossible. I told you that, Elvira, when you first suggested it."

Miss Snowden, still trembling, regarded her resentfully. "Yes, _you_ told me," she retorted. "I know you did. You are always telling us we can't do this or that. But why should _you_ tell us? That is what we can't understand. _You_ ain't--aren't--manager here, so far as we know.

We never heard of your appointment. _We_ always understood your mother was the manager, duly appointed. Isn't she?"

"Of course she is, but----"

"Yes, and when we have spoken to _her_--two or three of us at different times--she has said she thought buying these things was a lovely idea. I shouldn't be surprised if she thought so now.... Cordelia, don't you think the Fair Harbor ought to buy those statues and that fountain?"

This pointed appeal, of course, placed Mrs. Berry directly in the limelight and she wilted beneath its glare. She reddened and then paled.

Her fingers fidgetted with the pin at her throat. She picked up her handkerchief and dropped it. She looked at Elvira and the committee and then at her daughter.

"Why--why, I don't know," she faltered. "I think--of course I think the--the statuary is very beautiful. I--I said so. I--I am always fond of pretty things. You know I am, Elizabeth, you----"

"Wait a minute, Cordelia. Didn't you tell me you thought the Fair Harbor ought to buy them? Didn't you tell Suzanna and me just that?"

Mrs. Berry squirmed. She did not answer but, so far as Sears Kendrick was concerned, no answer was necessary. He was as certain as if she had sworn it that she had told them just that thing. And, looking at Elizabeth's face, he could see that she, too, was certain of it.

"Didn't you, Cordelia?" persisted Miss Snowden.

"Why--why, I don't know. Perhaps I did, but--but what difference does it make? You heard what Elizabeth said. She says we can't afford it. She always attends to such matters, you know she does."

"Yes," with sarcastic emphasis, "we do, but we don't know _why_ she should. And in this case we aren't going to stand it. You are supposed to be managing this place, Cordelia Berry, and if you are willing to turn your duties over to a--a mere child we aren't willing to let you.

Once more I ask you----"

Elizabeth interrupted. "There, there, Elvira," she said, "what _is_ the use? It isn't a question of mother's opinion or what she has said before. It is just a matter of money. We can't afford it."

Miss Snowden ignored her. "We shall not," she repeated, "permit our future and--and all like that to be ruined by the whims of a mere child.

_That_ is final."

She p.r.o.nounced the last sentence with solemn emphasis. The pause which followed should have been impressive but Mrs. Tidditt spoiled the effect.

"Mere child!" she repeated, significantly. "Well, I presume likely she _is_ a mere child compared to some folks. Only she just looks childish and they act that way."

There was another outburst of indignant exclamations from the committee.

The head of that body turned to her followers.

"It is quite evident," she declared, furiously, "that this conference is going to end just as the others have. But this time we are not going to sit back and be trampled on. There are those higher up to be appealed to and we shall appeal to them. Come!"

She stalked majestically to the door and marched out and down the hall, the committee following her. Only Mrs. Tidditt remained, and she but for a moment.

"They're goin' to the back room to have another meetin'," she whispered.

"If there's anything up that amounts to anything, 'Lizabeth, I'll come back and let you know."

Elizabeth did not answer, but Kendrick offered a suggestion. "You don't belong to this committee," he observed. "Perhaps they won't let you into the meetin'."

The eyes behind the steel spectacles snapped sparks. "I'd like to see 'em try to keep me out," declared Mrs. Esther, and hurried after the others. Elizabeth turned to her mother.

"Mother," she said, earnestly, "we must be very firm in this matter. We simply can't afford to spend any money just now except for necessities.

If they come to you again you must tell them so. You will, won't you?"

And now Mrs. Berry's agitation reached its climax. She turned upon her daughter.

"Oh, I suppose so," she cried hysterically, "I suppose so! I shall have to go through another scene and be spoken to as if--as if I were dirt under these women's feet instead of being as far above them in--in position and education and refinement as the clouds. Why can't I have peace--just a little peace and quiet? Why must I _always_ have to undergo humiliation after humiliation? I----"

"Mother, mother, please don't----"

But her mother was beyond reason.

"And you--" she went on, "you, my own daughter, why must you always take the other side, and put me in such positions, and--and humiliate me before--before---- Oh, why can't I die? I _wish_ I were dead! I do! I do!"

She burst into a storm of hysterical sobs and hurried toward the door.

Elizabeth would have gone to her but she pushed her aside and rushed into the front hall and up the stairs. They heard her sobs upon the upper landing.

Sears Kendrick, feeling more like an interloper than ever, looked in embarra.s.sment at the flowered carpet. He did not dare look at the young woman beside him. He had never in his life felt more sorry for any one.

Judge Knowles had said he hoped that he--Kendrick--might obtain a general idea of the condition of affairs in the Fair Harbor. The scenes he had just witnessed had given him a better idea of that condition than anything else could have done. And, somehow or other, it was the last of those scenes which had affected him most. Elizabeth Berry had faced the sarcasms and sneers of the committee, had never lost her poise or her temper, had never attempted to shift the responsibility, had never reproached her mother for the hesitating weakness which was at the base of all the trouble. And, in return, her mother had accused her of--all sorts of things.

And yet when Elizabeth spoke it was in defence of that mother.

"I hope, Cap'n Kendrick," she said, "that you won't misunderstand my mother or take what she just said too seriously. She is not very well, and very nervous, and, as you see, her position here is a trying one sometimes."

The captain could not keep back the speech which was at his tongue's end.

"_Your_ position is rather tryin', too, isn't it?" he observed. "It sort of would seem that way--to me."

She smiled sadly. "Why, yes--it is," she admitted. "But I am younger and--and perhaps I can bear it better."

It occurred to him that the greatest pity of all was the fact that she should be obliged to bear it. He did not say so, however, and she went on, changing the subject and speaking very earnestly.

"Cap'n Kendrick," she said, "I am very glad you heard this--this disagreement this morning. Judge Knowles told me you were going to call at the Harbor here and when he said it he--well, I thought he looked more than he said, if you know what I mean. I didn't ask any questions and he said nothing more, but I guess perhaps he wanted you to--to see--well, to see what he wasn't well enough to see--or something like that."

She paused. The captain was embarra.s.sed. He certainly felt guilty and he also felt as if he looked so.

"Why--why, Miss Berry," he stammered, "I hope you--you mustn't think----"

She waved his protestations aside.

"It doesn't make a bit of difference," she said. "No matter why you came I am very glad you did. This ridiculous statuary business is just one--well, symptom, so to speak. If it wasn't that, it might be something else. It comes, you see, from my position here--which really isn't any position at all--and their position, Elvira Snowden's and the rest. They pay a certain sum to get here in the first place and a small sum each year. There is the trouble. They think they pay for board and lodging and are guests. Of course what they pay amounts to almost nothing, but they don't realize that, or don't want to, and they expect to have their own way. Mother is--well, she is nervous and high strung and she hates scenes. They take advantage of her, some of them--no doubt they don't consider it that, but it seems to me so--and so I have been obliged to take charge, in a way. They don't understand that and resent it. I don't know that I blame them much. Perhaps I should resent it if I were in their place. Only.... But never mind that now.

"This is only one of a good many differences of opinion we have had,"

she went on. "In the old days--and not older than a year ago, for that matter--if the differences were too acute I used to go to Judge Knowles.

He always settled everything, finally and sensibly. But now, since he has been so sick, I--well, I simply can't go to him. He has been very kind to us, to mother and me, and I am very fond of him. He was a great friend of my father's and I think he likes me for father's sake. And now I will not trouble him in his sickness with my troubles--I will _not_."

She raised her head as she said it and Captain Sears, regarding her, was again acutely conscious of the fact that it was a very fine head indeed.

"I understand," he said.