earlderrbiggers.thehousewithoutakey-第4部分

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　porter's　profession。　But　how　quaint　…　and　western！
　The　boy　indicated　a　spot　by　the　rail　on　the　forward　deck；　and　the　porter　began　to　unload。　Carefully　selecting　the　man's　good　hand；　John　Quincy　dropped　into　it　a　tip　so　generous　as　to　result　in　a　touching　of　hook　to　cap　in　a　weird　salute。　The　object　of　this　attention　sank　down　amid　his　elaborate　trappings；　removed　the　straw　hat　from　his　perspiring　head；　and　tried　to　figure　out　just　what　had　happened　to　him。
　Three　thousand　miles　from　Beacon　Street；　and　two　thousand　miles　still　to　go！　Why；　he　inquired　sourly　of　his　usually　pleasant　self；　had　he　ever　agreed　to　make　this　absurd　expedition　into　heathen　country？　Here　it　was　late　June；　Boston　was　at　its　best。　Tennis　at　Longwood；　long　mild　evenings　in　a　single　shell　on　the　Charles；　weekends　and　golf　with　Agatha　Parker　at　Magnolia。　And　if　one　must　travel；　there　was　Paris。　He　hadn't　seen　Paris　in　two　years　and　had　been　rather　planning　a　quick　run　over；　when　his　mother　had　put　this　preposterous　notion　into　his　head。
　Preposterous　…　it　was　all　of　that。　Traveling　five　thousand　miles　just　as　a　gentle　hint　to　Aunt　Minerva　to　return　to　her　calm；　well…ordered　life　behind　purple　window…panes　on　Beacon　Street。　And　was　there　any　chance　that　his　strong…minded　relative　would　take　the　hint？　Not　one　in　a　thousand。　Aunt　Minerva　was　accustomed　to　do　as　she　pleased　…　he　had　an　unfortable；　shocked　recollection　of　one　occasion　when　she　had　said　she　would　do　as　she　damn　well　pleased。
　John　Quincy　wished　he　was　back。　He　wished　he　was　crossing　Boston　mon　to　his　office　on　State　Street；　there　to　put　out　a　new　issue　of　bonds。　He　was　not　yet　a　member　of　the　firm　…　that　was　an　honor　accorded　only　to　Winterslips　who　were　bald　and　a　little　stooped　…　but　his　heart　was　in　his　work。　He　put　out　a　bond　issue　with　loving　apprehension；　waiting　for　the　verdict　as　a　playwright　waits　behind　the　scenes　on　a　first　night。　Would　those　First　Mortgage　Sixes　go　over　big；　or　would　they　flop　at　his　feet？
　The　hoarse　boom　of　a　ferry　whistle　recalled　John　Quincy　to　his　present　unbelievable　location　on　the　map。　The　boat　began　to　move。　He　was　dimly　conscious　of　a　young　person　of　feminine　gender　who　came　and　sat　at　his　side。　Away　from　the　slip　and　out　into　the　harbor　the　ferry　carried　John　Quincy；　and　he　suddenly　sat　up　and　took　notice；　for　he　was　never　blind　to　beauty；　no　matter　where　he　encountered　it。
　And　he　was　encountering　beauty　now。　The　morning　air　was　keen　and　dry　and　bright。　Spread　out　before　him　was　that　harbor　which　is　like　a　tired　navigator's　dream　e　true。　They　passed　Goat　Island；　and　he　heard　the　faint　echo　of　a　bugle；　he　saw　Tamalpias　lifting　its　proud　head　toward　the　sparkling　sky；　he　turned；　and　there　was　San　Francisco　scattered　blithely　over　its　many　hills。
　The　ferry　plowed　on；　and　John　Quincy　sat　very　still。　A　forest　of　masts　and　steam　funnels　…　here　was　the　water…front　that　had　supplied　the　atmosphere　for　those　romantic　tales　that　held　him　spellbound　when　he　was　a　boy　at　school　…　a　quiet　young　Winterslip　whom　the　gypsy　strain　had　missed。　Now　he　could　distinguish　a　bark　from　Antwerp；　a　great　liner　from　the　Orient；　a　five…masted　schooner　that　was　reminiscent　of　those　supposedly　forgotten　stories。　Ships　from　the　Treaty　Ports；　ships　from　cocoanut　islands　in　southern　seas。　A　picture　as　intriguing　and　colorful　as　a　back　drop　in　a　theater　…　but　far　more　real。
　Suddenly　John　Quincy　stood　up。　A　puzzled　look　had　e　into　his　calm　gray　eyes。　〃I　…　I　don't　understand；〃　he　murmured。
　He　was　startled　by　the　sound　of　his　own　voice。　He　hadn't　intended　to　speak　aloud。　In　order　not　to　appear　too　utterly　silly；　he　looked　around　for　some　one　to　whom　he　might　pretend　he　had　addressed　that　remark。　There　was　no　one　about　…　except　the　young　person　who　was　obviously　feminine　and　therefore　not　to　be　informally　accosted。
　John　Quincy　looked　down　at　her。　Spanish　or　something　like　that；　blue…black　hair；　dark　eyes　that　were　alight　now　with　the　amusement　she　was　striving　to　hide；　a　delicate　oval　face　tanned　a　deep　brown。　He　looked　again　at　the　harbor　…　beauty　all　about　the　boat；　and　beauty　on　it。　Much　better　than　traveling　on　trains！
　The　girl　looked　up　at　John　Quincy。　She　saw　a　big；　broad…shouldered　young　man　with　a　face　as　innocent　as　a　child's。　A　bit　of　friendliness；　she　decided　instantly；　would　not　be　misunderstood。
　〃I　beg　your　pardon；〃　she　said。
　〃Oh　…　I　…　I'm　sorry；〃　he　stammered。　〃I　didn't　mean　…　I　spoke　without　intending　…　I　said　I　didn't　understand　…〃
　〃You　didn't　understand　what？〃
　〃A　most　amazing　thing　has　happened；〃　he　continued。　He　sat　down；　and　waved　his　hand　toward　the　harbor。　〃I've　been　here　before。〃
　She　looked　perplexed。　〃Lots　of　people　have；〃　she　admitted。
　〃But　…　you　see　…　I　mean　…　I've　never　been　here　before。〃
　She　moved　away　from　him。　〃Lots　of　people　haven't。〃　She　admitted　that；　too。
　John　Quincy　took　a　deep　breath。　What　was　this　discussion　he　had　got　into；　anyhow？　He　had　a　quick　impulse　to　lift　his　hat　gallantly　and　walk　away；　letting　the　whole　matter　drop。　But　no；　he　came　of　a　race　that　sees　things　through。
　〃I'm　from　Boston；〃　he　said。
　〃Oh；〃　said　the　girl。　That　explained　everything。
　〃And　what　I'm　trying　to　make　clear　…　although　of　course　there's　no　reason　why　I　should　have　dragged　you　into　it　…〃
　〃None　whatever；〃　she　smiled。　〃But　go　on。〃
　〃Until　a　few　days　ago　I　was　never　west　of　New　York；　never　in　my　whole　life；　you　understand。　Been　about　New　England　a　bit；　and　abroad　a　few　times；　but　the　West　…〃
　〃I　know。　It　didn't　interest　you。〃
　〃I　wouldn't　say　that；〃　protested　John　Quincy　with　careful　politeness。　〃But　there　was　such　a　lot　of　it　…　exploring　it　seemed　a　hopeless　undertaking。　And　then　…　the　family　thought　I　ought　to　go；　you　see　…　so　I　rode　and　rode　on　trains　and　was　…　you'll　pardon　me　…　a　bit　bored。　Now　…　I　e　into　this　harbor；　I　look　around　me；　and　I　get　the　oddest　feeling。　I　feel　that　I've　been　here　before。〃
　The　girl's　face　was　sympathetic。　〃Other　people　have　had　that　experience；〃　she　told　him。　〃Choice　souls；　they　are。　You've　been　a　long　time　ing；　but　you're　home　at　last。〃　She　held　out　a　slim　brown　hand。　〃Wele　to　your　city；〃　she　said。
　John　Quincy　solemnly　shook　hands。　〃Oh；　no；〃　he　corrected　gently。　〃Boston's　my　city。　I　belong　there；　naturally。　But　this　…　this　is　familiar。〃　He　glanced　northward　at　the　low　hills　sheltering　the　Valley　of　the　Moon；　then　back　at　San　Francisco。　〃Yes；　I　seem　to　have　known　my　way　about　here　once。　Astonishing；　isn't　it？〃
　〃Perhaps　…　some　of　your　ancestors　…〃
　〃That's　true。　My　grandfather　came　out　here　when　he　was　a　young　man。　He　went　home　again　…　but　his　brothers　stayed。　It's　the　son　of　one　of　them　I'm　going　to　visit　in　Honolulu。〃
　〃Oh　…　you're　going　on　to　Honolulu？〃
　〃To…morrow　morning。　Have　you　ever　been　there？〃
　〃Ye　…　es。〃　Her　dark　eyes　were　serious。　〃See　…　there　are　the　locks　…　that's　where　the　East　begins。　The　real　East。　And　Telegraph　Hill　…〃　she　pointed；　no　one　in　Boston　ever　points；　but　she　was　so　lovely　John　Quincy　overlooked　it　…　〃and　Russian　Hill　and　the　Fairmont　on　Nob　Hill。〃
　〃Life　must　be　full　of　ups　and　downs；〃　he　ventured　lightly。　〃Tell　me　about　Honolulu。　Sort　of　a　wild　place；　I　imagine？〃
　She　laughed。　〃I'll　let　you　discover　for　yourself　how　wild　it　is；〃　she　told　him。　〃Practically　all　the　leading　families　came　originally　from　your　beloved　New　England。　'Puritans　with　a　touch　of　sun；'　my　father　calls　them。　He's　clever；　my　father；〃　she　added；　in　an　odd　childish　tone　that　was　wistful　and　at　the　same　time　challenging。
　〃I'm　sure　of　it；〃　said　John　Quincy　heartily。　They　were　approaching　the　Ferry　Building　and　other　passengers　crowded　about　them。　〃I'd　help　you　with　that　suitcase　of　yours；　but　I've　got　all　this　truck。　If　we　could　find　a　porter　…〃
　〃Don't　bother；〃　she　answered。　〃I　can　manage　very　well。〃　She　was　staring　down　at　John　Quincy's　hat　box。　〃I　…　I　suppose　there's　a　silk　hat　in　there？〃　she　inquired。
　〃Naturally；〃　replied　John　Quincy。
　She　laughed　…　a　rich；　deep…throated　laugh。　John　Quincy　stiffened　slightly。　〃Oh；　forgive　me；〃　she　cried。　〃But　…　a　silk　hat　in　Hawaii！〃
　John　Quincy　stood　erect。　The　girl　had　laughed　at　a　Winterslip。　He　filled　his　lungs　with　the　air　sweeping　in　from　the　open　spaces；　the　broad　open　spaces　where　men　are　men。　A　weird　reckless　feeling　came　over　him。　He　stooped；　picked　up　the　hat　box；　and　tossed　it　calmly　over　the　rail。　It　bobbed　indignantly　away。　The　crowd　closed　in；　not　wishing　to　miss　any　further　exhibition　of　madness。
　〃That's　that；〃　said　John　Quincy　quietly。
　〃Oh；〃　gasped　the　girl；　〃you　shouldn't　have　done　it！〃
　And　indeed；　he　shouldn't。　The　box　was　an　expensive　one；　the　gift　of　his　admiring　mother　at　Christmas。　And　the　topper　inside；　worn　in　the　gloaming　along　the　water　side　of　Beacon　Street；　had　been　known　to　add　a　touch　of　distinction　even　to　that　distinguished　scene。
　〃Why　not？〃　asked　John　Quincy。　〃The　confounded　thing's　been　a　nuisance　ever　since　I　left　home。　And　besides　we　do　look　ridiculous　at　times；　don't　we？　We　easterners？　A　silk　hat　in　the　tropics！　I　might　have　been　mistaken　for　a　missionary。〃　He　began　to　gather　up　his　luggage。　〃Shan't　need　a　porter　any　more；〃　he　announced　gaily。　〃I　say　…　it　was　awfully　kind　of　you　…　letting　me　talk　to　you　like　that。〃
　〃It　was　fun；〃　she　told　him。　〃I　hope　you're　going　to　like　us　out