The Inglises Part 18

The broad, shallow channel at the end of the garden was full, and the willows that fringed the bit of green gra.s.s were far out into the water.

The water almost touched the bridge across the road, and filled the hollow along the embankment.

"And, besides, you are going to sail," said Jem.

"I think it would be quite as pleasant to stay here."

They were all sitting on the little gallery before the house. It must have been a charming place once, when the river could be seen from it, and the pretty view beyond. At present, nothing could be seen on that side but the high embankment, and the few rods of garden-ground. On the other side were the willows, already green and beautiful, and some early-budding shrubs and the gra.s.s. Then there was the water, flowing down between the two bridges, and, over all, the blue sky and the sweet spring air. It was a charming place still, or it seemed so to David and them all.

The garden-beds had already been made, and a great many green things were springing here and there, and, on a rugged old apple-tree and on some plum and cherry trees, the buds were beginning to show themselves.

The children were eager to be at work, but, for the present, that was not to be thought of. However, there was much to be said about the garden, and about the seeds which were to be sown, and Jessie was eager about a plan for covering the high embankment with squash-vines and scarlet-runners. Fred wanted to keep bees, and ducks if they could have them, but bees certainly; and amid the happy clamour which their voices made there came a shout, and, from under the railway bridge from the river, a boat was seen advancing.

"Here we are at last!" called out Frank Oswald; "and it looks very much as if here we must stay. We cannot get any further, Phil."

The Inglis children were soon as near the boat as the willows and the water would permit. There seemed to be no way of getting the boat to the bank, for the willows were far out into the water, and through them it could not be forced.

"You'll have to land on the other side and go round by the bridge," said Jem.

They were not using oars. That would have been impossible in a channel so narrow. They were pus.h.i.+ng the boat through the water by means of a long pole, but it was not very easily managed, because of the shallowness of the water and the bushes that grew on the margin.

"Jem is right; we must go to the other side," said Frank.

"Not I," said his brother, as he planted his pole firmly on the bank, measuring the distance with his eye. Then throwing himself forward with a sudden spring, he was over the willows and over the water beyond, landing safely on the nicely-prepared onion-bed.

"Well done!" cried Jem.

"Not at all well done," said Frank, who had only saved himself from being overturned into the water by grasping a branch near him.

Philip only laughed, as he shook hands with Mrs Inglis and Violet.

"Take my place in the boat and have a row on the river," said he, as he sat down on the steps near them. "I have had enough of it for awhile."

Jem was nothing loth, but he looked at his mother for permission.

"Is it quite safe, do you think?" asked she hesitating.

"Oh! quite safe. Frank understands all about it; and so does Jem, I dare say."

"Mamma!" entreated Ned.

"And mamma!" entreated Jessie.

On the Gourlay river the boys had paddled about at their own pleasure, and their mother was not inclined to be unreasonably anxious about them.

She knew it would be a great delight to them all to be permitted to go.

"But there is not room for all; and Mr Oswald will not care to be troubled with so many children."

"Let them go with the boys--there is no danger, and I will wait here,"

said Philip. "Only you must promise to come back within a reasonable time, Jem."

"All right!" said Jem. "I promise. Come along Violet. There is room for you, and Polly too."

But Mr Philip thought there was not room for all, and Mrs Inglis would not trust little Mary with them, so they went without them.

This was Mr Philip's first visit to the bridge house. Mrs Inglis had seen him at church, and David had seen him a good many times at the bank. He had been at home a week or two, and Violet had, of course, seen him every day. David had acknowledged that he did not like him very much, and Jem called him "a swell," and spoke contemptuously of his fine clothes and fine manners. Violet had taken his part, and said he was just like other people. He was very kind to his little sisters, she said. There had been a good deal said about him in one way or another, and Mrs Inglis regarded him with curiosity and interest. He was a good-looking lad, with a pleasant face and manner. "Just like other people," did not quite do him justice. Mrs Inglis could not help thinking Jem's idea of "a swell" did not suit him certainly. He was not "fine," on the present occasion, either in dress or manners. David had said very little about about him, but he had not approved of him, and, seeing the young man now so frank and friendly, she could not but wonder why.

They did not go into the house, and by and by they all crossed the garden and went up on the railway track to watch the boat; and, being a little behind the others, leading little Mary between them, his mother asked David what was the reason of his dislike.

"Dislike! mamma," said David, in surprise. "I don't dislike him. I don't know him very well. He has had very little to say to me. Why should you think that I dislike him?"

"Perhaps dislike is too strong a word. But I fancied that you did not quite approve of him, David."

"Approve of him! Well--he is not one of us--of our kind of people, I mean. He does not look at things as we do. I don't dislike him, mamma, but I don't care about him."

"Which means he doesn't care about you?" said his mother, smiling.

David laughed.

"He certainly does not. He is much too great a man to have anything to say to me. But I don't think that is the reason that I don't 'approve'

of him, as you say. He is not in earnest about anything. He is extravagant--he spends a great deal of money foolishly. But I ought not to speak of that. Mr Caldwell told me, and he seemed quite as well pleased that we should have little to say to one another. He said Frank was the better companion for Jem and me."

"I dare say that is true," said his mother.

But all this did not prevent the young people from having a very pleasant afternoon together. The boat came back after "a reasonable time," and then the others went for a sail, and David acknowledged that Mr Philip was in earnest about his rowing, at any rate, and permitted himself to admire his activity and skill. When the boat was brought in among the willows again, it was almost dark.

"Suppose we leave it here?" said Frank. "It will be quite safe, and we can send for it on Monday."

"It would not be a bad place to leave it here altogether," said his brother.

Jem was delighted with the idea, and said so; but David gave his mother a doubtful look.

"Come in to tea," said she, "and you can decide about it afterwards."

The Oswalds had not dined, but they did not refuse the invitation, as, for a single minute, Violet hoped they might. The simple arrangements of her mother's table were not at all like those which Miss Oswald considered necessary in her father's house, but they were faultless in their way, and Violet was ashamed of her shame almost as soon as she was conscious of it.

"Aunt Mary," said Frank, after they were seated at the table, "won't you ask me to spend the afternoon here to-morrow? I like your Sundays."

Mrs Inglis did not answer for a moment, but Jem answered for her.

"All right, Frank! Come straight from church. Your father will let you, won't he?"

"If Aunt Mary were to ask me, he would. I am not sure, otherwise," said Frank. "What do you say, Aunt Mary?"

Philip looked at him in astonishment.

"Never mind, Phil," said Frank. "Aunt Mary and I understand."

"We are old friends," said Mrs Inglis, smiling.

"I think he is very bold," said his brother. "What if I were to insist on being invited in that persistent way?"