merchants and offered to carry their goods at something under the
standard rate, if the shippers would engage to fill up his boat. As a
rule, secrecy was important, but sometimes, when cargo was scarce,
Cartwright let his plans be known and allowed the _Conference_ to buy
him off. Although his skill in the delicate negotiations was marked, the
company paid small dividends and he had enemies among the shareholders.
Now, however, he was satisfied. _Oreana_ had sailed for Montreal, loaded
to the limit the law allowed, and he had booked her return cargo before
the _Conference_ knew he was cutting rates.

Mrs. Cartwright talked, but she talked much and Cartwright hardly
listened, and looked across the lake. A canoe drifted out from behind a
neighboring point, and its varnished side shone in the fading light.
Then a man dipped the paddle, and the ripple at the bow got longer and
broke the reflections of the pines. A girl, sitting at the stern, put
her hands in the water, and when she flung the sparkling drops at her
companion her laugh came across the lake. Cartwright's look got keen and
he began to note his wife's remarks.

"Do you imply Barbara's getting fond of the fellow?" he asked.

"I am afraid of something like that," Mrs. Cartwright admitted. "In a
way, one hesitates to meddle; sometimes meddling does harm, and, of
course, if Barbara really loved the young man--" She paused and gave
Cartwright a sentimental smile. "After all, I married for love, and a
number of my friends did not approve."

Cartwright grunted. He had married Clara because she was rich, but it
was something to his credit that she had not suspected this. Clara was
dull, and her dullness often amused him.