CHAPTER XI--FATHER AND SON
Osborne did not go to town on Saturdays, and he and Ruth were sitting ina shady corner of the lawn during the hot afternoon when a cloud of dustwhirled up among the firs. The speed with which it streaked the climbingforest had its significance to Ruth, but when a big gray car flashedacross an opening her expression changed.
"There's no mistaking Aynsley's trail," Osborne laughed. "He blazes iton the bodies of straying chickens and hogs; but I imagine you noticedthat he wasn't alone."
"I did; and I would have been quite as pleased if he had left his fatherat home."
"So I surmised." Osborne smiled. "It seems to be what the oldergeneration is intended for; but Clay's not the man to take kindly to theshelf and, everything considered, you couldn't blame him. Aynsley's themore ornamental--a fine figure of a man as he sits at the wheel; but hisfather's the driving force that makes the machine go. So far, his sonhasn't made much of anything unless the material was put ready to hishand."
"At least, he has done no harm."
"That's a very negative virtue. It isn't thought highly of in thiscountry."
"I told him not long ago that he ought to work," Ruth replied inunguarded confidence.
"It will be interesting to see if he follows your advice. His friendshave been urging the course for several years without much effect."
"He means to take charge of the Canadian mill; but, of course, he mayhave a number of reasons for doing so," Ruth added hastily.
Osborne made no comment. Of late, he had begun to wonder where herfriendship for Aynsley would lead, and although it would not havedispleased him had she shown any tenderness for the man, he coulddiscover no sign of this.
He went forward to meet his guests, and when they came out of the housea few minutes later Aynsley went straight across the lawn to greet Ruthand Miss Dexter, who had joined her niece, while Clay and Osbornefollowed a path which led through the pines. Clay was strongly made andburly, with very dark hair and eyes and a somewhat fleshy face. Helooked as if he enjoyed good living; but the alertness of his expressionredeemed it from sensuality. He had an air of rakish boldness whichrather became him, and his careless dress added to this effect. In whitePanama hat, well-cut clothes negligently put on, with a heavy goldwatch-chain, diamond studs, and a black silk band round his waist, Claylooked more of a swashbuckler than a sober business man. His appearancewas not altogether deceptive, for, although he used modern methods withgreat shrewdness, he had habits and characteristics more in keeping withthe romantic '49.
"Have you held on to those Elk Park building lots?" he asked.
Osborne nodded. "Yes."
"Still got an option on the adjoining frontage?"
"I believe so; the offer wasn't quite formal."
"Then wire and clinch the deal. Do it right now."
"Ah! The municipal improvement scheme is going through?"
"Sure. I got the tip by 'phone as I was leaving. Whatcom serves mepretty well, but there are other fellows to take a hand in the game, andthe news will leak out some time this evening. We're an hour or twoahead--that's all. Here, write your message."
Taking a telegram blank from his pocket, he handed it to Osborne; andthen swung off his hat with ceremonious gallantry as he came suddenlyupon the others through an opening in the pines. Ruth gave him a rathercold bow, for his voice carried well, and she had heard enough todisturb her. She did not expect much from Clay; but it looked as if herfather were abetting him in a conspiracy to take an unfair advantage ofsome civic improvements. She had no justification for questioning eitherof them; but her aunt, who was seldom diffident, proceeded to deal withthe matter boldly when Osborne joined them after dispatching thetelegram.
"What's this I hear, Henry?" Miss Dexter asked.
"I can't say. You were not intended to hear anything," Osborne repliedwith a patient air.
"Then your friend should talk lower. Have you been buying up propertythe city needs?"
"It's a fairly common practice. I suppose you don't approve of it?"
"Need you ask?" Miss Dexter bristled with Puritanical indignation. "Haveyou any moral right to tax the people because they want a healthier andcleaner town? Is this the example you would set your daughter?"
Osborne smiled tolerantly.
"It's hardly likely that Ruth will feel tempted to speculate in realestate. Besides, the tax is optional. The people needn't pay it unlessthey like."
"That's a quibble," Miss Dexter replied shrewdly. "They wouldn't buyyour lots at an extravagant price if there was another site available."
"It's unwise to jump at conclusions. As a matter of fact, there are twobetter sites in the market."
Miss Dexter looked puzzled.
"If that's true," she declared, "the matter's more suspicious thanbefore. There's something not straight."
"I'm afraid there often is," Osborne responded good-humoredly. "Still,while I can't hope for your approval of all my doings, I don't think youhave much reason to question my veracity."
"I have none. I beg your pardon, Henry," Miss Dexter said with somedignity. "I'm glad to say that I've always found your word reliable."
"That's something to my credit, anyway." Osborne turned to Clay. "Mysister-in-law has no admiration for our modern business ethics."
"There she shows sense," Clay answered with a smile. "I'm old-fashionedenough to believe, ma'am, that the less women have to do with businessthe better."
"Why?" Miss Dexter demanded sternly.
"You have a better part in life; we look to you to raise the nationaltone, to protect the family morals, and keep the home clean."
Osborne looked amused, and Aynsley undutifully grinned, but MissDexter's expression hinted at rather grim astonishment.
"How is it to be done?" she asked. "What's the use in our cleaning whenyou men are allowed to muss up things?"
"That sounds logical," Aynsley put in. "I'm afraid we really needreforming."
"You do," Miss Dexter replied with an air of dry amusement whichsomewhat surprised her niece. "Idle men in particular are bound to maketrouble."
"It was the busy ones I was thinking of. My idea is that a man's mostdangerous when he's making money."
"What's that?" Clay turned upon his son sternly.
"I believe I heard you agree with Miss Dexter, sir, when she condemnedour commercial morality?"
"There's a difference; she's a lady," Clay replied in a decided tone.
Aynsley laughed and turned away with Ruth, who was in a thoughtful mood,for what she had heard deepened her distrust of Clay and made heranxious about his influence on her father. She admitted that, in herinexperience she could not presume to judge what was right for him, butshe felt troubled.
"Have you told your father you will take over the mill?" she askedAynsley.
"Yes; and I believe he was immensely gratified, though he only said hewas glad to see I was coming to my senses. However, on thinking it over,I half regret my decision. The old man has money enough for both of us,and, to my mind, driving a car or sailing a yacht is much less riskywork than trying to get ahead of the people you deal with."
"But is that necessary? Can't you carry on a business without takingadvantage of your rivals and customers?"
"I'm hardly in a position to judge, but from what I've heard it seemsdifficult. When I take up the mill I've got to make it pay. It would bea bad shake-up for the old man if I only lost the money he put in. He'dfeel himself disgraced, and it would be a heavy strain on his affection.Though he tells me I'm a fool pretty often, he's really fond of me."
"Yes," said Ruth; "I've noticed that, and I like him for it. After all,you need some sympathy. The situation's complicated."
"That's so. I'm half afraid I'm not smart enough to grapple with it. Ofcourse, there is such a thing as compromise: you can do your best allround, but make a small concession here and there."
"I'm not sure that would work. Isn't there a risk of the concessionsbecoming too numerous? It would be
safer not to give way at all."
"It sounds a drastic rule. The trouble is that my relatives and friendsexpect too much of me, and I suspect that some of them are pullingopposite ways."
Ruth felt sorry for him. Though he was careless, he was honest, and shethought he would shrink from anything that was mean and savored oftrickery. Now, however, he had to stand a searching test: he would beexpected to make the sawmill pay, and Clay would not be satisfied with asmall profit. Ruth felt that she had assumed some responsibility inpersuading him to undertake an uncongenial task; for if he provedunfitted for it, his troubles would be numerous. For all that, she couldnot believe that it was impossible to get rich uprightly.
"After all," she said, "you will have every advantage. The bestassistants and the latest machinery."
"That's true. But they're liabilities. I mean they'll be scored againstme, and I'll have to prove I've made the most efficient use of them. Ina way, I'd rather make a start with poorer tools."
"That sounds weak; and you're not often so hesitating."
"It's something to know your limitations," Aynsley answered. "Besides, Ifeel that I have to do you and the old man credit after the ratherreckless confidence you have both shown in me."
"I am sure mine was justified," Ruth said softly.
Aynsley turned to her quickly. She was wonderfully attractive with herslender figure in light summer drapery outlined against the darkness ofthe surrounding pines; and the dusky background emphasized her finecoloring. Her face, however, was quietly grave. He could see no trace ofthe tender shyness he longed for, not even a hint of coquetry, whichmight have warranted some advance. He sometimes thought that Ruth didnot know her power and had not quite awakened yet; but it was obviousthat she had spoken in mere friendly kindness, and he must be contentwith that.
"Thank you," he answered in a voice that was slightly strained. "I'llcertainly have to pull myself together and see what I can do."
They heard his father calling and, turning back to the lawn, they foundClay ready to go. He had, he explained to Miss Dexter, only called for aword with Osborne, though he found it hard to tear himself away. Sheheard him with a twinkle in her eyes, and afterward watched him crossthe lawn with his jaunty air. Somehow he made a more romantic figurethan his handsome son.
"A man of many talents, I think," she said. "One wonders whether hemakes the best use of them."
"That depends on one's point of view; and it's not our affair," Osborneremarked.
"It is certainly not mine. How far it may be yours, I can't tell, but aman of that kind doesn't walk alone. Where he goes he drags others afterhim."
Osborne laughed as the hum of the car rushing along the hillside cameback to them.
"The pace he sets is generally hot," he admitted; "but I imagine his sonis at present gratifying his love of speed."
As a matter of fact, Clay was then leaning back on the cushions, withhis hat jammed tightly on, while he watched Aynsley, whose face waspresented to him in clearly cut profile. The car was traveling very fastalong one of the rough dirt-roads of the country, throwing up red dustand withered needles and bouncing among the ruts. High overhead therehung a roof of somber foliage, pierced by shafts of glittering light andsupported by the columnar trunks of great Douglas firs. There were holesin the uneven surface of the road deep enough to wreck the machine, andthough boggy stretches had been laid with small, split logs, these leftbare, broad spaces where the wheels sank in the soft soil. Aynsley neverslackened speed. He avoided the dangers with judgment and nerve, whilethe car lurched as it twisted in and out, now clinging to the edge ofthe bank with tires that brushed the fern, now following a devious trackmade by wagon wheels. It was an exhibition of fine driving; and Clay,who was a shrewd judge of men, noticed the coolness, courage, and quickdecision his son displayed. He took risks that could not be avoided, buthe was bold without being rash, and this appealed to his father, whostudied him with a puzzled feeling. Considering his strength ofcharacter, it was strange that Aynsley had done nothing yet; and Claywas, perhaps, not altogether mistaken in deeming no occupation ofimportance, unless it was connected with the earning of money. He heldthat a calling which enriched a man was generally of some benefit to hiscountry.
"I had a letter from Vancouver this morning," he said, as they climbed ahill and the slower pace made conversation possible. "They're puttingthe new engine in and expect to start the mill in a fortnight."
"I'll be ready then," said Aynsley.
Clay noticed that, although his tone conveyed no hint of eagerness, hisexpression was resolute. If the boy's task was not quite congenial, hemeant to undertake it, which was satisfactory.
"There's another matter I want to talk about. That's a nice girl ofOsborne's, though I guess you might do better."
Aynsley turned his head so he could see his father.
"The remark is obviously absurd, sir."
Clay chuckled.
"It's a proper feeling. I find no fault with it. Anyway, I'm glad to seethat this time you're looking nearer your own level. I felt a bitworried about you some years ago."
Taken by surprise, as he was, the blood crept into Aynsley's face. Hehad been infatuated with a girl in a cigar store, and it wasdisconcerting to learn that his father had known all about the affair.Clay had said nothing, but Aynsley had no doubt that he would have actedhad he thought it needful.
"Well," he said with some confusion, "I was at a sentimental age, but Iwasn't so foolish as you seem to think. Miss Neston was quite goodenough for me, and I'd like you to remember it, since you have mentionedthe matter."
"We'll let it go," Clay answered dryly. "I guess you have a differentidea of your value now. But you don't seem to be making much progresswith Ruth Osborne. I suppose you really want her?"
They had passed the steepest pitch of the hill, but Aynsley threw in thelowest gear and turned quietly to his father.
"You have a rather crude way of putting things; but you can take it thatI want her more than anything in the world."
"Very well. I can get her for you."
Aynsley made an abrupt movement, and then said slowly, "I think not.This is a matter in which you can't help me; I want you to understandit."
His resolute manner puzzled Clay, who had not often found him sodetermined.
"It seems to me that needs an explanation."
"Then I'll try to give you one. You have given me many things for whichI'm grateful, and now that you have bought me the sawmill, I'll do thebest I can with it. I've allowed you to choose my career; but I thinkI'm justified in choosing my wife myself."
"You're young," laughed Clay, "or you'd have learned that it's veryseldom a man with red blood chooses his wife; in fact, it much oftenerhappens the other way about. He meets her and that settles him. If you'dbeen capable of going round with a list of qualifications looking for agirl who could satisfy them, you'd be no son of mine. However, I'm notdictating what you call your choice. I don't object to it; that's all."
"It's enough. How would you get Miss Osborne if I gave you permission?"
Though the question was awkward, Clay smiled. The boy was shrewder thanhe thought.
"Oh," he said, "I have some influence with Osborne. He owes me severalfavors."
"A man wouldn't give up his daughter in return for a favor. What is yourhold on him?"
"I don't see much reason why you should know."
"You may be right." Aynsley's tone was determined as he continued:"Let's try to understand each other. If Miss Osborne marries me becausethat's her wish, I'll be a very fortunate man; but it's unthinkable thatshe should be forced to do so. I can't have any pressure put upon herfather."
"When I want a thing, I get after it the best way I can."
"I believe that's true," Aynsley answered with a smile. "In this case,however, the way's important. I must ask you to leave it alone."
"Very well," acquiesced Clay. "As usual, though, I'll be around if youshould want me. I guess I haven't failed you yet."
/> "You have not, Dad," Aynsley replied in an affectionate tone. "Sittight; I'm going to stir up the machine."