The Deaves Affair

"Is this the outfit Anway told me about?" asked Evan, feeling his way.

"Yes, the Ozone Association trips. Are you a friend of Anway's? He's just gone aboard."

"He told me so much about it I thought I'd stroll down and take a look."

"Go aboard if you'd like to. We won't be leaving for ten minutes yet."

Evan desired a little further information before trusting himself aboard. "You must need quite a crowd of helpers to look after the kids."

"Miss Playfair takes care of that for me. She's a host in herself."

All the blood seemed to leave Evan's heart for a moment, and then came surging back until it seemed as if that much-tried organ would burst. He heard his informant saying:

"But if you know Anway, no doubt you're acquainted with Miss Playfair?"

"I've met her," said Evan, carefully schooling his voice.

"A wonderful little woman!"

"Quite so," said Evan dryly. "Look here," he went on, "I'd like to go with you to-day if I wouldn't be in the way. I mean, work my passage, of course; help take care of the kids, or amuse them, or feed them, or whatever may be necessary. My name's Evan Weir."

The other man looked Evan over and was pleased with what he saw.

"I'd be delighted to have you," he said. "We can always use more help. My name's Denton."

"Well, then, give me a job," said Evan.

"First of all, take my place for a moment," said Denton. "The ice-cream hasn't come. I must go and telephone."

"Sure thing!"

"You needn't be too strict about tickets," Denton added in an undertone. "I mean in respect to women and children. The main thing is to keep the bad and healthy little boys off."

"I get you," said Evan.

Denton hurried away. Evan took his place and the procession passed before him deprecatingly presenting its squares of red pasteboard. At first Evan scarcely took note of them, he was so busy with his private exultation. He had found her! And once they got away from the pier he would have her all day on the boat where she couldn't escape him. His luck had changed. For the present he kept his back turned to the Ernestina that he might not be unduly conspicuous to anyone happening to glance out of the cabin windows.

He was recalled to the business in hand by a plea: "Say, Mister! Let me and me brutter go, will yeh please? We had our tickets all right, but a big lad pasted us and took 'em offen us."

Evan looked down into a little angel face and clear shining eyes. The "brutter" waited warily in the background. Evan knew boys, and had no doubt but that this was a pair of incorrigibles, but he couldn't refuse anybody just then.

"What's your name, boy?"

"Ikey O'Toole."

"Well, you are out of the melting-pot for sure!"

"No, sir; I live in Hester street."

"That's all a stall about losing your tickets," Evan said, trying to look stern. "But I'll let you go. I'm going too, see? And if there's any rough-housing you'll have me to deal with."

The surprised and jubilant urchins hurried aboard.

This incident was witnessed with visible indignation by two pale and solemn little girls who stood apart. They knew the bad little boys told a story if the gentleman didn't. Lost their tickets, indeed! During a lull Evan beckoned them. They came sidling over, each twisting a corner of her pinafore.

"Are you waiting for somebody?" he asked.

A shake of the head.

"Haven't you got any tickets?"

Another shake.

"Do you want to go anyway?"

An energetic pair of nods.

"What will your mother say?"

"Ain't got no mutter. Sister, she don't care. She works all day."

"All right. Skip on board."

Denton and the ice-cream arrived simultaneously. Shortly afterwards a warning whistle was blown. A small pandemonium of singing and delighted squealing was heard from the upper deck. Evan stuck close to Denton. They remained on the lower deck while the gangplank was drawn in and the ropes cast off. Meanwhile Evan was gathering what further information he could.

"How often do you make these trips?"

"Twice a week – Tuesdays and Saturdays."

"What is the Ozone Association? I never heard of it."

"I can't tell you much, though I work for them. I've always understood it was some rich man who wished to keep his name out of the thing. I was hired by a law firm to manage the trips, and the money comes to me through them."

"How did you get hold of all your helpers?"

"Oh, one way and another. Miss Playfair gets her friends to help."

When the Ernestina finally moved out into the stream, Denton remained below, attending to the stowage of the ice-cream and to other matters, and Evan stayed with him. To tell the truth, he dreaded a little to put his fortunes to the touch by venturing up above. They were unpacking sandwiches when Denton suddenly said:

"Here's Anway. Anway, here's a friend of yours."

Evan looked up with a wary smile. As it chanced, the busy Denton was called from another direction at that moment, and he did not see the actual meeting between the two. Evan had his back to the light and Anway did not instantly recognise him. Anway's expression graduated from expectancy at the sound of the word friend to blankness as he failed to recognise Evan, and to something like consternation when he did.

"What are you doing here?" he blurted out.

"The same as yourself," replied Evan. "Only a volunteer."

Without another word Anway turned. Evan went with him. He had no intention of letting him warn Corinna. They mounted the main stairway side by side, Anway gazing stiffly ahead, Evan watching him with a grin.

As soon as they rounded into the saloon Evan saw Corinna, and his head swam a little. She was so very dear and desirable he forgot how badly she had used him. She was kneeling on the carpet, feeding a hungry baby with cup and spoon. The baby sat in the lap of a woman so spent and done, she could do no more than keep the infant from slipping off. It was an appealing sight. In such an attitude Corinna was all woman, her face as tender as a saint's. Evan laid a restraining hand on Anway's arm.

"Let the kid have his meal anyway," he whispered.

But some current of electricity warned Corinna. Looking up, she saw Evan at a dozen paces' distance. Evan trembled for the cup. It was not dropped. Corinna had herself better in hand than Anway. No muscle of her face changed; only the light of her eyes hardened.

"She thinks you brought me aboard," murmured Evan wickedly.

Anway flushed.

Corinna resumed her feeding of the baby.

Evan was divided between admiration and chagrin. Secretly he had counted on his appearance creating a more dramatic effect than this.

Anway hung around in a miserable state of indecision. If Evan had only given him an excuse to punch him he would have been glad no doubt. Finally he said:

"You see what she's doing. Come away and let her be."

Evan good-humouredly shook his head. "The sight gives me too much pleasure," he said. "But don't let me keep you."

But Anway lingered unhappily, walking away a little and coming back.

Corinna did not look at Evan again. Her self-control was too provoking. "By Heaven, I'll make her show some feeling before the day's out!" he vowed to himself. When the cup was empty she came straight toward him with her chin up.

"How do you do, Corinna?" said Evan.

She looked at him with the faint air of surprise she knew so well how to assume. Then, as if suddenly placing him: "Oh! You must excuse me now. I have a dozen hungry babies to feed."

Evan, with a smile, allowed her to pass downstairs. It required no small amount of self-control. "Patience, son!" he said to himself. "You have all day before you. If you lose your temper, she'll have you exactly where she wants you. However she bedevils you, you must be little Bright-eyes still!"

Corinna presently returned with more food and proceeded to the next baby in line. In the meantime Anway, finding himself both unnecessary and helpless in this situation, had drifted away – to confer with his "brothers," perhaps. The second baby's mother was perfectly capable of feeding her own offspring, and Evan saw that Corinna was merely using the infant as a shield against him. But he could not seem to interfere between a helpless baby and its food.

When she passed him again bound down below he said: "Let me help you."

"Thanks, this is hardly in your line," she said coldly.

Nevertheless he followed her down and saw that she went to the galley for a soft-boiled egg for the next child.

"You're wasting your time running up and down," he said with obstinate good nature. "Let me be your waiter and fetch the different orders while you feed."

"Thanks; I don't need your assistance," she said.

But he saw that her temper was beginning to rise, and took heart. If he could only put her in the wrong! He blandly followed her back again, and as she started to feed he found out for himself what the next baby required. This was a small one and its order was for six ounces of milk with two ounces of barley water and a teaspoonful of sugar added, the whole in a bottle well-warmed.

He procured it from the galley in due course. Corinna received it of him with a very ill grace. "She'd make a face at me if she didn't have her dignity to keep up," thought Evan. After that he had her. They worked their way down one side of the saloon and back on the other, to all outward appearance at least like two pals. Evan was careful to confine his remarks to milk, oatmeal gruel, beef broth and orange juice. Corinna could not find matter in this to quarrel over. She was as acidly sweet as one of the oranges.

Only the little ones and the sick were specially fed in the saloon. The others were taken down in relays to the dining-room on the main deck aft. Corinna's and Evan's task came to an end at last. As he carried the last cup back to the galley Evan said to himself: "Now's my chance!"

But when he returned he saw that Corinna, for the sake of the convalescent children not allowed out on deck, had started to tell a story. They were pressing around her in close ranks that presented a triple line of defence.

CHAPTER XII

EVAN LOSES A ROUND

Evan, somewhat crestfallen, went out on deck and lit a cigarette. "Oh, well, it can't last forever," he told himself. He found a seat near an open window where he could overhear the story. To his mind Corinna had not much of a talent for it. He thought he could have told a better one himself. It was the chronicle of an unpleasantly good little girl, and when Corinna was gravelled for matter to continue with, she filled in by lengthily describing the heroine's clothes. "Just filibustering like the U. S. Senate," thought Evan disgustedly.

Corinna, suspecting perhaps that she had too critical a listener, changed her seat on the pretext of a draught and he could hear no more.

Meanwhile the good ship Ernestina was industriously wig-wagging her walking-beam down the upper Bay. She was a quaint, crablike little craft. Her tall and skinny smokestack was like a perpetual exclamation point. Her gait resembled that of a sprightly old horse who makes a great to-do with his feet on the road but somehow gets nowhere. At the end of each stroke of her piston she seemed to stop for an instant and then with a wheeze and a clank from below, and a violent tremor from stem to stern, started all over. Her paddle-wheels kicked up alarming looking rollers behind, but with it all she travelled no faster than a steam canal-boat. Not that it mattered; the children got just as much ozone as on the deck of the Aquitania.

Evan's patience was not inexhaustible. By the time they reached Norton's Point he was obliged to go in to see how the story was progressing. It was no nearer its end, as far as he could judge. Corinna's Dorothy Dolores was donning a party dress of pink messaline with a panne velvet girdle. The children's interest flagged and they drifted away, but there were always others to take their places.

Ikey O'Toole and his pal happened to pass through the saloon bound on some errand of their own, and Evan had a wicked idea. "Come here, boys," said he, "and I'll tell you a story about robbers."

Their eyes brightened. Evan took a seat opposite Corinna's and began:

"There was a band of train-robbers and cattle-rustlers who lived in a cave out in Arizona, and they had for a leader a guy named Three-fingered Pete. Pete could draw a gun quicker with his three fingers than any other man with five."

And so on. There was magic in it. Let it not be supposed that little girls are proof against a story of robbers however they may make believe. They came drifting across the saloon. In ten minutes there were twenty children surrounding Evan, while Corinna's audience had dwindled to four and they were restive. Corinna kept on. Her pale, calm profile revealed nothing to Evan, but he doubted if she were pale and calm within. Corinna was not red-headed for nothing.

When her hearers were reduced to two she abruptly rose. Evan wondered if sweet Dorothy Dolores had been brought to a violent end. He got up too.

"To be continued in our next," he said.

"Aw, Mister! Aw, Mister!" they protested, clinging to his coat.

"After lunch," he promised, freeing himself, and hastening down the saloon after Corinna.

He thought he had her cornered in the bow, but she dropped into a seat beside a woman with a sick baby and enquired how it was getting on. The two women embarked on what promised to be an endless discussion of the infant's symptoms. Evan felt decidedly foolish, but stubbornly stood his ground.

Denton unexpectedly came to his assistance. "Miss Playfair," he said, "I've got a seat for you in the dining-room, and one for Mr. Weir. Won't you come down now?"

Two seats! Together, naturally. Evan's heart went up with a bound. But Corinna was not going to be led into any such trap. She asked the woman beside her if she had had her lunch. The answer was a shake of the head.

"Then I'll hold the baby, and you go with these gentlemen," said Corinna blandly.

"Let me hold the baby," said Evan.

"Oh, thank you, sir; but he don't like men."

Evan went down with Denton and the woman, but he did not mean to be put off so easily. Seeing the crowd in the dining-saloon, he said:

"They're rushed here. Let me help serve for a while. Save two seats when Miss Playfair comes down."

"Sure," said Denton amiably.

Down the length of the lower saloon there was a double row of tables, each with an end to the side wall. Every seat was taken. In addition to Denton the waiters were Anway and a black-haired youth with a hot eye who greeted Evan with a frank scowl. Denton introduced him as Tenterden. "Another of Corinna's 'brothers'," thought Evan. "The boat is manned with her family!" He turned in to help with a will.

Nearly an hour passed before Corinna appeared for her lunch, and the dining-saloon was beginning to empty. Seeing Evan there, she naturally supposed he had finished eating and had remained to help. She took a seat next the window at one of the tables, and thus protected herself on one hand. Indicating the chair on the other side of her she said to Denton:

"Sit here. You can be spared now."

"Thanks, but I promised this seat to Weir," said Denton innocently.

Corinna bit her lip. The said Weir made haste to slip into the seat, before anything further could be said. Corinna quickly started a conversation with a youth across the table, another helper, and supposedly a "brother" – at least he looked at Corinna with sheep's eyes.

Evan, determined not to allow himself to be eliminated, said firmly: "I have not met this gentleman."

Corinna said coldly: "Mr. Domville, Mr. Weir."

Next to Domville sat another helper, an older man with a queer, clever, bitter face, Mr. Dordess. Some belated mothers made up the tableful. Anway waited on them. As he placed a plate of soup before Evan with set face, Evan suspected he would rather have poured it down the back of his neck. Evan thanked him ironically.

Corinna did her best to keep the conversation of the whole tableful in her hands, but of course it was bound to escape her sometimes. And there were lulls. At such moments Evan could speak to her without anybody overhearing.

"Corinna, what's the use?"

Affecting not to hear him, she asked a question across the table. Evan patiently bided his time.

"'What's the use?' I said."

"I don't understand you."

"What's the use of trying to evade something that's got to be faced in the end."

"What's got to be faced?"

"Me."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. You know, yourself, after what happened you owe me an explanation."

"The explanation is obvious."

"Then I must be very dense."

"If you were the least bit sorry, I could talk to you; but to glory in it, to try to trade on it – "

"Sorry for what?"

"Oh, of course you have nothing to be sorry for."

"You're talking in riddles. You know I love you."

She laughed three notes. He frowned at the sound.

"It's a funny way you have of showing it," she said. "To try to humble me further!"

"But you ask for it, Corinna – with your high and mighty way. I told you that before."

Silence from Corinna.

"I don't know what cause you have to be sore at me," he resumed when he got another opportunity. "It seems to me I'm the one – "

"Oh, you'll get over it, I suspect."

"Corinna, why did you run away?"

She rolled a bread ball. "Because I was ashamed."

He looked at her in honest surprise. "Ashamed! Of what?"

"You know very well what I mean."

"I swear I do not!"

"I will hate you if you force me to say it."

"I'll take my chance of that," he said grimly.

"Very well. Don't you understand that a person may be carried away for the moment, and do things and say things that they bitterly regret afterwards. Of course if you have no standards of right and wrong you wouldn't understand."

"Thanks for the compliment."

"What happened that night," she went on, "that sort of thing is horrible to me!"

At last he understood – and frowned, for it was his deepest feelings that she slandered. But he was not fully convinced that she was sincere. "Then you lied when you said you loved me?"

"I was carried away. That sort of thing isn't love."

This angered Evan – but he held his tongue. He sought to find out from her face what she really thought. She looked out of the window.

"Now I hope you understand," she said loftily.

"You have a lot to learn," said Evan, "about love and other things."

"At any rate I hope I have made you see how useless it is to follow me," she said sharply.

"It is useless," said Evan – "to talk to you," he added to himself. "When I get you off this confounded steamboat we'll see what we'll see."

"Don't stare at me like that," said Corinna. "It's attracting attention."

Evan thought: "If there was only another girl on board that I could rush! That might fetch her!"

Evan saw indeed that Dordess was regarding him quizzically. Of all the men (saving Denton) Dordess was the only one who did not scowl at Evan. Evan was not deceived thereby into thinking that he had inspired any friendliness in this one. It was simply that Dordess was more sophisticated, and had his features under better control. To create a diversion, Evan asked him:

"What has your particular job been to-day?"

"Serving at the water-cooler," was the response, with a wry smile, "to keep down the mortality from colic."

Thereafter Evan took part in the general conversation, and when the time came to rise from the table, he let Corinna go her way unhindered. He pitched in with a good will to help wash dishes, and to pack up the Ozone Association's property in the galley. But let him work and joke as he might, he won no smiles from the "brothers."

"Lord, if it was me, I'd put up a better bluff to hide my feelings," he thought.

Later he took over part of the deck to watch and keep the children from climbing the rails and precipitating themselves overboard. Later still, as they neared home and the small passengers became weary and obstreperous, he resumed the tale of the bandits in the saloon to an immense audience. Evan, perhaps because of his casual air towards the children, became the most popular man on the boat. He did not try to win them, and so they were his.

Corinna could not quite fathom his changed attitude towards her. During the whole afternoon he let her be. More than once he caught her glancing at him, and laughed to himself. He was taking the right line.

On one occasion the sardonic Dordess joined him on deck. Dordess had excited more than a passing interest in Evan. He was different and inexplicable. He had eyebrows that turned up at the ends like a faun's, giving him a devilishly mocking look. The essence of bitterness was in his smile. He had the look of a man of distinction, yet his clothes were a thought shabby. "Clever journalist gone to seed," was Evan's verdict.

Dordess said very offhand: "How do you like your job of nursemaid?"

"First-rate!" said Evan.

"How did you happen to stumble on our deep-sea perambulator?"

Evan was wary. "I just happened to be passing, and saw the kids crowding aboard. I stopped to look, and Denton asked me if I wanted a job."

Dordess cocked one of his crooked eyebrows in a way that suggested he didn't believe a word of it. Evan didn't much care whether he did or not.

Dordess said dryly: "Denton said you were a friend of Anway's."

"He misunderstood," said Evan carelessly.

"Are you going to be with us regularly?" asked Dordess with a meaning smile.

"I only volunteered for to-day." Evan's tone implied that the future could take care of itself.

Dordess said deprecatingly: "I hope the boys haven't made you feel like an outsider."

"Not at all," said Evan cheerfully. "I wouldn't mind if they did," he added. "The main thing is for the kids to have a good time."

"Sure," said Dordess dryly. "You see, the boys get the idea that these excursions are a sort of family affair, and they're apt to resent the help of strangers."

"I see," said Evan. "Are you one of Miss Playfair's 'brothers' too?"

"No; I'm an uncle," said Dordess with his bitter smile.

He walked away. There had been nothing in his words to which Evan could take offence, nevertheless as plainly as one man could to another he had conveyed the intimation that Evan was not wanted on board, and that if he ventured on board again it would be at his peril.

"The brotherhood evidently fears that I'm going to break up the organization," thought Evan.

As they approached the end of their journey Evan began to consider what measures he should take upon landing. His part was a difficult one to play with good humour; that is, to force himself on a young lady who said she detested him, and who had half a dozen brothers and an uncle to take her part.

"She'll do her best to give me the slip," he said to himself. "When we tie up I'll stand by the gangway on the pretext of keeping the kids from falling overboard. Some of them or all of them will take her home, no doubt. I'll tag along, too. They can't very well openly order me away, and I don't give a damn for their black looks and meaning hints. The main thing is to find out where she lives. I can choose my own time to call. Perhaps she won't open the door to me. Well, my patience is good."

As they approached the pier Evan went down to the main deck. Corinna was not visible at the moment. Only the forward gangway of the Ernestina was used. Her shape was so tubby that she couldn't bring any two points alongside a straight pier simultaneously. While they were making a landing all the children were kept roped off in the stern and up in the saloon. The only persons in the bow space beside Evan were Denton, Anway, Domville, Tenterden, two other "brothers" and two deckhands to stand by the lines.

Up forward there was an additional stairway from the saloon. This was enclosed and had a door at the bottom, locked at the moment to keep the children out of the way. In the centre of the deck was a hatch for freight, used presumably when the Ernestina served as a carrier.

As the steamboat sidled up to her pier Evan heard Corinna's voice call down the stairway: "Oh, Mr. Denton; will you come up here for a moment?"