Mayo had kept his promise and had not confided to Captain Candage the
source of the loan which had enabled them to do what they had done.
After a few days of desperate consideration Mayo sailed on the Ethel
and May for Maquoit.
He avoided the eyes of the villagers as much as was possible; he landed
far down the beach from the house which was the refuge for the folks
from Hue and Cry. In his own heart he knew the reason for this slinking
approach: he did not want Polly Candage to see him in this plight. Her
trust had been so absolute! Her confidence in him so supreme! In his
mental distress he was not thinking of his rags or his physical
unsightliness. He went straight to the store of Deacon Rowley and his
looks startled that gentleman into some rather unscriptural
ejaculations.
However, Deacon Rowley promptly recovered his presence of mind when Mayo
solicited an additional loan. The refusal was sharp and conclusive.
"But you may as well follow your hand in the thing," insisted Mayo.
"That's why I have come to you. I hated to come, sir. I have tried all
other means. You can see how I have worked!" He spread his tortured
hands. "Come out and see for yourself!"
"I don't like the water."
"But you can see that we are going to succeed if we get more money. You
have five thousand in the project; you can't afford to drop where you
are."
"I know what I can afford to do. I have always said, from the first,
that you'd never make a go of it."
At this statement Mayo displayed true amazement.
"But, confound it all, you lent us money! What do you mean by
crawfishing in this way?"
Deacon Rowley was visibly embarrassed; he had dropped to this vitally
interested party a damaging admission of his real sentiments.
"I mean that I ain't going to dump any more money in, now that you ain't
making good! I might have believed you the first time you came. I reckon
I must have. But you can't fool me again. No use to coax! Not another
cent."
"Aren't you worried about how you're going to get back what you have
already lent?" demanded Mayo, with exasperation.
"The Lord will provide," declared Deacon Rowley, devoutly.
The young man stared at this amazing creditor, worked his jaws a few
moments wordlessly, found no speech adequate, and stamped out of the
store. He no longer dreaded to meet Polly Candage. He felt that he
needed to see her. He was seeking the comfort of sanity in that shore
world of incomprehensible lunacy; he had had experience with Polly
Candage's soothing calmness.