Geoffrey Hamstead Part 18

He looked at them all pleasantly as he offered his arm to a.s.sist Mrs.

Dusenall's ascent. When they arrived on the veranda above, his idea was that, in order to bring about the perfect concord he desired to see, individual introductions were necessary. To Mrs. Dusenall he introduced a large number of lean girls and stout women, ninety per cent of whom said "pleased to meet you," and Mrs. Dusenall, appearing, with surprising activity of countenance, to be freshly gratified at each introduction, quite won their hearts.

But when Mr. Cowper commenced to introduce them all over again to Margaret, that young person, not being afraid of women, rebelled, and, touching his arm to stay his impetuous career, said: "Oh, no, it will take too long. Let me do it." Then she turned to the company. "As Mr.

Cowper says, my name is Mackintosh," and she ducked them a sort of old-fashioned courtesy. The company bowed--some smiling and some solemn at her audacity. "And very much at your service," she added, as she dipped again to the solemn ones--capturing them also. Then she turned to the others. "And this is Miss Dusenall," and so-and-so, and so-and-so, until they were all made known.

"And this is Morry," she said lastly, taking the little man by the coat-sleeve. "Make your bow, Morry."

Rankin remained gazing on the ground until she shook him by the sleeve.

Then he took a swift, scared glance at the a.s.sembly, and said, "I'm shy," and hid his head behind tall Margaret's shoulder. This absurdity amused the American girls, and five or six of them, forgetting their stiffness, crowded around to encourage him. A beaming matron came up to Margaret and took her kindly by the elbows.

"I must kiss you, my dear. You did that so charmingly."

"Indeed, it's very kind of you to say so," replied Margaret, as she received an affectionate salute. "Long introductions are so tiresome, are they not?"

"They do take time, my dear," said the motherly person, as they sat down together.

"Yes, time and introductions should be taken by the forelock," smiled Margaret.

"Just what you did, my dear. I _do_ wish I had a daughter like you. Oh my!" And the little woman's face grew long for a moment at some sad recollection. An interesting episode of family sorrow would have been confided to Margaret if they had not been interrupted by the arrival of four tall young men, in company with Mr. Withers. The grave, worn-out face of Mr. Withers had just a flicker in it as his strong ratchet-spring voice addressed itself to our party:

"Mrs. Dusenall and friends, permit me to introduce to you the 'Little Frauds.'"

The four tall young men bowed with the usual gravity, and then mixed with the company. They wore untanned leather and canvas shoes, dark-blue stockings, light-colored knickerbocker trousers, and leather belts.

Navy-blue flannel shirts, with white silk anchors on the broad collars, completed their costume, with the exception of black neck-ties and stiff white linen caps with horizontal leather peaks. Taken as a whole, their costume was such a happy combination of a baseball player's and a Pullman-car conductor's that the brain refused to believe in the maritime occupation suggested by the white anchors.

Mr. Withers explained who they were.

"The Little Frauds," he said, "are a party of young men who live together in a kind of small shanty on one of the neighboring islands.

Although the locality is picturesque, they do not live here during the winter, but only migrate to these parts when--well, when I suppose no other place will have them. They come here every year to enjoy the solitude of a hermit-life. Here they withdraw themselves from their fellow-man, and more especially their fellow-woman."

The gentlemen referred to were taking no manner of notice of Mr.

Withers, and in their chatter with the girls were not living up to their character.

"The reason why they are called 'Little Frauds' has now almost ceased to be handed down by the voice of tradition," continued Mr. Withers. "It is not because they are intrinsically more deceptive than other men. No man who had any deception in his nature would go round with a leg like this without resorting to artifice to improve its shape."

Mr. Withers here picked up a blue-covered pipe-stem which served one of the Frauds with the means of locomotion.

"That, ladies and gentlemen," said Mr. Withers, slowly, in the tone of a lecturer, and poising the limb in his hand, "is essentially the leg of a hermit. If for no other reason than to hide that leg from the public, its owner, ladies, should become a hermit."

The leg here became instinct with life, and Mr. Withers suddenly stepped back and gasped for breath. Then he explained further:

"Seeing that the origin of the name is now almost lost in obscurity, the Little Frauds themselves have lately taken advantage of this fact, ladies, to palm off upon the public a spurious version of the story.

They say, in fact, that because they systematically withdrew themselves into a life of celibacy and retirement, and being, as they claim, very desirable as husbands, this name was given to them as being frauds upon the matrimonial market."

Somebody here called out: "Oh, dry up, Withers!"

Mr. Withers took a gla.s.s of champagne from one of the waiters pa.s.sing with a tray and did quite the reverse. He took two gulps, threw the rest over the railing, and continued:

"One glance, ladies, at these people, who are really outcasts from society, will satisfy you that their explanation of the term is as palpably manufactured as the ma.n.u.scripts of Mr. Shapira--"

"Mister who?" inquired a profane voice.

"Unaccustomed as they are to the usages of polite society, ladies, you will excuse any utterances on their part that might seem intended to interrupt my discourse. The real reason of this ridiculous name is as follows--"

Here, a remarkably good-looking Fraud stood up before Mr. Withers and obliterated him. He spoke in a voice something like a corn-craik:

"We commissioned Mr. Withers to speak to you, Mrs. Dusenall, and to your party, on a topic of great interest to ourselves, but as the night is likely to pa.s.s before Mr. Withers gets to the point, we will have to dispense with his services."

Mr. Withers had already retired behind his cigar again, with the air of a man who had acquitted himself pretty well.

The Frauds then begged leave to invite by word of mouth all our party to a dance next evening on their island.

Mrs. Dusenall accepted for all, as she rose to go, suggesting, at the same time, that perhaps some of her new friends, if they did not think it too late, would accompany them across the water in the moonlight to examine their yacht.

After some conversation, a number went with Mrs. Dusenall in the gig, while Margaret and the rest of our party were ferried over by Frauds and others in their long and comfortable row-boats.

Some more champagne was broached on the yacht, but Mr. Withers said he remembered once, early in life, drinking some of the old rye whisky of Canada, and that since then he had always sought for annexation with that delightful country.

To the surprise of Mrs. Dusenall, both he and all the "Melican men" took rye whisky, and ignored her champagne.

The dismay of Mr. Cowper on hearing that the yacht would depart on the morning after the Frauds' dance was unfeigned. He said it "broke him all up."

"Just when we were getting everything down solid for a little time together," he said.

Mrs. Dusenall explained that the yacht was to take part in a race at Toronto in a few days, and must be on hand to defend her previously won laurels.

"Well, Mrs. Dusenall," said Mr. Cowper thoughtfully, "I have myself, over there in the bay, a small smoke-grinder that--"

"A--what?" inquired Mrs. Dusenall.

"A steamboat, madame--a small steam-yacht. Nothing like this, of course." He waved his hand airily as if he considered himself in a floating palace. "But very comfortable, I do a.s.sure you. Now, if you are going away so soon, the only thing I can do is to get you all to visit the different islands round here in my steam-barge. I call her the old roadster, madame, because she can't do her mile in better than three minutes."

As this represented a speed of twenty miles an hour, Mrs. Dusenall said it was fast enough for her. If he could have got a steamboat fast enough to beat the best trotting record Mr. Cowper would have been content.

It was settled that at eleven o'clock next day the steamer should call and take the whole party off to visit the islands; and he suggested that, as there would be "a sandwich or something" on the boat, Mrs.

Dusenall need not think about a return to the Ideal for luncheon.

He then gravely addressed himself to the four Frauds and to Mr. Withers:

"Gentlemen, before we leave this elegant vessel, I wish to remind you that no real old Canadian rye whisky will pa.s.s our lips again until such a chance as this once more presents itself. Gentlemen, as this is the last drink we will have to-night, we will, with Mrs. Dusenall's permission, make ready our gla.s.ses, and we will dedicate and consecrate this toast to the success of the Ideal and her delightful crew. Mrs.

Dusenall--ladies and gentlemen of the Ideal--this toast is not only to celebrate our new acquaintance, which we hope may have in the future more chances to ripen into intimacy (and which on our part will never be forgotten), but we drink it also for another reason--for another less worthy reason--and I can not disguise from you the fact that, to speak plainly, _we like the liquor_. Madame, the gentlemen of the Ideal have consented to come back with me now, to smoke just one cigar on the hotel before we all retire for the night. Citizens of the United States, Frauds, and others, as this is the last drink we are to have to-night, we will drink the toast in silence."

The gravity of the Americans is a huge national sham, throwing into relief their humor and sunshiny good-will, as in a picture a somber gray background throws up the high lights.

In half an hour more all the men were back at the hotel with Mr.

Cowper; but, instead of pursuing the tranquil occupation of smoking a cigar, as he proposed, they were led in and confronted with a banquet in which the extensive resources of the hotel had been taxed to the utmost Mr. Cowper called it the "little something to eat," as he pressed them to come from the verandas into the hotel. But really it was a magnificent affair, and, as Mr. Lemons, who was eloquent on the subject, said, it was calculated to appeal to a man's most delicate sensibilities.

We will not follow them any further on this evening. Mr. Cowper's idea was to all have a good time together--banish stiffness, promote intimacy, and to drive to the winds all cares. He certainly succeeded, for at twelve o'clock there was not a "Mister" in the room for anybody.

At one o'clock it was "Jack, old man," and "Cowper, old chappie," all round. At two o'clock the friendship on all sides was not only hermetically sealed, but it promised to be eternal, and after that, it was thought the night was a little dark for Charley Dusenall to return with the others to the yacht, so he remained at the hotel till morning.