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  CHAPTER XI

  THE GALBRAITH HOUSEHOLD

  The estate the Galbraiths had leased stood baldly upon a riseoverlooking the sea in the midst of the fashionable colony adjacent toWilton, and was one of those blots which the city luxury-lover affixesto a community whose keynote is simplicity. Its expanse of veranda,its fluttering green and white awnings, its giant tubs of blossominghydrangeas, to say nothing of its Italian garden with rose-ladenpergolas, were as out of place as if Saint Peter's itself had beendropped down into a tiny New England fishing hamlet.

  The house, it is true, did not lack beauty, for it was wellproportioned and gracefully planned, and there was no denying that onefound, perhaps, more comfort on its screened and shaded piazzas thanwas to be enjoyed on Willie Spence's unprotected doorstep.Nevertheless, there was too much of everything about it: too manyrambler roses, too many rustic baskets and mighty palms; too many urns,and stone benches, and sundials and fountains. Still, as the carstopped at the door, the great wicker chairs with their scarletcushions presented a gay picture and so, too, did Mrs. Galbraith andCynthia who immediately rose from a breezy corner and came forward.

  The older woman was tall and handsome and in her youth must havepossessed great beauty; even now she carried with a spoiled air almostgirlish the costly gowns and jewels that her husband, proud of herlooks, lavished upon her. She had a languid grace very fascinating inits indifference and spoke with a pretty little accent that echoed ofthe South. For all her attractiveness, Cynthia could not compare incharm with her mother whose femininity lured all men toward her as doesa magnet steel.

  Bob leaped from the car almost before it had come to a stop and went toher side, bending low over her heavily ringed hand.

  "We're so glad to see you, Bobbie!" she smiled. "The very nicest thingthat could have happened was to find you here."

  "It is indeed a delightful surprise for me," Robert Morton answered."How are you, Cynthia?"

  Cynthia, who was standing in the background, frowned.

  "You've been long enough getting here," declared she petulantly."Where on earth have you been? We decided you must have got stalled onthe road."

  "Oh, no," interrupted her father, coming up the steps. "We made therun over and back without a particle of trouble. What delayed us wasthat we stopped to visit with Bob's aunt and the old gentleman withwhom he is staying. Such a quaint character, Maida! You really shouldsee him. I had all I could do to tear myself away from the place."

  His wife raised her delicately penciled brows.

  "We do not often see you so enthusiastic, Richard."

  "They are charming people, I assure you. I don't wonder Bob prefersstaying over there to coming here," chuckled the financier.

  "Oh, I say, Mr. Galbraith--" began Bob; but his host interrupted him.

  "That is a rather rough accusation, isn't it?" declared he, "and it'snot quite fair, either. To tell the truth, Bob's deep in someimportant work."

  There was a light, scornful laugh from Cynthia.

  "He is, my lady. You needn't be so incredulous," her brother put in."Bob is busy with a boat-building project. Dad's got interested in it,too."

  Cynthia pursed her lips with a little grimace.

  "Ask him if you don't believe it," persisted Roger.

  "Yes," went on Mr. Galbraith, "that old chap over at Wilton has an ideathat may make all our fortunes, Bob's included."

  There was a general laugh.

  "Well," pouted Cynthia, glancing down at the toe of her immaculatebuckskin shoe, "I call it very tiresome for Bob to have to work all hisvacation."

  "I don't have to," Robert Morton objected. "I am simply doing it forfun. Can't you understand the sport of--"

  "No, she can't," her brother asserted. "Cynthia never sees any fun inworking."

  "Roger!" Mrs. Galbraith drawled gently.

  "Well, I don't like to work," owned the girl with delicious audacity."I detest it. Why should I pretend to like it when I don't?"

  "Cynthia is one of the lilies of the field; she's just made forornament," called Roger over his shoulder as he passed into the house.

  "There is something in being ornamental, isn't there, daughter?" saidMr. Galbraith, dropping into a chair and lighting a fresh cigar.

  She was decorative, there was no mistake about that. The skirt ofheavy white satin clung to her slight figure in faultless lines, andher sweater of a rose shade was no more lovely in tint than was thefaint flush in her cheeks. Every hair of the elaborate coiffure hadbeen coaxed skilfully into place by a hand that understood the cunning,and wherever nature had been guilty of an oversight art had suppliedthe defect. Yes, Cynthia Galbraith was quite a perfect product,thought Bob, as he surveyed her there beneath the awning.

  "I thought Madam Lee was here," the young man presently remarked, as heglanced about.

  Mrs. Galbraith's face clouded.

  "Mother is not well to-day," she answered. "Careful as we are of hershe has in some way taken cold. She is not really ill, but we thoughtit wise for her to keep her room. She is heartbroken not to bedownstairs and I promised that after she had had her luncheon and napyou would go up and see her."

  "Surely!" Robert Morton cried emphatically.

  "Mother is so devoted to you, Bobbie," went on Mrs. Galbraith."Sometimes I think she cares much more for you than she does for herown grandchildren."

  "Nonsense! Of course she doesn't."

  "I'm not so certain," laughed the elder woman lightly. "You know sheis tremendously strong in her likes and dislikes. All the Lees are.We're a headstrong family where our affections are concerned. You,Bob, are the apple of her eye."

  "She has always been mighty kind to me," the young man affirmedsoberly. "I never saw my own grandmothers; both of them died before Icame into the world. So, you see, if it were not for borrowing Roger'sand Cynthia's, I should be quite bereft."

  The party rose and moved through the cool hall into the dining room.

  A delicious luncheon, perfectly served by a velvet-footed maid and theold colored butler, followed, and there was a great deal ofconversation, a great deal of reminiscing and a great deal of laughter.

  Cynthia complained that the claret cup was too sweet and that the iceswere not frozen enough and had much to say of the ice cream atMaillard's.

  "But you are far from Maillard's now, my dear," her mother remarked,"and you must make the best of things."

  "Being on Cape Cod you are almighty lucky to get any ice cream at all,"announced Roger with brotherly zest.

  "Roger, why will you tease your sister so? You hector Cynthia everymoment you are in the house."

  "Oh, she knows I don't mean it," grinned Roger. "I just have to takethe starch out of her now and then, don't I, Cynthia Ann?"

  "Roger!" fretted his sister. "I wish you wouldn't call me Cynthia_Ann_! I can't imagine why you've taken to doing so lately."

  "Chiefly because you do not like it, my dear," was the retort. "If Iwere not so sure of getting a rise out of you every time, perhaps Imight be tempted to stop."

  "You children quarrel like a pair of apes," Mr. Galbraith said. "If Idid not know that underneath you were perfectly devoted to each other,I should be worried to death about you."

  "You needn't waste any worry on Cynthia Ann and me, Dad," Rogerdeclared. "Bad as she is, she's the best sister I've got, and I ratherlike her in spite of her faults."

  A smile passed between the two.

  "You've some faults of your own, remember," observed the girl, with agrimace.

  "Not a one, mademoiselle, not a one! I swear it," was the instantretort. "Coming into the family first, I picked the cream of the Leeand Galbraith qualities and gave you what was left."

  "I command you two to stop your bickering," Mr. Galbraith said at last."You are wasting the whole luncheon, squabbling. You'd much better bedeciding what you are going to do with Bob for the rest of the day."

  "I thought I'd take him out in the knockabout," Roger suggested.
"Thatis, if he would like to go. The tide will be just right and there is afine breeze."

  "You may take him if you will get him home at tea time," Mrs. Galbraithsaid. "Your grandmother has set her heart on seeing him this afternoonand you know she retires soon after dinner."

  "You wouldn't have any time to sail at all, Roger," put in Cynthia."Especially if you should get stuck on a bar as you did the other day."

  "We should have two hours."

  "Why don't you take the launch, Roger?" his mother inquired.

  "And get snagged in the eel grass--not on your life!"

  "Bob and Mr. Spence are going to do away with all that eel grass, youknow," called his father, sauntering out of doors.

  "I'll wait until they do, then," was the grim retort.

  "I should think Bob would a great deal rather go for a motor-ride,"Cynthia ventured, her eyes fixed impersonally on the landscape.

  "I suppose you'd like to cart him off in your car."

  "It doesn't make any difference whose car he goes in, does it?"

  "Well, ra--_ther_! If he goes in yours there's no room for me; if hegoes in mine there is no room for you. That's the difference."

  "Children, do stop tearing Bob to fragments," lisped Mrs. Galbraithwith some amusement. "If you keep on pulling him to pieces he won't goanywhere. Now Roger, you take Bob sailing and have a good visit withhim, and bring him back so he can have tea with your grandmother atfive; this evening the rest of us will have our chance to see him."

  She did not look at Cynthia, but with a woman's forethought sheremembered that the verandas were roomy and that the moon was full soonafter dinner. Cynthia remembered it too and smiled.

  "Yes, go ahead, Roger," she called. "Take Bob round the bay. It is alovely sail and as he hasn't been here before he will enjoy it."

  * * * * * *

  It was only a little past five when the two young men returned, a glowof health and pleasure on their faces.

  "Now, Bobbie, do make haste," Mrs. Galbraith said, coming to meet him."Mother's tea has already gone up, and you know how she detestswaiting. Her maid is there in the hall to show you the way. Hurryalong, dear boy."

  Robert Morton needed no second bidding and at once followed themiddle-aged English woman up the staircase and into a small,chintz-hung sitting room that looked out on the sea.

  At the farther end of it, seated before a low tea table, was a stately,white-haired lady, very erect, very handsome and very elegantly dressedin a gown of soft black material. At the neck, which was turned away,she wore a fichu of filmy lace tinted by time to a creamy tone and heldin place by an old-fashioned medallion of seed pearls. White rufflesat the wrists drooped over her delicately veined hands and showed onlythe occasional flash of a ring and her perfectly manicured finger tips.Summer or winter, fair weather or foul, Madam Lee never varied thiscostume, and it seemed to possess some measure of its owner's eternalyouth, for it was always fresh and its lustrous folds always swept theground in the same dignified fashion. Indeed for those who knew MadamLee to think of her in any other guise would have been impossible. Hersilvered hair was parted and rippled over her forehead to her earswhere it was slightly puffed and caught back with combs of shell, andfrom beneath it two little black eyes peered out with a bird'salertness of gaze. Although age had claimed her strength, it wasevident from the woman's vivacious expression that she had lost none ofher interest in life and as she now sat before the silver-laden teatable there was a girlish anticipation in her eager pose.

  "Ah, you scamp!" cried she, when she heard her visitor's footstep inthe upper hall, "I have been waiting for you a full five minutes. Idon't wait for every one, I would have you know. Come here and give anaccount of yourself."

  The young man bent and softly touched her cheek with his lips.

  She put out her hand and let it linger affectionately in his as hedropped into the chair beside her.

  "I can't begin to tell you how glad I am to see you, Bob," she went on,in a voice soft and exquisitely modulated. "We had no idea you were onthe Cape. But for that jeweler's stupidity we should have thought youhad gone west long ago. Considering what good friends you and Rogerare, you are the worst of correspondents; and you never write to me."

  "I know it," owned Robert Morton with disarming honesty. "It's beastlyof me."

  "No, dear. On the contrary it is very like a man," contradicted MadamLee with a pretty little laugh. "However, I am not going to scold youabout it now. I have seen too many men in my day. First let me pouryour tea. Then you shall tell me all that you have been doing. I hearyou are visiting a new aunt whom you have just unearthed."

  "Yes."

  "How do you like her?"

  Bob chuckled at the characteristic directness of the question.

  "Very much indeed."

  "That's nice. Since relatives are not of our choosing, it is pleasantto find they are not bores."

  Again the young man smiled.

  "And this old gentleman for whom she keeps house--what of him?"

  It was plain Madam Lee had all the facts well in mind.

  As best he could Bob sketched Willie in a few swift strokes.

  "Humph! An interesting old fellow. I should like to see him,"declared Madam Lee when the narrative was done. "And so you areworking on this motor-boat with him?"

  "Yes."

  "How long have you been here?"

  "Ten days."

  "And when do you go back to your family?"

  "I don't quite know," hesitated the big fellow. "There is still agreat deal to do on this invention we are working at."

  His companion eyed him shrewdly.

  "And the girl--where does she live?" she asked, reaching for Bob's cup.

  He colored with surprise.

  "The girl?" he repeated, disconcerted.

  "Of course there is a girl," went on the woman.

  "What makes you think so?"

  "Oh, Bob, Bob! Isn't there always a girl on every young man's horizon?"

  "I suppose so--generally speaking," he confessed with a laugh.

  "Suppose we abandon the abstract term and come down to this girl inparticular," his interrogator said.

  "Why are you so sure there is one?" he hedged teasingly.

  "My dear boy, how absurd of you!" returned the sharp-eyed old lady witha twinkle of merriment. "In the first place, all the motor-boats inthe world couldn't keep a young man like you chained up indefinitely ina sleepy little Cape Cod village. Besides, Cynthia told me."

  "Cynthia? She doesn't know anything about it."

  "That is precisely how I knew," piped Madam Lee triumphantly.

  "What did she tell you?"

  "She did not tell me anything," was the reply. "She simply came backfrom Wilton in a wretched humor and when I inquired of her whether shehad her buckle back again, she answered with such spirit that there wasno mistaking its cause. Of course she had the wit to know you were notwearing a belt of that pattern; nor your aunt nor Mr. Spence, either."

  "The belt and buckle belong to a girl--"

  "A girl! You surprise me," she murmured derisively.

  Robert Morton waited a moment, then, without heeding her mischievouscomment, added gravely:

  "A friend of Mr. Spence's."

  "I see."

  The old lady smoothed the satin folds of her gown thoughtfully beforeshe spoke, then continued with extreme gentleness:

  "Tell me all about her."

  "I couldn't do that," declared Robert Morton. "There aren't wordsenough to give you any idea how lovely she is or how good."

  Nevertheless, because he had so eager and sympathetic a listener, he atlength began shyly to unfold the story of Delight Hathaway's strangelife. He told it reverently and with a lover's tenderness, touching onthe girl's tragic advent into the hamlet of Wilton, on her beauty, andon her poverty.

  "What a romance!" exclaimed Madam Lee meditatively, when the tale wasdone. "And they know no
thing of the child's previous history?"

  "Next to nothing. The girl's mother died when she was born and thelittle tot lived all her life aboard ship with her father."

  "Had neither the father nor mother any relatives?"

  "Apparently not. The mate of the ship said he had never heard theCaptain mention any."

  "Poor little waif! And these people who took her in have been kind toher? She is fond of them?"

  "She adores them!"

  The old lady stirred her tea absently.

  "But, Bob dear, has the girl any education?" she inquired presently.

  "That is the miracle of it!" ejaculated he. "When she was small, oneof the summer residents, a Mrs. Farwell, who had a tutor for her son,suggested the two children have their lessons together. As aconsequence the girl is a fine French scholar; has read broadly bothforeign and English literature; is familiar with ancient and modernhistory and mathematics; and recently a professor from Harvard, who hasboarded summers with the family, has instructed her in the naturalsciences. She is much better educated than most of the society girlsI've met."

  "Than my granddaughter Cynthia, I dare say," was the quick comment.

  "Oh--eh--"

  "You need not try to be polite, Bob. I am not proud of Cynthia'seducation," asserted Madam Lee. "For all her wealth and all heropportunity to make herself accomplished she has never mastered onething. If she could even sew well or keep house I should rejoice. Butshe can't. As for languages, music, art--bah! She is as ignorant asif she had been brought up in a home in the slums. A thin societyveneer such as the typical fashionable boarding-school washes over theoutside and a little helter-skelter reading and travel is all Cynthiahas acquired. A real education entailed too much effort. So she iswhat we see her,--a thoughtless, extravagant, pleasure-seekingcreature. She is a great disappointment to me, a great disappointment!"

  Robert Morton did not reply.

  "Come now, Bob. Why don't you agree with me?"

  "I am fond of Cynthia," said the young man in a low tone.

  "I know you are. Sometimes I have worried lest you were too fond ofher."

  There was no response.

  "Cynthia is not the wife for you, my dear boy, and never was. I amolder than you and I know life. Moreover, I love you very dearly.Were you of my own blood I believe I could not care more deeply for youthan I do. It would break my heart to see you make a foolishmarriage--to see you married to a girl like Cynthia. You never wouldbe happy with her in the world. Why, it takes a small fortune even tokeep her contented. It is money, money, money, all the time. Shecares for little else, and unless a man kept her supplied with thatthere would be no peace in the house."

  "Aren't you a little hard on her?"

  "Not too hard," came firmly from Madam Lee. "You think precisely as Ido, too, only you are too loyal and too chivalrous to own it."

  There was a pause broken only by the tinkle of the teacups.

  "No, Bob, you let Cynthia alone. She will get over it. And if youhave found the jewel that you think you have, be brave enough to assertyour freedom and marry her. You are not pledged to Cynthia," went onthe musical voice. "Just because you two chanced to grow up togetherthere is no reason any one should assume that the affair is settled. Isuppose you are afraid of disappointing the family. Then there is yourfriendship for Roger--that worries you too. And of course there isCynthia herself! Being a gentleman you shrink from tossing a girl'sheart back into her lap. Isn't it so?"

  "To some extent, yes."

  "Would it help matters, do you think, for you to marry Cynthia if youdid not love her?"

  "But I care a lot for her."

  "Not as you do for this other girl," said the shrewd old lady, witheyes fixed intently on his face.

  "Oh, no!" was the instant reply.

  "Then, as I said before, you much better let Cynthia alone," declaredMadam Lee emphatically. "At her age disappointments are not fatal, andshe will probably live to thank you for it. In any case it is betterto blight one life than three."

  Robert stared moodily down at the floor.

  "This other girl is attractive, you say."

  "She is very beautiful."

  "You don't say so!" was the incredulous rejoinder.

  "But she really is--she is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

  "And she has all these other virtues as well?"

  She took the teacup from his passive hand and set it on the table.

  "I want to see her and judge for myself," affirmed she. "I knowsomething of beauty--and of girls, too. Why don't you bring her overhere?"

  "_Here_?"

  "Why not?"

  "But--but--it would look so strange, so pointed," gasped the young man."You see she doesn't even guess yet that I--"

  He heard a low, infectious laugh.

  "She knew it, you goose, from the first moment you looked at her,"cried the old lady, "or she isn't the girl I think her. What do youimagine we women are--blind?"

  "No, of course not," Robert Morton said, joining in the laugh. "What Imeant was that I never had said anything that would--"

  "You wouldn't need to, dear boy." His hostess put a hand caressinglyon his arm. "All you would have to do would be to look as foolish asyou do now, and she would understand just as I did." Then, resuming amore serious manner, she continued: "It is a perfectly simple matterfor you to bring one friend to meet another, isn't it? Tell the girl Ihave heard her story and have become interested in her. She willoverlook an old lady's whims and be quite willing enough to come, I'msure, if you wish it."

  "I should like to have her meet you," admitted Bob, with a blush.

  "You mean you would like me to meet her," answered Madam Lee, with aconfiding pat on his arm. "It is sweet of you, Bob, whichever way youput it. And after I have met the charmer you shall know exactly what Ithink of her, too. Then if you marry her against my judgment, you willhave only yourself to thank for the consequences. Now leave it all tome. I will arrange everything. In a day or two I will send the carover to Wilton to fetch you, your aunt, Mr. Spence and this Miss--whatdid you say her name was?"

  "Hathaway."

  "Hathaway! _Hathaway_!" echoed Madam Lee in an unsteady voice.

  "Yes. Why?"

  "Oh, nothing," quavered the old lady, making a tremulous attempt toregain her poise. "Only it is not a common name. I--I--knew aHathaway once--very long ago--in the South."