Brandon of the Engineers - Page 5/199

"You're such an energetic beggar," he complained. "The only theater where

they put on plays worth seeing is closed just now, but there's a new

dancer at the nearest hall and we might look in. I hope my churchwarden

patrons won't disapprove if they hear of it, because they talk about

building an ornamental mission room."

Dick laughed.

"They wouldn't find fault with you. Somehow, nobody does."

"There's some truth in that; the secret is that I know when to stop. One

can enjoy life without making the pace too hot. People aren't really

censorious, and even the narrow-minded sort allow you certain limits; in

fact, I imagine they rather admire you if you can play with fire and not

get singed. Women do, anyhow; and, in a sense, their judgment's logical.

The thing that doesn't hurt you can't be injurious, and it shows

moderation and self-control if you don't pass the danger line."

"How do you know when you have come to the line?"

"Well," smiled Lance, "experience helps; but I think it's an instinct. Of

course, if you do show signs of damage, you're done for, because then the

people who envied you throw the biggest stones."

"Let's start," said Dick. "I'm not much of a philosopher. Building

bridges and digging saps is good enough for me."

"They're healthy occupations, so long as you don't get shot; but,

considering everything, it's strange that they still monopolize your

interest."

Dick colored. He knew what his cousin meant. He had been attracted by a

girl of whom his father approved and who was well-bred, pretty, and rich.

Dick imagined that his father's views were agreeable to Helen's relatives

and that she was not ignorant of this. Still, nothing had been actually

arranged, and although he admired Helen, it would be time enough to think

of marriage when he was a captain, for instance.

"Pontoons and excavations have their charm for men with constructive

tastes," Lance went on; "but you may find later that they don't satisfy

all your needs."

"Get your hat!" Dick returned with a smile, jumping up as he spoke.

The music-hall was badly filled. The audience seemed listless and the

performance dragged. Even the much-praised dancer was disappointing, and

there was an unusual number of shabby loungers in the bar. Dick had come

prepared to enjoy himself after a day of arduous work, and by way of

doing so, he ordered a drink or two that he did not really want. As a

rule, he was abstemious, but the hall was very hot. It struck him as

glaring and tawdry after the quiet dale where the water sparkled among

the stones; and the pallid loungers with their stamp of indulgence

differed unpleasantly from the hard, brown-faced men he led.