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The admiral of the White Squadron, then at anchor at Rockport Harbor, just around the Cape, stood on the bridge of his flagship that morning and looked out to sea. Somebody told him that the fishermen were going to race that day. He took another look. "Race to-day? Pooh! they'll do well to stay hove-to to-day." Of course, that ought to have settled it, the admiral having said it.
But in those 13 miles was done the fastest running that had been made that day; for 7 miles to Rockport were covered at the rate of 83.4 miles an hour, and at Rockport itself the train must have been running nearly a mile and a half in a minute.
In the twilight I hurried out to our "Rockport" to wait for Marjie. I was a little late and so I did not know that Marjie was then under the point of rock. My rudeness to Rachel was unpardonable, but she had intruded one step too far into the sacred precincts of my life. I would not endure her in the place made dear to me from childhood, by association with Marjie.
Nobody knew who started the story just then, but it grew rapidly from Tillhurst's side of the table that I had gone to Rockport, Massachusetts, to settle in my father's old home-town. "Stands to reason a boy who can live in Kansas would go back to Massachusetts, doesn't it?" Dr. John declared scornfully. "But Phil's to be married soon, to that stylish Miss Melrose.
On the evening after the storm there was no loitering on the prairie. While we knew there was no danger, a half-dozen boys brought the cows home long before the daylight failed. At sunset I went down to "Rockport," intending to whistle to Marjie. How many a summer evening together here we had watched the sunset on the prairie!
And be sure to let me find a letter in 'Rockport' when I get back. I'll be so lonely up there." "Well, find some pretty girl and let her kill time for you." "Will you and Judson kill time down here?" "Ugh! no," Marjie shivered in disgust. "I can't bear the sight of his face any more." "Good! I'll not try to be any more miserable by being bored with somebody I don't care for at Topeka.
"Father Le Claire, let me tell you a story. Baronet's a smooth rascal and nobody can find him out easily. But I know him. He has called me a thief. It takes that kind to catch a thief, maybe. Anyhow, back at Rockport the Baronets were friends of the Melrose family. One of them, Ferdinand, was drowned at sea.
I was head and shoulders above him. "No, not always. I can still learn," I replied good-naturedly, and went whistling on my way to the courthouse. I was in a good humor with all the world that morning. Out on "Rockport" in the purple twilight of the Sabbath evening I had slipped my mother's ring on Marjie's finger. I was on my way now for a long talk with my father.
Quickly came the reply in a voice Marjie knew too well, although the tone was unlike any she had ever heard before. "I hate Rockport; I did not tell you so when I left last Spring, but I hated it then." Swiftly across the listener's mind swept the memory of my words. "If you ever hear me say I don't like 'Rockport' you will know I don't care for you."
When they had all three gone, Betty lay back on the bed, her head pillowed on her arms, to rest for a moment longer. She was tired. The journey from Rockport had been hot and disagreeable, and some of her box covers had been nailed on with disheartening thoroughness.
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