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Scott. No trouble. Itā€™s a pleasure. Jeanā€™s a little pal of mine, arenā€™t you, Jean?ā€

ā€œYes, Mr. Hammond,ā€ said Jean, and she ran her finger down the dent of his felt hat.

But suddenly she caught him by the ear and gave a loud scream. ā€œLo-ok, Mr. Hammond! Sheā€™s moving! Look, sheā€™s coming in!ā€

By Jove! So she was. At last! She was slowly, slowly turning round. A bell sounded far over the water and a great spout of steam gushed into the air. The gulls rose; they fluttered away like bits of white paper. And whether that deep throbbing was her engines or his heart Mr. Hammond couldnā€™t say. He had to nerve himself to bear it, whatever it was. At that moment old Captain Johnson, the harbour-master, came striding down the wharf, a leather portfolio under his arm.

ā€œJeanā€™ll be all right,ā€ said Mr. Scott. ā€œIā€™ll hold her.ā€ He was just in time. Mr. Hammond had forgotten about Jean. He sprang away to greet old Captain Johnson.

ā€œWell, Captain,ā€ the eager, nervous voice rang out again, ā€œyouā€™ve taken pity on us at last.ā€

ā€œItā€™s no good blaming me, Mr. Hammond,ā€ wheezed old Captain Johnson, staring at the liner. ā€œYou got Mrs. Hammond on board, ainā€™t yer?ā€

ā€œYes, yes!ā€ said Hammond, and he kept by the harbour-masterā€™s side. ā€œMrs. Hammondā€™s there. Hul-lo! We shanā€™t be long now!ā€

With her telephone ring-ringing, the thrum of her screw filling the air, the big liner bore down on them, cutting sharp through the dark water so that big white shavings curled to either side. Hammond and the harbour-master kept in front of the rest. Hammond took off his hat; he raked the decksā€”they were crammed with passengers; he waved his hat and bawled a loud, strange ā€œHul-lo!ā€ across the water; and then turned round and burst out laughing and said somethingā€”nothingā€”to old Captain Johnson.

ā€œSeen her?ā€ asked the harbour-master.

ā€œNo, not yet. Steadyā€”wait a bit!ā€ And suddenly, between two great clumsy idiotsā€”ā€œGet out of the way there!ā€ he signed with his umbrellaā€”he saw a hand raisedā€”a white glove shaking a handkerchief. Another moment, andā€” thank God, thank God!ā€”there she was. There was Janey. There was Mrs. Hammond, yes, yes, yesā€”standing by the rail and smiling and nodding and waving her handkerchief.

ā€œWell thatā€™s first classā€”first class! Well, well, well!ā€ He positively stamped. Like lightning he drew out his cigar-case and offered it to old Captain Johnson. ā€œHave a cigar, Captain! Theyā€™re pretty good. Have a couple! Hereā€ā€”and he pressed all the cigars in the case on the harbour-masterā€”ā€œIā€™ve a couple of boxes up at the hotel.ā€

ā€œThenks, Mr. Hammond!ā€ wheezed old Captain Johnson.

Hammond stuffed the cigar-case back. His hands were shaking, but heā€™d got hold of himself again. He was able to face Janey. There she was, leaning on the rail, talking to some woman and at the same time watching him, ready for him. It struck him, as the gulf of water closed, how small she looked on that huge ship. His heart was wrung with such a spasm that he could have cried out. How little she looked to have come all that long way and back by herself! Just like her, though. Just like Janey. She had the courage of aā€”And now the crew had come forward and parted the passengers; they had lowered the rails for the gangways.

The voices on shore and the voices on board flew to greet each other.

ā€œAll well?ā€

ā€œAll well.ā€

ā€œHowā€™s mother?ā€

ā€œMuch better.ā€

ā€œHullo, Jean!ā€

ā€œHillo, Aunā€™ Emily!ā€

ā€œHad a good voyage?ā€

ā€œSplendid!ā€

ā€œShanā€™t be long now!ā€

ā€œNot long now.ā€

The engines stopped. Slowly she edged to the wharf-side.

ā€œMake way thereā€”make wayā€”make way!ā€ And the wharf hands brought the heavy gangways along at a sweeping run. Hammond signed to Janey to stay where she was. The old harbour-master stepped forward; he followed. As to ā€œladies first,ā€ or any rot like that, it never entered his head.

ā€œAfter you, Captain!ā€ he cried genially. And, treading on the old manā€™s heels, he strode up the gangway on to the deck in a bee-line to Janey, and Janey was clasped in his arms.

ā€œWell, well, well! Yes, yes! Here we are at last!ā€ he stammered. It was all he could say. And Janey emerged, and her cool little voiceā€”the only voice in the world for himā€”said,

ā€œWell, darling! Have you been waiting long?ā€

No; not long. Or, at any rate, it didnā€™t matter. It was over now. But the point was, he had a cab waiting at the end of the wharf. Was she ready to go off. Was her luggage ready? In that case they could cut off sharp with her cabin luggage and let the rest go hang until to-morrow. He bent over her and she looked up with her familiar half-smile. She was just the same. Not a day changed. Just as heā€™d always known her. She laid her small hand on his sleeve.

ā€œHow are the children, John?ā€ she asked.

(Hang the children!) ā€œPerfectly well. Never better in their lives.ā€

ā€œHavenā€™t they sent me letters?ā€

ā€œYes, yesā€”of course! Iā€™ve left them at the hotel for you to digest later on.ā€

ā€œWe canā€™t go quite so fast,ā€ said she. ā€œIā€™ve got people to say good-bye toā€”and then thereā€™s the Captain.ā€ As his face fell she gave his arm a small understanding squeeze. ā€œIf the Captain comes off the bridge I want you to thank him for having looked after your wife so beautifully.ā€ Well, heā€™d got her. If she wanted another ten minutesā€”As he gave way she was surrounded. The whole first-class seemed to want to say good-bye to Janey.

ā€œGood-bye, dear Mrs. Hammond! And next time youā€™re in Sydney Iā€™ll expect you.ā€

ā€œDarling Mrs. Hammond! You wonā€™t forget to write to me, will you?ā€

ā€œWell, Mrs. Hammond, what this boat would have been without you!ā€

It was as plain as a pikestaff that she was by far the most popular woman on board. And she took it allā€”just as usual. Absolutely composed. Just her little selfā€”just Janey all over; standing there with her veil thrown back. Hammond never noticed what his wife had on. It was all the same to him whatever she wore. But to-day he did notice that she wore a black ā€œcostumeā€ā€”didnā€™t they call it?ā€”with white frills, trimmings he supposed they were, at the neck and sleeves. All this while Janey handed him round.

ā€œJohn, dear!ā€ And then: ā€œI want to introduce you toā€”ā€

Finally they did escape, and she led the way to her state-room. To follow Janey down the passage that she knew so wellā€”that was so strange to him; to part the green curtains after her and to step into the cabin that had been hers gave him exquisite happiness. Butā€”confound it!ā€”the stewardess was there on the floor, strapping up the rugs.

ā€œThatā€™s the last, Mrs. Hammond,ā€ said the stewardess, rising and pulling down her cuffs.

He was introduced again, and then Janey and the stewardess disappeared into the passage. He heard whisperings. She was getting the tipping business over, he supposed. He sat down on the striped sofa and took his hat off. There were the rugs she had taken with her; they looked good as new. All her luggage looked fresh, perfect. The labels were written in her beautiful little clear handā€”ā€œMrs. John Hammond.ā€

ā€œMrs. John Hammond!ā€ He gave a long sigh of content and leaned back, crossing his arms. The strain was over. He felt he could have sat there for ever sighing his reliefā€”the relief at being rid of that horrible tug, pull, grip on his heart. The danger was over. That was the feeling. They were on dry land again.

But at that moment Janeyā€™s head came round the corner.

ā€œDarlingā€”do you mind? I just want to go and say good-bye to the doctor.ā€

Hammond started up. ā€œIā€™ll come with you.ā€

ā€œNo, no!ā€ she said. ā€œDonā€™t bother. Iā€™d rather not. Iā€™ll not be a minute.ā€

And before he could answer she was gone. He had half a mind to run after her; but instead he sat down again.

Would she really not be long? What was the time now? Out came the watch; he stared at nothing. That was rather queer of Janey, wasnā€™t it? Why couldnā€™t she have told the stewardess to say good-bye for her? Why did she have to go chasing after the shipā€™s doctor? She could have sent a note from the hotel even if the affair had been urgent. Urgent? Did itā€”could it mean that she had been ill on the voyageā€”she was keeping something from him? That was it! He seized his hat. He was going off to find that fellow and to wring the truth out of him at all costs. He thought heā€™d noticed just something. She was just a touch too calmā€”too steady. From the very first momentā€”

The curtains rang. Janey was back. He jumped to his feet.

ā€œJaney, have you been ill on this voyage? You have!ā€

ā€œIll?ā€ Her airy little voice mocked him. She stepped over the rugs, and came up close, touched his breast, and looked up at him.

ā€œDarling,ā€ she said, ā€œdonā€™t frighten me. Of course I havenā€™t! Whatever makes you think I have? Do I look ill?ā€

But Hammond didnā€™t see her. He only felt that she was looking at him and that there was no need to worry about anything. She was here to look after things. It was all right. Everything was.

The gentle pressure of her hand was so calming that he put his over hers to hold it there. And she said:

ā€œStand still. I want to look at you. I havenā€™t seen you yet. Youā€™ve had your beard beautifully trimmed, and you lookā€”younger, I think, and decidedly thinner! Bachelor life agrees with you.ā€

ā€œAgrees with me!ā€ He groaned for love and caught her close again. And again, as always, he had the feeling that he was holding something that never was quite hisā€”his. Something too delicate, too precious, that would fly away once he let go.

ā€œFor Godā€™s sake letā€™s get off to the hotel so that we can be by ourselves!ā€ And he rang the bell hard for some one to look sharp with the luggage.

 

ā€¦

 

Walking down the wharf together she took his arm. He had her on his arm again. And the difference it made to get into the cab after Janeyā€”to throw the red-and-yellow striped blanket round them bothā€”to tell the driver to hurry because neither of them had had any tea. No more going without his tea or pouring out his own. She was back. He turned to her, squeezed her hand, and said gently, teasingly, in the ā€œspecialā€ voice he had for her: ā€œGlad to be home again, dearie?ā€ She smiled; she didnā€™t even bother to answer, but gently she drew his hand away as they came to the brighter streets.

ā€œWeā€™ve got the best room in the hotel,ā€ he said. ā€œI wouldnā€™t be put off with another. And I asked the chambermaid to put in a bit of a fire in case you felt chilly. Sheā€™s a nice, attentive girl. And I thought now we were here we wouldnā€™t bother to go home to-morrow, but spend the day looking round and leave the morning after. Does that suit you? Thereā€™s no hurry, is there? The children will have you soon enoughā€¦I thought a dayā€™s sight-seeing might make a nice break in your journeyā€”eh, Janey?ā€

ā€œHave you taken the tickets for the day after?ā€ she asked.

ā€œI should think I have!ā€ He unbuttoned his overcoat and took out his bulging pocket-book. ā€œHere we are! I reserved a first-class carriage to Cooktown. There it isā€”ā€˜Mr. and Mrs. John Hammond.ā€™ I thought we might as well do ourselves comfortably, and we donā€™t want other people butting in, do we? But if youā€™d like to stop here a bit longerā€”?ā€

ā€œOh, no!ā€ said Janey quickly. ā€œNot for the world! The day

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