"Yes, sensible, if you can.I don't care who your father was.He was a smart banker, before he went wrong, and I can see now where you inherited your ability.But never mind that.He's dead; let him stay so.I'm not trying to get him.It's you I want.""You want ME! Do you mean you would take me into your employ, knowing who I am?""Sure! It is because I know WHAT you are that I want you.""Mr.Colton, you--I don't know what to say to you.""Try saying 'yes' and see how it seems.It will be a change, anyhow.""No, no! I cannot; it is impossible."
"Oh, you make me weary!...Humph! What is it now? Any more 'reasons'?"'Yes." I faced him squarely."Yes," I said, "there is another reason, one that makes it impossible, utterly impossible, if nothing else did.When I tell you what it is you will understand what I mean and agree with me.Your daughter and I have been thrown together a great deal since she came to Denboro.Our meetings have not been of my seeking, nor of hers.Of late I have realized that, for my own sake, for the sake of my peace of mind, Imust not meet her.I must not be where she is.I--""Here! Stop!" he broke in sharply."What is this? Do you mean to tell me that you and Mabel--""It is not her fault.It is my own, entirely.Mr.Colton, I--""Stop, I tell you! Do you mean to tell me that you are--that you have been making love to my daughter?""No.Certainly not."
"Then what do you mean? That she has been making love to you?""Mr.Colton--"
"There! Don't act like the Wild Man of Borneo.Do you mean that you are in love with her?""Don't you see now why I cannot accept? I must go away.I am going.""Humph! That will do....Humph! Well, Paine--Bennett, Ishould say; it is hard to keep track of your names--you are rather--er--reckless, it seems to me.Mabel is our only child and her mother and I, naturally, had planned for her future...Have you told her of your--recklessness?""Of course not! I shall not see her again.I shall leave Denboro as soon as I can.She will never know.""Humph! I see...I see...Well, I don't know that there is anything for me to say.""There is not."
"I am sorry for you, of course."
"Thank you."
There was a sharp rap at the door.Doctor Quimby opened it and entered the room.He glanced from me to his patient and his face expressed sharp disapproval.
"You'd better go, Ros," he snapped."What is the matter with you?
Didn't I tell you not to excite him."
"I'M not excited," observed Colton, drily.
"Clear out this minute!" continued the angry doctor."Ros Paine, Ithought you had more sense."
"So did I," this from "Big Jim"."However, I am learning a lot these days.Good-by, Paine."I was at the door.
"Oh, by the way," he called after me, "let me make a suggestion.
If I were you, Roscoe, I wouldn't leave Denboro to-day.Not before to-morrow morning, at any rate."I did not understand him and I asked for no explanation.It was the first time he had addressed me by my Christian name, but it was not until afterward that I remembered that fact.
That afternoon I was alone in my haven of refuge, the boathouse.
Mother and I had had a long talk.I told her everything that had transpired.I kept back nothing, either of my acts or my feelings.
She said she was not sorry for what I had done.She was rather glad, than otherwise, that I had disclosed our secret to Mr.
Colton.
"He knows now, Roscoe," she said."And he was right, too.You and I have brooded over our sorrow and what we considered our disgrace much more than we should.He is right, Boy.We are innocent of any wrong-doing.""Yes, Mother," I answered, "I suppose we are.But we must keep the secret still.No one else in Denboro must know.You know what gossip there would be.There is enough now.I presume I am called a traitor and a blackguard by every person in the town.""Why no, you are not.That is the strange thing about it.Luther was up at the post-office this morning and no one seems to know of your sale of the land.Captain Dean has, apparently, kept the news to himself.Why do you suppose he does that?""I don't know.I don't know, unless it is because he--no, I can't understand it at all.However, they will know soon enough.By the way, I have never asked Dorinda where Lute was that noon--it seems ages ago--when he was missing at dinner time.And how did he know of Mr.Colton's illness?"She smiled."Poor Luther!" she said."He announced his intention of running away, you remember.As a matter of fact he met the Coltons' chauffeur in the motor car and the chauffeur invited him to go to Bayport with him.The chauffeur had an errand there.
Lute accepted--as he says, automobile rides don't come his way every day in the week--and they had trouble with the engine and did not get back until almost night.Then Miss Colton told him of her father's seizure and gave him the note for you.It was to you she turned in her trouble, Boy.She trusts you.Roscoe, I--I think she--""Don't say it, Mother.All that is ended.I am going to forget--if I can."
The rest of our conversation need not be written here.She said many things, such as fond mothers say to their sons and which the sons know too well they do not deserve.We discussed my leaving Denboro and she was so brave and self-sacrificing that my conscience smote me.
"I'll stay, Mother," I said."I can't leave you.I'll stay and fight it out with you.After all, it will not be much worse than it was before I went to the bank."But she would not hear of my staying.I had a friend in Chicago, a distant relative who knew our story.Perhaps he could help me to a start somewhere.She kissed me and bade me keep up my courage, and I left her.I ate a hurried meal, a combination of breakfast and dinner, and, dodging Lute, who was in the back yard waiting to question me concerning the Coltons, walked down to the boathouse.
There, in my armchair, I tried to think, to map out some sort of plan for my future.
It was a hopeless task.I was not interested in it.I did not much care what became of me.If it were not for Mother I should not have cared at all.Nevertheless, for her sake, I must try to plan, and I did.
