"I am awfully sorry, Gordon, if it is your canoe. It must have been pretty frail, though, to go to pieces at a mere scratch."
"She's the finest cedar canoe to be found in the city of Boston, and it would take more than a mere scratch to do her up this way. From appearances I should say you had pounded round on the rocks pretty freely," growled Neal, who had turned the boat upside down, and was examining it carefully.
Bronson stooped over him. For the moment they were alone.
"Of course I would feel worse about it if it were any one's but yours. As it is, we'll just call ten off that fifty still owing. That will go towards repairs. More than cover them, I should say."
Then he sauntered off, his hands in his pockets.
"What a cad the fellow is!" muttered Neal. "It would give me real pleasure to knock him down."
"I heard him," said Cynthia. Her cheeks were red and her blue eyes had grown very dark. "He is an odious, hateful creature, and I de-spise him!"
Having delivered herself of this, Cynthia felt better.
They all went home soon afterwards, Edith leaving earlier in the carriage with Mrs. Franklin, for her shoes and skirts were too wet for her to wait for the slower movements of the canoes. It was an unfortunate ending to the day, and Edith was uncomfortable also about her conversation with Bronson. She knew that she ought not to have listened to a word of it.
She wondered if it were really true that Neal was in difficulty. She thought she must talk it over with Cynthia that night. Of course Cynthia would stand up for Neal, that went without saying, but it was always a relief to Edith to talk things over with her.