the launch was on its way back for those of the actors who were leaving. gabriel, squatting by the engine, calculated the distribution of his time. after he’d taken them across he’d have his supper and then go back for joe tracy, who was leaving on the seven fifteen for his vacation. when joe was disposed of, gabriel was to meet two boston sports who had engaged him for a week’s deep-sea fishing at white beach, twenty-five miles down the coast. it was a strenuous program for the old man and he grumbled to himself about it, the grumbling gaining zest by anticipations that some of them would be late. if it was any of the actors, by gum, he wouldn’t wait for them, with the sports ready to take him along in their car at seven. by the time he drew near the island he had grumbled himself into a state of [pg 57]irascible defiance against any one who would dare upset his plans.
to warn them of his coming he sounded the whistle and its shrill toot acted like a magic summons. a group of men, bearing suit-cases and bags, emerged from the entrance and ran down the path, bassett following. miss pinkney’s helper, a native of hayworth, hurried from the kitchen wing, a suit-case in her hand, and even the august sara herself appeared in the doorway of her domain.
gabriel quieted down—they were all ready and waiting—and then saw joe tracy come round the corner of the house in his sebastian dress. the old man muttered profanely—why wasn’t the d——d cub getting ready? and as the boat made its landing, he called out:
“say, you’d better be gettin’ them togs off. i’ll be back here for you at a quarter to seven.”
the boy, leaping lightly from rock to rock, grinned without answering. the picturesque dress suited him, he looked almost handsome, and [pg 58]with the feathered cap on his golden wig set rakishly aslant, he moved downward with a taunting debonair swagger. gabriel didn’t like him anyway and now his impudent face, framed by the drooping blond curls, looked to the launch man malignantly spiteful.
gabriel could say no more then for the confusion of good-bys possessed the wharf. the actors shouted them out even to miss pinkney, flattering assurances of their inability to forget her and her cooking. she waved a condescending hand and permitted herself a smile, for she was very glad to get rid of them.
but gabriel wasn’t going to go till he’d made things clear. he appealed to bassett whom he had privately sized up as the only one of the outfit who was like the rational human males of his experience. besides he had seen that joe tracy respected, if not feared, the director:
“i’ll be back here at quarter to seven for the tracy boy, and i’m tellin’ him he’s got to be ready. i can’t waste no time settin’ round waitin’ and if he’s not here on the dot—”
[pg 59]
“that’s all right,” bassett put a comforting hand on his shoulder and turned to joe. “you heard that, joe?”
the boy answered with his sneering grin:
“what’s got the old geezer? does he think i’m as deaf as he is?”
gabriel’s weather-beaten visage reddened. he was not in the habit of being called an “old geezer” and he was not deaf. but the actors, all in the boat, were clamoring to start. they had a train to make—get in ancient servitor, and turn on the current. miss pinkney’s helper, with her hat on one side and her face crimson, giggled hysterically, and in a chorus of farewells the boat chugged off.
the three men left on the wharf went up the path to the doorway where shine and mrs. cornell had resumed their seats. shine was struck by their difference of type,—if you went the world over you couldn’t find three more varied specimens. the only one he liked was bassett, something square and solid about him and a good [pg 60]straight look in his eyes. the kind of chap, shine thought, you’d ask directions of in the street and who’d give ’em to you no matter what hurry he was in. and he’d a lot of authority—the way he managed this wild-eyed bunch showed that. shine had noticed, too, a sort of exuberant quality of good will about him—like a light within shining out—and set it down to relief at having got through without any one blowing the lid off.
they stopped at the steps and joe tracy made his good-bys. he was going camping in the woods with his friend jimmy travers, who was to meet him at bangor to-night. they’d stay there twenty-four hours getting their stuff together, then be off for the northern solitudes—no beaten tracks for them. he left, jauntily swinging his kilted skirts, a whistled tune on his lips. soon after, stokes departed, saying he was going to change his clothes. his air was nonchalant, lounging up the steps and crossing the living-room with a lazy padding stride.
a door to the right opened into the entrance [pg 61]hall. here he and his wife occupied a ground-floor room. it was on the garden front of the house opposite the stairway that led to the second story. he listened at the panel before he entered, then softly turned the knob, and, inside, as softly closed the door. shut in and alone his languid pose fell from him like a cloak. an avid eagerness sharpened his features and directed his hands, pulling open his valise and taking from it a small leather case. moving back from the window he pushed up his sleeve, took the hypodermic from the case and pressed in the needle. when he had restored the bag to its place, he threw himself on the bed and lay with closed eyes feeling the ineffable comfort, grateful as an influx of life, vitalize and soothe his tortured being.
mrs. cornell and shine rose up and followed him. mrs. cornell had her packing to get through and wanted miss pinkney’s help. shine was going to see if the pantry would do for a dark room, intending to take some flashlight photographs of the company that evening. he had found in a [pg 62]cabinet all the flashlight requisites and thought it would be an interesting memento of their visit—each of them to have a picture.
“they’ve got everything here,” he said as he pointed to the corner where he had made his find. “not alone all the supplies, but two first-class cameras and a projector. i suppose some of the family took it up for a fad.”
mrs. cornell opined it was to occupy the young men. there were several driscoll boys and if you didn’t give them something to do they’d get into mischief. though, if you asked her, she didn’t see any chances for mischief in this jumping-off place, unless the high tide washed in a few mermaids.
then they passed on through the left doorway, into the side wing of the house. here shine, who was domiciled in the butler’s bedroom, disappeared into the adjoining pantry and mrs. cornell trod resolutely on into the kitchen, being one of the few members of the company who was not afraid of the housekeeper.
[pg 63]
miss pinkney, who was sitting upright in a stiff-backed chair, rose respectfully. she was a lean slab-sided woman of fifty, with tight-drawn hair and a long horse face. she had disapproved bitterly of the intrusion of the actors upon the sacred precincts of gull island and though she had been rigidly polite hoped that her disapproval had got across. anyway, she had had the satisfaction of putting cotton sheets on their beds and serving their meals on the kitchen china. if they did any damage to the house or premises she was ready to assert her authority, and she had been on the watch. but they had been careful and orderly and treated her with the proper deference, and in her heart the revolutionary thought had arisen that they were equally considerate and more amusing than the usual run of gull island guests. also they gave her a subject of conversation that would last out the winter.
mrs. cornell broached her request and miss pinkney agreed. she was even very pleasant about it, showing a brisk friendly alacrity—with [pg 64]the helper gone there’d only be a cold supper and she could dish that up in two shakes. together they left the kitchen and on the stairs mrs. cornell hooked her plump arm inside miss pinkney’s bony one and said when mr. shine took the flashlights that night he must take one of them as the “feeder” and the other as the “fed.”
