Harper's Round Table, August 20, 1895 Part 5

"Oh, don't ask me! I think it's awfully bad form for one fellow to give away another, don't you know. Of course, some fellows would, but I'm not that kind."

Gertrude admired these sentiments extremely. She wished that Bronson would hold the umbrella at an angle that would shield her a little more.

It was entirely over him, while she herself was in the sun, and it was rather warm walking. However, it was a pleasure to have her umbrella carried by such an elegant-looking individual, even though she derived no benefit from it.

From his words and manner Gertrude gathered the idea that Bronson, if he chose, could tell something very much against Neal Gordon, but his high sense of honor held him back.

"What a lovely fellow he is!" thought Gertrude; then she said aloud, "Of course I would not have you for the world. I have always fancied there might be something, don't you know?"

Now Gertrude had really never fancied anything of the kind, and yet she did not dream of being untruthful. It was an idea born of the moment.

Her vanity prompted her to agree with Bronson, who was apparently such a very charming fellow.

"Oh, don't say that, Miss Morgan! I didn't mean to give you that idea.

You're so awfully clever, you have guessed what I never intended to say.

Don't ever tell what I said, will you? I wouldn't take away the fellow's character for the world."

Gertrude blushed and promised, pleased to find herself in the position of having a secret with Bronson. She told her cousin Kitty, afterwards, that he really talked most confidentially with her.

When they returned, luncheon was ready. Cynthia took the ferns with a cool "Thank you," looked at them critically and somewhat dubiously, and laid them on the impromptu table.

"Terribly anty," she said, shaking a spray vigorously in the air. "Ugh!

look at the ants!"

"Perhaps those that grow over here would not have had any ants," said Bronson, "but I am so much obliged to you for sending me for these, Miss Franklin. I had such a charming walk. It quite repaid me, even though you are so chary of your thanks."

"I'm so glad," returned Cynthia, "but not as glad as I am famished."

She left Bronson, and walking around to the farther side of the table, sat down. Neal followed her, and presently they were all seated and enjoying the dainty meal. Never was there such clear and fragrant coffee, and the rich cream that the Franklins had brought made it "equal to the nectar of Olympus," said Bronson; he was addicted to airy speech.

The oysters were done to a turn and seasoned to a nicety, and the sandwiches melted in one's mouth. In the midst of the feast they heard the sound of wheels on the bridge, and looking up, they saw Mrs.

Franklin, who was driving herself.

"You see I couldn't stay away," she called to them. "Jack, come tie Bess for me, and then let me have a bite, if you have anything to spare."

Edith's face clouded. "Why did she have to come so soon?" she thought, and her expression was not lost on Bronson.

"So this is the rich sister and step-mother," thought Bronson; "and the eldest daughter doesn't like her coming. Now, I don't exactly see why Gordon can't settle the balance if she has such a pile. But I'll lie low and work him easily."

He watched his opportunity, and after luncheon he followed Neal to the river-bank, where he was getting a pail of water for dish-washing purposes.

"I say, Gordon, old fellow, I haven't had a chance before to thank you for sending me the fifty. You see I was in a confounded hole myself, and there was no way out of it but to ask you. I hated to dun you. As for the rest, there's no hurry about that whatever."

Neal looked at him. His brown eyes could be very searching when occasion required. Bronson stooped, and picking up a flat stone from the little beach on which they were standing, he tossed it across the river.

"Five skips," said he, lightly, as he turned away.

"Hold on a minute," said Neal. "Your offer is very kind, but you may be pretty sure that I'll pay you as soon as I can. I've no wish to be under obligations to you any longer than is necessary."

"As you like," returned Bronson, with a shrug. "I only thought it might ease your mind to know that there's no actual hurry. Ah, Miss Franklin,"

as Cynthia drew near, "can't I persuade you to go out on the river with me?"

"I am afraid not. I should think that you hadn't paddled a great deal, as I noticed that you took your ease coming up."

"Miss Franklin, I never should have imagined that you were timid on the water. How little one can tell!"

"I am not a bit timid, but I don't care to be upset."

"Upset!" laughed Bronson. "Why, I've been upset a dozen times. In such a shallow ditch as this it wouldn't make much difference, as long as we're suitably dressed."

Cynthia looked at him slowly, criticisingly, scornfully. Then she said:

"I should think bathing clothes were the only things suitable for upsetting. And the Charles River isn't a ditch. Of course you didn't know, and we can pardon the ignorant a good deal."

Bronson turned away and left them.

"That last was a scorcher," chuckled Neal, who had been listening attentively. "If there is one thing Bronson hates above another, it is to be thought not to 'know it all,' and he caught on to what you meant."

Cynthia, however, felt a little remorseful. She was quite sure that she had been rude. Bronson was a stranger, and should have been treated with the politeness due to such. But then he was Neil's enemy, and Cynthia could never be anything but loyal to Neal. Thus she soothed her conscience.

When luncheon had been cleared away and the baskets packed to go home, Bronson asked Edith if she would go out with him on the river.

"Just for a little paddle, Miss Franklin," he said. "Do come!"

Cynthia heard him, and she frowned and shook her head vigorously at her sister, hoping that she would not go, but Edith had no intention of declining the invitation. She said yes, with one of her prettiest smiles, and accompanied Bronson to the place where the canoes were drawn up on the bank.

"I suppose it doesn't make any difference which one I take," he said, and, either by accident or design, he singled out Neal's boat and put it into the water. Edith stepped in, and then watched Bronson's movements with some trepidation. He did not seem to know much about the management of a canoe, and they rocked alarmingly with his short, uncertain strokes.

"I'll soon get the hang of it," he said, rea.s.suringly. "I have never been much on a river, but it's easy enough."

Cynthia walked along the bank, watching them.

"I hope you've got a life-preserver, Edith! Mr. Bronson says he is in the habit of upsetting--likes it, in fact--and I'm dreadfully afraid for you. You know you can't swim, and Mr. Bronson will never be able to save you _as well as_ himself. _Do_ be careful of my sister, Mr. Bronson. The ditch is rather deep just there. Oh, look at him wiggle!" she added to Neal, who had followed her.

"And the fellow has taken my canoe!" growled Neal.

"Poor Neal! You boasted too soon. You'll never again be able to say there isn't a scratch on the bottom."

"I only hope I shall ever see the boat again. He'll probably smash her all to smithereens."

"I suppose it makes no difference if Edith is 'smashed to smithereens,'

only the canoe," remarked Cynthia, demurely.

In the mean time Edith was having an exciting voyage. Bronson paddled slowly and unevenly up the river until he found himself in the rapids, which were much swifter and more dangerous than those they had pa.s.sed through on the way from Oakleigh. The canoe sc.r.a.ped and creaked over the rocks. The only wonder was that a hole was not stove at once in the bottom.

They were in the midst now of the rushing water. Suddenly the boat lodged for a moment on a rock, and swayed to and fro. Down to the very water's edge went first one side and then the other. A half-inch more and they would have capsized.

Edith sat perfectly silent, scarcely daring to breathe. Bronson, never before so quick in his movements, righted the craft, and with a vigorous push of the paddle got off the dangerous rock.

"I--I think it would be rather pleasanter to tie up," faltered Edith.