heads were disappearing behind it with greater
frequency. He
strained his eyes to keep them in sight, and finally fetched the
telescope on to the
veranda. A
squall was making over from the
direction of Florida; but then, she and her men laughed at
squalls
and the white choppy sea at such times. She certainly could swim,
he had long since concluded. That came of her training in Hawaii.
But sharks were sharks, and he had known of more than one good
swimmer drowned in a tide-rip.
The
squall blackened the sky, beat the ocean white where he had
last seen the three heads, and then blotted out sea and sky and
everything with its
deluge of rain. It passed on, and Berande
emerged in the bright
sunshine as the three swimmers emerged from
the sea. Sheldon slipped inside with the
telescope, and through
the screen-door watched her run up the path, shaking down her hair
as she ran, to the fresh-water
shower under the house.
On the
veranda that afternoon he broached the
proposition of a
chaperone as
delicately as he could, explaining the necessity at
Berande for such a body, a
housekeeper to run the boys and the
storeroom, and perform
divers other useful functions. When he had
finished, he waited
anxiously for what Joan would say.
"Then you don't like the way I've been managing the house?" was her
first
objection. And next, brushing his attempted explanations
aside, "One of two things would happen. Either I should
cancel our
partnership
agreement and go away, leaving you to get another
chaperone to chaperone your chaperone; or else I'd take the old hen
out in the whale-boat and drown her. Do you imagine for one moment
that I sailed my
schooner down here to this raw edge of the earth
in order to put myself under a chaperone?"
"But really . . . er . . . you know a chaperone is a necessary
evil," he objected.
"We've got along very
nicely so far without one. Did I have one on
the Miele? And yet I was the only woman on board. There are only
three things I am afraid of--bumble-bees,
scarlet fever, and
chaperones. Ugh! the clucking, evil-minded monsters,
finding wrong
in everything,
seeing sin in the most
innocent actions, and
suggesting sin--yes, causing sin--by their
diseased imaginings."
"Phew!" Sheldon leaned back from the table in mock fear.
"You needn't worry about your bread and butter," he ventured. "If
you fail at planting, you would be sure to succeed as a writer--
novels with a purpose, you know."
"I didn't think there were persons in the Solomons who needed such
books," she retaliated. "But you are certainly one--you and your
custodians of virtue."
He winced, but Joan
rattled on with the platitudinous originality
of youth.
"As if anything good were worth while when it has to be guarded and
put in leg-irons and handcuffs in order to keep it good. Your
desire for a chaperone as much as implies that I am that sort of
creature. I prefer to be good because it is good to be good,
rather than because I can't be bad because some argus-eyed old
frump won't let me have a chance to be bad."
"But it--it is not that," he put in. "It is what others will
think."
"Let them think, the nasty-minded wretches! It is because men like
you are afraid of the nasty-minded that you allow their opinions to
rule you."
"I am afraid you are a
female Shelley," he replied; "and as such,
you really drive me to become your
partner in order to protect
you."
"If you take me as a
partner in order to protect me . . . I . . . I
shan't be your
partner, that's all. You'll drive me into buying
Pari-Sulay yet."
"All the more reason--" he attempted.
"Do you know what I'll do?" she demanded. "I'll find some man in
the Solomons who won't want to protect me."
Sheldon could not
conceal the shock her words gave him.
"You don't mean that, you know," he pleaded.
"I do; I really do. I am sick and tired of this
protection dodge.
Don't forget for a moment that I am
perfectly able to take care of
myself. Besides, I have eight of the best protectors in the world-
-my sailors."
"You should have lived a thousand years ago," he laughed, "or a
thousand years hence. You are very
primitive, and
equally super-
modern. The twentieth century is no place for you."
"But the Solomon Islands are. You were living like a
savage when I
came along and found you--eating nothing but tinned meat and scones