Ainslee's magazine, Volume 16, No. 3, October, 1905. Various

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ with you, dad,” Ned broke in, spiritedly.

      Hastings, stung, started to rise, but “Don’t be silly,” the lad said, impatiently, but with more friendliness than he had yet shown. “We may have a thousand pleasant things to say about Paris, but this is the important thing, and we had better keep at it.

      “Laurence” – Hastings gave a little start; Ned had never called him Laurence – “is quite as much of a greenhorn about mines as I was a few months ago. It’s only fair to tell him just what our position is. He will at least hear a story of our grievances that hasn’t been garbled.” His tone was spirited.

      “I should like that,” said Hastings, quietly.

      Ned leaned forward eagerly. Then he settled his cravat with a peculiar twist, which Hastings recognized as Ned’s characteristic preliminary to discourse. He and Elenore had laughed over it many times together.

      “Ours is the older and deeper mine,” Ned began. “That’s the first thing. And all the mines here strike the big bodies of water in sinking. That’s the second. Your manager has hit on the economical plan of doing without large pumps; and when you strike water, he lets it seep through to us, and we raise it for you. It increases our dangers and expenses and your dividends. How would you like it in our place?”

      John Carrington watched him with a look of mingled pride and amusement.

      “In the case you have stated, I shouldn’t like it at all,” Hastings stated, coolly. “But Richards has assured my uncle that this grievance of yours is imaginary; that the water you get comes from your own sinking. Isn’t there a possibility that may be so?”

      “No,” said Ned, positively; “there isn’t.”

      Hastings hesitated. That Ned believed what he was saying was obvious; but, after all, what did he know about it? Wasn’t he, save in his art, the most impractical soul living? Why shouldn’t it be quite as likely that Carrington’s men deceived him as that Richards deceived his uncle?

      “There ought to be the simplest of ways of settling that,” he said, slowly. “Let a couple of your men go down our mine and satisfy themselves that we’re doing what’s right.”

      John Carrington’s laugh was ironically amused.

      “You might suggest that to Richards,” he said. Then his tone changed. “He won’t even give us a map of your workings,” he said, sharply. “As for letting anyone from the Star underground, he has announced pretty clearly that the man who tried it wouldn’t come up again. And though Richards’ word hasn’t any par value, I am willing to believe that for once he meant what he said.”

      “Aren’t you painting Richards in rather too black a color?” Hastings protested. “Aren’t you unduly prejudiced against him? Premeditated murder, now?”

      “Accident, my dear sir,” John Carrington said, ironically, “and underground accidents are almost too easy.”

      Hastings hesitated. He looked at Ned.

      The lad made a Gallic gesture that sent his hands far apart. “What would you?” it signified.

      There was a tinge of mockery in his friendly smile. Yet something of confidence, too.

      “My dear Hastings,” he said; “it is decidedly up to you. Our word or Richards’.”

      Hastings flushed.

      “My dear Ned,” he said, steadily, “that I should doubt your good faith is impossible. Nor,” he flared, “do I think you doubt mine. I have been thrust suddenly, through the great generosity of an uncle to whom I am as loyal as you are to your father, into a situation that I know nothing about. I have a manager in whom my uncle, a cautious man, has believed implicitly. You tell me this man is a rogue. But you may be wrong. I can’t condemn him unheard. One thing is certain,” he went on. “I shall find out. And if there has been anything crooked about our management, it shall be righted.” The line of his lips straightened. The muscles of his jaw grew tense. It was impossible to doubt that he meant what he said.

      Both listeners believed him. Both admired him. But John Carrington looked his admiration frankly, and young Carrington dropped his eyelids satisfiedly over his.

      “That is all we could ask,” said John Carrington, approvingly. “Now let me hear you youngsters chat about Paris.”

      But Hastings was impatient to be off now.

      “I must get back to my uncle,” he said, lightly. “It has been a hard day for him, and I suggested that I would serve as secretary for once.”

      “Then, order the horses round for Mr. Hastings, Ned,” said John Carrington, and as the lad disappeared, and Hastings protested: “They are standing harnessed in the stable,” he said, decisively. “You mustn’t insist on our being too inhospitable.”

      And as Hastings capitulated, John Carrington followed out a sudden impulse.

      “You will explain to your uncle that this half-mended leg of mine will prevent my calling on him,” he stated, feeling suddenly that Hastings’ uncle must have some good points, “but I shall be glad to put my horses at his disposal while he is here. Ned will come over to your car in the morning, and say so gracefully.”

      He smiled confidently at the returning lad.

      There was a queer, contented look lurking in the lad’s eyes. “As gracefully as he can,” he laughed, lightly. “I’ll walk down to the gate with you,” he added.

      It was on the way to the gate that Hastings asked the question which was really the mainspring of his call.

      “Where is your sister now? Did she go to Brittany?”

      Young Carrington seemed amused.

      “Elenore’s plans were rather upset this summer,” he said, lightly, “as well as mine. She’s far from Brittany, in a curious little place you never heard of in France.” He was rather proud of the way that sentence was turned. “She’s with a friend, and enjoying herself, though she says it’s all queer.”

      Hastings had a mental vision of Elenore in some far-off corner of France, making gay over all its out-of-the-way absurdities in that companionable way of hers.

      “I wish she were here,” he said, suddenly.

      “Oh, well, I dare say she’d rather be where she is than anywhere else,” Ned rejoined, carelessly.

      Which was cold comfort to Hastings.

      “By the way,” he said, turning, as he was about to step into the trap, “I suppose we’re perfectly safe to make our headquarters in the car here?”

      “Safe as the Waldorf, if you’re on a siding,” Ned laughed. “If you stay on the main track the cars will hit you.”

      Hastings mentally swore at himself. The question had sounded idiotic.

      “See you in the morning,” Ned called, as Hastings drove off. But he walked back to the house rather slowly.

      “Pretty tired, dad?” he asked, cheerfully.

      “Ned,” said John Carrington, slowly, “when you children were little I’m afraid I loved Elenore best. But no daughter can СКАЧАТЬ