The Barrier: A Novel. French Allen
it was frequently very vexing. But the real attempt to cripple the new business came toward the middle of the summer, when Ellis, weary of the weak attempts of his subordinates at annoyance, took a hand himself, and looked for some vital flaw in the safeguards of the Electrolytic Company. He believed he found it, and various legal notices came to Mather, all of which remained unanswered. Finally an important official came in person to the office. He introduced himself as Mr. Daggett of the harbour commission.
"I have written you several times," he complained.
"So you have," answered Mather. "Miss Jenks, may Mr. Daggett and I have the office to ourselves for a while? I take it," he added, when the door closed behind the stenographer, "that we are going to be rude to each other. Have a cigar?"
"Thanks," said Daggett, "but I don't see why ye didn't answer."
"I was too busy. Besides, I wanted to get you down here, so as to settle the matter once for all. Will you state the matter plainly; your letters were vague? That is the wharf out there."
Mr. Daggett viewed it through the window. "Yes, it's surely a long wharf. Twenty feet beyond the harbour line. Ye'll have to take it down."
"Or else?" demanded Mather.
"Show a permit."
"Come, there's one other choice."
"Pay a fine," grinned Daggett. "We've set a pretty large sum. The board's irritated, ye see, because ye've paid so little attention to us."
"The board never fails to answer letters, does it?" inquired Mather.
"What do you mean?"
"You're too busy, I suppose. And you don't appear to remember seeing me before, Mr. Daggett."
"Have I?" asked the commissioner.
"You don't recollect that I wrote about this matter two months ago? I had to go to the office to get an answer. You were deep in affairs, Mr. Daggett. I found you and two others playing cards."
"Was I?" asked Daggett.
"When was this harbour line established, anyway? Wasn't it about two weeks ago?"
"Certainly," Mr. Daggett answered. "That has nothing to do with it. But what did we tell you at the office – I can't remember your coming."
"I wasn't there long enough to make much impression," said Mather. "One of your friends told me that all fools knew there was no harbour line here, and I didn't need your permission."
"Hm!" remarked Daggett doubtfully. Then he brightened. "Did we give you that in writing?"
"I didn't ask you for it. You seemed so anxious to go on with your game that I didn't trouble you further."
"Then you have no permission," stated Daggett. "And now that there is a harbour line, what will you do about it?"
"I learned all I wanted of you," said Mather. He had not yet risen from his desk, but now he did so, and going over to his safe, he threw it open. "I asked nothing further because, there being no harbour line, a permit wouldn't have been worth the paper it was written on. I wrote to the Secretary of the Navy." Mather drew a document from a drawer of the safe. "Do you care to see his answer?"
"Whew!" whistled Daggett. "Well, I suppose I might as well."
Mather gave him the paper. "You will see that I have permission to build ten feet farther if I want to, and fifteen broader. I may also build another wharf if I wish, lower down. Are you satisfied?" He touched the bell. "You may come in now, Miss Jenks. Thank you for taking it so easily, Mr. Daggett. I won't keep you from your game any longer. Good-day."
– "And before I left the office he was hard at work again, Mr. Ellis," reported Daggett. "Save me, but he's taken pretty good care of himself, and that's a fact."
Ellis had no comments to make; he did his growling to himself. Seeing nothing further to do, he left Mather alone.
Thus time passed by till that midsummer day when Ellis took the trolley to Chebasset and, once there, strolled among its streets. He viewed the mill from a distance and gritted his teeth at the sight. Mather was well ensconced; it seemed altogether too likely that he might win a wife, among his other successes. Then the promoter left the town and climbed above it on the winding road, viewing the estates of the summer residents as one by one he passed their gates. Should he enter at the Judge's?
A light step sounded on the road as he hesitated at the gate. Someone spoke his name, and there stood Judith Blanchard.
"Here, and in business hours?" she asked.
"My day's work was done," he answered. "Besides, it was not all pleasure that brought me."
Judith's eyes brightened. "Tell me," she suggested.
"Why should I tell you?" he asked bluntly. But the brusqueness only pleased her; he was a man of secrets.
"No reason at all," she answered.
"And yet," he said, "your advice would be valuable, if you will not tell."
"I! I tell?" she asked. "You do not know me."
"Then," he said, "I came to look at land here."
"To look at land here?" she repeated, questioning. "Can you buy here?"
"There is land," he said. "The price would be doubled if it were known I am after it. I have the refusal of it, through agents."
"Where does it lie?" she asked.
"Farther up the road."
"You must not be seen going to it," she declared. "People would take alarm – " She stopped, embarrassed.
"I do not mind," he said, and yet she felt his bitterness. "I am not considered a good neighbour."
"It is wrong of people," she declared earnestly.
"I should not be welcome on any one of these piazzas," he said, indicating the villas beyond them. "The Judge doesn't like me – your own father has no use for me."
"Will you come and try?" she cried. "I should like to see if my father will be rude to my guest."
"You are very kind," he said, "but do you consider – ?"
"I have invited you," she interrupted. "Will you come?"
"With pleasure," he answered. They went up the hill together.
CHAPTER VIII
Judith, before she met Ellis for this second time, had been bored. Chebasset was so dull that it was dreary; in the country-houses were given little teas, slow whist-parties, or stupid luncheons. Of the young people of her age some had married, others had gone into business, and the self-content of the first of these was not to be disturbed, nor the fatigue of the others to be increased, for the sake of giving Judith a good time. She became a little impatient with her surroundings, therefore, and as the sizzling summer brought physical discomfort, she was inclined to lay the blame where it could scarcely with justice be said to belong. Yet while her acquaintances were not responsible for the heat, Judith, with her abundant energies unused, was right in feeling that society was sunk in sloth, and that instead of giving itself to petty diversions it had better do something worth while. She was discontented with herself, her idleness, her uselessness; she felt that she would rather face even the heat of the city, and be doing, than stay longer on her piazza and keep cool. Therefore she had sought the dusty road as a sort of penance, and meeting Ellis, had been reminded of what he stood for: the world of working men and women.
She had thought of him many times since their first meeting, making his achievements a standard to which only Pease and Fenno approximated, and of which Mather fell far short. She had continued to read of Ellis in the newspapers, to watch his slow course of uninterrupted success, and had come to accept the popular idea of his irresistible genius. Feeling this natural admiration of his immense energy and skill, in her heart she made little of the two obstacles which were said to lie in his path. For it was claimed, first, that some day the street-railway would prove too much for him, bringing him as it did in contact with the organised mass of labourers, and with the public which Mather had accustomed to an excellent standard of