Her answer was given promptly, but without the least trace of temper.That was one of the most provoking things about this girl, she would not lose her temper.He usually lost his trying to make her.She spoke now, pleasantly, and deliberately, but as if she were stating an undesirable fact.
"I think it would be the last one you would get," she said.
"Why? Great Scott! I guess I could teach school if I wanted to.
But you bet I wouldn't want to!...NOW what are you laughing at?""I'm not laughing."
"Yes, you are.I can always tell when you're laughing; you get that look in your eyes, that sort of--of-- Oh, I can't tell you what kind of look it is, but it makes me mad.It's the same kind of look my grandfather has, and I could punch him for it sometimes.
Why should you and he think I'm not going to amount to anything?""I don't think so.And I'm sure he doesn't either.And I wasn't laughing at you.Or, if I was, it--it was only because--""Well, because what?"
"Oh, because you are so AWFULLY sure you know--well, know more than most people.""Meaning I'm stuck on myself, I suppose.Well, now I tell you I'm not going to hang around in this one-horse town all my life to please grandfather or any one else."When he mentioned his determination to win literary glory she was always greatly interested.Dreams of histrionic achievement were more coldly received.The daughter of a New England country clergyman, even in these days of broadening horizons, could scarcely be expected to look with favor upon an actor's career.
June came and with it the first of the summer visitors.For the next three months Albert was happy with a new set of acquaintances.
They were HIS kind, these young folks from the city, and his spare moments were for the most part spent in their society.He was popular with them, too.Some of them thought it queer that he should be living all the year in the village and keeping books for a concern like Z.Snow and Co., but juvenile society is tolerant and a youth who could sing passably, dance wonderfully and, above all, was as beautifully picturesque as Albert Speranza, was welcomed, especially by the girls.So the Saturdays and Sundays and evenings of that summer were pleasant for him.He saw little of Helen or Gertie Kendrick while the hotel or the cottages remained open.
Then came the fall and another long, dreary winter.Albert plodded on at his desk or in the yard, following Mr.Keeler's suggestions, obeying his grandfather's orders, tormenting Issy, doing his daily stint because he had to, not because he liked it.For amusement he read a good deal, went to the usual number of sociables and entertainments, and once took part in amateur theatricals, a play given by the church society in the town hall.There was where he shone.As the dashing young hero he was resplendent.Gertie Kendrick gazed upon him from the third settee center with shining eyes.When he returned home after it was over his grandmother and Mrs.Ellis overwhelmed him with praises.
"I declare you was perfectly splendid, Albert!" exclaimed Olive.
"I was so proud of you I didn't know what to do."Rachel looked upon him as one might look upon a god from Olympus.
"All I could think of was Robert Penfold," she said."I says so to Laban: 'Laban,' says I, ain't he Robert Penfold and nobody else?'
There you was, tellin' that Hannibal Ellis that you was innocent and some day the world would know you was, just the way Robert Penfold done in the book.I never did like that Hannie Ellis!"Mrs.Snow smiled."Mercy, Rachel," she said, "I hope you're not blamin' Hannie because of what he did in that play.That was his part, he had to do it."But Rachel was not convinced."He didn't have to be so everlastin'
mean and spiteful about it, anyhow," she declared."But there, that family of Ellises never did amount to nothin' much.But, as Isaid to Laban, Albert, you was Robert Penfold all over.""What did Labe say to that?" asked Albert, laughing.
"He never had a chance to say nothin'.Afore he could answer, that Maria B.Price--she was settin' right back of me and eatin'
molasses candy out of a rattly paper bag till I thought I SHOULDdie--she leaned forward and she whispered: 'He looks more to me like that Stevie D.that used to work for Cap'n Crowell over to the Center.Stevie D.had curly hair like that and HE was part Portygee, you remember; though there was a little nigger blood in him, too,' she says.I could have shook her! And then she went to rattlin' that bag again."Even Mr.Keeler congratulated him at the office next morning."You done well, Al," he said."Yes--yes--yes.You done fust-rate, fust-rate."His grandfather was the only one who refused to enthuse.
"Well," inquired Captain Zelotes, sitting down at his desk and glancing at his grandson over his spectacles, "do you cal'late to be able to get down to earth this mornin' far enough to figger up the payroll? You can put what you made from play-actin' on a separate sheet.It's about as much as the average person makes at that job," he added.
Albert's face flushed.There were times when he hated his grandfather.Mr.Keeler, a moment later, put a hand on his shoulder.
"You mustn't mind the old man, Al," he whispered."I expect that seein' you last night brought your dad's job back to him strong.
He can't bear play-actin', you know, on your dad's account.Yes--yes.That was it.Yes--yes--yes."
It may have been a truthful explanation, but as an apology it was a limited success.
"My father was a gentleman, at any rate," snapped Albert.Laban opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again and walked back to his books.
