Read Online Grand Canary by A. J. Cronin - Free Book Online

Robert Tranter and his sister were seated before the open harmonium.
    â€˜It’s a great tune that, Robbie,’ she said reflectively, lifting her hands from the keyboard and turning the sheets of music on the stand. ‘And you certainly sing it fine.’
    â€˜Yes, it’s got a swell swing has old “ Glory”.’ His ear, held sideways towards the skylight, seemed to attend the returning tramp of footsteps above. ‘ Don’t you think we might close our practice now, Sue? The sun’s on the shine.’ He smiled, ‘I guess the choir might go up top.’
    Her fingers ceased to move; slowly she turned her warm brown eyes upon him.
    â€˜But we’ve only just begun, Rob. We said an hour, didn’t we? And it’s the hour I like best in all the day – all quiet and together down here.’
    â€˜I know, Sue,’ he said with a little laugh. ‘I certainly enjoy our practice. I kind of guess it’s just because I’m restless – you know the feeling – when you get your foot on the deck.’
    She looked at him intently: looked away again; pressed a long soft chord from the bosom of the instrument.
    â€˜I don’t take much to the folks on this boat,’ she exclaimed suddenly and without apparent reason. ‘I don’t take overmuch to that Mrs Baynham.’
    He contemplated his white stiff cuffs, neatly projecting, linked by severe gold links.
    â€˜Ah, no, Sue,’ he protested in an odd but unselfconscious voice. ‘I’ll say you’re wrong there. Yes, I’ll say you’re wrong. I feel she has good – great capacity for good in her.’
    â€˜She’s guying us, Robbie. She mocks at everything, even – even at God.’
    He gave a deprecating pressure upon her arm with his large white hand and quoted:
    â€˜â€œLet not your good be evil spoken of.” I guess, Susan, it’s none too good for us to criticise.’
    â€˜You’re interested in her,’ she said quickly. ‘I can feel it.’
    He made no evasion.
    â€˜I’ll admit, Susan, that I’m interested in her,’ he answered, gazing back into her eyes calmly. ‘ But it is because she has a soul to save. I reckon I’ve had to mix up with plenty women in the past. Well! Did I ever give you the slightest reason to doubt me?’
    It was true. He had encountered many women responsive to his spiritual fervour – responsive with a devotion which he had come to feel, complacently, his due. But never for a moment had he entertained towards them any sentiment which merited even a shadow of reproach. His affections were centred exclusively upon himself, on God, and on his sister.
    Born in Trenton of pious parents, he was one of those individuals who seem destined for the ministry from their earliest days. His father, Josiah Tranter, was an unsuccessful tradesman, a bearded, ineffectual little baker – rigid adherent of the Sect of the Seventh Day Unity – who leavened his loaves with Leviticus, whose doughnuts even had a stale and spiritual flavour. His mother, Emily by name, a quiet woman with a zealous eye, had come from a sound Concord stock. She was silent, good, sustaining successive business failures of her spouse with commendable patience and fortitude. Her happiness lay in her children, particularly Robbie to whom beneath her tranquil surface she was passionately devoted. And indeed Robert merited that devotion. He was dutiful, intelligent, instinctively fervent, never in mischief, and when visitors would pat his head and demand: ‘ Well, son, what d’you think you’re gonna do?’ the boy would answer quite sincerely: ‘I’m going to preach the gospel.’ And with delight his high intention was fostered and encouraged. A tract even was written about him by a visiting pastor who had dwelt at the baker’s house, entitled: ‘ Saved at the Early Age of Nine.’ Thus he