"But he is proud, just as you are; and Uncle Arthur ruined him! It was not father, but Uncle Arthur, who brought all these hideous things upon us."
I passed rapidly on, and resumed my walk elsewhere. It was a sad business, the shadowy father; the criminal uncle, who had, as Helen said, brought ruin upon them all; the sweet, motherly, older sister, driven in desperation to hide; and, not less melancholy, this beautiful girl, the pathos of whose position had struck me increasingly. Perhaps Miss Pat was too severe, and I half accused her of I know not what crimes of rapacity and greed for withholding her brother's money; then I set my teeth hard into my pipe as my slumbering loyalty to Miss Pat warmed in my heart again.
"It's the night of the carnival, sir," Ijima reminded me, seeking me at the water-tower.
"Very good, Ijima. You needn't lock the boat-house. I may go out later."
The cottagers at Port Annandale hold once every summer a canoe fête, and this was the appointed night. I was in no mood for gaiety of any sort, but it occurred to me that I might relieve the strained relations between Helen and her aunt by taking them out to watch the procession of boats. I passed through the gate and took a turn or two, not to appear to know of the whereabouts of the women, and to my surprise met Miss Pat walking alone.
She greeted me with her usual kindness, but I knew that I had broken upon sad reflections. Her handkerchief vanished into the silk bag she wore at her wrist. Helen was not in sight, but I strolled back and forth with Miss Pat, thinking the girl might appear.
"I had a note from Father Stoddard to-day," said Miss Pat.
"I congratulate you," I laughed. "He doesn't honor me."
"He's much occupied," she remarked defensively; "and I suppose he doesn't indulge in many letters. Mine was only ten lines long, not more!"
"Father Stoddard feels that he has a mission in the world, and he has little time for people like us, who have food, clothes and drink in plenty. He gives his life to the hungry, unclothed and thirsty."