“We think it’s nice. Just a few of us that have children got together and organized it. The Cohasset Beach has a big bar, and there always is a good deal of drinking going on down there. The New Yorkers, you know, come down for a good time. No place for young folk.”
“No, you bet your life.”
Jeannette, in spite of herself, found she was hungry. The fried chicken in the oiled tissue paper was delicious, and she loved the liverwurst sandwiches. Mrs. Sturgis and her girls had always been extremely fond of liverwurst; Kratzmer kept it, and many a luncheon Jeannette, her mother and sister had made with little else. The hot cup of coffee, that Mrs. Gibbs poured from the tin pot the Club steward brought and set down in the sand, put life into her. The pleasant heat of the day, the sunshine, the life and frolicking in sand and water, forced enjoyment upon her. But she would not go in swimming when Martin urged her. One glance at the crude bath-house with its gray boards and canvas roof was sufficient to decide her on this point. She sat stiffly beside Mrs. Gibbs, who had rocked Herbie to sleep in her arms, and now moved so her shadow would keep the sun off the child’s face, while she watched Mr. Gibbs and her husband disport themselves in the water. Martin’s swimming always attracted attention and when he made a beautiful swan dive from the end of the pier, there was a ripple of applause. She felt proud of him, proud of his fine figure, the beauty of his young body, his prowess, his unaffectedness.
“Who’s that young fellow doing all the fancy diving out there?” a man sauntering up asked Mrs. Gibbs.
“S-ssh,” breathed that lady, indicating her sleeping child. “His name’s Martin Devlin,” she whispered; “he works for Herbert in the city.”
Works for Herbert in the city! Jeannette felt the blood rush to her face. Works for Herbert! Indeed! Well, he wouldn’t be working for Herbert much longer. She’d have something to say about that. The idea! The impertinence! Giving the impression that her wonderful Martin was merely an employee of Herbert Gibbs!
Her husband, wet and dripping, came up to her and flung himself down panting upon the sand.
“Gee,” he said boyishly, “that water’s great! Never had a better swim in my life. It’s a shame you didn’t go in, Jan.”
He looked at her, sensing something was amiss, but she smiled at him and pressed his wet, sandy hand.
Late in the afternoon they prepared to go home. As they were about to leave the Club, a man climbing into his automobile offered a lift. Martin and Jeannette begged to be allowed to walk and persuaded their hosts on account of the baby to take advantage of the car. Left to themselves, they commenced a leisurely return.