"No; business and philanthropy usually work better when they're given allowances for separate maintenance, but in this particular case the two seem to be walking along hand in hand. Self-interest, Thatcher, is the strongest motive in the world, and when you find a proposition which offers self-interest to the buyer as well as to the seller you have an irresistible argument."

"This is a great road-bed for a trolley-line," Thatcher remarked, leaning over the side of the carriage. "The construction problem ought to be a simple one."

"The proposition to have a line of cars run here is so obvious that there must have been powerful objections to obstruct it all these years," Cosden answered, quite content to await Thatcher's pleasure in resuming the main topic of their conversation.

It was a beautiful clear, cool morning, and the sea at their left sparkled brilliantly in its sapphire splendor. To the right of the carriage road were attractive cottages, overgrown with blooming _bougainvillea_ or other less spectacular foliage. Every now and then a more pretentious mansion appeared, built on some elevation which commanded a view of the water on either side, and surrounded by heavy clumps of cedar and fan-leaved palmettos. Frequently the road pa.s.sed between high walls of solid coral limestone, from the crevices of which the ever-decorative Bermuda vegetation showed scarlet, orange and purple blooms against the green.

"There must be something more than sentiment," Thatcher commented. "I suspect that we shall uncover some large personal interests here which have been strong enough to protect themselves--"

"And find concealment behind the convenient screen of sentimentality,"

completed Cosden.

"Exactly. I wouldn't spend any time on it at all except that it seems so important to the people themselves."

Cosden laughed so spontaneously that Thatcher looked up quickly, trying to grasp the unintended humor in his last remark. His companion was hugely amused and made no effort to conceal it.

"Well?" Thatcher interrogated good-naturedly; "aren't you going to let me in on it?"

"It's funny, that's all," Cosden replied; "but it's perfectly good business either way you work it. Simply a question of how you sit when you have your picture taken."

Thatcher's face demanded further explanation, but before Cosden spoke again by way of enlightenment his amused expression disappeared, and he became serious.

"I don't know as it is so funny, after all," he said. "When you spoke of being interested in this trolley scheme princ.i.p.ally because it was so important to the people, I couldn't help thinking how inconsistent you were."

"Inconsistent?" Thatcher echoed.

"Suppose you owned that line of stage-coaches, and leased it out just as you do these machines. Then some men came along and proposed to build a trolley-line which would push the stage-coaches off the map. That's what our new machines will do to your old ones. In one case you're interested in the improved method because it is so important to the people; in the other you say, 'The people be d.a.m.ned.' But you're no different from the rest of us. Our so-called consistency is as full of holes as a sieve; but it's always the other fellow who sees it. We're too close to ourselves to get the perspective."

"I am relieved," Thatcher said. "If it is only a question of inconsistency I'll take a chance on holding my own. But sometimes we are not so inconsistent as we seem. The 'other fellow' thinks he has a joke on us when in reality he only sees part of the situation. This 'nefarious trust,' for example which you cite as a hideous ill.u.s.tration of grinding monopoly, took hold of an industry, twenty years ago, and brought system out of chaos, shouldered all the risk, taught manufacturers how to make money out of their business, and enabled small factories to become big ones by leasing them machines which they could not afford to buy. The trust has prospered, but so have the manufacturers. Who shall say that those who took the risks are not ent.i.tled to the rewards, or that the system introduced and developed by the trust was not as much in the interests of the people as this trolley-line we are proposing?"

"There isn't much of anything we can't prove if we argue long enough, is there?" Cosden retorted. "If I hadn't heard all that before, and if I hadn't seen the way the 'system' worked out, I should be almost persuaded. Some one told me once that there were two sides to every story except that of Cain and Abel, but I came across an Icelandic myth a while ago in which Abel was the murderer, and since then I've refused to believe anything until I know the other side. Probably the only way for you and me to agree on this question is for each of us to buy some stock in the other fellow's company."

XV

Edith had secured the necessary records for the victrola from the hotel office, and she and Cosden were alone in the ball-room ready for the first lesson in modern dancing. Cosden had never before noticed how enormous the room was, or how many of its windows opened onto the piazza, or how curious the average hotel guest is when a novice is about to be initiated into the mysteries of terpsich.o.r.ean art.

"Pay no attention to them," Edith rea.s.sured him. "Those who know how to dance have had to go through it, and those who haven't learned are perishing for an opportunity. Listen!" she cried, as the music began.

"Can you possibly make your feet behave when you hear that heavenly one-step? Look!"

Lifting her skirts gracefully above her ankles, Edith made herself a veritable part of the music, pirouetting up and down and around, while he watched her in mingled admiration and trepidation.

"There!" she cried, stopping before him; "it's perfectly simple, you see. Now, you try it."

"By myself?" he inquired.

"Of course," she laughed. "How else can you learn?"

"All right," was the dubious a.s.sent; "but don't you think we might pull those curtains down?"

"Nonsense! You might as well start in,--you couldn't look more foolish than you do now."

"All right," he again a.s.sented, and took his place on the floor.

"Now, left foot forward--one, two, three, four. No; left foot, I said.

That's it. Now rise a little on your toes. Don't be so heavy, and for Heaven's sake look as cheerful as you can!"

"This is awful!" Cosden e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, mopping his forehead. "Don't you think it's too warm a day to begin?"

"It isn't warm; it's really cool, and you haven't begun to begin yet.

Now start in again. Left foot,--left I say, one, two--oh! that miserable victrola has stopped!"

"Let me wind it up," Cosden insisted quickly, glad of the opportunity to struggle with something tangible.

"Now we'll try again," Edith said amiably. "This time get started before the music runs down. Watch me just a moment. There,--now you know what to do. Left, dear man, left,--not right, and rise on your toes, one, two, three, four. Why don't you pay attention to the music?"

"I think I could learn better without the music. It throws me off."

"Move with it; then it will help you."

"I can't; it mixes me up."

"Don't you feel any impulse to move your feet when you hear that music?"

"Yes; I feel an inordinate desire to run out of the room."

"But, seriously, doesn't the rhythm of that one-step make you instinctively want to dance?"

"Not the slightest. I never wanted to dance in my life until now, and only now because you tell me that it's part of the game."

"Did you ever play any musical instrument?"

"Oh, yes; when I was a boy I played the bones in a minstrel show."

"Well, there's a ray of hope.--Wind up the victrola again, and we'll start all over. You do wind it beautifully!"

"This is too big a job you've undertaken," he told her as they again stood facing each other. "Let's call it off."

"No, indeed," Edith protested. "It is only fair to say that you are not what would be called a natural dancer, but that will bring all the more glory to your instructor when once you've learned. Why, look at the tricks they teach animals! I'm not a bit discouraged, are you?"

"Are we down-hearted?" he echoed in a spirit of bravado.