"No, ma, we didn't."
"And you haven't been doing anything wrong, anything that you're ashamed of?"
Eben's face suddenly coloured, and his eyes dropped. He remembered what he had done at the quarry. Mrs. Tobin was now convinced that she was being deceived, and that her husband and son were in league against her. She wheeled upon the captain.
"I want you to come right home with me, Sam'l. This is a very serious matter, and I need Flo's advice. She's got a level head, and will know what had better be done. I can hardly think, I'm so worked up."
"But you kin talk all right, Martha, even if ye can't think," the captain retorted. "If ye'd think more ye'd talk less. If ye don't believe what me an' Eben have said, ye needn't. Yes, I'll go home with ye, fer I guess Flo'll understand, if you don't. Eben, you look after things here. Ye might as well keep the sail up as thar's no wind. If it comes on to blow, ye can lower it. I'll be on hand bright an' early in the mornin' so's to catch the tide. We kin drift, even if thar's no wind. Come on, Martha, let's go."
CHAPTER X
UNWELCOME VISITORS
After he had eaten his supper, Eben washed his few dishes and went out on deck. He sat down upon one of the blocks of granite and looked out over the water. It was a beautiful evening, with not a breath of wind astir. The river shimmered like a great mirror, its surface only ruffled when an occasional motor-boat hurried by, and the little steamer "Oconee," on her regular evening trip from the city, ploughed past and blew for a wharf a short distance beyond. A noble river is the St. John, enwrapped with the halo of romance and deeds of daring. In days long ago it bore upon its bosom the light canoes of Indians as they journeyed to and fro for trading or warlike purposes. It felt the surge of larger vessels, both of England and France, during the stirring days when those two nations contended for the supremacy of a virgin land. Later it saw the slow-creeping boats of hardy pioneers, Loyalists, who came to make for themselves homes in the wilderness. Its shores re-echoed to the shouts and songs of sturdy raftsmen in the days when acres of great logs were floated down to the sea. It had cradled upon its bosom fleets of boats, their white sails swelling to every wind that blew. These were gradually replaced by noisy steamers and tugs until only a few remained, of which the "Eb and Flo" was one.
To an imaginative mind the history of such a river would be sufficient to thrill the soul. But to the youth sitting there alone upon deck it meant nothing. In fact, he did not notice the beauty of the evening, nor the soft calmness which surrounded him. His mind was upon other things. He was thinking of the scene which had just been enacted on board the boat. He was in a rebellious mood, and now, as often before, quietness and deep thought were his two choice friends. He glanced occasionally toward the shore and up to the little cottage nestling among the trees. It was his home, and yet he had little affection for the place. It was there he had received food and shelter nearly all his life, but no sweet memories clustered around that little house. He had always been misunderstood, and he could not recall the time when he had not been scolded for everything he did. His mother was a woman who did her duty according to her light, and looked well after the bodily welfare of her family. But she overlooked the fact that people need more than bread and clothing, and that eternal scrubbing, washing and dusting do not make a real home. For the first time in his life he felt a deep pity for his father as he thought of the stern inquisition he was no doubt undergoing. And Flo, too, would have much to say, for her mother had moulded her according to her own design.
"Poor dad must be having a lively time of it now," he mused. "I wish he'd show a little more spunk, an' stand up fer his rights. Ma an' Flo'd think more of him if he did. I don't believe all women act that way. I wonder——?"