Newark evening star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1916, 1910-09-26
Continued from Saturday,

In spite of himself his voice faltered
and broke, and he again turned
hastily away, while Helmar wait
ed In silence. scarce knowing what
to do or say. At length Carle-
ton turned to him once more,
speaking as one speaks only to a tried
friend, his voice steady enough now,
yet hardly sounding like his own.
"Memory's a queer thing, Franz" he
tSaid. "Of all that l remember about
my father, what do you suppose comes
back to me now. Something that hap
pened almost twenty years ago, when
we used TO spend our summers down
at the shore. A little trivial thing, too,
1 suppose anyone would say. I was
Just a youngster then-nine or ten,
m~aybe-and we had two little sailboats
that were the apple of my BYE Poor
enough craft l guess they were, look
ing back at them now but no two cup
defenders today could look to me as
those two boats did then.
81 wasn't considered big enough to
go out In them alone, but one Saturday
afternoon my father promised me that
If Henry, when he came down from
town, would take one boat, I could
Idke tife OIIltT, anu we COuiu lave IL
race. AS long as | live I'll never for
get that morning. A thousand times L
looked out to where the two boats lay
moored; crazed with excitement, plan
ming everything-the start, the course
looking at the w~ind-right on edge, and
somehow 1t never even occurred to me
that Henry wouldn't want to go. 1
suppose | honestly couldn't imagine
that any man, woman or child could
possibly refuse a chance to sail a boat
race.
"Well, Henry arrived, and o can
imagine what Henry did. He hated me
even then; I believe he'd always hated
me, though, of course, l didn't realize
1t. Poor little rascal that / was, I'd
never learned to think about hating
anyone. He heard me out can even
remember how l grabbed hold of him
as he was getting out of the station
wagon, and how he shook me off, too
and then he looked at me with a queer
kind of a smile that wasn't really IL
smile-I can imagine now just what
fun it must have been for him-and
said he was afraid there wasn't wind
enough to go sailing. That was just
to tantalize me-to see me argue and
run out on the piazza and point to the
ripples and the big American flag on
the island waving In the breeze-and
then he had to turf away, and pre-
tend to. yawn, and say he didn't be-
lieve he cared to go, that, anyway, he
was going over to the Country Club to
play tennis. And then he went into
the house to get ready, and left me
out there on the piazza alone.
81 can laugh now, and shrug my
shoulders at the Whole thing, but then
why, 1t was black tragedy for me.
l guess l was a pretty solemn-looking
little char, swallowing hard and trying
not to cry, when my father found me
there half an hour later. He'd been
fishing all the morning, l remember,
and l guess he was good and tired
he hadn't been we'll hat summer, any
way-and he had a cigar in his mouth,
and had his hand on the long piazza
chair, just going to pull it into the
shade, and settle down with a book
and a paper for a nice, quiet after
noon. l told him, 1 remember, and he
looked at his chair. looked out
on the water-the sun was strong, and
pretty hot, n to tell the truth,
though there was = little light air
close to shore, about a quarter OF a
mile out to sea it was getting rather
fat-and then he looked again at his
chair, and hen at me. and then he
put down his book and his paper, and
drew me up to him with one hand, and
gave a smile-that was a smile.
"'Come on. my old sailor he said,
and we'll see If we can't have a little
boat ace of our own Oh, how my
heart jumped-the Dor old Governor,
think my expression must pretty
nearly have paid him-and then we
toiled down over the rocks, with me
hanging to his hand, the way a kid
that really likes his father will; and
out we went In h skiff, with me