The fog was far below them, an ocean of froth, pierced by the black tips of the redwoods. On either side the children could see nothing but the great shoulders of the mountain. They seemed climbing to the vast cold glitter above.
Gradually they left the brush, and their way fell among stones, rocks, and huge boulders. Not a shrub grew here, not a blade of grass. They climbed on for a time, they reached level ground, then the point of descent. They could see nothing but rocks, brush, and an ocean of fog. Their courage took note of its limitations.
“I’m not going to cry,” said Lee sharply. “But I think we’d better talk till the sun gets up and that fog melts. Besides, if we talk we won’t feel so hungry. Tell me that thing about yourself—your father—I suppose you can trust me now?”
“We’re friends for life, and I like you better than my chum. You’re a brick. Hold up your right hand and swear that you’ll never tell.”
Lee took the required oath, and the two battered travellers made themselves as comfortable as they could in the hollow of an upright rock.
“There ain’t so much to tell. My father and my stepmother don’t hit it off—quarrel all the time. But my stepmother has the money and is awfully keen on me, so they live together usually. Besides, until two years ago my stepmother thought she’d be a bigger somebody, and my father thought he’d have money of his own one day because his uncle was old and had never married. But Uncle Basil—I’m named for him—married two years ago and his wife got a little chap right off. So that knocked my father out, and my stepmother was just like a hornet. I love her, and she’s seldom been nasty to me, but I have seen her so that when you spoke to her she’d scream at you; and when she’s in a real nasty temper I always go out. Once I got mad because she was abusing Uncle Basil—I always spent my vacations at Maundrell Abbey, and he was good to me and gave me a gun and lots of tips—and I told her she was nasty to abuse him and I shouldn’t like her unless she stopped. Then she cried and kissed me—she’s great on kissing—and said she loved me better than any one in the world, and would do anything I wanted. Did I tell you she is an American? My father says the Americans are very excitable, and my stepmother is, and no mistake. But she dotes on me—I suppose because she hasn’t any children of her own, and no one else to dote on, for that matter; so I like her, whatever she does.
“One day, she and my father got into a terrible rage. I was in the room, but they didn’t pay any attention to me. Father wanted a lot of money, and she wouldn’t give it to him. She said he could ask his mother to pay his gambling debts. (Granny has money and is going to leave me some of it.) He said he’d asked her and she wouldn’t. Granny and father don’t hit it off, either, only granny never quarrels with anybody. Then my stepmother—her first name’s Emily and I call her Emmy—called him dreadful names, and said she’d leave him that minute if it wasn’t for me. And my father said she was the greatest snob in London and had gone off her head because she’d lost her hopes of a title. Then he said he’d get even with her; he couldn’t stay in London any longer, so he’d go as far away from her as he could get and then she’d see what her position amounted to without him. ‘You’re an outsider—you’re on sufferance,’ he said, and he went out and banged the door. She went off into hysterics, but she didn’t think he’d do it. He did though. He bolted the next day, and took me with him to spite her and granny. He’s always been decent to me, so I wouldn’t mind, only I’d rather be at Eton. He came here because it wouldn’t cost him much to live, and he’s keen on sport and knows some Englishmen that have ranches. He hopes Emmy’ll repent, but she hasn’t written him a line. She wrote to me, and sent me two pounds, but she never mentioned his name.”
“Goodness, gracious!” exclaimed Lee. She was deeply disappointed at this unromantic chronicle. And it gave all her preconceived ideas of matrimony an ugly jar. “My papa and mamma were just devoted to each other,” she said. “It must be terrible not to be.”
“Oh, I expect people get used to it. And there are a lot of other things to think about. My stepmother has a very jolly time, and father doesn’t come home very much when we are in London; and in the autumn we have a lot of people in the house—Emmy rents a place in Hampshire.”
“Then your father isn’t a lord?”