Rose Galbraith Read online

  He seized her arm and laughingly forced her into step with him, getting into double-quick time and starting off on a brisk walk about the deck. Other people were coming out now and were walking, two by two, some of them singly. Rose wished she could get away by herself. She didn’t really like this dominating young man who insisted on forcing her to do what he wanted to do. Yet perhaps it was easier just to fall into step and go on than create a scene here on the deck with all these staid older people taking businesslike walks with such careful purpose, obviously following a set plan.

  But somehow the beauty of the morning had fled for Rose. She didn’t want to fly along gaily with this young man who evidently had no purpose in life but to have a good time. She wondered what she ought to do about him. She couldn’t very well do anything but be polite when he came around determined to be friendly. What did it matter? A sea voyage didn’t last forever. Perhaps if she got friendly with some of the girls and women, she could wish him off onto them. That girl at the table. She looked to be far more his kind than she was.

  Just then Harry Coster spoke.

  “I told Lily Blake and Vance Hoffman that we were going to play tennis with them this morning, and they’re keen for it. We’ll play together, you and I. Partners, you know, against them. Then I’ll have a chance to give you pointers.”

  “But I couldn’t possibly play,” said Rose, aghast. “I’ve never played in my life.”

  “Oh, that’s all right,” said her would-be partner, “neither has Lily, but she’s keen for it, and you’ll both soon learn. Hoffman and I made it up. We would both coach our partners, and you’ll learn a lot that way in a short time.”

  He rattled on about how it was important to keep your eye on the ball. Then the breakfast call came, and they could go to the dining room.

  Rose sat next to the old lady again, who put her through a catechism about where she lived and what she had done in her life so far and where she was going and who were her relatives, until she was hard put to it not to have to tell her private affairs to the avid old gossip. She succeeded, however, by her quiet answers, in getting away with New York State as her home, not far from New York City, and Scotland as her destination. Her relatives she avoided naming, and the old lady came off with the opinion that she must have something to hide or she wouldn’t be so reticent about herself and her family. She voiced this opinion freely on deck later that morning.

  Rose played at tennis for a little while and rather enjoyed the exercise, even though she didn’t always succeed in doing what she was directed to do. But when the rest of the party decided to finish with a swim in the pool, she pleaded something to do and got away. She found the deck chair that was assigned to her and enjoyed a little while with a book she had brought along to read.

  All went well until she sighted Mrs. Adams, the old lady from her table, bearing down upon the empty deck chair beside her. Quietly, unostentatiously, she slid from her chair and made her way quickly out of sight before Mrs. Adams was near enough to realize she had been seen.

  The swimming party arrived at the table noisily just as Rose was finishing her lunch, and she managed to slip away again without getting involved in any plans. If they only would let her alone and allow her to enjoy that deck chair and the wonderful breeze!

  But at last she settled down to write her letter to Gordon McCarroll.

  She had thought it out in the small hours of the night that if her mother were here and she asked her advice about that letter her mother would say, “Make it natural and simple and not too long.”

  So Rose set to work.

  The roses were there beside her—his roses, and the memory of his kindly farewell was with her. So she wrote with a sudden sense of his having been near her for those few moments on the ship.

  Dear Gordon:

  It was so wonderful to me to have those few minutes with you before we sailed. To feel there was somebody I knew to say good-bye to me. I shall never forget how it comforted me.

  And then to find those gorgeous roses in my cabin when I went back! To know that you took the trouble to send me flowers and give me a taste of what it was to be just like other people with friends to see them off, and flowers, and thoughtfulness! I can’t thank you enough.

  I feel as if I wanted to give you my mother’s thanks too, for she would have been so grateful to you for being kind to her lonely daughter. Maybe up in heaven now she knows about it and is glad.

  The roses have made my little stateroom a palace and they have given me a great deal of pleasure. I do not know any words to make you understand how I prize them and prize your friendly thoughtfulness. You don’t know how much I needed a friend just when you came by!

  I will write you again as you have asked when I reach my aunt’s house.

  Thank you again for all you have done for me.

  Sincerely,

  Rose Galbraith

  She put the letter into its envelope, addressed it in her clear pretty hand and then slipped out to mail it. She wanted to feel that it had started on its way, though she knew it could not really start until they landed. After that she took her book and went to her deck chair again, thankful to find the adjoining chair vacant.

  For a long time she lay there quietly watching the sea, because she felt too happy over the thought of her letter going to Gordon McCarroll to settle herself for reading. It seemed such an important thing, that letter.

  How surprised she would have been in her school days if she had been told that she would ever write a letter to Gordon McCarroll!

  Chapter 4

  She was lying back in her chair with a dreamy expression in her eyes, thinking with quickening heartbeats about that letter she had just written and mailed. Thinking of the way Gordon McCarroll had looked at her when he gave her that good-bye kiss. “Like a real friend,” she told herself, the rosy color stealing into her cheeks, her eyes bright with unexpected pleasure.

  There was a pleasant little smile on her sweet lips and her eyes were off at sea, her book lying in her lap with her fingers between the leaves keeping her place, when Mrs. Adams bore down upon her again and clumsily writhed herself into the vacant chair by her side. Rose wasn’t aware of what had happened until it was too late to escape, and her heart sank. Oh dear! Could it be that that was Mrs. Adams’ own chair? And would she have to endure her presence perhaps every time the old lady wanted to sit on deck? That would spoil a good many nice quiet hours upon which Rose had counted, for the woman talked incessantly. She just couldn’t keep still. Rose had found that out already.

  But perhaps she would go to sleep, and then it wouldn’t be so bad. She turned her disappointed gaze and gave a wan little smile, hoping to find Mrs. Adams looking sleepy.

  But no, Mrs. Adams had no intention of going to sleep! She got out her knitting from the large substantial bag which she carried and prepared to entertain her companion as she worked.

  “Well, I’m glad I’ve found somebody to talk to at last!” she said ponderously, with great satisfaction. “It certainly does bore me the way some people sit selfishly and refuse to say a word. Over on the other side of the deck where my chair is located there are three women right in a row with me, and not one of the three has a civil tongue in her head. If you ask them a question, they either don’t answer at all or else they get off a lot of modern slang that doesn’t mean a thing, and they are the most unfriendly lot I ever saw. And sleep? Why, they pretend to be asleep every time I come in sight. I’m glad they’re not at our table. I intend to see the purser and get my deck chair changed. Do you know if anyone has this chair? I like your looks and wouldn’t mind having a young person to talk to. Do you knit? I could teach you some new stitches perhaps. I’m a real good knitter. And by the way, I don’t remember your name. What is it? I like to put all the names down in my travelogue. Do you mind?”

  “My name’s Galbraith,” said Rose quietly. “Isn’t the sea lovely this afternoon, Mrs. Adams? And I really don’t know who has that chair. I haven’t
had time to be out much yet. But I thought I saw someone sitting here a little while ago when I looked this way from a distance. No, I don’t knit. I’ve never had time. I’m not long out of school.”

  “Oh,” said Mrs. Adams looking at her narrowly. “Well, that explains why you look so sweet and wholesome, I suppose. No lipstick and no rouge, you know. I can’t abide makeup. Like that other girl who sits at our table. She doesn’t look to me like a really respectable character, does she to you? Or perhaps she’s an old friend of yours, is she? How long have you known her?”

  “Oh, I don’t know her at all,” Rose said. “They asked me to play tennis with them this morning, and I did for a few minutes, but that isn’t very conducive to getting acquainted with people, you know.”

  “Well, no, I suppose not,” said Mrs. Adams dryly. “But I do think you ought to be a little careful till you really know people, don’t you? There are so many adventuresses and divorcees going about these days, you can’t tell who is respectable and who isn’t. It’s my opinion this Blake person—Lily Blake she says she is—is divorced! Don’t you think she is? I was looking at her hands at the table today and she looks as if she had been wearing rings on the third finger of her left hand, wedding rings you know, and if that is so, you can depend upon it she’s divorced. My dear, I think you can’t be too careful. You don’t look like a girl that would run around with women like that, and I thought I’d warn you.”

  “Well, but I’m not running around with anybody,” Rose replied, amused. “I don’t see what harm it would be to play tennis with anybody for a few minutes, do you? We’re all God’s people in the world together, and we’ve no right to judge one another. Besides, playing tennis a few minutes isn’t choosing them for intimate friends and going in their ways if they happen to be wrong.”

  “Yes, of course you’d excuse it! Young folks will, but it’s a dangerous thing to be easy about such things. You can’t tell—! By the way, are you and that Harry Coster old friends? I can’t help feeling he’ll bear watching. He’s too good-looking to be all right, don’t you think? Did he give you those roses you were wearing to dinner last night?”

  “Oh, no,” laughed Rose. “They were from a box of roses that a friend from home left in my cabin.”

  Mrs. Adams favored her with a speculative stare. “Oh!” she said thoughtfully. “From home? Boy friend?”

  Rose laughed aloud, a merry little sound between a giggle and a joyous laugh.

  “Would that make any difference?” she asked, looking Mrs. Adams over amusedly.

  “Well, yes, I think it would!” said that good woman decidedly. “At least it might make a difference to the young men you went around with on board.”

  “Oh!” said Rose. “But, you see, I don’t have any idea of going around with the young men on board.”

  “I saw you myself walking around with that young Coster last night, and again this morning. If that isn’t going around, then I’m blind. If you are engaged or anything, I think the young men at your table should know it, and I should consider it my duty to inform them. There are too many girls going around these days flirting with this one and that one, and it isn’t right. You don’t look like that kind of a girl. And you’re not wearing an engagement ring either. I think a girl that is engaged should wear an engagement ring.”

  She gave Rose a condemning glance and clicked her needles menacingly.

  “Well, but you’d have to be very sure it was true, wouldn’t you, before you told the others a thing like that?” asked Rose demurely.

  “Oh, I’d be good and sure,” said the old lady confidently. “I don’t go around telling lies about people, you know.”

  “Of course, if the girl had told you herself and given you permission to announce it, that would be a different thing,” said Rose sweetly.

  Mrs. Adams lifted her chin contemptuously and snorted.

  “There are more ways of finding out the truth about such things than having people tell you,” she said offendedly. “Give me a few brief glances, a chance to watch a girl a little while, and I can tell. And as for her permission, what’s that? If a girl doesn’t want things known, she shouldn’t do ’em, and I for one am not going to be a party to keeping things to myself that ought to be told for the sake of right and wrong.”

  “Well,” said Rose quietly. “I wouldn’t feel I had the right to jump to conclusions and then go and tell things that the people most concerned were not ready to have told yet!”

  “Ready!” sniffed Mrs. Adams. “Ready! Humph! Well, it’s easy to see where you stand, and it doesn’t take long to size people up. If people are ashamed of what they’re doing, naturally they wouldn’t be ready to have it known! I didn’t take you for that sort of a girl, and I certainly don’t intend to let a little chit like you tell me whether I’m honest or not, or if I’m justified in what I think is my duty.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Rose. “I didn’t intend to criticize you. It just didn’t seem fair to me that anyone should go around announcing other people’s engagements, even if they were true. But I probably didn’t quite understand you. And now if you don’t mind, I think I’ll just excuse myself and go to my cabin for a little while. I’m getting awfully sleepy, and I wouldn’t like you to think I was like those other people you said were always going to sleep.”

  Rose got up with a sweet smile and slipped away, wondering if it would be at all possible for her to secure another deck chair where there was no likelihood of having undesirable neighbors.

  But that very afternoon, coming toward her deck chair cautiously, viewing it from afar lest Mrs. Adams would still be there, Rose sighted another woman as different from Mrs. Adams as one could well imagine. She was sure she had not seen her in the dining room yet. She was a fair sweet woman with white hair and a distinguished bearing. She looked as if she belonged among the wealthy first class travelers. If so, what was she doing down on the tourist-class deck?

  Rose hesitated shyly, and deliberately walked on past her chair before she could make up her mind to come back and sit down. She felt that perhaps the new lady would think she was intruding if she sat down there. But when she finally ventured closer, the lady looked up with a lovely smile.

  “Isn’t this your chair?” she asked, laying her hand on the arm of Rose’s chair. “I wonder if you were expecting some friend to sit here with you this afternoon?” she asked apologetically. “I found this chair was vacant, and I asked to be allowed to take it, because, to tell the truth, I saw you yesterday when you came on board, and I want very much to get to know you, if I may. You see, you look so very much like a dear friend of my girlhood days that I was drawn to you. Do you mind? If you had other plans, I’ll gladly withdraw.”

  “Oh, how lovely!” said Rose, blooming into a smile. “I’ll be delighted for you to have this chair!”

  She sat down happily, studying the beautiful face of the woman.

  “Let me introduce myself first,” said the lady. “My name is Campbell, and I live in Edinburgh. And now, may I tell you about my friend whom you resemble? She was a very lovely girl. When I first knew her, we went to school together in a little town in Scotland, and we loved each other very dearly. Then changes came and we were separated. She was married a short time after I was married. I went to London to live, and I lost track of her. I tried to find out about her, but the family had moved, I don’t know where. She had two brothers. I understood the older one had gone to Edinburgh University, but before I could trace him there he was graduated, married, and gone to America to live. No one seemed to know the address. But I have often wondered about her. I would so like to know if she is living. When I saw the startling resemblance you bore to her, I determined to find out whether you might possibly be her child. I don’t want to presume, but would you mind my knowing your name? I could have asked the captain, of course, but I thought I would like to ask you yourself. And I don’t even know my friend’s married name, you see, because in those days people did not send out such caref
ul invitations as they do now. But her maiden name was Rose Galbraith!”

  “Oh!” said Rose, her eyes growing large and eager. “Why, that is my name, too. And my father had a little sister whose name was Rose. I never saw her because she went to Australia to live, but my father used to say I looked like her. Oh, how wonderful that I should meet somebody who used to know my lovely Aunt Rose!”

  “My dear!” said her new friend, eagerly as a girl. “What was your father’s name?”

  “Gilbert Galbraith,” said Rose reverently. “And he went to Edinburgh University. And then when he was married, he and Mother went to America.”

  “Oh, and where are they now?” asked the lady.

  “My father died seven years ago,” said Rose, and then in a lower sad little voice added, “and my mother just last week! We were coming over together, but—she went home to heaven instead.”

  “Oh, my dear!” said the gentle voice, and the older woman’s hand came out sympathetically and lay on the girl’s hand.

  Rose felt herself trembling. “To think that I should meet someone who knew my own family!” she said, with quick tears in her eyes. “Oh, I’m so glad you came to sit here! And to think you knew my sweet Aunt Rose. My father loved her so much and used to tell me about her.”

  “Do you know about her? Is she living yet?”

  “Yes,” said Rose eagerly. “But away out in Australia. I have a picture of her that I’ve always loved. I’d like you to see it. Perhaps I could have it copied for you when I get back to my things in America, if I ever do.”

  “Oh, you are not sure of going back?”

  Rose caught her breath and answered with a trembling lip.

  “Oh, I don’t know what I am going to do. I haven’t dared try to think. Mother and I were coming over to visit and going back to America, of course. Mother felt she ought to come over and see her only sister. She wrote and asked us to come. And Mother wanted, too, to go and see Father’s mother, my grandmother Galbraith, who is pretty old and not very well. And his brother John and his family with whom Grandmother is living. And then we were going back to America to stay.”