Sunday evening the Freemans were called unexpectedly into town and Bruce and Henderson were left to amuse themselves. Henderson immediately lost himself in a book and Bruce, a little homesick for the old freedom of the road, set out for a walk. A footpath that followed the river invited him and he lounged along, his spirit responding to the beauty of the night, his mind intent upon the future. The cordiality of the Freemans and their circle had impressed him with the friendliness of the community. It would take time to establish himself in his profession, but he had confidence in his power to achieve; the lust for work was already strong in him. He was satisfied that he had done wisely in obeying his mother’s mandate; he would never have been happy if he had ignored it.
His meeting with Shepherd Mills had roused no resentment, revived no such morbid thoughts as had troubled him on the night of his arrival in town. Shepherd Mills was his half-brother; this, to be sure, was rather staggering; but his reaction to the meeting was void of bitterness. He speculated a good deal about young Mills. The gentleness and forbearance with which he suffered the raillery of his intimates, his anxiety to be accounted a good fellow, his serious interest in matters of real importance—in all these things there was something touching and appealing. It was difficult to correlate Shepherd with his wife, but perhaps their dissimilarities were only superficial. Bruce appraised Connie Mills as rather shallow, fond of admiration, given to harmless poses in which her friends evidently encouraged and indulged her. She practiced her little coquetries with an openness that was in itself a safeguard. As they left the Freemans, Shepherd and his wife had repeated their hope of seeing him again. It was bewildering, but it had come about so naturally that there seemed nothing extraordinary in the fact that he was already acquainted with members of Franklin Mills’s family....
Bruce paused now and then where the path drew in close to the river to look down at the moonlit water through the fringe of trees and shrubbery. A boy and girl floated by in a canoe, the girl singing as she thrummed a ukulele, and his eyes followed them a little wistfully. Farther on the dull put-put-put of a motor-boat broke the silence. The sound ceased abruptly, followed instantly by a colloquy between the occupants.
“Damn this fool thing!” ejaculated a feminine voice. “We’re stuck!”
“I had noticed it!” said another girl’s voice good naturedly. “But such is the life of the sailor. I wouldn’t just choose this for an all-night camp!”
“Don’t be so sweet about it, Millicent! I’d like to sink this boat.”
“It isn’t Polly’s fault. She’s already half-buried in the sand,” laughed the other.
Bruce scrambled down to the water’s edge and peered out upon the river. A small power boat had grounded on a sandbar in the middle of the stream. Its occupants were two young women in bathing suits. But for their voices he would have taken them for boys. One was tinkering with the engine while the other was trying to push off the boat with an oar which sank ineffectually in the sand. In their attempts to float their craft the young women had not seen Bruce, who, satisfied that they were in no danger, was rather amused by their plight. They were presumably from one of the near-by villas and their bathing suits implied familiarity with the water. The girl at the engine talked excitedly with an occasional profane outburst; her companion was disposed to accept the situation philosophically.
“We can easily swim out, so don’t get so excited, Leila,” said the girl with the oar. “And do stop swearing; voices travel a long way over the water.”
“I don’t care who hears me,” said the other, though in a lower tone.
She gave the engine a spin, starting the motor, but the power was unequal to the task of freeing the boat. With an exclamation of disgust she turned off the switch and the futile threshing of the propeller ceased.
“Let’s swim ashore and send back for Polly,” said the girl addressed as Millicent.
“I see myself swimming out!” the other retorted. “I’m not going to leave Polly here for some pirate to steal.”
“Nobody’s going to steal her. This isn’t the ocean, you know.”
“Well, no fool boat’s going to get the best of me! Where’s that flask? I’m freezing!”
“You don’t need any more of that! Please give it to me!”
“I hope you are enjoying yourself,” said the other petulantly. “I don’t see any fun in this!”
“Hello, there!” called Bruce, waving his arms to attract their attention. “Can I be of help?”
Startled by his voice, they did not reply immediately, but he heard them conferring as to this unlooked-for hail from the bank.
“Oh, I’m perfectly harmless!” he cried reassuringly. “I was just passing and heard your engine. If there’s a boat near by I can pull you off, or I’ll swim out and lift your boat off if you say so.”
“Better get a boat,” said the voice he had identified with the name of Millicent. “There’s a boathouse just a little farther up, on your side. You’ll find a skiff and a canoe. We’ll be awfully glad to have your help. Thank you ever so much!”
“Don’t forget to come back,” cried Leila.
“Certainly not!” laughed Bruce and sprang up the bank.
He found the boathouse without trouble, chose the skiff as easier to manage, and rowed back. In the moonlight he saw Millicent standing up in the launch watching him, and as he approached she flashed an electric torch along the side of the boat that he might see the nature of their difficulty.
“Do you need food or medical attention?” he asked cheerfully as he skillfully maneuvered the skiff and grounded it on the sand.
“I think we’d better get out,” she said.
“No; stay right there till I see what I can do. I think I can push you off. All steady now!”
The launch moved a little at his first attempt to dislodge it and a second strong shove sent it into the channel.
“Now start your engine!” he commanded.
The girl in the middle of the boat muttered something he didn’t catch.
“Leila, can you start the engine?” demanded Millicent. “I think—I think I’ll have to row back,” she said when Leila made no response. “My friend isn’t feeling well.”
“I’ll tow you—that’s easy,” said Bruce, noting that her companion apparently was no longer interested in the proceedings. “Please throw me your rope!”
He caught the rope and fastened it to the stern of the skiff and called out that he was ready.
“Please land us where you found the boat,” said Millicent. She settled herself in the stern of the launch and took the tiller. No word was spoken till they reached the boathouse.
“That’s all you can do,” said Millicent, who had drawn on a long bath wrapper and stepped out. “And thank you very, very much; I’m sorry to have caused you so much trouble.”
This was clearly a dismissal, but he loosened the rope and tied up the skiff. He waited, holding the launch, while Millicent tried to persuade Leila to disembark.
“Perhaps——” began Bruce, and hesitated. It seemed unfair to leave the girl alone with the problem of getting her friend ashore. Not to put too fine a point on the matter, Leila was intoxicated.
“Now, Leila!” cried Millicent exasperatedly. “You’re making yourself ridiculous, besides keeping this gentleman waiting. It’s not a bit nice of you!”
“Jus’ restin’ lil bit,” said Leila indifferently. “I’m jus’ restin’ and I’m not goin’ to leave Polly. I should shay not!”
And in assertion of her independence she began to whistle. She seemed greatly amused that her attempts to whistle were unsuccessful.
Millicent turned to Bruce. “If I could get her out of the boat I could put her in our car and take her home.”
“Surely!” he said and bent over quickly and lifted the girl from the launch, set her on her feet and steadied her. Millicent fumbled in the launch, found a bath wrapper and flung it about Leila’s shoulders. She guided her friend toward the long, low boathouse and turned a switch.
“I can manage now,” she said, gravely surveying Bruce in the glare of light. “I’m so sorry to have troubled you.”
She was tall and fair with markedly handsome brown eyes and a great wealth of fine-spun golden hair that escaped from her bathing cap and tumbled down upon her shoulders. Her dignity was in nowise diminished by her garb. She betrayed no agitation. Bruce felt that she was paying him the compliment of assuming that she was dealing with a gentleman who, having performed a service, would go his way and forget the whole affair. She drew her arm about the now passive Leila, who was much shorter—quite small, indeed, in comparison.
“Our car’s here and we’ll get dressed and drive back into town. Thank you so much and—good-night!”
“I was glad to help you;—good-night!”
The door closed upon them. Bruce made the launch fast to the landing and resumed his walk.
When he returned to the Freemans, Henderson flung aside his book and complained of Bruce’s prolonged absence. “I had begun to think you’d got yourself kidnapped. Go ahead and talk,” he said, yawning and stretching himself.
“Well, I’ve had a mild adventure,” said Bruce, lighting a cigarette; and he described his meeting with the two young women.
“Not so bad!” remarked Henderson placidly. “Such little adventures never happen to me. The incident would make good first page stuff for a newspaper; society girls shipwrecked. You ought to have taken the flask as a souvenir. Leila is an obstreperous little kid; she really ought to behave herself. Right the first time. Leila Mills, of course; I think I mentioned her the other day. Her friend is Millicent Harden. Guess I omitted Millicent in my review of our citizens. Quite a remarkable person. She plays the rôle of big sister to Leila; they’re neighbors on Jefferson Avenue. That’s just a boathouse on the Styx that Mills built for Leila’s delectation. She pulls a cocktail tea there occasionally. Millicent’s pop made a fortune out of an asthma cure—the joy of all cut-rate druggists. Not viewed with approval by medical societies. Socially the senior Hardens are outside the breastworks, but Millicent is asked to very large functions, where nobody knows who’s there. They live in that whopping big house just north of the Mills place, and old Doc Harden gives Millicent everything she wants. Hence a grand organ, and the girl is a regular Cecelia at the keys. Really plays. Strong artistic bent. We can’t account for people like the Hardens having such a daughter. There’s a Celtic streak in the girl, I surmise—that odd sort of poetic strain that’s so beguiling in the Irish. She models quite wonderfully, they tell me. Well, well! So you were our little hero on the spot!”
“But Leila?” said Bruce seriously. “You don’t quite expect to find the daughter of a prominent citizen tipsy on a river, and rather profane at that.”
“Oh, thunder!” exclaimed Henderson easily. “Leila’s all right. You needn’t worry about her. She’s merely passing through a phase and will probably emerge safely. Leila’s hardly up to your standard, but Millicent is a girl you’ll like. I ought to have told Dale to ask Millicent here. Dale’s a broad-minded woman and doesn’t mind it at all that old Harden’s rolled up a million by being smart enough to scamper just a nose length ahead of the Federal grand jury carrying his rotten dope in triumph.”
“Miss Mills, I suppose, is an acceptable member of the Freemans’ group?” Bruce inquired.
“Acceptable enough, but this is all too tame for Leila. Curious sort of friendship—Leila and Millicent. Socially Millicent is, in a manner of speaking, between the devil and the deep sea. She’s just a little too superior to train with the girls of the Longview Country Club set and the asthma cure keeps her from being chummy with the Faraway gang. But I’ll say that Leila’s lucky to have a friend like Millicent.”
“Um—yes,” Bruce assented. “I’m beginning to see that your social life here has a real flavor.”
“Well, it’s not all just plain vanilla,” Bud agreed with a yawn.