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diff --git a/1611-h/1611-h.htm b/1611-h/1611-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc9a949 --- /dev/null +++ b/1611-h/1611-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10250 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Seventeen, by Booth Tarkington + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Seventeen, by Booth Tarkington + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Seventeen + A Tale Of Youth And Summer Time And The Baxter Family Especially William + +Author: Booth Tarkington + +Release Date: February 21, 2006 [EBook #1611] +Last Updated: March 3, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEVENTEEN *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + SEVENTEEN + </h1> + <h4> + A Tale Of Youth And Summer Time And The Baxter Family Especially William + </h4> + <h2> + By Booth Tarkington + </h2> + <h4> + TO S.K.T. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> <big><b>SEVENTEEN</b></big> </a><br /> + <br /> <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> I </a><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0005"> II </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> III </a><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> IV </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> V </a><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VI </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VII + </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> VIII </a><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0012"> IX </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> X </a><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XI </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XII + </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XIII </a><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0017"> XIV </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XV </a><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVI </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XVII + </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XVIII </a><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0022"> XIX </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XX </a><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XXI </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXII + </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXIII </a><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0027"> XXIV </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> XXV </a><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> XXVI </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> XXVII + </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> XXVIII </a><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> XXIX </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> XXX + </a><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SEVENTEEN + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <h3> + WILLIAM + </h3> + <p> + William Sylvanus Baxter paused for a moment of thought in front of the + drug-store at the corner of Washington Street and Central Avenue. He had + an internal question to settle before he entered the store: he wished to + allow the young man at the soda-fountain no excuse for saying, “Well, make + up your mind what it's goin' to be, can't you?” Rudeness of this kind, + especially in the presence of girls and women, was hard to bear, and + though William Sylvanus Baxter had borne it upon occasion, he had reached + an age when he found it intolerable. Therefore, to avoid offering + opportunity for anything of the kind, he decided upon chocolate and + strawberry, mixed, before approaching the fountain. Once there, however, + and a large glass of these flavors and diluted ice-cream proving merely + provocative, he said, languidly—an affectation, for he could have + disposed of half a dozen with gusto: “Well, now I'm here, I might as well + go one more. Fill 'er up again. Same.” + </p> + <p> + Emerging to the street, penniless, he bent a fascinated and dramatic gaze + upon his reflection in the drug-store window, and then, as he turned his + back upon the alluring image, his expression altered to one of lofty and + uncondescending amusement. That was his glance at the passing public. From + the heights, he seemed to bestow upon the world a mysterious derision—for + William Sylvanus Baxter was seventeen long years of age, and had learned + to present the appearance of one who possesses inside information about + life and knows all strangers and most acquaintances to be of inferior + caste, costume, and intelligence. + </p> + <p> + He lingered upon the corner awhile, not pressed for time. Indeed, he found + many hours of these summer months heavy upon his hands, for he had no + important occupation, unless some intermittent dalliance with a work on + geometry (anticipatory of the distant autumn) might be thought important, + which is doubtful, since he usually went to sleep on the shady side porch + at his home, with the book in his hand. So, having nothing to call him + elsewhere, he lounged before the drug-store in the early afternoon + sunshine, watching the passing to and fro of the lower orders and + bourgeoisie of the middle-sized midland city which claimed him (so to + speak) for a native son. + </p> + <p> + Apparently quite unembarrassed by his presence, they went about their + business, and the only people who looked at him with any attention were + pedestrians of color. It is true that when the gaze of these fell upon him + it was instantly arrested, for no colored person could have passed him + without a little pang of pleasure and of longing. Indeed, the tropical + violence of William Sylvanus Baxter's tie and the strange brilliancy of + his hat might have made it positively unsafe for him to walk at night + through the negro quarter of the town. And though no man could have sworn + to the color of that hat, whether it was blue or green, yet its color was + a saner thing than its shape, which was blurred, tortured, and raffish; it + might have been the miniature model of a volcano that had blown off its + cone and misbehaved disastrously on its lower slopes as well. He had the + air of wearing it as a matter of course and with careless ease, but that + was only an air—it was the apple of his eye. + </p> + <p> + For the rest, his costume was neutral, subordinate, and even a little + neglected in the matter of a detail or two: one pointed flap of his soft + collar was held down by a button, but the other showed a frayed thread + where the button once had been; his low patent-leather shoes were of a + luster not solicitously cherished, and there could be no doubt that he + needed to get his hair cut, while something might have been done, too, + about the individualized hirsute prophecies which had made independent + appearances, here and there, upon his chin. He examined these from time to + time by the sense of touch, passing his hand across his face and allowing + his finger-tips a slight tapping motion wherever they detected a prophecy. + </p> + <p> + Thus he fell into a pleasant musing and seemed to forget the crowded + street. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <h3> + THE UNKNOWN + </h3> + <p> + He was roused by the bluff greeting of an acquaintance not dissimilar to + himself in age, manner, and apparel. + </p> + <p> + “H'lo, Silly Bill!” said this person, halting beside William Sylvanus +Baxter. “What's the news?” + </p> + <p> + William showed no enthusiasm; on the contrary, a frown of annoyance + appeared upon his brow. The nickname “Silly Bill”—long ago + compounded by merry child-comrades from “William” and “Sylvanus”—was + not to his taste, especially in public, where he preferred to be addressed + simply and manfully as “Baxter.” Any direct expression of resentment, + however, was difficult, since it was plain that Johnnie Watson intended no + offense whatever and but spoke out of custom. + </p> + <p> + “Don't know any,” William replied, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Dull times, ain't it?” said Mr. Watson, a little depressed by his + friend's manner. “I heard May Parcher was comin' back to town yesterday, + though.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, let her!” returned William, still severe. + </p> + <p> + “They said she was goin' to bring a girl to visit her,” Johnnie began in a + confidential tone. “They said she was a reg'lar ringdinger and—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what if she is?” the discouraging Mr. Baxter interrupted. “Makes + little difference to ME, I guess!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, it don't. YOU don't take any interest in girls! OH no!” + </p> + <p> + “No, I do not!” was the emphatic and heartless retort. “I never saw one in + my life I'd care whether she lived or died!” + </p> + <p> + “Honest?” asked Johnnie, struck by the conviction with which this speech + was uttered. “Honest, is that so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, 'honest'!” William replied, sharply. “They could ALL die, <i>I</i> + wouldn't notice!” + </p> + <p> + Johnnie Watson was profoundly impressed. “Why, <i>I</i> didn't know you + felt that way about 'em, Silly Bill. I always thought you were kind of—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I do feel that way about 'em!” said William Sylvanus Baxter, and, + outraged by the repetition of the offensive nickname, he began to move + away. “You can tell 'em so for me, if you want to!” he added over his + shoulder. And he walked haughtily up the street, leaving Mr. Watson to + ponder upon this case of misogyny, never until that moment suspected. + </p> + <p> + It was beyond the power of his mind to grasp the fact that William + Sylvanus Baxter's cruel words about “girls” had been uttered because + William was annoyed at being called “Silly Bill” in a public place, and + had not known how to object otherwise than by showing contempt for any + topic of conversation proposed by the offender. This latter, being of a + disposition to accept statements as facts, was warmly interested, instead + of being hurt, and decided that here was something worth talking about, + especially with representatives of the class so sweepingly excluded from + the sympathies of Silly Bill. + </p> + <p> + William, meanwhile, made his way toward the “residence section” of the + town, and presently—with the passage of time found himself eased of + his annoyance. He walked in his own manner, using his shoulders to + emphasize an effect of carelessness which he wished to produce upon + observers. For his consciousness of observers was abnormal, since he had + it whether any one was looking at him or not, and it reached a crucial + stage whenever he perceived persons of his own age, but of opposite sex, + approaching. + </p> + <p> + A person of this description was encountered upon the sidewalk within a + hundred yards of his own home, and William Sylvanus Baxter saw her while + yet she was afar off. The quiet and shady thoroughfare was empty of all + human life, at the time, save for those two; and she was upon the same + side of the street that he was; thus it became inevitable that they should + meet, face to face, for the first time in their lives. He had perceived, + even in the distance, that she was unknown to him, a stranger, because he + knew all the girls in this part of the town who dressed as famously in the + mode as that! And then, as the distance between them lessened, he saw that + she was ravishingly pretty; far, far prettier, indeed, than any girl he + knew. At least it seemed so, for it is, unfortunately, much easier for + strangers to be beautiful. Aside from this advantage of mystery, the + approaching vision was piquant and graceful enough to have reminded a much + older boy of a spotless white kitten, for, in spite of a charmingly + managed demureness, there was precisely that kind of playfulness somewhere + expressed about her. Just now it was most definite in the look she bent + upon the light and fluffy burden which she carried nestled in the inner + curve of her right arm: a tiny dog with hair like cotton and a pink ribbon + round his neck—an animal sated with indulgence and idiotically + unaware of his privilege. He was half asleep! + </p> + <p> + William did not see the dog, or it is the plain, anatomical truth that + when he saw how pretty the girl was, his heart—his physical heart—began + to do things the like of which, experienced by an elderly person, would + have brought the doctor in haste. In addition, his complexion altered—he + broke out in fiery patches. He suffered from breathlessness and from + pressure on the diaphragm. + </p> + <p> + Afterward, he could not have named the color of the little parasol she + carried in her left hand, and yet, as it drew nearer and nearer, a rosy + haze suffused the neighborhood, and the whole world began to turn an + exquisite pink. Beneath this gentle glow, with eyes downcast in thought, + she apparently took no note of William, even when she and William had come + within a few yards of each other. Yet he knew that she would look up and + that their eyes must meet—a thing for which he endeavored to prepare + himself by a strange weaving motion of his neck against the friction of + his collar—for thus, instinctively, he strove to obtain greater ease + and some decent appearance of manly indifference. He felt that his efforts + were a failure; that his agitation was ruinous and must be perceptible at + a distance of miles, not feet. And then, in the instant of panic that + befell, when her dark-lashed eyelids slowly lifted, he had a flash of + inspiration. + </p> + <p> + He opened his mouth somewhat, and as her eyes met his, full and + startlingly, he placed three fingers across the orifice, and also offered + a slight vocal proof that she had surprised him in the midst of a yawn. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hum!” he said. + </p> + <p> + For the fraction of a second, the deep blue spark in her eyes glowed + brighter—gentle arrows of turquoise shot him through and through—and + then her glance withdrew from the ineffable collision. Her small, + white-shod feet continued to bear her onward, away from him, while his own + dimmed shoes peregrinated in the opposite direction—William + necessarily, yet with excruciating reluctance, accompanying them. But just + at the moment when he and the lovely creature were side by side, and her + head turned from him, she spoke that is, she murmured, but he caught the + words. + </p> + <p> + “You Flopit, wake up!” she said, in the tone of a mother talking + baby-talk. “SO indifferink!” + </p> + <p> + William's feet and his breath halted spasmodically. For an instant he + thought she had spoken to him, and then for the first time he perceived + the fluffy head of the dog bobbing languidly over her arm, with the motion + of her walking, and he comprehended that Flopit, and not William Sylvanus + Baxter, was the gentleman addressed. But—but had she MEANT him? + </p> + <p> + His breath returning, though not yet operating in its usual manner, he + stood gazing after her, while the glamorous parasol passed down the shady + street, catching splashes of sunshine through the branches of the + maple-trees; and the cottony head of the tiny dog continued to be visible, + bobbing rhythmically over a filmy sleeve. Had she meant that William was + indifferent? Was it William that she really addressed? + </p> + <p> + He took two steps to follow her, but a suffocating shyness stopped him + abruptly and, in a horror lest she should glance round and detect him in + the act, he turned and strode fiercely to the gate of his own home before + he dared to look again. And when he did look, affecting great casualness + in the action, she was gone, evidently having turned the corner. Yet the + street did not seem quite empty; there was still something warm and + fragrant about it, and a rosy glamor lingered in the air. William rested + an elbow upon the gate-post, and with his chin reposing in his hand gazed + long in the direction in which the unknown had vanished. And his soul was + tremulous, for she had done her work but too well. + </p> + <p> + “'Indifferink'!” he murmured, thrilling at his own exceedingly indifferent + imitation of her voice. “Indifferink!” that was just what he would have + her think—that he was a cold, indifferent man. It was what he wished + all girls to think. And “sarcastic”! He had been envious one day when May + Parcher said that Joe Bullitt was “awfully sarcastic.” William had spent + the ensuing hour in an object-lesson intended to make Miss Parcher see + that William Sylvanus Baxter was twice as sarcastic as Joe Bullitt ever + thought of being, but this great effort had been unsuccessful, because + William, failed to understand that Miss Parcher had only been sending a + sort of message to Mr. Bullitt. It was a device not unique among her sex; + her hope was that William would repeat her remark in such a manner that + Joe Bullitt would hear it and call to inquire what she meant. + </p> + <p> + “'SO indifferink'!” murmured William, leaning dreamily upon the gate-post. + “Indifferink!” He tried to get the exact cooing quality of the unknown's + voice. “Indifferink!” And, repeating the honeyed word, so entrancingly + distorted, he fell into a kind of stupor; vague, beautiful pictures rising + before him, the one least blurred being of himself, on horseback, sweeping + between Flopit and a racing automobile. And then, having restored the + little animal to its mistress, William sat carelessly in the saddle (he + had the Guardsman's seat) while the perfectly trained steed wheeled about, + forelegs in the air, preparing to go. “But shall I not see you again, to + thank you more properly?” she cried, pleading. “Some other day—perhaps,” + he answered. + </p> + <p> + And left her in a cloud of dust. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <h3> + THE PAINFUL AGE + </h3> + <p> + “OH WILL—EE!” + </p> + <p> + Thus a shrill voice, to his ears hideously different from that other, + interrupted and dispersed his visions. Little Jane, his ten-year-old + sister, stood upon the front porch, the door open behind her, and in her + hand she held a large slab of bread-and-butter covered with apple sauce + and powdered sugar. Evidence that she had sampled this compound was upon + her cheeks, and to her brother she was a repulsive sight. + </p> + <p> + “Will-ee!” she shrilled. “Look! GOOD!” And to emphasize the adjective she + indelicately patted the region of her body in which she believed her + stomach to be located. “There's a slice for you on the dining-room table,” + she informed him, joyously. + </p> + <p> + Outraged, he entered the house without a word to her, and, proceeding to + the dining-room, laid hands upon the slice she had mentioned, but declined + to eat it in Jane's company. He was in an exalted mood, and though in no + condition of mind or body would he refuse food of almost any kind, Jane + was an intrusion he could not suffer at this time. + </p> + <p> + He carried the refection to his own room and, locking the door, sat down + to eat, while, even as he ate, the spell that was upon him deepened in + intensity. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, eyes!” he whispered, softly, in that cool privacy and shelter from + the world. “Oh, eyes of blue!” + </p> + <p> + The mirror of a dressing-table sent him the reflection of his own eyes, + which also were blue; and he gazed upon them and upon the rest of his + image the while he ate his bread-and-butter and apple sauce and sugar. + Thus, watching himself eat, he continued to stare dreamily at the mirror + until the bread-and-butter and apple sauce and sugar had disappeared, + whereupon he rose and approached the dressing-table to study himself at + greater advantage. + </p> + <p> + He assumed as repulsive an expression as he could command, at the same + time making the kingly gesture of one who repels unwelcome attentions; and + it is beyond doubt that he was thus acting a little scene of indifference. + Other symbolic dramas followed, though an invisible observer might have + been puzzled for a key to some of them. One, however, would have proved + easily intelligible: his expression having altered to a look of pity and + contrition, he turned from the mirror, and, walking slowly to a chair + across the room, used his right hand in a peculiar manner, seeming to + stroke the air at a point about ten inches above the back of the chair. + “There, there, little girl,” he said in a low, gentle voice. “I didn't + know you cared!” + </p> + <p> + Then, with a rather abrupt dismissal of this theme, he returned to the + mirror and, after a questioning scrutiny, nodded solemnly, forming with + his lips the words, “The real thing—the real thing at last!” He + meant that, after many imitations had imposed upon him, Love—the + real thing—had come to him in the end. And as he turned away he + murmured, “And even her name—unknown!” + </p> + <p> + This evidently was a thought that continued to occupy him, for he walked + up and down the room, frowning; but suddenly his brow cleared and his eye + lit with purpose. Seating himself at a small writing-table by the window, + he proceeded to express his personality—though with considerable + labor—in something which he did not doubt to be a poem. + </p> + <p> + Three-quarters of an hour having sufficed for its completion, including + “rewriting and polish,” he solemnly signed it, and then read it several + times in a state of hushed astonishment. He had never dreamed that he + could do anything like this. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MILADY + I do not know her name + Though it would be the same + Where roses bloom at twilight + And the lark takes his flight + It would be the same anywhere + Where music sounds in air + I was never introduced to the lady + So I could not call her Lass or Sadie + So I will call her Milady + By the sands of the sea + She always will be + Just M'lady to me. + —WILLIAM SYLVANUS BAXTER, Esq., July 14 +</pre> + <p> + It is impossible to say how many times he might have read the poem over, + always with increasing amazement at his new-found powers, had he not been + interrupted by the odious voice of Jane. + </p> + <p> + “Will—ee!” + </p> + <p> + To William, in his high and lonely mood, this piercing summons brought an + actual shudder, and the very thought of Jane (with tokens of apple sauce + and sugar still upon her cheek, probably) seemed a kind of sacrilege. He + fiercely swore his favorite oath, acquired from the hero of a work of + fiction he admired, “Ye gods!” and concealed his poem in the drawer of the + writing-table, for Jane's footsteps were approaching his door. + </p> + <p> + “Will—ee! Mamma wants you.” She tried the handle of the door. + </p> + <p> + “G'way!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Will—ee!” Jane hammered upon the door with her fist. “Will—ee!” + </p> + <p> + “What you want?” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + Jane explained, certain pauses indicating that her attention was partially + diverted to another slice of bread-and-butter and apple sauce and sugar. + “Will—ee, mamma wants you—wants you to go help Genesis bring + some wash-tubs home and a tin clo'es-boiler—from the second-hand + man's store.” + </p> + <p> + “WHAT!” + </p> + <p> + Jane repeated the outrageous message, adding, “She wants you to hurry—and + I got some more bread-and-butter and apple sauce and sugar for comin' to + tell you.” + </p> + <p> + William left no doubt in Jane's mind about his attitude in reference to + the whole matter. His refusal was direct and infuriated, but, in the midst + of a multitude of plain statements which he was making, there was a + decisive tapping upon the door at a point higher than Jane could reach, + and his mother's voice interrupted: + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Willie! Open the door, please.” + </p> + <p> + He obeyed furiously, and Mrs. Baxter walked in with a deprecating air, + while Jane followed, so profoundly interested that, until almost the close + of the interview, she held her bread-and-butter and apple sauce and sugar + at a sort of way-station on its journey to her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “That's a nice thing to ask me to do!” stormed the unfortunate William. + “Ye gods! Do you think Joe Bullitt's mother would dare to—” + </p> + <p> + “Wait, dearie!” Mrs. Baxter begged, pacifically. “I just want to explain—” + </p> + <p> + “'Explain'! Ye gods!” + </p> + <p> + “Now, now, just a minute, Willie!” she said. “What I wanted to explain was + why it's necessary for you to go with Genesis for the—” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” he shouted. “Never! You expect me to walk through the public + streets with that awful-lookin' old nigger—” + </p> + <p> + “Genesis isn't old,” she managed to interpolate. “He—” + </p> + <p> + But her frantic son disregarded her. “Second-hand wash-tubs!” he + vociferated. “And tin clothes-boilers! THAT'S what you want your SON to + carry through the public streets in broad daylight! Ye gods!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there isn't anybody else,” she said. “Please don't rave so, Willie, + and say 'Ye gods' so much; it really isn't nice. I'm sure nobody 'll + notice you—” + </p> + <p> + “'Nobody'!” His voice cracked in anguish. “Oh no! Nobody except the whole + town! WHY, when there's anything disgusting has to be done in this family—why + do <i>I</i> always have to be the one? Why can't Genesis bring the + second-hand wash-tubs without ME? Why can't the second-hand store deliver + 'em? Why can't—” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I want to tell you,” she interposed, hurriedly, and as the + youth lifted his arms on high in a gesture of ultimate despair, and then + threw himself miserably into a chair, she obtained the floor. “The + second-hand store doesn't deliver things,” she said. “I bought them at an + auction, and it's going out of business, and they have to be taken away + before half past four this afternoon. Genesis can't bring them in the + wheelbarrow, because, he says, the wheel is broken, and he says he can't + possibly carry two tubs and a wash-boiler himself; and he can't make two + trips because it's a mile and a half, and I don't like to ask him, anyway; + and it would take too long, because he has to get back and finish cutting + the grass before your papa gets home this evening. Papa said he HAD to! + Now, I don't like to ask you, but it really isn't much. You and Genesis + can just slip up there and—” + </p> + <p> + “Slip!” moaned William. “'Just SLIP up there'! Ye gods!” + </p> + <p> + “Genesis is waiting on the back porch,” she said. “Really it isn't worth + your making all this fuss about.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no!” he returned, with plaintive satire. “It's nothing! Nothing at + all!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, <i>I</i> shouldn't mind it,” she said; briskly, “if I had the time. + In fact, I'll have to, if you won't.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye gods!” He clasped his head in his hands, crushed, for he knew that the + curse was upon him and he must go. “Ye gods!” + </p> + <p> + And then, as he stamped to the door, his tragic eye fell upon Jane, and he + emitted a final cry of pain: + </p> + <p> + “Can't you EVER wash your face?” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <h3> + GENESIS AND CLEMATIS + </h3> + <p> + Genesis and his dog were waiting just outside the kitchen door, and of all + the world these two creatures were probably the last in whose company + William Sylvanus Baxter desired to make a public appearance. Genesis was + an out-of-doors man and seldom made much of a toilet; his overalls in + particular betraying at important points a lack of the anxiety he should + have felt, since only Genesis himself, instead of a supplementary fabric, + was directly underneath them. And the aged, grayish, sleeveless and + neckless garment which sheltered him from waist to collar-bone could not + have been mistaken for a jersey, even though what there was of it was + dimly of a jerseyesque character. Upon the feet of Genesis were things + which careful study would have revealed to be patent-leather + dancing-pumps, long dead and several times buried; and upon his head, + pressing down his markedly criminal ears, was a once-derby hat of a brown + not far from Genesis's own color, though decidedly without his gloss. A + large ring of strange metals with the stone missing, adorned a finger of + his right hand, and from a corner of his mouth projected an unlighted and + spreading cigar stub which had the appearance of belonging to its present + owner merely by right of salvage. + </p> + <p> + And Genesis's dog, scratching himself at his master's feet, was the true + complement of Genesis, for although he was a youngish dog, and had not + long been the property of Genesis, he was a dog that would have been + recognized anywhere in the world as a colored person's dog. He was not a + special breed of dog—though there was something rather houndlike + about him—he was just a dog. His expression was grateful but + anxious, and he was unusually bald upon the bosom, but otherwise whitish + and brownish, with a gaunt, haunting face and no power to look anybody in + the eye. + </p> + <p> + He rose apprehensively as the fuming William came out of the kitchen, but + he was prepared to follow his master faithfully, and when William and + Genesis reached the street the dog was discovered at their heels, + whereupon William came to a decisive halt. + </p> + <p> + “Send that dog back,” he said, resolutely. “I'm not going through the + streets with a dog like that, anyhow!” + </p> + <p> + Genesis chuckled. “He ain' goin' back,” he said. “'Ain' nobody kin make + 'at dog go back. I 'ain' had him mo'n two weeks, but I don' b'lieve + Pres'dent United States kin make 'at dog go back! I show you.” And, + wheeling suddenly, he made ferocious gestures, shouting. “G'on back, dog!” + </p> + <p> + The dog turned, ran back a few paces, halted, and then began to follow + again, whereupon Genesis pretended to hurl stones at him; but the animal + only repeated his manoeuver—and he repeated it once more when + William aided Genesis by using actual missiles, which were dodged with + almost careless adeptness. + </p> + <p> + “I'll show him!” said William, hotly. “I'll show him he can't follow ME!” + He charged upon the dog, shouting fiercely, and this seemed to do the + work, for the hunted animal, abandoning his partial flights, turned a + tucked-under tail, ran all the way back to the alley, and disappeared from + sight. “There!” said William. “I guess that 'll show him!” + </p> + <p> + “I ain' bettin' on it!” said Genesis, as they went on. “He nev' did stop + foll'in' me yet. I reckon he the foll'indest dog in the worl'! Name Clem.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he can't follow ME!” said the surging William, in whose mind's eye + lingered the vision of an exquisite doglet, with pink-ribboned throat and + a cottony head bobbing gently over a filmy sleeve. “He doesn't come within + a mile of ME, no matter what his name is!” + </p> + <p> + “Name Clem fer short,” said Genesis, amiably. “I trade in a mandoline fer + him what had her neck kind o' busted off on one side. I couldn' play her + nohow, an' I found her, anyways. Yes-suh, I trade in 'at mandoline fer him + 'cause always did like to have me a good dog—but I d'in' have me no + name fer him; an' this here Blooie Bowers, what I trade in the mandoline + to, he say HE d'in have no name fer him. Say nev' did know if WAS a name + fer him 'tall. So I'z spen' the evenin' at 'at lady's house, Fanny, what + used to be cook fer Miz Johnson, nex' do' you' maw's; an' I ast Fanny what + am I go'n' a do about it, an' Fanny say, 'Call him Clematis,' she say. + ''At's a nice name!' she say. 'Clematis.' So 'at's name I name him, + Clematis. Call him Clem fer short, but Clematis his real name. He'll come, + whichever one you call him, Clem or Clematis. Make no diff'ence to him, + long's he git his vittles. Clem or Clematis, HE ain' carin'!” + </p> + <p> + William's ear was deaf to this account of the naming of Clematis; he + walked haughtily, but as rapidly as possible, trying to keep a little in + advance of his talkative companion, who had never received the training as + a servitor which should have taught him his proper distance from the Young + Master. William's suffering eyes were fixed upon remoteness; and his lips + moved, now and then, like a martyr's, pronouncing inaudibly a sacred word. + “Milady! Oh, Milady!” + </p> + <p> + Thus they had covered some three blocks of their journey—the + too-democratic Genesis chatting companionably and William burning with + mortification—when the former broke into loud laughter. + </p> + <p> + “What I tell you?” he cried, pointing ahead. “Look ayonnuh! NO, suh, + Pres'dent United States hisse'f ain' go tell 'at dog stay home!” + </p> + <p> + And there, at the corner before them, waited Clematis, roguishly lying in + a mud-puddle in the gutter. He had run through alleys parallel to their + course—and in the face of such demoniac cunning the wretched William + despaired of evading his society. Indeed, there was nothing to do but to + give up, and so the trio proceeded, with William unable to decide which + contaminated him more, Genesis or the loyal Clematis. To his way of + thinking, he was part of a dreadful pageant, and he winced pitiably + whenever the eye of a respectable passer-by fell upon him. Everybody + seemed to stare—nay, to leer! And he felt that the whole world would + know his shame by nightfall. + </p> + <p> + Nobody, he reflected, seeing him in such company, could believe that he + belonged to “one of the oldest and best families in town.” Nobody would + understand that he was not walking with Genesis for the pleasure of his + companionship—until they got the tubs and the wash-boiler, when his + social condition must be thought even more degraded. And nobody, he was + shudderingly positive, could see that Clematis was not his dog (Clematis + kept himself humbly a little in the rear, but how was any observer to know + that he belonged to Genesis and not to William?) + </p> + <p> + And how frightful that THIS should befall him on such a day, the very day + that his soul had been split asunder by the turquoise shafts of Milady's + eyes and he had learned to know the Real Thing at last! + </p> + <p> + “Milady! Oh, Milady!” + </p> + <p> + For in the elder teens adolescence may be completed, but not by + experience, and these years know their own tragedies. It is the time of + life when one finds it unendurable not to seem perfect in all outward + matters: in worldly position, in the equipments of wealth, in family, and + in the grace, elegance, and dignity of all appearances in public. And yet + the youth is continually betrayed by the child still intermittently + insistent within him, and by the child which undiplomatic people too often + assume him to be. Thus with William's attire: he could ill have borne any + suggestion that it was not of the mode, but taking care of it was a + different matter. Also, when it came to his appetite, he could and would + eat anything at any time, but something younger than his years led him—often + in semi-secrecy—to candy-stores and soda-water fountains and + ice-cream parlors; he still relished green apples and knew cravings for + other dangerous inedibles. But these survivals were far from painful to + him; what injured his sensibilities was the disposition on the part of + people especially his parents, and frequently his aunts and uncles—to + regard him as a little boy. Briefly, the deference his soul demanded in + its own right, not from strangers only, but from his family, was about + that which is supposed to be shown a Grand Duke visiting his Estates. + Therefore William suffered often. + </p> + <p> + But the full ignominy of the task his own mother had set him this + afternoon was not realized until he and Genesis set forth upon the return + journey from the second-hand shop, bearing the two wash-tubs, a + clothes-wringer (which Mrs. Baxter had forgotten to mention), and the tin + boiler—and followed by the lowly Clematis. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <h3> + SORROWS WITHIN A BOILER + </h3> + <p> + There was something really pageant-like about the little excursion now, + and the glittering clothes-boiler, borne on high, sent flashing lights far + down the street. The wash-tubs were old-fashioned, of wood; they refused + to fit one within the other; so William, with his right hand, and Genesis, + with his left, carried one of the tubs between them; Genesis carried the + heavy wringer with his right hand, and he had fastened the other tub upon + his back by means of a bit of rope which passed over his shoulder; thus + the tin boiler, being a lighter burden, fell to William. + </p> + <p> + The cover would not stay in place, but continually fell off when he + essayed to carry the boiler by one of its handles, and he made shift to + manage the accursed thing in various ways—the only one proving + physically endurable being, unfortunately, the most grotesque. He was + forced to carry the cover in his left hand and to place his head partially + within the boiler itself, and to support it—tilted obliquely to rest + upon his shoulders—as a kind of monstrous tin cowl or helmet. This + had the advantage of somewhat concealing his face, though when he leaned + his head back, in order to obtain clearer vision of what was before him, + the boiler slid off and fell to the pavement with a noise that nearly + caused a runaway, and brought the hot-cheeked William much derisory + attention from a passing street-car. However, he presently caught the + knack of keeping it in position, and it fell no more. + </p> + <p> + Seen from the rear, William was unrecognizable—but interesting. He + appeared to be a walking clothes-boiler, armed with a shield and + connected, by means of a wash-tub, with a negro of informal ideas + concerning dress. In fact, the group was whimsical, and three young people + who turned in behind it, out of a cross-street, indulged immediately in + fits of inadequately suppressed laughter, though neither Miss May Parcher + nor Mr. Johnnie Watson even remotely suspected that the legs beneath the + clothes-boiler belonged to an acquaintance. And as for the third of this + little party, Miss Parcher's visitor, those peregrinating legs suggested + nothing familiar to her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, see the fun-ee laundrymans!” she cried, addressing a cottony doglet's + head that bobbed gently up and down over her supporting arm. “Sweetest + Flopit must see, too! Flopit, look at the fun-ee laundrymans!” + </p> + <p> + “'Sh!” murmured Miss Parcher, choking. “He might hear you.” + </p> + <p> + He might, indeed, since they were not five yards behind him and the dulcet + voice was clear and free. Within the shadowy interior of the + clothes-boiler were features stricken with sudden, utter horror. “FLOPIT!” + </p> + <p> + The attention of Genesis was attracted by a convulsive tugging of the tub + which he supported in common with William; it seemed passionately to urge + greater speed. A hissing issued from the boiler, and Genesis caught the + words, huskily whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Walk faster! You got to walk faster.” + </p> + <p> + The tub between them tugged forward with a pathos of appeal wasted upon + the easy-going Genesis. + </p> + <p> + “I got plenty time cut 'at grass befo' you' pa gits home,” he said, + reassuringly. “Thishere rope what I got my extry tub slung to is 'mos' wo' + plum thew my hide.” + </p> + <p> + Having uttered this protest, he continued to ambulate at the same pace, + though somewhat assisted by the forward pull of the connecting tub, an + easance of burden which he found pleasant; and no supplementary message + came from the clothes-boiler, for the reason that it was incapable of + further speech. And so the two groups maintained for a time their relative + positions, about fifteen feet apart. + </p> + <p> + The amusement of the second group having abated through satiety, the minds + of its components turned to other topics. “Now Flopit must have his + darlin' 'ickle run,” said Flopit's mistress, setting the doglet upon the + ground. “That's why sweetest Flopit and I and all of us came for a walk, + instead of sitting on the nice, cool porch-kins. SEE the sweetie toddle! + Isn't he adorable, May? ISN'T he adorable, Mr. Watson?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Watson put a useless sin upon his soul, since all he needed to say was + a mere “Yes.” He fluently avowed himself to have become insane over the + beauty of Flopit. + </p> + <p> + Flopit, placed upon the ground, looked like something that had dropped + from a Christmas tree, and he automatically made use of fuzzy legs, + somewhat longer than a caterpillar's, to patter after his mistress. He was + neither enterprising nor inquisitive; he kept close to the rim of her + skirt, which was as high as he could see, and he wished to be taken up and + carried again. He was in a half-stupor; it was his desire to remain in + that condition, and his propulsion was almost wholly subconscious, though + surprisingly rapid, considering his dimensions. + </p> + <p> + “My goo'ness!” exclaimed Genesis, glancing back over his shoulder. “'At + li'l' thing ack like he think he go'n a GIT somewheres!” And then, in + answer to a frantic pull upon the tub, “Look like you mighty strong + t'day,” he said. “I cain' go no fastuh!” He glanced back again, chuckling. + “'At li'l' bird do well not mix up nothin' 'ith ole man Clematis!” + </p> + <p> + Clematis, it happened, was just coming into view, having been detained + round the corner by his curiosity concerning a set of Louis XVI. furniture + which some house-movers were unpacking upon the sidewalk. A curl of + excelsior, in fact, had attached itself to his nether lip, and he was + pausing to remove it—when his roving eye fell upon Flopit. Clematis + immediately decided to let the excelsior remain where it was, lest he miss + something really important. + </p> + <p> + He approached with glowing eagerness at a gallop. + </p> + <p> + Then, having almost reached his goal, he checked himself with surprising + abruptness and walked obliquely beside Flopit, but upon a parallel course, + his manner agitated and his brow furrowed with perplexity. Flopit was + about the size of Clematis's head, and although Clematis was certain that + Flopit was something alive, he could not decide what. + </p> + <p> + Flopit paid not the slightest attention to Clematis. The self-importance + of dogs, like that of the minds of men, is in directly inverse ratio to + their size; and if the self-importance of Flopit could have been taken out + of him and given to an elephant, that elephant would have been + insufferable. + </p> + <p> + Flopit continued to pay no attention to Clematis. + </p> + <p> + All at once, a roguish and irresponsible mood seized upon Clematis; he + laid his nose upon the ground, deliberating a bit of gaiety, and then, + with a little rush, set a large, rude paw upon the sensitive face of + Flopit and capsized him. Flopit uttered a bitter complaint in an asthmatic + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nassy dray bid Horror!” cried his mistress, turning quickly at this + sound and waving a pink parasol at Clematis. “Shoo! DIRTY dog! Go 'way!” + And she was able somehow to connect him with the wash-tub and boiler, for + she added, “Nassy laundrymans to have bad doggies!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Watson rushed upon Clematis with angry bellowings and imaginary + missiles. “You disgusting brute!” he roared. “How DARE you?” + </p> + <p> + Apparently much alarmed, Clematis lowered his ears, tucked his tail + underneath him, and fled to the rear, not halting once or looking back + until he disappeared round the corner whence he had come. “There!” said + Mr. Watson. “I guess HE won't bother us again very soon!” + </p> + <p> + It must be admitted that Milady was one of those people who do not mind + being overheard, no matter what they say. “Lucky for us,” she said, “we + had a nice dray bid MANS to protect us, wasn't it, Flopit?” And she + thought it necessary to repeat something she had already made sufficiently + emphatic. + </p> + <p> + “Nassy laundrymans!” + </p> + <p> + “I expect I gave that big mongrel the fright of his life,” said Mr. + Watson, with complacency. “He'll probably run a mile!” + </p> + <p> + The shoulders of Genesis shook as he was towed along by the convulsive + tub. He knew from previous evidence that Clematis possessed both a high + quality and a large quantity of persistence, and it was his hilarious + opinion that the dog had not gone far. As a matter of fact, the head of + Clematis was at this moment cautiously extended from behind the fence-post + at the corner whither he had fled. Viewing with growing assurance the + scene before him, he permitted himself to emerge wholly, and sat down, + with his head tilted to one side in thought. Almost at the next corner the + clothes-boiler with legs, and the wash-tubs, and Genesis were marching on; + and just behind them went three figures not so familiar to Clematis, and + connected in his mind with a vague, mild apprehension. But all backs were + safely toward him, and behind them pattered that small live thing which + had so profoundly interested him. + </p> + <p> + He rose and came on apace, silently. + </p> + <p> + When he reached the side of Flopit, some eight or nine seconds later, + Clematis found himself even more fascinated and perplexed than during + their former interview, though again Flopit seemed utterly to disregard + him. Clematis was not at all sure that Flopit WAS a dog, but he felt that + it was his business to find out. Heaven knows, so far, Clematis had not a + particle of animosity in his heart, but he considered it his duty to + himself—in case Flopit turned out not to be a dog—to learn + just what he was. The thing might be edible. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, again pacing obliquely beside Flopit (while the human beings + ahead went on, unconscious of the approaching climax behind them) Clematis + sought to detect, by senses keener than sight, some evidence of Flopit's + standing in the zoological kingdom; and, sniffing at the top of Flopit's + head—though Clematis was uncertain about its indeed being a head—he + found himself baffled and mentally much disturbed. + </p> + <p> + Flopit did not smell like a dog; he smelled of violets. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <h3> + TRUCULENCE + </h3> + <p> + Clematis frowned and sneezed as the infinitesimal particles of sachet + powder settled in the lining of his nose. He became serious, and was + conscious of a growing feeling of dislike; he began to be upset over the + whole matter. But his conscience compelled him to persist in his attempt + to solve the mystery; and also he remembered that one should be courteous, + no matter what some other thing chooses to be. Hence he sought to place + his nose in contact with Flopit's, for he had perceived on the front of + the mysterious stranger a buttony something which might possibly be a + nose. + </p> + <p> + Flopit evaded the contact. He felt that he had endured about enough from + this Apache, and that it was nearly time to destroy him. Having no + experience of battle, save with bedroom slippers and lace handkerchiefs, + Flopit had little doubt of his powers as a warrior. Betrayed by his + majestic self-importance, he had not the remotest idea that he was small. + Usually he saw the world from a window, or from the seat of an automobile, + or over his mistress's arm. He looked down on all dogs, thought them + ruffianly, despised them; and it is the miraculous truth that not only was + he unaware that he was small, but he did not even know that he was a dog, + himself. He did not think about himself in that way. + </p> + <p> + From these various ignorances of his sprang his astonishing, his + incredible, valor. Clematis, with head lowered close to Flopit's, + perceived something peering at him from beneath the tangled curtain of + cottony, violet-scented stuff which seemed to be the upper part of + Flopit's face. It was Flopit's eye, a red-rimmed eye and sore—and so + demoniacally malignant that Clematis, indescribably startled, would have + withdrawn his own countenance at once—but it was too late. With a + fearful oath Flopit sprang upward and annexed himself to the under lip of + the horrified Clematis. + </p> + <p> + Horror gave place to indignation instantly; and as Miss Parcher and her + guest turned, screaming, Clematis's self-command went all to pieces. + </p> + <p> + Miss Parcher became faint and leaned against the hedge along which they + had been passing, but her visitor continued to scream, while Mr. Watson + endeavored to kick Clematis without ruining Flopit—a difficult + matter. + </p> + <p> + Flopit was baresark from the first, and the mystery is where he learned + the dog-cursing that he did. In spite of the David-and-Goliath difference + in size it would be less than justice to deny that a very fair dog-fight + took place. It was so animated, in truth, that the one expert in such + matters who was present found himself warmly interested. Genesis relieved + himself of the burden of the wash-tub upon his back, dropped the handle of + that other in which he had a half-interest, and watched the combat; his + mouth, like his eyes, wide open in simple pleasure. + </p> + <p> + He was not destined to enjoy the spectacle to the uttermost; a furious + young person struck him a frantic, though harmless, blow with a pink + parasol. + </p> + <p> + “You stop them!” she screamed. “You make that horrible dog stop, or I'll + have you arrested!” + </p> + <p> + Genesis rushed forward. + </p> + <p> + “You CLEM!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + And instantly Clematis was but a whitish and brownish streak along the + hedge. He ran like a dog in a moving picture when they speed the film, and + he shot from sight, once more, round the corner, while Flopit, still + cursing, was seized and squeezed in his mistress's embrace. + </p> + <p> + But she was not satisfied. “Where's that laundryman with the tin thing on + his head?” she demanded. “He ought to be arrested for having such a dog. + It's HIS dog, isn't it? Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + Genesis turned and looked round about the horizon, mystified. William + Sylvanus Baxter and the clothes-boiler had disappeared from sight. + </p> + <p> + “If he owns that dog,” asserted the still furious owner of Flopit, “I WILL + have him arrested. Where is he? Where is that laundryman?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he,” Genesis began slowly, “HE ain' no laundrym—” He came to + an uncertain pause. If she chose to assume, with quick feminine intuition, + that the dog was William's and that William was a laundryman, it was not + Genesis's place to enlighten her. “'Tic'larly,” he reflected, “since she + talk so free about gittin' people 'rested!” He became aware that William + had squirmed through the hedge and now lay prostrate on the other side of + it, but this, likewise, was something within neither his duty nor his + inclination to reveal. + </p> + <p> + “Thishere laundryman,” said Genesis, resuming—“thishere laundryman + what own the dog, I reckon he mus' hopped on 'at street-car what went by.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he OUGHT to be arrested!” she said, and, pressing her cheek to + Flopit's, she changed her tone. “Izzum's ickle heart a-beatin' so + floppity! Um's own mumsy make ums all right, um's p'eshus Flopit!” + </p> + <p> + Then with the consoling Miss Parcher's arm about her, and Mr. Watson even + more dazzled with love than when he had first met her, some three hours + past, she made her way between the tubs, and passed on down the street. + Not till the three (and Flopit) were out of sight did William come forth + from the hedge. + </p> + <p> + “Hi yah!” exclaimed Genesis. “'At lady go'n a 'rest ev'y man what own a + dog, 'f she had her way!” + </p> + <p> + But William spoke no word. + </p> + <p> + In silence, then, they resumed their burdens and their journey. Clematis + was waiting for them at the corner ahead. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII + </h2> + <h3> + MR. BAXTER'S EVENING CLOTHES + </h3> + <p> + That evening, at about half-past seven o'clock, dinner being over and Mr. + and Mrs. Baxter (parents of William) seated in the library, Mrs. Baxter + said: + </p> + <p> + “I think it's about time for you to go and dress for your Emerson Club + meeting, papa, if you intend to go.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I have to dress?” Mr. Baxter asked, plaintively. + </p> + <p> + “I think nearly all the men do, don't they?” she insisted. + </p> + <p> + “But I'm getting old enough not to have to, don't you think, mamma?” he + urged, appealingly. “When a man's my age—” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” she said. “Your figure is exactly like William's. It's the + figure that really shows age first, and yours hasn't begun to.” And she + added, briskly, “Go along like a good boy and get it ever!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Baxter rose submissively and went upstairs to do as he was bid. But, + after fifteen or twenty minutes, during which his footsteps had been + audible in various parts of the house, he called down over the banisters: + </p> + <p> + “I can't find 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't find what?” + </p> + <p> + “My evening clothes. They aren't anywhere in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did you put them the last time you wore them?” she called. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I haven't had 'em on since last spring.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; I'll come,” she said, putting her sewing upon the table and + rising. “Men never can find anything,” she observed, additionally, as she + ascended the stairs. “Especially their own things!” + </p> + <p> + On this occasion, however, as she was obliged to admit a little later, + women were not more efficacious than the duller sex. Search high, search + low, no trace of Mr. Baxter's evening clothes were to be found. “Perhaps + William could find them,” said Mrs. Baxter, a final confession of + helplessness. + </p> + <p> + But William was no more to be found than the missing apparel. William, in + fact, after spending some time in the lower back hall, listening to the + quest above, had just gone out through the kitchen door. And after some + ensuing futile efforts, Mr. Baxter was forced to proceed to his club in + the accoutrements of business. + </p> + <p> + He walked slowly, enjoying the full moon, which sailed up a river in the + sky—the open space between the trees that lined the street—and + as he passed the house of Mr. Parcher he noted the fine white shape of a + masculine evening bosom gleaming in the moonlight on the porch. A dainty + figure in white sat beside it, and there was another white figure present, + though this one was so small that Mr. Baxter did not see it at all. It was + the figure of a tiny doglet, and it reposed upon the black masculine knees + that belonged to the evening bosom. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Baxter heard a dulcet voice. + </p> + <p> + “He IS indifferink, isn't he, sweetest Flopit? Seriously, though, Mr. + Watson was telling me about you to-day. He says you're the most + indifferent man he knows. He says you don't care two minutes whether a + girl lives or dies. Isn't he a mean ole wicked sing, p'eshus Flopit!” + </p> + <p> + The reply was inaudible, and Mr. Baxter passed on, having recognized + nothing of his own. + </p> + <p> + “These YOUNG fellows don't have any trouble finding their dress-suits, I + guess,” he murmured. “Not on a night like this!” + </p> + <p> + ... Thus William, after a hard day, came to the gates of his romance, + entering those portals of the moon in triumph. At one stroke his dashing + raiment gave him high superiority over Johnnie Watson and other rivals who + might loom. But if he had known to what undoing this great coup exposed + him, it is probable that Mr. Baxter would have appeared at the Emerson + Club, that night, in evening clothes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII + </h2> + <h3> + JANE + </h3> + <p> + William's period of peculiar sensitiveness dated from that evening, and + Jane, in particular, caused him a great deal of anxiety. In fact, he began + to feel that Jane was a mortification which his parents might have spared + him, with no loss to themselves or to the world. Not having shown that + consideration for anybody, they might at least have been less spinelessly + indulgent of her. William's bitter conviction was that he had never seen a + child so starved of discipline or so lost to etiquette as Jane. + </p> + <p> + For one thing, her passion for bread-and-butter, covered with apple sauce + and powdered sugar, was getting to be a serious matter. Secretly, William + was not yet so changed by love as to be wholly indifferent to this + refection himself, but his consumption of it was private, whereas Jane had + formed the habit of eating it in exposed places—such as the front + yard or the sidewalk. At no hour of the day was it advisable for a + relative to approach the neighborhood in fastidious company, unless + prepared to acknowledge kinship with a spindly young person either eating + bread-and-butter and apple sauce and powdered sugar, or all too visibly + just having eaten bread-and-butter and apple sauce and powdered sugar. + Moreover, there were times when Jane had worse things than apple sauce to + answer for, as William made clear to his mother in an oration as hot as + the July noon sun which looked down upon it. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter was pleasantly engaged with a sprinkling-can and some small + flower-beds in the shady back yard, and Jane, having returned from various + sidewalk excursions, stood close by as a spectator, her hands replenished + with the favorite food and her chin rising and falling in gentle motions, + little prophecies of the slight distensions which passed down her slender + throat with slow, rhythmic regularity. Upon this calm scene came William, + plunging round a corner of the house, furious yet plaintive. + </p> + <p> + “You've got to do something about that child!” he began. “I CAN not stand + it!” + </p> + <p> + Jane looked at him dumbly, not ceasing, how ever, to eat; while Mrs. + Baxter thoughtfully continued her sprinkling. + </p> + <p> + “You've been gone all morning, Willie,” she said. “I thought your father + mentioned at breakfast that he expected you to put in at least four hours + a day on your mathematics and—” + </p> + <p> + “That's neither here nor there,” William returned, vehemently. “I just + want to say this: if you don't do something about Jane, I will! Just look + at her! LOOK at her, I ask you! That's just the way she looked half an + hour ago, out on the public sidewalk in front of the house, when I came by + here with Miss PRATT! That was pleasant, wasn't it? To be walking with a + lady on the public street and meet a member of my family looking like + that! Oh, LOVELY!” + </p> + <p> + In the anguish of this recollection his voice cracked, and though his eyes + were dry his gestures wept for him. Plainly, he was about to reach the + most lamentable portion of his narrative. “And then she HOLLERED at me! + She hollered, 'Oh, WILL—EE!'” Here he gave an imitation of Jane's + voice, so damnatory that Jane ceased to eat for several moments and drew + herself up with a kind of dignity. “She hollered, 'Oh, WILL—EE' at + me!” he stormed. “Anybody would think I was about six years old! She + hollered, 'Oh, Will—ee,' and she rubbed her stomach and slushed + apple sauce all over her face, and she kept hollering, 'Will—ee!' + with her mouth full. 'Will—ee, look! Good! Bread-and-butter and + apple sauce and sugar! I bet you wish YOU had some, Will—ee!'” + </p> + <p> + “You did eat some, the other day,” said Jane. “You ate a whole lot. You + eat it every chance you get!” + </p> + <p> + “You hush up!” he shouted, and returned to his description of the outrage. + “She kept FOLLOWING us! She followed us, hollering, 'WILL—EE!' till + it's a wonder we didn't go deaf! And just look at her! I don't see how you + can stand it to have her going around like that and people knowing it's + your child! Why, she hasn't got enough ON!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter laughed. “Oh, for this very hot weather, I really don't think + people notice or care much about—” + </p> + <p> + “'Notice'!” he wailed. “I guess Miss PRATT noticed! Hot weather's no + excuse for—for outright obesity!” (As Jane was thin, it is probable + that William had mistaken the meaning of this word.) “Why, half o' what + she HAS got on has come unfastened—especially that frightful thing + hanging around her leg—and look at her back, I just beg you! I ask + you to look at her back. You can see her spinal cord!” + </p> + <p> + “Column,” Mrs. Baxter corrected. “Spinal column, Willie.” + </p> + <p> + “What do <i>I</i> care which it is?” he fumed. “People aren't supposed to + go around with it EXPOSED, whichever it is! And with apple sauce on their + ears!” + </p> + <p> + “There is not!” Jane protested, and at the moment when she spoke she was + right. Naturally, however, she lifted her hands to the accused ears, and + the unfortunate result was to justify William's statement. + </p> + <p> + “LOOK!” he cried. “I just ask you to look! Think of it: that's the sight I + have to meet when I'm out walking with Miss PRATT! She asked me who it + was, and I wish you'd seen her face. She wanted to know who 'that curious + child' was, and I'm glad you didn't hear the way she said it. 'Who IS that + curious child?' she said, and I had to tell her it was my sister. I had to + tell Miss PRATT it was my only SISTER!” + </p> + <p> + “Willie, who is Miss Pratt?” asked Mrs. Baxter, mildly. “I don't think + I've ever heard of—” + </p> + <p> + Jane had returned to an admirable imperturbability, but she chose this + moment to interrupt her mother, and her own eating, with remarks delivered + in a tone void of emphasis or expression. + </p> + <p> + “Willie's mashed on her,” she said, casually. “And she wears false + side-curls. One almost came off.” + </p> + <p> + At this unspeakable desecration William's face was that of a high priest + stricken at the altar. + </p> + <p> + “She's visitin' Miss May Parcher,” added the deadly Jane. “But the + Parchers are awful tired of her. They wish she'd go home, but they don't + like to tell her so.” + </p> + <p> + One after another these insults from the canaille fell upon the ears of + William. That slanders so atrocious could soil the universal air seemed + unthinkable. + </p> + <p> + He became icily calm. + </p> + <p> + “NOW if you don't punish her,” he said, deliberately, “it's because you + have lost your sense of duty!” + </p> + <p> + Having uttered these terrible words, he turned upon his heel and marched + toward the house. His mother called after him: + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Willie. Jane doesn't mean to hurt your feelings—” + </p> + <p> + “My feelings!” he cried, the iciness of his demeanor giving way under the + strain of emotion. “You stand there and allow her to speak as she did of + one of the—one of the—” For a moment William appeared to be at + a loss, and the fact is that it always has been a difficult matter to + describe THE bright, ineffable divinity of the world to one's mother, + especially in the presence of an inimical third party of tender years. + “One of the—” he said; “one of the—the noblest—one of + the noblest—” + </p> + <p> + Again he paused. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jane didn't mean anything,” said Mrs. Baxter. “And if you think Miss + Pratt is so nice, I'll ask May Parcher to bring her to tea with us some + day. If it's too hot, we'll have iced tea, and you can ask Johnnie Watson, + if you like. Don't get so upset about things, Willie!” + </p> + <p> + “'Upset'!” he echoed, appealing to heaven against this word. “'Upset'!” + And he entered the house in a manner most dramatic. + </p> + <p> + “What made you say that?” Mrs. Baxter asked, turning curiously to Jane + when William had disappeared. “Where did you hear any such things?” + </p> + <p> + “I was there,” Jane replied, gently eating on and on. William could come + and William could go, but Jane's alimentary canal went on forever. + </p> + <p> + “You were where, Jane?” + </p> + <p> + “At the Parchers'.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see.” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday afternoon,” said Jane, “when Miss Parcher had the Sunday-school + class for lemonade and cookies.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear Miss Parcher say—” + </p> + <p> + “No'm,” said Jane. “I ate too many cookies, I guess, maybe. Anyways, Miss + Parcher said I better lay down—” + </p> + <p> + “LIE down, Jane.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. On the sofa in the liberry, an' Mrs. Parcher an' Mr. Parcher came + in there an' sat down, after while, an' it was kind of dark, an' they + didn't hardly notice me, or I guess they thought I was asleep, maybe. + Anyways, they didn't talk loud, but Mr. Parcher would sort of grunt an' + ack cross. He said he just wished he knew when he was goin' to have a home + again. Then Mrs. Parcher said May HAD to ask her Sunday-school class, but + he said he never meant the Sunday-school class. He said since Miss Pratt + came to visit, there wasn't anywhere he could go, because Willie Baxter + an' Johnnie Watson an' Joe Bullitt an' all the other ones like that were + there all the time, an' it made him just sick at the stummick, an' he did + wish there was some way to find out when she was goin' home, because he + couldn't stand much more talk about love. He said Willie an' Johnnie + Watson an' Joe Bullitt an' Miss Pratt were always arguin' somep'm about + love, an' he said Willie was the worst. Mamma, he said he didn't like the + rest of it, but he said he guessed he could stand it if it wasn't for + Willie. An' he said the reason they were all so in love of Miss Pratt was + because she talks baby-talk, an' he said he couldn't stand much more + baby-talk. Mamma, she has the loveliest little white dog, an' Mr. Parcher + doesn't like it. He said he couldn't go anywhere around the place without + steppin' on the dog or Willie Baxter. An' he said he couldn't sit on his + own porch any more; he said he couldn't sit even in the liberry but he had + to hear baby-talk goin' on SOMEwheres an' then either Willie Baxter or Joe + Bullitt or somebody or another arguin' about love. Mamma, he said”—Jane + became impressive—“he said, mamma, he said he didn't mind the + Sunday-school class, but he couldn't stand those dam boys!” + </p> + <p> + “Jane!” Mrs. Baxter cried, “you MUSTN'T say such things!” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't, mamma. Mr. Parcher said it. He said he couldn't stand those da—” + </p> + <p> + “JANE! No matter what he said, you mustn't repeat—” + </p> + <p> + “But I'm not. I only said Mr. PARCHER said he couldn't stand those d—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter cut the argument short by imprisoning Jane's mouth with a firm + hand. Jane continued to swallow quietly until released. Then she said: + </p> + <p> + “But, mamma, how can I tell you what he said unless I say—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” Mrs. Baxter commanded. “You must never, never again use such a + terrible and wicked word.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't, mamma,” Jane said, meekly. Then she brightened. “Oh, <i>I</i> + know! I'll say 'word' instead. Won't that be all right?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I suppose so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Parcher said he couldn't stand those word boys. That sounds all + right, doesn't it, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter hesitated, but she was inclined to hear as complete as + possible a report of Mr. and Mrs. Parcher's conversation, since it seemed + to concern William so nearly; and she well knew that Jane had her own way + of telling things—or else they remained untold. + </p> + <p> + “I—I suppose so,” Mrs. Baxter said, again. + </p> + <p> + “Well, they kind of talked along,” Jane continued, much pleased;—“an' + Mr. Parcher said when he was young he wasn't any such a—such a word + fool as these young word fools were. He said in all his born days Willie + Baxter was the wordest fool he ever saw!” + </p> + <p> + Willie Baxter's mother flushed a little. “That was very unjust and very + wrong of Mr. Parcher,” she said, primly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, mamma!” Jane protested. “Mrs. Parcher thought so, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Only she didn't say word or wordest or anything like that,” Jane + explained. “She said it was because Miss Pratt had coaxed him to be so in + love of her, an' Mr. Parcher said he didn't care whose fault it was, + Willie was a—a word calf an' so were all the rest of 'em, Mr. + Parcher said. An' he said he couldn't stand it any more. Mr. Parcher said + that a whole lot of times, mamma. He said he guess' pretty soon he'd haf + to be in the lunatic asylum if Miss Pratt stayed a few more days with her + word little dog an' her word Willie Baxter an' all the other word calfs. + Mrs. Parcher said he oughtn't to say 'word,' mamma. She said, 'Hush, + hush!' to him, mamma. He talked like this, mamma: he said, 'I'll be word + if I stand it!' An' he kept gettin' crosser, an' he said, 'Word! Word! + WORD! WOR—'” + </p> + <p> + “There!” Mrs. Baxter interrupted, sharply. “That will do, Jane! We'll talk + about something else now, I think.” + </p> + <p> + Jane looked hurt; she was taking great pleasure in this confidential + interview, and gladly would have continued to quote the harried Mr. + Parcher at great length. Still, she was not entirely uncontent: she must + have had some perception that her performance merely as a notable bit of + reportorial art—did not wholly lack style, even if her attire did. + Yet, brilliant as Jane's work was, Mrs. Baxter felt no astonishment; + several times ere this Jane had demonstrated a remarkable faculty for the + retention of details concerning William. And running hand in hand with a + really superb curiosity, this powerful memory was making Jane an even + greater factor in William's life than he suspected. + </p> + <p> + During the glamors of early love, if there be a creature more deadly than + the little brother of a budding woman, that creature is the little sister + of a budding man. The little brother at least tells in the open all he + knows, often at full power of his lungs, and even that may be avoided, + since he is wax in the hands of bribery; but the little sister is more apt + to save her knowledge for use upon a terrible occasion; and, no matter + what bribes she may accept, she is certain to tell her mother everything. + All in all, a young lover should arrange, if possible, to be the only + child of elderly parents; otherwise his mother and sister are sure to know + a great deal more about him than he knows that they know. + </p> + <p> + This was what made Jane's eyes so disturbing to William during lunch that + day. She ate quietly and competently, but all the while he was conscious + of her solemn and inscrutable gaze fixed upon him; and she spoke not once. + She could not have rendered herself more annoying, especially as William + was trying to treat her with silent scorn, for nothing is more irksome to + the muscles of the face than silent scorn, when there is no means of + showing it except by the expression. On the other hand, Jane's + inscrutability gave her no discomfort whatever. In fact, inscrutability is + about the most comfortable expression that a person can wear, though the + truth is that just now Jane was not really inscrutable at all. + </p> + <p> + She was merely looking at William and thinking of Mr. Parcher. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX + </h2> + <h3> + LITTLE SISTERS HAVE BIG EARS + </h3> + <p> + The confidential talk between mother and daughter at noon was not the last + to take place that day. At nightfall—eight o'clock in this pleasant + season—Jane was saying her prayers beside her bed, while her mother + stood close by, waiting to put out the light. + </p> + <p> + “An' bless mamma and papa an'—” Jane murmured, coming to a pause. + “An'—an' bless Willie,” she added, with a little reluctance. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, dear,” said her mother. “You haven't finished.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, mamma,” Jane looked up to say. “I was just thinkin' a minute. + I want to tell you about somep'm.” + </p> + <p> + “Finish your prayers first, Jane.” + </p> + <p> + Jane obeyed with a swiftness in which there was no intentional + irreverence. Then she jumped into bed and began a fresh revelation. + </p> + <p> + “It's about papa's clo'es, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “What clothes of papa's? What do you mean, Jane?” asked Mrs. Baxter, + puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “The ones you couldn't find. The ones you been lookin' for 'most every + day.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean papa's evening clothes?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm,” said Jane. “Willie's got 'em on.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he has!” Jane assured her with emphasis. “I bet you he's had 'em on + every single evening since Miss Pratt came to visit the Parchers! Anyway, + he's got 'em on now, 'cause I saw 'em.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter bit her lip and frowned. “Are you sure, Jane?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. I saw him in 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I was in my bare feet after I got undressed—before you came + up-stairs—mamma, an' I was kind of walkin' around in the hall—” + </p> + <p> + “You shouldn't do that, Jane.” + </p> + <p> + “No'm. An' I heard Willie say somep'm kind of to himself, or like + deckamation. He was inside his room, but the door wasn't quite shut. He + started out once, but he went back for somep'm an' forgot to, I guess. + Anyway, I thought I better look an' see what was goin' on, mamma. So I + just kind of peeked in—” + </p> + <p> + “But you shouldn't do that, dear,” Mrs. Baxter said, musingly. “It isn't + really quite honorable.” + </p> + <p> + “No'm. Well, what you think he was doin'?” (Here Jane's voice betrayed + excitement and so did her eyes.) “He was standin' up there in papa's + clo'es before the lookin'-glass, an' first he'd lean his head over on one + side, an' then he'd lean it over on the other side, an' then he'd bark, + mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “He'd what?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm!” said Jane. “He'd give a little, teeny BARK, mamma—kind of + like a puppy, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried Mrs. Baxter. + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm, he did!” Jane asserted. “He did it four or five times. First he'd + lean his head way over on his shoulder like this—look, mamma!—an' + then he'd lean it way over the other shoulder, an' every time he'd do it + he'd bark. 'Berp-werp!' he'd say, mamma, just like that, only not loud at + all. He said, 'Berp-werp! BERP-WERP-WERP!' You could tell he meant it for + barkin', but it wasn't very good, mamma. What you think he meant, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven knows!” murmured the astonished mother. + </p> + <p> + “An' then,” Jane continued, “he quit barkin' all of a sudden, an' didn't + lean his head over any more, an' commenced actin' kind of solemn, an' kind + of whispered to himself. I think he was kind of pretendin' he was talkin' + to Miss Pratt, or at a party, maybe. Anyways, he spoke out loud after + while not just exactly LOUD, I mean, but anyway so's 't I could hear what + he said. Mamma—he said, 'Oh, my baby-talk lady!' just like that, + mamma. Listen, mamma, here's the way he said it: 'Oh, my baby-talk lady!'” + </p> + <p> + Jane's voice, in this impersonation, became sufficiently soft and + tremulous to give Mrs. Baxter a fair idea of the tender yearning of the + original. “'OH, MY BABY-TALK LADY!'” cooed the terrible Jane. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy!” Mrs. Baxter exclaimed. “Perhaps it's no wonder Mr. Parcher—” + She broke off abruptly, then inquired, “What did he do next, Jane?” + </p> + <p> + “Next,” said Jane, “he put the light out, an' I had to—well, I just + waited kind of squeeged up against the wall, an' he never saw me. He went + on out to the back stairs, an' went down the stairs tiptoe, mamma. You + know what I think, mamma? I think he goes out that way an' through the + kitchen on account of papa's clo'es.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter paused, with her hand upon the key of the shaded electric + lamp. “I suppose so,” she said. “I think perhaps—” For a moment or + two she wrapped herself in thought. “Perhaps”—she repeated, musingly—“perhaps + we'll keep this just a secret between you and me for a little while, Jane, + and not say anything to papa about the clothes. I don't think it will hurt + them, and I suppose Willie feels they give him a great advantage over the + other boys—and papa uses them so very little, especially since he's + grown a wee bit stouter. Yes, it will be our secret, Jane. We'll think it + over till to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter turned out the light, then came and kissed Jane in the dark. + “Good night, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “G' night, mamma.” But as Mrs. Baxter reached the door Jane's voice was + heard again. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” Mrs. Baxter paused. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma,” Jane said, slowly, “I think—I think Mr. Parcher is a very + nice man. Mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma, what do you s'pose Willie barked at the lookin'-glass for?” + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Mrs. Baxter, “is beyond me. Young people and children do the + strangest things, Jane! And then, when they get to be middle-aged, they + forget all those strange things they did, and they can't understand what + the new young people—like you and Willie mean by the strange things + THEY do.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. I bet <i>I</i> know what he was barkin' for, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “You know what I think? I think he was kind of practisin'. I think he was + practisin' how to bark at Mr. Parcher.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” Mrs. Baxter laughed. “Who ever could think of such a thing but + you, Jane! You go to sleep and forget your nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, Jane might almost have been gifted with clairvoyance, her + preposterous idea came so close to the actual fact, for at that very + moment William was barking. He was not barking directly at Mr. Parcher, it + is true, but within a short distance of him and all too well within his + hearing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X + </h2> + <h3> + MR. PARCHER AND LOVE + </h3> + <p> + Mr. Parcher, that unhappy gentleman, having been driven indoors from his + own porch, had attempted to read Plutarch's Lives in the library, but, + owing to the adjacency of the porch and the summer necessity for open + windows, his escape spared only his eyes and not his suffering ears. The + house was small, being but half of a double one, with small rooms, and the + “parlor,” library, and dining-room all about equally exposed to the porch + which ran along the side of the house. Mr. Parcher had no refuge except + bed or the kitchen, and as he was troubled with chronic insomnia, and the + cook had callers in the kitchen, his case was desperate. Most + unfortunately, too, his reading-lamp, the only one in the house, was a + fixture near a window, and just beyond that window sat Miss Pratt and + William in sweet unconsciousness, while Miss Parcher entertained the + overflow (consisting of Mr. Johnnie Watson) at the other end of the porch. + Listening perforce to the conversation of the former couple though + “conversation” is far from the expression later used by Mr. Parcher to + describe what he heard—he found it impossible to sit still in his + chair. He jerked and twitched with continually increasing restlessness; + sometimes he gasped, and other times he moaned a little, and there were + times when he muttered huskily. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, cute-ums!” came the silvery voice of Miss Pratt from the likewise + silvery porch outside, underneath the summer moon. “Darlin' Flopit, look! + Ickle boy Baxter goin' make imitations of darlin' Flopit again. See! Ickle + boy Baxter puts head one side, then other side, just like darlin' Flopit. + Then barks just like darlin' Flopit! Ladies and 'entlemen, imitations of + darlin' Flopit by ickle boy Baxter.” + </p> + <p> + “Berp-werp! Berp-werp!” came the voice of William Sylvanus Baxter. + </p> + <p> + And in the library Plutarch's Lives moved convulsively, while with + writhing lips Mr. Parcher muttered to himself. + </p> + <p> + “More, more!” cried Miss Pratt, clapping her hands. “Do it again, ickle + boy Baxter!” + </p> + <p> + “Berp-werp! Berp-werp-werp!” + </p> + <p> + “WORD!” muttered Mr. Parcher. + </p> + <p> + Miss Pratt's voice became surcharged with honeyed wonder. “How did he + learn such marv'lous, MARV'LOUS imitations of darlin' Flopit? He ought to + go on the big, big stage and be a really actor, oughtn't he, darlin' + Flopit? He could make milyums and milyums of dollardies, couldn't he, + darlin' Flopit?” + </p> + <p> + William's modest laugh disclaimed any great ambition for himself in this + line. “Oh, I always could think up imitations of animals; things like that—but + I hardly would care to—to adop' the stage for a career. Would—you?” + (There was a thrill in his voice when he pronounced the ineffably + significant word “you.”) + </p> + <p> + Miss Pratt became intensely serious. + </p> + <p> + “It's my DREAM!” she said. + </p> + <p> + William, seated upon a stool at her feet, gazed up at the amber head, + divinely splashed by the rain of moonlight. The fire with which she spoke + stirred him as few things had ever stirred him. He knew she had just + revealed a side of herself which she reserved for only the chosen few who + were capable of understanding her, and he fell into a hushed rapture. It + seemed to him that there was a sacredness about this moment, and he sought + vaguely for something to say that would live up to it and not be out of + keeping. Then, like an inspiration, there came into his head some words he + had read that day and thought beautiful. He had found them beneath an + illustration in a magazine, and he spoke them almost instinctively. + </p> + <p> + “It was wonderful of you to say that to me,” he said. “I shall never + forget it!” + </p> + <p> + “It's my DREAM!” Miss Pratt exclaimed, again, with the same enthusiasm. + “It's my DREAM.” + </p> + <p> + “You would make a glorious actress!” he said. + </p> + <p> + At that her mood changed. She laughed a laugh like a sweet little girl's + laugh (not Jane's) and, setting her rocking-chair in motion, cuddled the + fuzzy white doglet in her arms. “Ickle boy Baxter t'yin' flatterbox us, + tunnin' Flopit! No'ty, no'ty flatterbox!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” William insisted, earnestly. “I mean it. But—but—” + </p> + <p> + “But whatcums?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think about actors and actresses making love to each other on + the stage? Do you think they have to really feel it, or do they just + pretend?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Miss Pratt, weightily, “sometimes one way, sometimes the + other.” + </p> + <p> + William's gravity became more and more profound. “Yes, but how can they + pretend like that? Don't you think love is a sacred thing, Cousin Lola?” + </p> + <p> + Fictitious sisterships, brotherships, and cousinships are devices to push + things along, well known to seventeen and even more advanced ages. On the + wonderful evening of their first meeting William and Miss Pratt had cozily + arranged to be called, respectively, “Ickle boy Baxter” and “Cousin Lola.” + (Thus they had broken down the tedious formalities of their first twenty + minutes together.) + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think love is sacred?” he repeated in the deepest tone of which + his vocal cords were capable. + </p> + <p> + “Ess,” said Miss Pratt. + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> do!” William was emphatic. “I think love is the most sacred + thing there is. I don't mean SOME kinds of love. I mean REAL love. You + take some people, I don't believe they ever know what real love means. + They TALK about it, maybe, but they don't understand it. Love is something + nobody can understand unless they feel it and and if they don't understand + it they don't feel it. Don't YOU think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Ess.” + </p> + <p> + “Love,” William continued, his voice lifting and thrilling to the great + theme—“love is something nobody can ever have but one time in their + lives, and if they don't have it then, why prob'ly they never will. Now, + if a man REALLY loves a girl, why he'd do anything in the world she wanted + him to. Don't YOU think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Ess, 'deedums!” said the silvery voice. + </p> + <p> + “But if he didn't, then he wouldn't,” said William vehemently. “But when a + man really loves a girl he will. Now, you take a man like that and he can + generally do just about anything the girl he loves wants him to. Say, + f'rinstance, she wants him to love her even more than he does already—or + almost anything like that—and supposin' she asks him to. Well, he + would go ahead and do it. If they really loved each other he would!” + </p> + <p> + He paused a moment, then in a lowered tone he said, “I think REAL love is + sacred, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Ess.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think love is the most sacred thing there is—that is, if + it's REAL love?” + </p> + <p> + “Ess.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> do,” said William, warmly. “I—I'm glad you feel like that, + because I think real love is the kind nobody could have but just once in + their lives, but if it isn't REAL love, why—why most people never + have it at all, because—” He paused, seeming to seek for the exact + phrase which would express his meaning. “—Because the REAL love a + man feels for a girl and a girl for a man, if they REALLY love each other, + and, you look at a case like that, of course they would BOTH love each + other, or it wouldn't be real love well, what <i>I</i> say is, if it's + REAL love, well, it's—it's sacred, because I think that kind of love + is always sacred. Don't you think love is sacred if it's the real thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Ess,” said Miss Pratt. “Do Flopit again. Be Flopit!” + </p> + <p> + “Berp-werp! Berp-werp-werp.” + </p> + <p> + And within the library an agonized man writhed and muttered: + </p> + <p> + “WORD! WORD! WORD—” + </p> + <p> + This hoarse repetition had become almost continuous. + </p> + <p> + ... But out on the porch, that little, jasmine-scented bower in Arcady + where youth cried to youth and golden heads were haloed in the moonshine, + there fell a silence. Not utter silence, for out there an ethereal music + sounded constantly, unheard and forgotten by older ears. Time was when the + sly playwrights used “incidental music” in their dramas; they knew that an + audience would be moved so long as the music played; credulous while that + crafty enchantment lasted. And when the galled Mr. Parcher wondered how + those young people out on the porch could listen to each other and not + die, it was because he did not hear and had forgotten the music that + throbs in the veins of youth. Nevertheless, it may not be denied that + despite his poor memory this man of fifty was deserving of a little + sympathy. + </p> + <p> + It was William who broke the silence. “How—” he began, and his voice + trembled a little. “How—how do you—how do you think of me when + I'm not with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Think nice-cums,” Miss Pratt responded. “Flopit an' me think nice-cums.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said William; “I mean what name do you have for me when you're when + you're thinking about me?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Pratt seemed to be puzzled, perhaps justifiably, and she made a + cooing sound of interrogation. + </p> + <p> + “I mean like this,” William explained. “F'rinstance, when you first came, + I always thought of you as 'Milady'—when I wrote that poem, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Ess. Boo'fums.” + </p> + <p> + “But now I don't,” he said. “Now I think of you by another name when I'm + alone. It—it just sort of came to me. I was kind of just sitting + around this afternoon, and I didn't know I was thinking about anything at + all very much, and then all of a sudden I said it to myself out loud. It + was about as strange a thing as I ever knew of. Don't YOU think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Ess. It uz dest WEIRD!” she answered. “What ARE dat pitty names?” + </p> + <p> + “I called you,” said William, huskily and reverently, “I called you 'My + Baby-Talk Lady.'” + </p> + <p> + BANG! + </p> + <p> + They were startled by a crash from within the library; a heavy weight + seemed to have fallen (or to have been hurled) a considerable distance. + Stepping to the window, William beheld a large volume lying in a distorted + attitude at the foot of the wall opposite to that in which the + reading-lamp was a fixture. But of all human life the room was empty; for + Mr. Parcher had given up, and was now hastening to his bed in the last + faint hope of saving his reason. + </p> + <p> + His symptoms, however, all pointed to its having fled; and his wife, + looking up from some computations in laundry charges, had but a vision of + windmill gestures as he passed the door of her room. Then, not only for + her, but for the inoffensive people who lived in the other half of the + house, the closing of his own door took place in a really memorable + manner. + </p> + <p> + William, gazing upon the fallen Plutarch, had just offered the + explanation, “Somebody must 'a' thrown it at a bug or something, I guess,” + when the second explosion sent its reverberations through the house. + </p> + <p> + “My doodness!” Miss Pratt exclaimed, jumping up. + </p> + <p> + William laughed reassuringly, remaining calm. “It's only a door blew shut + up-stairs,” he said “Let's sit down again—just the way we were?” + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately for him, Mr. Joe Bullitt now made his appearance at the + other end of the porch. Mr. Bullitt, though almost a year younger than + either William or Johnnie Watson, was of a turbulent and masterful + disposition. Moreover, in regard to Miss Pratt, his affections were in as + ardent a state as those of his rivals, and he lacked Johnnie's meekness. + He firmly declined to be shunted by Miss Parcher, who was trying to favor + William's cause, according to a promise he had won of her by strong + pleading. Regardless of her efforts, Mr. Bullitt descended upon William + and his Baby-Talk-Lady, and received from the latter a honeyed greeting, + somewhat to the former's astonishment and not at all to his pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, goody-cute!” cried Miss Pratt. “Here's big Bruvva Josie-Joe!” And she + lifted her little dog close to Mr. Bullitt's face, guiding one of Flopit's + paws with her fingers. “Stroke big Bruvva Josie-Joe's pint teeks, darlin' + Flopit.” (Josie-Joe's pink cheeks were indicated by the expression “pint + teeks,” evidently, for her accompanying action was to pass Flopit's paw + lightly over those glowing surfaces.) “'At's nice!” she remarked. “Stroke + him gently, p'eshus Flopit, an' nen we'll coax him to make pitty singin' + for us, like us did yestiday.” + </p> + <p> + She turned to William. + </p> + <p> + “COAX him to make pitty singin'? I LOVE his voice—I'm dest CRAZY + over it. Isn't oo?” + </p> + <p> + William's passion for Mr. Bullitt's voice appeared to be under control. He + laughed coldly, almost harshly. “Him sing?” he said. “Has he been tryin' + to sing around HERE? I wonder the family didn't call for the police!” + </p> + <p> + It was to be seen that Mr. Bullitt did not relish the sally. “Well, they + will,” he retorted, “if you ever spring one o' your solos on 'em!” And + turning to Miss Pratt, he laughed loudly and bitterly. “You ought to hear + Silly Bill sing—some time when you don't mind goin' to bed sick for + a couple o' days!” + </p> + <p> + Symptoms of truculence at once became alarmingly pronounced on both sides. + William was naturally incensed, and as for Mr. Bullitt, he had endured a + great deal from William every evening since Miss Pratt's arrival. + William's evening clothes were hard enough for both Mr. Watson and Mr. + Bullitt to bear, without any additional insolence on the part of the + wearer. Big Bruvva Josie-Joe took a step toward his enemy and breathed + audibly. + </p> + <p> + “Let's ALL sing,” the tactful Miss Pratt proposed, hastily. “Come on, May + and Cousin Johnnie-Jump-Up,” she called to Miss Parcher and Mr. Watson. + “Singin'-school, dirls an' boys! Singin'-school! Ding, ding! + Singin'-school bell's a-wingin'!” + </p> + <p> + The diversion was successful. Miss Parcher and Mr. Watson joined the other + group with alacrity, and the five young people were presently seated close + together upon the steps of the porch, sending their voices out upon the + air and up to Mr. Parcher's window in the song they found loveliest that + summer. + </p> + <p> + Miss Pratt carried the air. William also carried it part of the time and + hunted for it the rest of the time, though never in silence. Miss Parcher + “sang alto,” Mr. Bullitt “sang bass,” and Mr. Watson “sang tenor”—that + is, he sang as high as possible, often making the top sound of a chord and + always repeating the last phrase of each line before the others finished + it. The melody was a little too sweet, possibly; while the singers thought + so highly of the words that Mr. Parcher missed not one, especially as the + vocal rivalry between Josie-Joe and Ickle Boy Baxter incited each of them + to prevent Miss Pratt from hearing the other. + </p> + <p> + William sang loudest of all; Mr. Parcher had at no time any difficulty in + recognizing his voice. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh, I love my love in the morning + And I love my love at night, + I love my love in the dawning, + And when the stars are bright. + Some may love the sunshine, + Others may love the dew. + Some may love the raindrops, + But I love only you-OO-oo! + By the stars up above + It is you I luh-HUV! + Yes, <i>I</i> love own-LAY you!” + </pre> + <p> + They sang it four times; then Mr. Bullitt sang his solo, “Tell her, O + Golden Moon, how I Adore her,” William following with “The violate loves + the cowslip, but <i>I</i> love YEW,” and after that they all sang, “Oh, I + love my love in the morning,” again. + </p> + <p> + All this while that they sang of love, Mr. Parcher was moving to and fro + upon his bed, not more than eighteen feet in an oblique upward-slanting + line from the heads of the serenaders. Long, long he tossed, listening to + the young voices singing of love; long, long he thought of love, and many, + many times he spoke of it aloud, though he was alone in the room. And in + thus speaking of it, he would give utterance to phrases and words probably + never before used in connection with love since the world began. + </p> + <p> + His thoughts, and, at intervals, his mutterings, continued to be active + far into the night, long after the callers had gone, and though his + household and the neighborhood were at rest, with never a katydid outside + to rail at the waning moon. And by a coincidence not more singular than + most coincidences, it happened that at just about the time he finally fell + asleep, a young lady at no great distance from him awoke to find her self + thinking of him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI + </h2> + <h3> + BEGINNING A TRUE FRIENDSHIP + </h3> + <p> + This was Miss Jane Baxter. She opened her eyes upon the new-born day, and + her first thoughts were of Mr. Parcher. That is, he was already in her + mind when she awoke, a circumstance to be accounted for on the ground that + his conversation, during her quiet convalescence in his library, had so + fascinated her that in all likelihood she had been dreaming of him. Then, + too, Jane and Mr. Parcher had a bond in common, though Mr. Parcher did not + know it. Not without result had William repeated Miss Pratt's inquiry in + Jane's hearing: “Who IS that curious child?” Jane had preserved her + sang-froid, but the words remained with her, for she was one of those who + ponder and retain in silence. + </p> + <p> + She thought almost exclusively of Mr. Parcher until breakfast-time, and + resumed her thinking of him at intervals during the morning. Then, in the + afternoon, a series of quiet events not unconnected with William's passion + caused her to think of Mr. Parcher more poignantly than ever; nor was her + mind diverted to a different channel by another confidential conversation + with her mother. Who can say, then, that it was not by design that she + came face to face with Mr. Parcher on the public highway at about five + o'clock that afternoon? Everything urges the belief that she deliberately + set herself in his path. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Parcher was walking home from his office, and he walked slowly, + gulping from time to time, as he thought of the inevitable evening before + him. His was not a rugged constitution, and for the last fortnight or so + he had feared that it was giving way altogether. Each evening he felt that + he was growing weaker, and sometimes he thought piteously that he might go + away for a while. He did not much care where, though what appealed to him + most, curiously enough, was not the thought of the country, with the + flowers and little birds; no, what allured him was the idea that perhaps + he could find lodgment for a time in an Old People's Home, where the + minimum age for inmates was about eighty. + </p> + <p> + Walking more and more slowly, as he approached the dwelling he had once + thought of as home, he became aware of a little girl in a checkered dress + approaching him at a gait varied by the indifferent behavior of a + barrel-hoop which she was disciplining with a stick held in her right + hand. When the hoop behaved well, she came ahead rapidly; when it affected + to be intoxicated, which was most often its whim, she zigzagged with it, + and gained little ground. But all the while, and without reference to what + went on concerning the hoop, she slowly and continuously fed herself (with + her left hand) small, solemnly relished bites of a slice of + bread-and-butter covered with apple sauce and powdered sugar. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Parcher looked upon her, and he shivered slightly; for he knew her to + be Willie Baxter's sister. + </p> + <p> + Unaware of the emotion she produced in him, Jane checked her hoop and + halted. + </p> + <p> + “G'd afternoon, Mister Parcher,” she said, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Good afternoon,” he returned, without much spirit. + </p> + <p> + Jane looked up at him trustfully and with a strange, unconscious fondness. + “You goin' home now, Mr. Parcher?” she asked, turning to walk at his side. + She had suspended the hoop over her left arm and transferred the + bread-and-butter and apple sauce and sugar to her right, so that she could + eat even more conveniently than before. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “My brother Willie's been at your house all afternoon,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + He repeated, “I suppose so,” but in a tone which combined the vocal tokens + of misery and of hopeless animosity. + </p> + <p> + “He just went home,” said Jane. “I was 'cross the street from your house, + but I guess he didn't see me. He kept lookin' back at your house. Miss + Pratt was on the porch.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so.” This time it was a moan. + </p> + <p> + Jane proceeded to give him some information. “My brother Willie isn't + comin' back to your house to-night, but he doesn't know it yet.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed Mr. Parcher. + </p> + <p> + “Willie isn't goin' to spend any more evenings at your house at all,” said + Jane, thoughtfully. “He isn't, but he doesn't know it yet.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Parcher gazed fixedly at the wonderful child, and something like a ray + of sunshine flickered over his seamed and harried face. “Are you SURE he + isn't?” he said. “What makes you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “I know he isn't,” said demure Jane. “It's on account of somep'm I told + mamma.” + </p> + <p> + And upon this a gentle glow began to radiate throughout Mr. Parcher. A new + feeling budded within his bosom; he was warmly attracted to Jane. She was + evidently a child to be cherished, and particularly to be encouraged in + the line of conduct she seemed to have adopted. He wished the Bullitt and + Watson families each had a little girl like this. Still, if what she said + of William proved true, much had been gained and life might be tolerable, + after all. + </p> + <p> + “He'll come in the afternoons, I guess,” said Jane. “But you aren't home + then, Mr. Parcher, except late like you were that day of the Sunday-school + class. It was on account of what you said that day. I told mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “Told your mamma what?” + </p> + <p> + “What you said.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Parcher's perplexity continued. “What about?” + </p> + <p> + “About Willie. YOU know!” Jane smiled fraternally. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “It was when I was layin' in the liberry, that day of the Sunday-school + class,” Jane told him. “You an' Mrs. Parcher was talkin' in there about + Miss Pratt an' Willie an' everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” Mr. Parcher, summoning his memory, had placed the occasion + and Jane together. “Did you HEAR all that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Jane nodded. “I told mamma all what you said.” + </p> + <p> + “Murder!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Jane, “I guess it's good I did, because look—that's the + very reason mamma did somep'm so's he can't come any more except in + daytime. I guess she thought Willie oughtn't to behave so's't you said so + many things about him like that; so to-day she did somep'm, an' now he + can't come any more to behave that loving way of Miss Pratt that you said + you would be in the lunatic asylum if he didn't quit. But he hasn't found + it out yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Found what out, please?” asked Mr. Parcher, feeling more affection for + Jane every moment. + </p> + <p> + “He hasn't found out he can't come back to your house to-night; an' he + can't come back to-morrow night, nor day-after-to-morrow night, nor—” + </p> + <p> + “Is it because your mamma is going to tell him he can't?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Parcher. Mamma says he's too old—an' she said she didn't + like to, anyway. She just DID somep'm.” + </p> + <p> + “What? What did she do?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a secret,” said Jane. “I could tell you the first part of it—up + to where the secret begins, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + “Do!” Mr. Parcher urged. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's about somep'm Willie's been WEARIN',” Jane began, moving + closer to him as they slowly walked onward. “I can't tell you what they + were, because that's the secret—but he had 'em on him every evening + when he came to see Miss Pratt, but they belong to papa, an' papa doesn't + know a word about it. Well, one evening papa wanted to put 'em on, because + he had a right to, Mr. Parcher, an' Willie didn't have any right to at + all, but mamma couldn't find 'em; an' she rummidged an' rummidged 'most + all next day an' pretty near every day since then an' never did find 'em, + until don't you believe I saw Willie inside of 'em only last night! He was + startin' over to your house to see Miss Pratt in 'em! So I told mamma, an' + she said it 'd haf to be a secret, so that's why I can't tell you what + they were. Well, an' then this afternoon, early, I was with her, an' she + said, long as I had told her the secret in the first place, I could come + in Willie's room with her, an' we both were already in there anyway, + 'cause I was kind of thinkin' maybe she'd go in there to look for 'em, Mr. + Parcher—” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” he said, admiringly. “I see.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, they were under Willie's window-seat, all folded up; an' mamma said + she wondered what she better do, an' she was worried because she didn't + like to have Willie behave so's you an' Mrs. Parcher thought that way + about him. So she said the—the secret—what Willie wears, you + know, but they're really papa's an' aren't Willie's any more'n they're + MINE—well, she said the secret was gettin' a little teeny bit too + tight for papa, but she guessed they—I mean the secret—she + said she guessed it was already pretty loose for Willie; so she wrapped it + up, an' I went with her, an' we took 'em to a tailor, an' she told him to + make 'em bigger, for a surprise for papa, 'cause then they'll fit him + again, Mr. Parcher. She said he must make 'em a whole lot bigger. She said + he must let 'em way, WAY out! So I guess Willie would look too funny in + 'em after they're fixed; an' anyway, Mr. Parcher, the secret won't be home + from the tailor's for two weeks, an' maybe by that time Miss Pratt'll be + gone.” + </p> + <p> + They had reached Mr. Parcher's gate; he halted and looked down fondly upon + this child who seemed to have read his soul. “Do you honestly think so?” + he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well, anyway, Mr. Parcher,” said Jane, “mamma said—well, she said + she's sure Willie wouldn't come here in the evening any more when YOU're + at home, Mr. Parcher—'cause after he'd been wearin' the secret every + night this way he wouldn't like to come and not have the secret on. Mamma + said the reason he would feel like that was because he was seventeen years + old. An' she isn't goin' to tell him anything about it, Mr. Parcher. She + said that's the best way.” + </p> + <p> + Her new friend nodded and seemed to agree. “I suppose that's what you + meant when you said he wasn't coming back but didn't know it yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Parcher.” + </p> + <p> + He rested an elbow upon the gate-post, gazing down with ever-increasing + esteem. “Of course I know your last name,” he said, “but I'm afraid I've + forgotten your other one.” + </p> + <p> + “It's Jane.” + </p> + <p> + “Jane,” said Mr. Parcher, “I should like to do something for you.” + </p> + <p> + Jane looked down, and with eyes modestly lowered she swallowed the last + fragment of the bread-and-butter and apple sauce and sugar which had been + the constantly evanescent companion of their little walk together. She was + not mercenary; she had sought no reward. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I guess I must run home,” she said. And with one lift of her eyes + to his and a shy laugh—laughter being a rare thing for Jane—she + scampered quickly to the corner and was gone. + </p> + <p> + But though she cared for no reward, the extraordinary restlessness of + William, that evening, after dinner, must at least have been of great + interest to her. He ascended to his own room directly from the table, but + about twenty minutes later came down to the library, where Jane was + sitting (her privilege until half after seven) with her father and mother. + William looked from one to the other of his parents and seemed about to + speak, but did not do so. Instead, he departed for the upper floor again + and presently could be heard moving about energetically in various parts + of the house, a remote thump finally indicating that he was doing + something with a trunk in the attic. + </p> + <p> + After that he came down to the library again and once more seemed about to + speak, but did not. Then he went up-stairs again, and came down again, and + he was still repeating this process when Jane's time-limit was reached and + she repaired conscientiously to her little bed. Her mother came to hear + her prayers and to turn out the light; and—when Mrs. Baxter had + passed out into the hall, after that, Jane heard her speaking to William, + who was now conducting what seemed to be excavations on a serious scale in + his own room. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Willie, perhaps I didn't tell you, but—you remember I'd been + missing papa's evening clothes and looking everywhere for days and days?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye—es,” huskily from William. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I found them! And where do you suppose I'd put them? I found them + under your window-seat. Can you think of anything more absurd than putting + them there and then forgetting it? I took them to the tailor's to have + them let out. They were getting too tight for papa, but they'll be all + right for him when the tailor sends them back.” + </p> + <p> + What the stricken William gathered from this it is impossible to state + with accuracy; probably he mixed some perplexity with his emotions. + Certainly he was perplexed the following evening at dinner. + </p> + <p> + Jane did not appear at the table. “Poor child! she's sick in bed,” Mrs. + Baxter explained to her husband. “I was out, this afternoon, and she ate + nearly ALL of a five-pound box of candy.” + </p> + <p> + Both the sad-eyed William and his father were dumfounded. “Where on earth + did she get a five-pound box of candy?” Mr. Baxter demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid Jane has begun her first affair,” said Mrs. Baxter. “A + gentleman sent it to her.” + </p> + <p> + “What gentleman?” gasped William. + </p> + <p> + And in his mother's eyes, as they slowly came to rest on his in reply, he + was aware of an inscrutability strongly remindful of that inscrutable look + of Jane's. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Parcher,” she said, gently. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII + </h2> + <h3> + PROGRESS OF THE SYMPTOMS + </h3> + <p> + Mrs. BAXTER'S little stroke of diplomacy had gone straight to the mark, + she was a woman of insight. For every reason she was well content to have + her son spend his evenings at home, though it cannot be claimed that his + presence enlivened the household, his condition being one of strange, + trancelike irascibility. Evening after evening passed, while he sat + dreaming painfully of Mr. Parcher's porch; but in the daytime, though + William did not literally make hay while the sun shone, he at least + gathered a harvest somewhat resembling hay in general character. + </p> + <p> + Thus: + </p> + <p> + One afternoon, having locked his door to secure himself against intrusion + on the part of his mother or Jane, William seated himself at his + writing-table, and from a drawer therein took a small cardboard box, which + he uncovered, placing the contents in view before him upon the table. (How + meager, how chilling a word is “contents”!) In the box were: + </p> + <p> + A faded rose. + </p> + <p> + Several other faded roses, disintegrated into leaves. + </p> + <p> + Three withered “four-leaf clovers.” + </p> + <p> + A white ribbon still faintly smelling of violets. + </p> + <p> + A small silver shoe-buckle. + </p> + <p> + A large pearl button. + </p> + <p> + A small pearl button. + </p> + <p> + A tortoise-shell hair-pin. + </p> + <p> + A cross-section from the heel of a small slipper. + </p> + <p> + A stringy remnant, probably once an improvised wreath of daisies. + </p> + <p> + Four or five withered dandelions. + </p> + <p> + Other dried vegetation, of a nature now indistinguishable. + </p> + <p> + William gazed reverently upon this junk of precious souvenirs; then from + the inner pocket of his coat he brought forth, warm and crumpled, a + lumpish cluster of red geranium blossoms, still aromatic and not quite + dead, though naturally, after three hours of such intimate confinement, + they wore an unmistakable look of suffering. With a tenderness which his + family had never observed in him since that piteous day in his fifth year + when he tried to mend his broken doll, William laid the geranium blossoms + in the cardboard box among the botanical and other relics. + </p> + <p> + His gentle eyes showed what the treasures meant to him, and yet it was + strange that they should have meant so much, because the source of supply + was not more than a quarter of a mile distant, and practically + inexhaustible. Miss Pratt had now been a visitor at the Parchers' for + something less than five weeks, but she had made no mention of prospective + departure, and there was every reason to suppose that she meant to remain + all summer. And as any foliage or anything whatever that she touched, or + that touched her, was thenceforth suitable for William's museum, there + appeared to be some probability that autumn might see it so enlarged as to + lack that rarity in the component items which is the underlying value of + most collections. + </p> + <p> + William's writing-table was beside an open window, through which came an + insistent whirring, unagreeable to his mood; and, looking down upon the + sunny lawn, he beheld three lowly creatures. One was Genesis; he was + cutting the grass. Another was Clematis; he had assumed a transient + attitude, curiously triangular, in order to scratch his ear, the while his + anxious eyes never wavered from the third creature. + </p> + <p> + This was Jane. In one hand she held a little stack of sugar-sprinkled + wafers, which she slowly but steadily depleted, unconscious of the + increasingly earnest protest, at last nearing agony, in the eyes of + Clematis. Wearing unaccustomed garments of fashion and festivity, Jane + stood, in speckless, starchy white and a blue sash, watching the + lawn-mower spout showers of grass as the powerful Genesis easily propelled + it along over lapping lanes, back and forth, across the yard. + </p> + <p> + From a height of illimitable loftiness the owner of the cardboard treasury + looked down upon the squat commonplaceness of those three lives. The + condition of Jane and Genesis and Clematis seemed almost laughably + pitiable to him, the more so because they were unaware of it. They + breathed not the starry air that William breathed, but what did it matter + to them? The wretched things did not even know that they meant nothing to + Miss Pratt! + </p> + <p> + Clematis found his ear too pliable for any great solace from his foot, but + he was not disappointed; he had expected little, and his thoughts were + elsewhere. Rising, he permitted his nose to follow his troubled eyes, with + the result that it touched the rim of the last wafer in Jane's external + possession. + </p> + <p> + This incident annoyed William. “Look there!” he called from the window. + “You mean to eat that cake after the dog's had his face on it?” + </p> + <p> + Jane remained placid. “It wasn't his face.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if it wasn't his face, I'd like to know what—” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't his face,” Jane repeated. “It was his nose. It wasn't all of + his nose touched it, either. It was only a little outside piece of his + nose.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, are you going to eat that cake, I ask you?” + </p> + <p> + Jane broke off a small bit of the wafer. She gave the bit to Clematis and + slowly ate what remained, continuing to watch Genesis and apparently + unconscious of the scorching gaze from the window. + </p> + <p> + “I never saw anything as disgusting as long as I've lived!” William + announced. “I wouldn't 'a' believed it if anybody'd told me a sister of + mine would eat after—” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't,” said Jane. “I like Clematis, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye gods!” her brother cried. “Do you think that makes it any better? And, + BY the WAY,” he continued, in a tone of even greater severity, “I'd a like + to know where you got those cakes. Where'd you get 'em, I'd just like to + inquire?” + </p> + <p> + “In the pantry.” Jane turned and moved toward the house. “I'm goin' in for + some more, now.” + </p> + <p> + William uttered a cry; these little cakes were sacred. His mother, growing + curious to meet a visiting lady of whom (so to speak) she had heard much + and thought more, had asked May Parcher to bring her guest for iced tea, + that afternoon. A few others of congenial age had been invited: there was + to be a small matinee, in fact, for the honor and pleasure of the son of + the house, and the cakes of Jane's onslaught were part of Mrs. Baxter's + preparations. There was no telling where Jane would stop; it was + conceivable that Miss Pratt herself might go waferless. + </p> + <p> + William returned the cardboard box to its drawer with reverent haste; + then, increasing the haste, but dropping the reverence, he hied himself to + the pantry with such advantage of longer legs that within the minute he + and the wafers appeared in conjunction before his mother, who was + arranging fruit and flowers upon a table in the “living-room.” + </p> + <p> + William entered in the stained-glass attitude of one bearing gifts. + Overhead, both hands supported a tin pan, well laden with small cakes and + wafers, for which Jane was silently but repeatedly and systematically + jumping. Even under the stress of these efforts her expression was cool + and collected; she maintained the self-possession that was characteristic + of her. + </p> + <p> + Not so with William; his cheeks were flushed, his eyes indignant. “You see + what this child is doing?” he demanded. “Are you going to let her ruin + everything?” + </p> + <p> + “Ruin?” Mrs. Baxter repeated, absently, refreshing with fair water a bowl + of flowers upon the table. “Ruin?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ruin!” William was hotly emphatic, “If you don't do something with + her it 'll all be ruined before Miss Pr— before they even get here!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter laughed. “Set the pan down, Willie.” + </p> + <p> + “Set it DOWN?” he echoed, incredulously “With that child in the room and + grabbing like—” + </p> + <p> + “There!” Mrs. Baxter took the pan from him, placed it upon a chair, and + with the utmost coolness selected five wafers and gave them to Jane. “I'd + already promised her she could have five more. You know the doctor said + Jane's digestion was the finest he'd ever misunderstood. They won't hurt + her at all, Willie.” + </p> + <p> + This deliberate misinterpretation of his motives made it difficult for + William to speak. “Do YOU think,” he began, hoarsely, “do you THINK—” + </p> + <p> + “They're so small, too,” Mrs. Baxter went on. “SHE probably wouldn't be + sick if she ate them all.” + </p> + <p> + “My heavens!” he burst forth. “Do you think I was worrying about—” + He broke off, unable to express himself save by a few gestures of despair. + Again finding his voice, and a great deal of it, he demanded: “Do you + realize that Miss PRATT will be here within less than half an hour? What + do you suppose she'd think of the people of this town if she was invited + out, expecting decent treatment, and found two-thirds of the cakes eaten + up before she got there, and what was left of 'em all mauled and pawed + over and crummy and chewed-up lookin' from some wretched CHILD?” Here + William became oratorical, but not with marked effect, since Jane regarded + him with unmoved eyes, while Mrs. Baxter continued to be mildly + preoccupied in arranging the table. In fact, throughout this episode in + controversy the ladies' party had not only the numerical but the emotional + advantage. Obviously, the approach of Miss Pratt was not to them what it + was to William. “I tell you,” he declaimed;—“yes, I tell you that it + wouldn't take much of this kind of thing to make Miss Pratt think the + people of this town were—well, it wouldn't take much to make her + think the people of this town hadn't learned much of how to behave in + society and were pretty uncilivized!” He corrected himself. “Uncivilized! + And to think Miss Pratt has to find that out in MY house! To think—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Willie,” said Mrs. Baxter, gently, “you'd better go up and brush + your hair again before your friends come. You mustn't let yourself get so + excited.” + </p> + <p> + “'Excited!'” he cried, incredulously. “Do you think I'm EXCITED? Ye gods!” + He smote his hands together and, in his despair of her intelligence, would + have flung himself down upon a chair, but was arrested half-way by + simultaneous loud outcries from his mother and Jane. + </p> + <p> + “Don't sit on the CAKES!” they both screamed. + </p> + <p> + Saving himself and the pan of wafers by a supreme contortion at the last + instant, William decided to remain upon his feet. “What do I care for the + cakes?” he demanded, contemptuously, beginning to pace the floor. “It's + the question of principle I'm talking about! Do you think it's right to + give the people of this town a poor name when strangers like Miss PRATT + come to vis—” + </p> + <p> + “Willie!” His mother looked at him hopelessly. “Do go and brush your hair. + If you could see how you've tousled it you would.” + </p> + <p> + He gave her a dazed glance and strode from the room. + </p> + <p> + Jane looked after him placidly. “Didn't he talk funny!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear,” said Mrs. Baxter. She shook her head and uttered the + enigmatic words, “They do.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean Willie, mamma,” said Jane. “If it's anything about Miss Pratt. he + always talks awful funny. Don't you think Willie talks awful funny if it's + anything about Miss Pratt, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but—” + </p> + <p> + “What, mamma?” Jane asked as her mother paused. + </p> + <p> + “Well—it happens. People do get like that at his age, Jane.” + </p> + <p> + “Does everybody?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I suppose not everybody. Just some.” + </p> + <p> + Jane's interest was roused. “Well, do those that do, mamma,” she inquired, + “do they all act like Willie?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mrs. Baxter. “That's the trouble; you can't tell what's + coming.” + </p> + <p> + Jane nodded. “I think I know,” she said. “You mean Willie—” + </p> + <p> + William himself interrupted her. He returned violently to the doorway, his + hair still tousled, and, standing upon the threshold, said, sternly: + </p> + <p> + “What is that child wearing her best dress for?” + </p> + <p> + “Willie!” Mrs. Baxter cried. “Go brush your hair!” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to know what that child is all dressed up for?” he insisted. + </p> + <p> + “To please you! Don't you want her to look her best at your tea?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought that was it!” he cried, and upon this confirmation of his worst + fears he did increased violence to his rumpled hair. “I suspected it, but + I wouldn't 'a' believed it! You mean to let this child—you mean to + let—” Here his agitation affected his throat and his utterance + became clouded. A few detached phrases fell from him: “—Invite MY + friends—children's party—ye gods!—think Miss Pratt plays + dolls—” + </p> + <p> + “Jane will be very good,” his mother said. “I shouldn't think of not + having her, Willie, and you needn't bother about your friends; they'll be + very glad to see her. They all know her, except Miss Pratt, perhaps, and—” + Mrs. Baxter paused; then she asked, absently: “By the way, haven't I heard + somewhere that she likes pretending to be a little girl, herself?” + </p> + <p> + “WHAT!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mrs. Baxter, remaining calm; “I'm sure I've heard somewhere + that she likes to talk 'baby-talk.'” + </p> + <p> + Upon this a tremor passed over William, after which he became rigid. “You + ask a lady to your house,” he began, “and even before she gets here, + before you've even seen her, you pass judgment upon one of the—one + of the noblest—” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious! <i>I</i> haven't 'passed judgment.' If she does talk + 'baby-talk,' I imagine she does it very prettily, and I'm sure I've no + objection. And if she does do it, why should you be insulted by my + mentioning it?” + </p> + <p> + “It was the way you said it,” he informed her, icily. + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious! I just said it!” Mrs. Baxter laughed, and then, probably a + little out of patience with him, she gave way to that innate + mischievousness in such affairs which is not unknown to her sex. “You see, + Willie, if she pretends to be a cunning little girl, it will be helpful to + Jane to listen and learn how.” + </p> + <p> + William uttered a cry; he knew that he was struck, but he was not sure how + or where. He was left with a blank mind and no repartee. Again he dashed + from the room. + </p> + <p> + In the hall, near the open front door, he came to a sudden halt, and Mrs. + Baxter and Jane heard him calling loudly to the industrious Genesis: + </p> + <p> + “Here! You go cut the grass in the back yard, and for Heaven's sake, take + that dog with you!” + </p> + <p> + “Grass awready cut roun' back,” responded the amiable voice of Genesis, + while the lawnmower ceased not to whir. “Cut all 'at back yod 's mawnin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can't cut the front yard now. Go around in the back yard and + take that dog with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nemmine 'bout 'at back yod! Ole Clem ain' trouble nobody.” + </p> + <p> + “You hear what I tell you?” William shouted. “You do what I say and you do + it quick!” + </p> + <p> + Genesis laughed gaily. “I got my grass to cut!” + </p> + <p> + “You decline to do what I command you?” William roared. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeedy! Who pay me my wages? 'At's MY boss. You' ma say, 'Genesis, + you git all 'at lawn mowed b'fo' sundown.' No, suh! Nee'n' was'e you' bref + on me, 'cause I'm got all MY time good an' took up!” + </p> + <p> + Once more William presented himself fatefully to his mother and Jane. “May + I just kindly ask you to look out in the front yard?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm familiar with it, Willie,” Mrs. Baxter returned, a little wearily. + </p> + <p> + “I mean I want you to look at Genesis.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm familiar with his appearance, too,” she said. “Why in the world do + you mind his cutting the grass?” + </p> + <p> + William groaned. “Do you honestly want guests coming to this house to see + that awful old darky out there and know that HE'S the kind of servants we + employ? Ye gods!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Genesis is just a neighborhood outdoors darky, Willie; he works for + half a dozen families besides us. Everybody in this part of town knows + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he cried, “but a lady that didn't live here wouldn't. Ye gods! What + do you suppose she WOULD think? You know what he's got on!” + </p> + <p> + “It's a sort of sleeveless jersey he wears, Willie, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you DON'T think that!” he cried, with great bitterness. “You know + it's not a jersey! You know perfectly well what it is, and yet you expect + to keep him out there when—when one of the one of the nobl—when + my friends arrive! And they'll think that's our DOG out there, won't they? + When intelligent people come to a house and see a dog sitting out in + front, they think it's the family in the house's dog, don't they?” + William's condition becoming more and more disordered, he paced the room, + while his agony rose to a climax. “Ye gods! What do you think Miss Pratt + will think of the people of this town, when she's invited to meet a few of + my friends and the first thing she sees is a nigger in his undershirt? + What 'll she think when she finds that child's eaten up half the food, and + the people have to explain that the dog in the front yard belongs to the + darky—” He interrupted himself with a groan: “And prob'ly she + wouldn't believe it. Anybody'd SAY they didn't own a dog like that! And + that's what you want her to see, before she even gets inside the house! + Instead of a regular gardener in livery like we ought to have, and a + bulldog or a good Airedale or a fox-hound, or something, the first things + you want intelligent people from out of town to see are that awful old + darky and his mongrel scratchin' fleas and like as not lettin' 'em get on + other people! THAT'd be nice, wouldn't it? Go out to tea expecting decent + treatment and get fl—” + </p> + <p> + “WILLIE!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter managed to obtain his attention. “If you'll go and brush your + hair I'll send Genesis and Clematis away for the rest of the afternoon. + And then if you 'll sit down quietly and try to keep cool until your + friends get here, I'll—” + </p> + <p> + “'Quietly'!” he echoed, shaking his head over this mystery. “I'm the only + one that IS quiet around here. Things 'd be in a fine condition to receive + guests if I didn't keep pretty cool, I guess!” + </p> + <p> + “There, there,” she said, soothingly. “Go and brush your hair. And change + your collar, Willie; it's all wilted. I'll send Genesis away.” + </p> + <p> + His wandering eye failed to meet hers with any intelligence. “Collar,” he + muttered, as if in soliloquy. “Collar.” + </p> + <p> + “Change it!” said Mrs. Baxter, raising her voice. “It's WILTED.” + </p> + <p> + He departed in a dazed manner. + </p> + <p> + Passing through the hall, he paused abruptly, his eye having fallen with + sudden disapproval upon a large, heavily framed, glass-covered engraving, + “The Battle of Gettysburg,” which hung upon the wall, near the front door. + Undeniably, it was a picture feeble in decorative quality; no doubt, too, + William was right in thinking it as unworthy of Miss Pratt, as were Jane + and Genesis and Clematis. He felt that she must never see it, especially + as the frame had been chipped and had a corner broken, but it was more + pleasantly effective where he found it than where (in his nervousness) he + left it. A few hasty jerks snapped the elderly green cords by which it was + suspended; then he laid the picture upon the floor and with his + handkerchief made a curious labyrinth of avenues in the large oblong area + of fine dust which this removal disclosed upon the wall. Pausing to wipe + his hot brow with the same implement, he remembered that some one had made + allusions to his collar and hair, whereupon he sprang to the stairs, + mounted two at a time, rushed into his own room, and confronted his + streaked image in the mirror. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII + </h2> + <h3> + AT HOME TO HIS FRIENDS + </h3> + <p> + After ablutions, he found his wet hair plastic, and easily obtained the + long, even sweep backward from the brow, lacking which no male person, + unless bald, fulfilled his definition of a man of the world. But there + ensued a period of vehemence and activity caused by a bent collar-button, + which went on strike with a desperation that was downright savage. The day + was warm and William was warmer; moisture bedewed him afresh. Belated + victory no sooner arrived than he perceived a fatal dimpling of the new + collar, and was forced to begin the operation of exchanging it for a + successor. Another exchange, however, he unfortunately forgot to make: the + handkerchief with which he had wiped the wall remained in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + Voices from below, making polite laughter, warned him that already some of + the bidden party had arrived, and, as he completed the fastening of his + third consecutive collar, an ecstasy of sound reached him through the open + window—and then, Oh then! his breath behaved in an abnormal manner + and he began to tremble. It was the voice of Miss Pratt, no less! + </p> + <p> + He stopped for one heart-struck look from his casement. All in fluffy + white and heliotrope she was—a blonde rapture floating over the + sidewalk toward William's front gate. Her little white cottony dog, with a + heliotrope ribbon round his neck, bobbed his head over her cuddling arm; a + heliotrope parasol shielded her infinitesimally from the amorous sun. Poor + William! + </p> + <p> + Two youths entirely in William's condition of heart accompanied the + glamorous girl and hung upon her rose-leaf lips, while Miss Parcher + appeared dimly upon the outskirts of the group, the well-known penalty for + hostesses who entertain such radiance. Probably it serves them right. + </p> + <p> + To William's reddening ear Miss Pratt's voice came clearly as the chiming + of tiny bells, for she spoke whimsically to her little dog in that + tinkling childlike fashion which was part of the spell she cast. + </p> + <p> + “Darlin' Flopit,” she said, “wake up! Oo tummin' to tea-potty wiz all de + drowed-ups. P'eshus Flopit, wake up!” + </p> + <p> + Dizzy with enchantment, half suffocated, his heart melting within him, + William turned from the angelic sounds and fairy vision of the window. He + ran out of the room, and plunged down the front stairs. And the next + moment the crash of breaking glass and the loud thump-bump of a heavily + falling human body resounded through the house. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter, alarmed, quickly excused herself from the tea-table, round + which were gathered four or five young people, and hastened to the front + hall, followed by Jane. Through the open door were seen Miss Pratt, Miss + Parcher, Mr. Johnnie Watson and Mr. Joe Bullitt coming leisurely up the + sunny front walk, laughing and unaware of the catastrophe which had just + occurred within the shadows of the portal. And at a little distance from + the foot of the stairs William was seated upon the prostrate “Battle of + Gettysburg.” + </p> + <p> + “It slid,” he said, hoarsely. “I carried it upstairs with me”—he + believed this—“and somebody brought it down and left it lying flat + on the floor by the bottom step on purpose to trip me! I stepped on it and + it slid.” He was in a state of shock: it seemed important to impress upon + his mother the fact that the picture had not remained firmly in place when + he stepped upon it. “It SLID, I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + “Get up, Willie!” she urged, under her breath, and as he summoned enough + presence of mind to obey, she beheld ruins other than the wrecked + engraving. She stifled a cry. “WILLIE! Did the glass cut you?” + </p> + <p> + He felt himself. “No'm.” + </p> + <p> + “It did your trousers! You'll have to change them. Hurry!” + </p> + <p> + Some of William's normal faculties were restored to him by one hasty + glance at the back of his left leg, which had a dismantled appearance. A + long blue strip of cloth hung there, with white showing underneath. + </p> + <p> + “HURRY!” said Mrs. Baxter. And hastily gathering some fragments of glass, + she dropped them upon the engraving, pushed it out of the way, and went + forward to greet Miss Pratt and her attendants. + </p> + <p> + As for William, he did not even pause to close his mouth, but fled with it + open. Upward he sped, unseen, and came to a breathless halt upon the + landing at the top of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + As it were in a dream he heard his mother's hospitable greetings at the + door, and then the little party lingered in the hall, detained by Miss + Pratt's discovery of Jane. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, tweetums tootums ickle dirl!” he heard the ravishing voice exclaim. + “Oh, tootums ickle blue sash!” + </p> + <p> + “It cost a dollar and eighty-nine cents,” said Jane. “Willie sat on the + cakes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, he didn't,” Mrs. Baxter laughed. “He didn't QUITE!” + </p> + <p> + “He had to go up-stairs,” said Jane. And as the stricken listener above + smote his forehead, she added placidly, “He tore a hole in his clo'es.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed about to furnish details, her mood being communicative, but + Mrs. Baxter led the way into the “living-room”; the hall was vacated, and + only the murmur of voices and laughter reached William. What descriptive + information Jane may have added was spared his hearing, which was a mercy. + </p> + <p> + And yet it may be that he could not have felt worse than he did; for there + IS nothing worse than to be seventeen and to hear one of the Noblest girls + in the world told by a little child that you sat on the cakes and tore a + hole in your clo'es. + </p> + <p> + William leaned upon the banister railing and thought thoughts about Jane. + For several long, seething moments he thought of her exclusively. Then, + spurred by the loud laughter of rivals and the agony of knowing that even + in his own house they were monopolizing the attention of one of the + Noblest, he hastened into his own, room and took account of his reverses. + </p> + <p> + Standing with his back to the mirror, he obtained over his shoulder a view + of his trousers which caused him to break out in a fresh perspiration. + Again he wiped his forehead with the handkerchief, and the result was + instantly visible in the mirror. + </p> + <p> + The air thickened with sounds of frenzy, followed by a torrential roar and + great sputterings in a bath-room, which tumult subsiding, William returned + at a tragic gallop to his room and, having removed his trousers, began a + feverish examination of the garments hanging in a clothes-closet. There + were two pairs of flannel trousers which would probably again be white and + possible, when cleaned and pressed, but a glance showed that until then + they were not to be considered as even the last resort of desperation. + Beside them hung his “last year's summer suit” of light gray. + </p> + <p> + Feverishly he brought it forth, threw off his coat, and then—deflected + by another glance at the mirror—began to change his collar again. + This was obviously necessary, and to quicken the process he decided to + straighten the bent collar-button. Using a shoe-horn as a lever, he + succeeded in bringing the little cap or head of the button into its proper + plane, but, unfortunately, his final effort dislodged the cap from the rod + between it and the base, and it flew off malignantly into space. Here was + a calamity; few things are more useless than a decapitated collar-button, + and William had no other. He had made sure that it was his last before he + put it on, that day; also he had ascertained that there was none in, on, + or about his father's dressing-table. Finally, in the possession of + neither William nor his father was there a shirt with an indigenous + collar. + </p> + <p> + For decades, collar-buttons have been on the hand-me-down shelves of + humor; it is a mistake in the catalogue. They belong to pathos. They have + done harm in the world, and there have been collar-buttons that failed + when the destinies of families hung upon them. There have been + collar-buttons that thwarted proper matings. There have been + collar-buttons that bore last hopes, and, falling to the floor, NEVER were + found! William's broken collar-button was really the only collar-button in + the house, except such as were engaged in serving his male guests below. + </p> + <p> + At first he did not realize the extent of his misfortune. How could he? + Fate is always expected to deal its great blows in the grand manner. But + our expectations are fustian spangled with pinchbeck; we look for tragedy + to be theatrical. Meanwhile, every day before our eyes, fate works on, + employing for its instruments the infinitesimal, the ignoble and the petty—in + a word, collar-buttons. + </p> + <p> + Of course William searched his dressing-table and his father's, although + he had been thoroughly over both once before that day. Next he went + through most of his mother's and Jane's accessories to the toilette; + through trinket-boxes, glove-boxes, hairpin-boxes, handkerchief-cases—even + through sewing-baskets. Utterly he convinced himself that ladies not only + use no collar-buttons, but also never pick them up and put them away among + their own belongings. How much time he consumed in this search is + difficult to reckon;—it is almost impossible to believe that there + is absolutely no collar-button in a house. + </p> + <p> + And what William's state of mind had become is matter for exorbitant + conjecture. Jane, arriving at his locked door upon an errand, was bidden + by a thick, unnatural voice to depart. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma says, 'What in mercy's name is the matter?'” Jane called. “She + whispered to me, 'Go an' see what in mercy's name is the matter with + Willie; an' if the glass cut him, after all; an' why don't he come down'; + an' why don't you, Willie? We're all havin' the nicest time!” + </p> + <p> + “You g'way!” said the strange voice within the room. “G'way!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, did the glass cut you?” + </p> + <p> + “No! Keep quiet! G'way!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, are you EVER comin' down to your party?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am! G'way!” + </p> + <p> + Jane obeyed, and William somehow completed the task upon which he was + engaged. Genius had burst forth from his despair; necessity had become a + mother again, and William's collar was in place. It was tied there. Under + his necktie was a piece of string. + </p> + <p> + He had lost count of time, but he was frantically aware of its passage; + agony was in the thought of so many rich moments frittered away; + up-stairs, while Joe Bullitt and Johnnie Watson made hay below. And there + was another spur to haste in his fear that the behavior of Mrs. Baxter + might not be all that the guest of honor would naturally expect of + William's mother. As for Jane, his mind filled with dread; shivers passed + over him at intervals. + </p> + <p> + It was a dismal thing to appear at a “party” (and that his own) in “last + summer's suit,” but when he had hastily put it on and faced the mirror, he + felt a little better—for three or four seconds. Then he turned to + see how the back of it looked. + </p> + <p> + And collapsed in a chair, moaning. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV + </h2> + <h3> + TIME DOES FLY + </h3> + <p> + He remembered now what he had been too hurried to remember earlier. He had + worn these clothes on the previous Saturday, and, returning from a + glorified walk with Miss Pratt, he had demonstrated a fact to which his + near-demolition of the wafers, this afternoon, was additional testimony. + This fact, roughly stated, is that a person of seventeen, in love, is + liable to sit down anywhere. William had dreamily seated himself upon a + tabouret in the library, without noticing that Jane had left her open + paint-box there. Jane had just been painting sunsets; naturally all the + little blocks of color were wet, and the effect upon William's pale-gray + trousers was marvelous—far beyond the capacity of his coat to + conceal. Collar-buttons and children's paint-boxes—those are the + trolls that lie in wait! + </p> + <p> + The gray clothes and the flannel trousers had been destined for the + professional cleaner, and William, rousing himself from a brief stupor, + made a piteous effort to substitute himself for that expert so far as the + gray trousers were concerned. He divested himself of them and brought + water, towels, bath-soap, and a rubber bath-sponge to the bright light of + his window; and; there, with touching courage and persistence, he tried to + scrub the paint out of the cloth. He obtained cloud studies and marines + which would have interested a Post-Impressionist, but upon trousers they + seemed out of place. + </p> + <p> + There came one seeking and calling him again; raps sounded upon the door, + which he had not forgotten to lock. + </p> + <p> + “Willie,” said a serious voice, “mamma wants to know what in mercy's name + is the matter! She wants to know if you know for mercy's name what time it + is! She wants to know what in mercy's name you think they're all goin' to + think! She says—” + </p> + <p> + “G'WAY!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she said I had to find out what in mercy's name you're doin', + Willie.” + </p> + <p> + “You tell her,” he shouted, hoarsely—“tell her I'm playin' dominoes! + What's she THINK I'm doin'?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess”—Jane paused, evidently to complete the swallowing of + something—“I guess she thinks you're goin' crazy. I don't like Miss + Pratt, but she lets me play with that little dog. It's name's Flopit!” + </p> + <p> + “You go 'way from that door and stop bothering me,” said William. “I got + enough on my mind!” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma looks at Miss Pratt,” Jane remarked. “Miss Pratt puts cakes in that + Mr. Bullitt's mouth and Johnnie Watson's mouth, too. She's awful.” + </p> + <p> + William made it plain that these bulletins from the party found no favor + with him. He bellowed, “If you don't get away from that DOOR—” + </p> + <p> + Jane was interested in the conversation, but felt that it would be better + to return to the refreshment-table. There she made use of her own + conception of a whisper to place before her mother a report which was + considered interesting and even curious by every one present; though, such + was the courtesy of the little assembly, there was a general pretense of + not hearing. + </p> + <p> + “I told him,” thus whispered Jane, “an' he said, 'You g'way from that door + or I'll do somep'm'—he didn't say what, mamma. He said, 'What you + think I'm doin'? I'm playin' dominoes.' He didn't mean he WAS playin' + dominoes, mamma. He just said he was. I think maybe he was just lookin' in + the lookin'-glass some more.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter was becoming embarrassed. She resolved to go to William's room + herself at the first opportunity; but for some time her conscientiousness + as a hostess continued to occupy her at the table, and then, when she + would have gone, Miss Pratt detained her by a roguish appeal to make Mr. + Bullitt and Mr. Watson behave. Both refused all nourishment except such as + was placed in their mouths by the delicate hand of one of the Noblest, and + the latter said that really she wanted to eat a little tweetie now and + then herself, and not to spend her whole time feeding the Men. For Miss + Pratt had the same playfulness with older people that she had with those + of her own age; and she elaborated her pretended quarrel with the two + young gentlemen, taking others of the dazzled company into her confidence + about it, and insisting upon “Mamma Batster's” acting formally as judge to + settle the difficulty. However, having thus arranged matters, Miss Pratt + did not resign the center of interest, but herself proposed a compromise: + she would continue to feed Mr. Bullitt and Mr. Watson “every other + tweetie”—that is, each must agree to eat a cake “all by him own + self,” after every cake fed to him. So the comedietta went on, to the + running accompaniment of laughter, with Mr. Bullitt and Mr. Watson swept + by such gusts of adoration they were like to perish where they sat. But + Mrs. Baxter's smiling approval was beginning to be painful to the muscles + of her face, for it was hypocritical. And if William had known her + thoughts about one of the Noblest, he could only have attributed them to + that demon of groundless prejudice which besets all females, but most + particularly and outrageously the mothers and sisters of Men. + </p> + <p> + A colored serving-maid entered with a laden tray, and, having disposed of + its freight of bon-bons among the guests, spoke to Mrs. Baxter in a low + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Could you manage step in the back hall a minute, please, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter managed and, having closed the door upon the laughing voices, + asked, quickly—“What is it, Adelia? Have you seen Mr. William? Do + you know why he doesn't come down?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm,” said Adelia. “He gone mighty near out his head, Miz Baxter.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. He come floppin' down the back stairs in his baf-robe li'l' while + ago. He jes' gone up again. He 'ain't got no britches, Miz Baxter.” + </p> + <p> + “No WHAT?” + </p> + <p> + “No'm,” said Adelia. “He 'ain't got no britches at all.” + </p> + <p> + A statement of this kind is startling under Almost any circumstances, and + it is unusually so when made in reference to a person for whom a party is + being given. Therefore it was not unreasonable of Mrs. Baxter to lose her + breath. + </p> + <p> + “But—it can't BE!” she gasped. “He has! He has plenty!” + </p> + <p> + “No'm, he 'ain't,” Adelia assured her. “An' he's carryin' on so I don't + scarcely think he knows much what he's doin', Miz Baxter. He brung down + some gray britches to the kitchen to see if I couldn' press an' clean 'em + right quick: they was the ones Miss Jane, when she's paintin' all them + sunsets, lef' her paint-box open, an' one them sunsets got on these here + gray britches, Miz Baxter; an' hones'ly, Miz Baxter, he's fixed 'em in a + condishum, tryin' to git that paint out, I don't believe it 'll be no use + sendin' 'em to the cleaner. 'Clean 'em an' press 'em QUICK?' I says. 'I + couldn' clean 'em by Resurreckshum, let alone pressin' 'em!' No'm! Well, + he had his blue britches, too, but they's so ripped an' tore an' kind o' + shredded away in one place, the cook she jes' hollered when he spread 'em + out, an' he didn' even ast me could I mend 'em. An' he had two pairs o' + them white flannen britches, but hones'ly, Miz Baxter, I don't scarcely + think Genesis would wear 'em, the way they is now! 'Well,' I says, 'ain't + but one thing lef' to do <i>I</i> can see,' I says. 'Why don't you go put + on that nice black suit you had las' winter?'” + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” Mrs. Baxter cried. “I'll go and—” + </p> + <p> + “No'm,” said Adelia. “You don' need to. He's up in the attic now, r'arin' + roun' 'mongs' them trunks, but seem to me like I remember you put that + suit away under the heavy blankets in that big cedar ches' with the + padlock. If you jes' tell me where is the key, I take it up to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Under the bureau in the spare room,” said Mrs. Baxter. “HURRY!” + </p> + <p> + Adelia hurried; and, fifteen minutes later, William, for the last time + that afternoon, surveyed himself in his mirror. His face showed the strain + that had been upon him and under which he still labored; the black suit + was a map of creases, and William was perspiring more freely than ever + under the heavy garments. But at least he was clothed. + </p> + <p> + He emptied his pockets, disgorging upon the floor a multitude of small + white spheres, like marbles. Then, as he stepped out into the hall, he + discovered that their odor still remained about him; so he stopped and + carefully turned his pockets inside out, one after the other, but finding + that he still smelled vehemently of the “moth-balls,” though not one + remained upon him, he went to his mother's room and sprinkled violet + toilet-water upon his chest and shoulders. He disliked such odors, but + that left by the moth-balls was intolerable, and, laying hands upon a + canister labeled “Hyacinth,” he contrived to pour a quantity of scented + powder inside his collar, thence to be distributed by the force of gravity + so far as his dampness permitted. + </p> + <p> + Lo, William was now ready to go to his party! Moist, wilted, smelling + indeed strangely, he was ready. + </p> + <p> + But when he reached the foot of the stairs he discovered that there was + one thing more to be done. Indignation seized him, and also a creeping + fear chilled his spine, as he beheld a lurking shape upon the porch, + stealthily moving toward the open door. It was the lowly Clematis, dog + unto Genesis. + </p> + <p> + William instantly divined the purpose of Clematis. It was debatable + whether Clematis had remained upon the premises after the departure of + Genesis, or had lately returned thither upon some errand of his own, but + one thing was certain, and the manner of Clematis—his attitude, his + every look, his every gesture—made it as clear as day. Clematis had + discovered, by one means or another, the presence of Flopit in the house, + and had determined to see him personally. + </p> + <p> + Clematis wore his most misleading expression; a stranger would have + thought him shy and easily turned from his purpose—but William was + not deceived. He knew that if Clematis meant to see Flopit, a strong will, + a ready brain, and stern action were needed to thwart him; but at all + costs that meeting must be prevented. Things had been awful enough, + without that! + </p> + <p> + He was well aware that Clematis could not be driven away, except + temporarily, for nothing was further fixed upon Clematis than his habit of + retiring under pressure, only to return and return again. True, the door + could have been shut in the intruder's face, but he would have sought + other entrance with possible success, or, failing that, would have awaited + in the front yard the dispersal of the guests and Flopit's consequent + emerging. This was a contretemps not to be endured. + </p> + <p> + The door of the living-room was closed, muffling festal noises and + permitting safe passage through the hall. William cast a hunted look over + his shoulder; then he approached Clematis. + </p> + <p> + “Good ole doggie,” he said, huskily. “Hyuh, Clem! Hyuh, Clem!” + </p> + <p> + Clematis moved sidelong, retreating with his head low and his tail + denoting anxious thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Hyuh, Clem!” said William, trying, with only fair success, to keep his + voice from sounding venomous. “Hyuh, Clem!” + </p> + <p> + Clematis continued his deprecatory retreat. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon William essayed a ruse—he pretended to nibble at + something, and then extended his hand as if it held forth a gift of food. + “Look, Clem,” he said. “Yum-yum! Meat, Clem! Good meat!” + </p> + <p> + For once Clematis was half credulous. He did not advance, but he elongated + himself to investigate the extended hand, and the next instant found + himself seized viciously by the scruff of the neck. He submitted to + capture in absolute silence. Only the slightest change of countenance + betrayed his mortification at having been found so easy a gull; this + passed, and a look of resolute stoicism took its place. + </p> + <p> + He refused to walk, but offered merely nominal resistance, as a formal + protest which he wished to be of record, though perfectly understanding + that it availed nothing at present. William dragged him through the long + hall and down a short passageway to the cellar door. This he opened, + thrust Clematis upon the other side of it, closed and bolted it. + </p> + <p> + Immediately a stentorian howl raised blood-curdling echoes and resounded + horribly through the house. It was obvious that Clematis intended to make + a scene, whether he was present at it or not. He lifted his voice in + sonorous dolor, stating that he did not like the cellar and would continue + thus to protest as long as he was left in it alone. He added that he was + anxious to see Flopit and considered it an unexampled outrage that he was + withheld from the opportunity. + </p> + <p> + Smitten with horror, William reopened the door and charged down the cellar + stairs after Clematis, who closed his caitiff mouth and gave way + precipitately. He fled from one end of the cellar to the other and back, + while William pursued; choking, and calling in low, ferocious tones: “Good + doggie! Good ole doggie! Hyuh, Clem! Meat, Clem, meat—” + </p> + <p> + There was dodging through coal-bins; there was squirming between barrels; + there was high jumping and broad jumping, and there was a final aspiring + but baffled dash for the top of the cellar stairs, where the door, + forgotten by William, stood open. But it was here that Clematis, after a + long and admirable exhibition of ingenuity, no less than agility, + submitted to capture. That is to say, finding himself hopelessly pinioned, + he resumed the stoic. + </p> + <p> + Grimly the panting and dripping William dragged him through the kitchen, + where the cook cried out unintelligibly, seeming to summon Adelia, who was + not present. Through the back yard went captor and prisoner, the latter + now maintaining a seated posture—his pathetic conception of dignity + under duress. Finally, into a small shed or tool-house, behind Mrs. + Baxter's flower-beds, went Clematis in a hurried and spasmodic manner. The + instant the door slammed he lifted his voice—and was bidden to use + it now as much as he liked. + </p> + <p> + Adelia, with a tray of used plates, encountered the son of the house as he + passed through the kitchen on his return, and her eyes were those of one + who looks upon miracles. + </p> + <p> + William halted fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” he demanded. “Is my face dirty?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean, are it too dirty to go in yonduh to the party?” Adelia asked, + slowly. “No, suh; you look all right to go in there. You lookin' jes' fine + to go in there now, Mist' Willie!” + </p> + <p> + Something in her tone struck him as peculiar, even as ominous, but his + blood was up—he would not turn back now. He strode into the hall and + opened the door of the “living-room.” + </p> + <p> + Jane was sitting on the floor, busily painting sunsets in a large + blank-book which she had obtained for that exclusive purpose. + </p> + <p> + She looked up brightly as William appeared in the doorway, and in answer + to his wild gaze she said: + </p> + <p> + “I got a little bit sick, so mamma told me to keep quiet a while. She's + lookin' for you all over the house. She told papa she don't know what in + mercy's name people are goin' to think about you, Willie.” + </p> + <p> + The distraught youth strode to her. “The party—” he choked. “WHERE—” + </p> + <p> + “They all stayed pretty long,” said Jane, “but the last ones said they had + to go home to their dinners when papa came, a little while ago. Johnnie + Watson was carryin' Flopit for that Miss Pratt.” + </p> + <p> + William dropped into the chair beside which Jane had established herself + upon the floor. Then he uttered a terrible cry and rose. + </p> + <p> + Again Jane had painted a sunset she had not intended. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV + </h2> + <h3> + ROMANCE OF STATISTICS + </h3> + <p> + On a warm morning, ten days later, William stood pensively among his + mother's flowerbeds behind the house, his attitude denoting a low state of + vitality. Not far away, an aged negro sat upon a wheelbarrow in the hot + sun, tremulously yet skilfully whittling a piece of wood into the shape of + a boat, labor more to his taste, evidently, than that which he had + abandoned at the request of Jane. Allusion to this preference for a + lighter task was made by Genesis, who was erecting a trellis on the border + of the little garden. + </p> + <p> + “Pappy whittle all day,” he chuckled. “Whittle all night, too! Pappy, I + thought you 'uz goin' to git 'at long bed all spade' up fer me by noon. + Ain't 'at what you tole me?” + </p> + <p> + “You let him alone, Genesis,” said Jane, who sat by the old man's side, + deeply fascinated. “There's goin' to be a great deal of rain in the next + few days maybe, an' I haf to have this boat ready.” + </p> + <p> + The aged darky lifted his streaky and diminished eyes to the burnished + sky, and laughed. “Rain come some day, anyways,” he said. “We git de boat + ready 'fo' she fall, dat sho.” His glance wandered to William and rested + upon him with feeble curiosity. “Dat ain' yo' pappy, is it?” he asked + Jane. + </p> + <p> + “I should say it isn't!” she exclaimed. “It's Willie. He was only + seventeen about two or three months ago, Mr. Genesis.” This was not the + old man's name, but Jane had evolved it, inspired by respect for one so + aged and so kind about whittling. He was the father of Genesis, and the + latter, neither to her knowledge nor to her imagination, possessed a + surname. + </p> + <p> + “I got cat'rack in my lef' eye,” said Mr. Genesis, “an' de right one, she + kine o' tricksy, too. Tell black man f'um white man, little f'um big.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd hate it if he was papa,” said Jane, confidentially. “He's always + cross about somep'm, because he's in love.” She approached her mouth to + her whittling friend's ear and continued in a whisper: “He's in love of + Miss Pratt. She's out walkin' with Joe Bullitt. I was in the front yard + with Willie, an' we saw 'em go by. He's mad.” + </p> + <p> + William did not hear her. Moodily, he had discovered that there was + something amiss with the buckle of his belt, and, having ungirded himself, + he was biting the metal tongue of the buckle in order to straighten it. + This fell under the observation of Genesis, who remonstrated. + </p> + <p> + “You break you' teef on 'at buckle,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No, I won't, either,” William returned, crossly. + </p> + <p> + “Ain' my teef,” said Genesis. “Break 'em, you want to!” + </p> + <p> + The attention of Mr. Genesis did not seem to be attracted to the speakers; + he continued his whittling in a craftsman-like manner, which brought + praise from Jane. + </p> + <p> + “You can see to whittle, Mr. Genesis,” she said. “You whittle better than + anybody in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “I speck so, mebbe,” Mr. Genesis returned, with a little complacency. “How + ole yo' pappy?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's OLD!” Jane explained. + </p> + <p> + William deigned to correct her. “He's not old, he's middle-aged.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, suh,” said Mr. Genesis, “I had three chillum 'fo' I 'uz twenty. I + had two when I 'uz eighteem.” + </p> + <p> + William showed sudden interest. “You did!” he exclaimed. “How old were you + when you had the first one?” + </p> + <p> + “I 'uz jes' yo' age,” said the old man. “I 'uz seventeem.” + </p> + <p> + “By George!” cried William. + </p> + <p> + Jane seemed much less impressed than William, seventeen being a long way + from ten, though, of course, to seventeen itself hardly any information + could be imagined as more interesting than that conveyed by the words of + the aged Mr. Genesis. The impression made upon William was obviously + profound and favorable. + </p> + <p> + “By George!” he cried again. + </p> + <p> + “Genesis he de youngis' one,” said the old man. “Genesis he 'uz bawn when + I 'uz sixty-one.” + </p> + <p> + William moved closer. “What became of the one that was born when you were + seventeen?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well, suh,” said Mr. Genesis, “I nev' did know.” + </p> + <p> + At this, Jane's interest equaled William's. Her eyes consented to leave + the busy hands of the aged darky, and, much enlarged, rose to his face. + After a little pause of awe and sympathy she inquired: + </p> + <p> + “Was it a boy or a girl?” + </p> + <p> + The old man deliberated within himself. “Seem like it mus' been a boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Did it die?” Jane asked, softly. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon it mus' be dead by now,” he returned, musingly. “Good many of + 'em dead: what I KNOWS is dead. Yes'm, I reckon so.” + </p> + <p> + “How old were you when you were married?” William asked, with a manner of + peculiar earnestness;—it was the manner of one who addresses a + colleague. + </p> + <p> + “Me? Well, suh, dat 'pen's.” He seemed to search his memory. “I rickalect + I 'uz ma'ied once in Looavle,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Jane's interest still followed the first child. “Was that where it was + born, Mr. Genesis?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He looked puzzled, and paused in his whittling to rub his deeply + corrugated forehead. “Well, suh, mus' been some bawn in Looavle. Genesis,” + he called to his industrious son, “whaih 'uz YOU bawn?” + </p> + <p> + “Right 'n 'is town,” laughed Genesis. “You fergit a good deal, pappy, but + I notice you don' fergit come to meals!” + </p> + <p> + The old man grunted, resuming his whittling busily. “Hain' much use,” he + complained. “Cain' eat nuff'm 'lessen it all gruelly. Man cain' eat nuff'm + 'lessen he got teef. Genesis, di'n' I hyuh you tellin' dis white gemmun + take caih his teef—not bite on no i'on?” + </p> + <p> + William smiled in pity. “I don't need to bother about that, I guess,” he + said. “I can crack nuts with my teeth.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, suh,” said the old man. “You kin now. Ev'y nut you crac' now goin' + cos' you a yell when you git 'long 'bout fawty an' fifty. You crack nuts + now an' you'll holler den!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I guess I won't worry myself much now about what won't happen till + I'm forty or fifty,” said William. “My teeth 'll last MY time, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + That brought a chuckle from Mr. Genesis. “Jes' listen!” he exclaimed. + “Young man think he ain' nev' goin' be ole man. Else he think, 'Dat ole + man what I'm goin' to be, dat ain' goin' be me 'tall—dat goin' be + somebody else! What I caih 'bout dat ole man? I ain't a-goin' take caih o' + no teef fer HIM!' Yes, suh, an' den when he GIT to be ole man, he say, + 'What become o' dat young man I yoosta be? Where is dat young man agone + to? He 'uz a fool, dat's what—an' <i>I</i> ain' no fool, so he mus' + been somebody else, not me; but I do jes' wish I had him hyuh 'bout two + minutes—long enough to lam him fer not takin' caih o' my teef fer + me!' Yes, suh!” + </p> + <p> + William laughed; his good humor was restored and he found the conversation + of Mr. Genesis attractive. He seated himself upon an upturned bucket near + the wheelbarrow, and reverted to a former theme. “Well, I HAVE heard of + people getting married even younger 'n you were,” he said. “You take + India, for instance. Why, they get married in India when they're twelve, + and even seven and eight years old.” + </p> + <p> + “They do not!” said Jane, promptly. “Their mothers and fathers wouldn't + let 'em, an' they wouldn't want to, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you been to India and know all about it!” William retorted. + “For the matter o' that, there was a young couple got married in + Pennsylvania the other day; the girl was only fifteen, and the man was + sixteen. It was in the papers, and their parents consented, and said it + was a good thing. Then there was a case in Fall River, Massachusetts, + where a young man eighteen years old married a woman forty-one years old; + it was in the papers, too. And I heard of another case somewhere in Iowa—a + boy began shaving when he was thirteen, and shaved every day for four + years, and now he's got a full beard, and he's goin' to get married this + year—before he's eighteen years old. Joe Bullitt's got a cousin in + Iowa that knows about this case—he knows the girl this fellow with + the beard is goin' to marry, and he says he expects it 'll turn out the + best thing could have happened. They're goin' to live on a farm. There's + hunderds of cases like that, only you don't hear of more'n just a few of + 'em. People used to get married at sixteen, seventeen, eighteen—anywhere + in there—and never think anything of it at all. Right up to about a + hunderd years ago there were more people married at those ages than there + were along about twenty-four and twenty-five, the way they are now. For + instance, you take Shakespeare—” + </p> + <p> + William paused. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Genesis was scraping the hull of the miniature boat with a piece of + broken glass, in lieu of sandpaper, but he seemed to be following his + young friend's remarks with attention. William had mentioned Shakespeare + impulsively, in the ardor of demonstrating his point; however, upon second + thought he decided to withdraw the name. + </p> + <p> + “I mean, you take the olden times,” he went on; “hardly anybody got + married after they were nineteen or twenty years old, unless they were + widowers, because they were all married by that time. And right here in + our own county, there were eleven couples married in the last six months + under twenty-one years of age. I've got a friend named Johnnie Watson; his + uncle works down at the court-house and told him about it, so it can't be + denied. Then there was a case I heard of over in—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Genesis uttered a loud chuckle. “My goo'ness!” he exclaimed. “How you + c'leck all' dem fac's? Lan' name! What puzzlin' ME is how you 'member 'em + after you done c'leck 'em. Ef it uz me I couldn't c'leck 'em in de firs' + place, an' ef I could, dey wouldn' be no use to me, 'cause I couldn't + rickalect 'em!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it isn't so hard,” said William, “if you kind of get the hang of + it.” Obviously pleased, he plucked a spear of grass and placed it between + his teeth, adding, “I always did have a pretty good memory.” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma says you're the most forgetful boy she ever heard of,” said Jane, + calmly. “She says you can't remember anything two minutes.” + </p> + <p> + William's brow darkened. “Now look here—” he began, with severity. + </p> + <p> + But the old darky intervened. “Some folks got good rickaleckshum an' some + folks got bad,” he said, pacifically. “Young white germmun rickalect mo' + in two minute dan what I kin in two years!” + </p> + <p> + Jane appeared to accept this as settlement of the point at issue, while + William bestowed upon Mr. Genesis a glance of increased favor. William's + expression was pleasant to see; in fact, it was the pleasantest expression + Jane had seen him wearing for several days. Almost always, lately, he was + profoundly preoccupied, and so easily annoyed that there was no need to be + careful of his feelings, because—as his mother observed—he was + “certain to break out about every so often, no matter what happened!” + </p> + <p> + “I remember pretty much everything,” he said, as if in modest explanation + of the performance which had excited the aged man's admiration. “I can + remember things that happened when I was four years old.” + </p> + <p> + “So can I,” said Jane. “I can remember when I was two. I had a kitten fell + down the cistern and papa said it hurt the water.” + </p> + <p> + “My goo'ness!” Mr. Genesis exclaimed. “An' you 'uz on'y two year ole, + honey! Bes' <i>I</i> kin do is rickalect when I 'uz 'bout fifty.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no!” Jane protested. “You said you remembered havin' a baby when you + were seventeen, Mr. Genesis.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm,” he admitted. “I mean rickalect good like you do 'bout yo' li'l' + cat an' all how yo' pappy tuck on 'bout it. I kin rickalect SOME, but I + cain' rickalect GOOD.” + </p> + <p> + William coughed with a certain importance. “Do you remember,” he asked, + “when you were married, how did you feel about it? Were you kind of + nervous, or anything like that, beforehand?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Genesis again passed a wavering hand across his troubled brow. + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” said William, observing his perplexity, “were you sort of shaky—f'rinstance, + as if you were taking an important step in life?” + </p> + <p> + “Lemme see.” The old man pondered for a moment. “I felt mighty shaky once, + I rickalect; dat time yalla m'latta man shootin' at me f 'um behime a + snake-fence.” + </p> + <p> + “Shootin' at you!” Jane cried, stirred from her accustomed placidity. “Mr. + Genesis! What DID he do that for?” + </p> + <p> + “Nuff'm!” replied Mr. Genesis, with feeling. “Nuff'm in de wide worl'! He + boun' to shoot SOMEbody, an' pick on me 'cause I 'uz de handies'.” + </p> + <p> + He closed his knife, gave the little boat a final scrape with the broken + glass, and then a soothing rub with the palm of his hand. “Dah, honey,” he + said—and simultaneously factory whistles began to blow. “Dah yo' + li'l' steamboat good as I kin git her widout no b'iler ner no smokestack. + I reckon yo' pappy 'll buy 'em fer you.” + </p> + <p> + Jane was grateful. “It's a beautiful boat, Mr. Genesis. I do thank you!” + </p> + <p> + Genesis, the son, laid aside his tools and approached. “Pappy finish + whittlin' spang on 'em noon whistles,” he chuckled. “Come 'long, pappy. I + bet you walk fas' 'nuff goin' todes dinnuh. I hear fry-cakes ploppin' in + skillet!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Genesis laughed loudly, his son's words evidently painting a merry and + alluring picture; and the two, followed by Clematis, moved away in the + direction of the alley gate. William and Jane watched the brisk departure + of the antique with sincere esteem and liking. + </p> + <p> + “He must have been sixteen,” said William, musingly. + </p> + <p> + “When?” Jane asked. + </p> + <p> + William, in deep thought, was still looking after Mr. Genesis; he was + almost unconscious that he had spoken aloud and he replied, automatically: + </p> + <p> + “When he was married.” + </p> + <p> + Then, with a start, he realized into how great a condescension he had been + betrayed, and hastily added, with pronounced hauteur, “Things you don't + understand. You run in the house.” + </p> + <p> + Jane went into the house, but she did not carry her obedience to the point + of running. She walked slowly, and in that state of profound reverie which + was characteristic of her when she was immersed in the serious study of + William's affairs. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI + </h2> + <h3> + THE SHOWER + </h3> + <p> + She continued to be thoughtful until after lunch, when, upon the sun's + disappearance behind a fat cloud, Jane and the heavens exchanged + dispositions for the time—the heavens darkened and Jane brightened. + She was in the front hall, when the sunshine departed rather abruptly, and + she jumped for joy, pointing to the open door. “Look! Looky there!” she + called to her brother. Richly ornamented, he was descending the front + stairs, his embellishments including freshly pressed white trousers, a new + straw hat, unusual shoes, and a blasphemous tie. “I'm goin' to get to sail + my boat,” Jane shouted. “It's goin' to rain.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not,” said William, irritated. “It's not going to anything like + rain. I s'pose you think it ought to rain just to let you sail that chunk + of wood!” + </p> + <p> + “It's goin' to rain—it's goin' to rain!” (Jane made a little + singsong chant of it.) “It's goin' to rain—it gives Willie a pain—it's + goin' to rain—it gives Willie a pain—it's goin' to—” + </p> + <p> + He interrupted her sternly. “Look here! You're old enough to know better. + I s'pose you think there isn't anything as important in the world as your + gettin' the chance to sail that little boat! I s'pose you think business + and everything else has got to stop and get ruined, maybe, just to please + you!” As he spoke he walked to an umbrella-stand in the hall and + deliberately took therefrom a bamboo walking-stick of his father's. + Indeed, his denunciation of Jane's selfishness about the weather was made + partly to reassure himself and settle his nerves, strained by the unusual + procedure he contemplated, and partly to divert Jane's attention. In the + latter effort he was unsuccessful; her eyes became strange and unbearable. + </p> + <p> + She uttered a shriek: + </p> + <p> + “Willie's goin' to carry a CANE!” + </p> + <p> + “You hush up!” he said, fiercely, and hurried out through the front door. + She followed him to the edge of the porch; she stood there while he made + his way to the gate, and she continued to stand there as he went down the + street, trying to swing the cane in an accustomed and unembarrassed + manner. + </p> + <p> + Jane made this difficult. + </p> + <p> + “Willie's got a CANE!” she screamed. “He's got papa's CANE!” Then, + resuming her little chant, she began to sing: “It's goin' to rain—Willie's + got papa's cane—it's goin' to rain—Willie's got papa's cane!” + She put all of her voice into a final effort. “MISS PRATT'LL GET WET IF + YOU DON'T TAKE AN UMBERELLER-R-R!” + </p> + <p> + The attention of several chance pedestrians had been attracted, and the + burning William, breaking into an agonized half-trot, disappeared round + the corner. Then Jane retired within the house, feeling that she had done + her duty. It would be his own fault if he got wet. + </p> + <p> + Rain was coming. Rain was in the feel of the air—and in Jane's hope. + </p> + <p> + She was not disappointed. Mr. Genesis, so secure of fair weather in the + morning, was proved by the afternoon to be a bad prophet. The fat cloud + was succeeded by others, fatter; a corpulent army assailed the vault of + heaven, heavy outriders before a giant of evil complexion and devastating + temper. + </p> + <p> + An hour after William had left the house, the dust in the streets and all + loose paper and rubbish outdoors rose suddenly to a considerable height + and started for somewhere else. The trees had colic; everything became as + dark as winter twilight; streaks of wildfire ran miles in a second, and + somebody seemed to be ripping up sheets of copper and tin the size of + farms. The rain came with a swish, then with a rattle, and then with a + roar, while people listened at their garret doorways and marveled. + Window-panes turned to running water;—it poured. + </p> + <p> + Then it relented, dribbled, shook down a few last drops; and passed on to + the countryside. Windows went up; eaves and full gutters plashed and + gurgled; clearer light fell; then, in a moment, sunshine rushed upon + shining green trees and green grass; doors opened—and out came the + children! + </p> + <p> + Shouting, they ran to the flooded gutters. Here were rivers, lakes, and + oceans for navigation; easy pilotage, for the steersman had but to wade + beside his craft and guide it with a twig. Jane's timely boat was one of + the first to reach the water. + </p> + <p> + Her mother had been kind, and Jane, with shoes and stockings left behind + her on the porch, was a happy sailor as she waded knee-deep along the + brimming curbstones. At the corner below the house of the Baxters, the + street was flooded clear across, and Jane's boat, following the current, + proceeded gallantly onward here, sailed down the next block, and was + thoughtlessly entering a sewer when she snatched it out of the water. + Looking about her, she perceived a gutter which seemed even lovelier than + the one she had followed. It was deeper and broader and perhaps a little + browner, wherefore she launched her ship upon its dimpled bosom and + explored it as far as the next sewer-hole or portage. Thus the voyage + continued for several blocks with only one accident—which might have + happened to anybody. It was an accident in the nature of a fall, caused by + the sliding of Jane's left foot on some slippery mud. This treacherous + substance, covered with water, could not have been anticipated; + consequently Jane's emotions were those of indignation rather than of + culpability. Upon rising, she debated whether or not she should return to + her dwelling, inclining to the opinion that the authorities there would + have taken the affirmative; but as she was wet not much above the waist, + and the guilt lay all upon the mud, she decided that such an interruption + of her journey would be a gross injustice to herself. Navigation was + reopened. + </p> + <p> + Presently the boat wandered into a miniature whirlpool, grooved in a + spiral and pleasant to see. Slowly the water went round and round, and so + did the boat without any assistance from Jane. Watching this movement + thoughtfully, she brought forth from her drenched pocket some sodden + whitish disks, recognizable as having been crackers, and began to eat + them. Thus absorbed, she failed at first to notice the approach of two + young people along the sidewalk. + </p> + <p> + They were the entranced William and Miss Pratt; and their appearance + offered a suggestive contrast in relative humidity. In charming and + tender-colored fabrics, fluffy and cool and summery, she was specklessly + dry; not a drop had touched even the little pink parasol over her + shoulder, not one had fallen upon the tiny white doglet drowsing upon her + arm. But William was wet—he was still more than merely damp, though + they had evidently walked some distance since the rain had ceased to fall. + His new hat was a mucilaginous ruin; his dank coat sagged; his shapeless + trousers flopped heavily, and his shoes gave forth marshy sounds as he + walked. + </p> + <p> + No brilliant analyst was needed to diagnose this case. Surely any observer + must have said: “Here is a dry young lady, and at her side walks a wet + young gentleman who carries an umbrella in one hand and a walking-stick in + the other. Obviously the young lady and gentleman were out for a stroll + for which the stick was sufficient, and they were caught by the rain. + Before any fell, however, he found her a place of shelter—such as a + corner drug-store and then himself gallantly went forth into the storm for + an umbrella. He went to the young lady's house, or to the house where she + may be visiting, for, if he had gone to his own he would have left his + stick. It may be, too, that at his own, his mother would have detained + him, since he is still at the age when it is just possible sometimes for + mothers to get their sons into the house when it rains. He returned with + the umbrella to the corner drug-store at probably about the time when the + rain ceased to fall, because his extreme moistness makes necessary the + deduction that he was out in all the rain that rained. But he does not + seem to care.” + </p> + <p> + The fact was that William did not even know that he was wet. With his head + sidewise and his entranced eyes continuously upon the pretty face so near, + his state was almost somnambulistic. Not conscious of his soggy garments + or of the deluged streets, he floated upon a rosy cloud, incense about + him, far-away music enchanting his ears. + </p> + <p> + If Jane had not recognized the modeling of his features she might not have + known them to be William's, for they had altered their grouping to produce + an expression with which she was totally unfamiliar. To be explicit, she + was unfamiliar with this expression in that place—that is to say, + upon William, though she had seen something like it upon other people, + once or twice, in church. + </p> + <p> + William's thoughts might have seemed to her as queer as his expression, + could she have known them. They were not very definite, however, taking + the form of sweet, vague pictures of the future. These pictures were of + married life; that is, married life as William conceived it for himself + and Miss Pratt—something strikingly different from that he had + observed as led by his mother and father, or their friends and relatives. + In his rapt mind he beheld Miss Pratt walking beside him “through life,” + with her little parasol and her little dog—her exquisite face always + lifted playfully toward his own (with admiration underneath the + playfulness), and he heard her voice of silver always rippling “baby-talk” + throughout all the years to come. He saw her applauding his triumphs—though + these remained indefinite in his mind, and he was unable to foreshadow the + business or profession which was to provide the amazing mansion (mainly + conservatory) which he pictured as their home. Surrounded by flowers, and + maintaining a private orchestra, he saw Miss Pratt and himself growing old + together, attaining to such ages as thirty and even thirty-five, still in + perfect harmony, and always either dancing in the evenings or strolling + hand in hand in the moonlight. Sometimes they would visit the nursery, + where curly-headed, rosy cherubs played upon a white-bear rug in the + firelight. These were all boys and ready-made, the youngest being three + years old and without a past. + </p> + <p> + They would be beautiful children, happy with their luxurious toys on the + bear rug, and they would NEVER be seen in any part of the house except the + nursery. Their deportment would be flawless, and— + </p> + <p> + “WILL-EE!” + </p> + <p> + The aviator struck a hole in the air; his heart misgave him. Then he came + to earth—a sickening drop, and instantaneous. + </p> + <p> + “WILL-EE!” + </p> + <p> + There was Jane, a figurine in a plastic state and altogether disgraceful;—she + came up out of the waters and stood before them with feet of clay, indeed; + pedestaled upon the curbstone. + </p> + <p> + “Who IS that CURIOUS child?” said Miss Pratt, stopping. + </p> + <p> + William shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “Was she calling YOU?” Miss Pratt asked, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “Willie, I told you you better take an umbereller,” said Jane, “instead of + papa's cane.” And she added, triumphantly, “Now you see!” + </p> + <p> + Moving forward, she seemed to have in mind a dreadful purpose; there was + something about her that made William think she intended casually to + accompany him and Miss Pratt. + </p> + <p> + “You go home!” he commanded, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + Miss Pratt uttered a little scream of surprise and recognition. “It's your + little sister!” she exclaimed, and then, reverting to her favorite + playfulness of enunciation, “'Oor ickle sissa!” she added, gaily, as a + translation. Jane misunderstood it; she thought Miss Pratt meant “OUR + little sister.” + </p> + <p> + “Go home!” said William. + </p> + <p> + “No'ty, no'ty!” said Miss Pratt, shaking her head. “Me 'fraid oo's a + no'ty, no'ty ickle dirl! All datie!” + </p> + <p> + Jane advanced. “I wish you'd let me carry Flopit for you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Giving forth another gentle scream, Miss Pratt hopped prettily backward + from Jane's extended hands. “Oo-oo!” she cried, chidingly. “Mustn't touch! + P'eshus Flopit all soap-water-wash clean. Ickle dirly all muddy-nassy! + Ickle dirly must doe home, det all soap-water-wash clean like NICE ickle + sissa. Evabody will love 'oor ickle sissa den,” she concluded, turning to + William. “Tell 'oor ickle sissa MUS' doe home det soap-water-wash!” + </p> + <p> + Jane stared at Miss Pratt with fixed solemnity during the delivery of + these admonitions, and it was to be seen that they made an impression upon + her. Her mouth slowly opened, but she spake not. An extraordinary idea had + just begun to make itself at home in her mind. It was an idea which had + been hovering in the neighborhood of that domain ever since William's + comments upon the conversation of Mr. Genesis, in the morning. + </p> + <p> + “Go home!” repeated William, and then, as Jane stood motionless and + inarticulate, transfixed by her idea, he said, almost brokenly, to his + dainty companion, “I DON'T know what you'll think of my mother! To let + this child—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Pratt laughed comfortingly as they started on again. “Isn't mamma's + fault, foolish boy Baxter. Ickle dirlies will det datie!” + </p> + <p> + The profoundly mortified William glanced back over his shoulder, bestowing + upon Jane a look in which bitterness was mingled with apprehension. But + she remained where she was, and did not follow. That was a little to be + thankful for, and he found some additional consolation in believing that + Miss Pratt had not caught the frightful words, “papa's cane,” at the + beginning of the interview. He was encouraged to this belief by her + presently taking from his hand the decoration in question and examining it + with tokens of pleasure. “'Oor pitty walk'-'tick,” she called it, with a + tact he failed to suspect. And so he began to float upward again; glamors + enveloped him and the earth fell away. + </p> + <p> + He was alone in space with Miss Pratt once more. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII + </h2> + <h3> + JANE'S THEORY + </h3> + <p> + The pale end of sunset was framed in the dining-room windows, and Mr. and + Mrs. Baxter and the rehabilitated Jane were at the table, when William + made his belated return from the afternoon's excursion. Seating himself, + he waived his mother's references to the rain, his clothes, and probable + colds, and after one laden glance at Jane denoting a grievance so + elaborate that he despaired of setting it forth in a formal complaint to + the Powers—he fell into a state of trance. He took nourishment + automatically, and roused himself but once during the meal, a pathetic + encounter with his father resulting from this awakening. + </p> + <p> + “Everybody in town seemed to be on the streets, this evening, as I walked + home,” Mr. Baxter remarked, addressing his wife. “I suppose there's + something in the clean air after a rain that brings 'em out. I noticed one + thing, though; maybe it's the way they dress nowadays, but you certainly + don't see as many pretty girls on the streets as there used to be.” + </p> + <p> + William looked up absently. “I used to think that, too,” he said, with + dreamy condescension, “when I was younger.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Baxter stared. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll be darned!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Papa, papa!” his wife called, reprovingly. + </p> + <p> + “When you were younger!” Mr. Baxter repeated, with considerable + irritation. “How old d' you think you are?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going on eighteen,” said William, firmly. “I know plenty of cases—cases + where—” He paused, relapsing into lethargy. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with him?” Mr. Baxter inquired, heatedly, of his wife. + </p> + <p> + William again came to life. “I was saying that a person's age is different + according to circumstances,” he explained, with dignity, if not lucidity. + “You take Genesis's father. Well, he was married when he was sixteen. Then + there was a case over in Iowa that lots of people know about and nobody + thinks anything of. A young man over there in Iowa that's seventeen years + old began shaving when he was thirteen and shaved every day for four + years, and now—” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by his father, who was no longer able to contain + himself. “And now I suppose he's got WHISKERS!” he burst forth. “There's + an ambition for you! My soul!” + </p> + <p> + It was Jane who took up the tale. She had been listening with growing + excitement, her eyes fixed piercingly upon William. “He's got a beard!” + she cried, alluding not to her brother, but to the fabled Iowan. “I heard + Willie tell ole Mr. Genesis about it.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to lie heavily on your mind,” Mr. Baxter said to William. “I + suppose you feel that in the face of such an example, your life between + the ages of thirteen and seventeen has been virtually thrown away?” + </p> + <p> + William had again relapsed, but he roused himself feebly. “Sir?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What IS the matter with him?” Mr. Baxter demanded. “Half the time lately + he seems to be hibernating, and only responds by a slight twitching when + poked with a stick. The other half of the time he either behaves like + I-don't-know-what or talks about children growing whiskers in Iowa! Hasn't + that girl left town yet?” + </p> + <p> + William was not so deep in trance that this failed to stir him. He left + the table. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter looked distressed, though, as the meal was about concluded, + and William had partaken of his share in spite of his dreaminess, she had + no anxieties connected with his sustenance. As for Mr. Baxter, he felt a + little remorse, undoubtedly, but he was also puzzled. So plain a man was + he that he had no perception of the callous brutality of the words “THAT + GIRL” when applied to some girls. He referred to his mystification a + little later, as he sat with his evening paper in the library. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what I said to that tetchy boy to hurt him,” he began in an + apologetic tone. “I don't see that there was anything too rough for him to + stand in a little sarcasm. He needn't be so sensitive on the subject of + whiskers, it seems to me.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter smiled faintly and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + It was Jane who responded. She was seated upon the floor, disporting + herself mildly with her paint-box. “Papa, I know what's the matter with + Willie,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” Mr. Baxter returned. “Well, if you make it pretty short, you've + got just about long enough to tell us before your bedtime.” + </p> + <p> + “I think he's married,” said Jane. + </p> + <p> + “What!” And her parents united their hilarity. + </p> + <p> + “I do think he's married,” Jane insisted, unmoved. “I think he's married + with that Miss Pratt.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said her father, “he does seem upset, and it may be that her visit + and the idea of whiskers, coming so close together, is more than mere + coincidence, but I hardly think Willie is married, Jane!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” she returned, thoughtfully, “he's almost married. I know + that much, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, because! I KIND of thought he must be married, or anyways somep'm, + when he talked to Mr. Genesis this mornin'. He said he knew how some + people got married in Pennsylvania an' India, an' he said they were only + seven or eight years old. He said so, an' I heard him; an' he said there + were eleven people married that were only seventeen, an' this boy in Iowa + got a full beard an' got married, too. An' he said Mr. Genesis was only + sixteen when HE was married. He talked all about gettin' married when + you're seventeen years old, an' he said how people thought it was the best + thing could happen. So I just KNOW he's almost married!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Baxter chuckled, and Mrs. Baxter smiled, but a shade of + thoughtfulness, a remote anxiety, tell upon the face of the latter. + </p> + <p> + “You haven't any other reason, have you, Jane?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm,” said Jane, promptly. “An' it's a more reason than any! Miss Pratt + calls you 'mamma' as if you were HER mamma. She does it when she talks to + Willie.” + </p> + <p> + “Jane!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes m, I HEARD her. An' Willie said, 'I don't know what you'll think + about mother.' He said, 'I don't know what you'll think about mother,' to + Miss Pratt.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter looked a little startled, and her husband frowned. Jane + mistook their expressions for incredulity. “They DID, mamma,” she + protested. “That's just the way they talked to each other. I heard 'em + this afternoon, when Willie had papa's cane.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe they were doing it to tease you, if you were with them,” Mr. Baxter + suggested. + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't with 'em. I was sailin' my boat, an' they came along, an' first + they never saw me, an' Willie looked—oh, papa, I wish you'd seen + him!” Jane rose to her feet in her excitement. “His face was so funny, you + never saw anything like it! He was walkin' along with it turned sideways, + an' all the time he kept walkin' frontways, he kept his face sideways—like + this, papa. Look, papa!” And she gave what she considered a faithful + imitation of William walking with Miss Pratt. “Look, papa! This is the way + Willie went. He had it sideways so's he could see Miss. Pratt, papa. An' + his face was just like this. Look, papa!” She contorted her features in a + terrifying manner. “Look, papa!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't, Jane!” her mother exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I haf to show papa how Willie looked, don't I?” said Jane, + relaxing. “That's just the way he looked. Well, an' then they stopped an' + talked to me, an' Miss Pratt said, 'It's our little sister.'” + </p> + <p> + “Did she really?” Mrs. Baxter asked, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm, she did. Soon as she saw who I was, she said, 'Why, it's our + little sister!' Only she said it that way she talks—sort of foolish. + 'It's our ittle sissy'—somep'm like that, mamma. She said it twice + an' told me to go home an' get washed up. An' Miss Pratt told Willie—Miss + Pratt said, 'It isn't mamma's fault Jane's so dirty,' just like that. She—” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure she said 'our little sister'?” said Mrs. Baxter. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you can ask Willie! She said it that funny way. 'Our 'ittle sissy'; + that's what she said. An' Miss Pratt said, 'Ev'rybody would love our + little sister if mamma washed her in soap an' water!' You can ask Willie; + that's exackly what Miss Pratt said, an' if you don't believe it you can + ask HER. If you don't want to believe it, why, you can ask—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, dear,” said Mrs. Baxter. “All this doesn't mean anything at all, + especially such nonsense as Willie's thinking of being married. It's your + bedtime.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but MAMMA—” + </p> + <p> + “Was that all they said?” Mr. Baxter inquired. + </p> + <p> + Jane turned to him eagerly. “They said all lots of things like that, papa. + They—” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” Mrs. Baxter in interrupted. “Come, it's bedtime. I'll go up + with you. You mustn't think such nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “But, mamma—” + </p> + <p> + “Come along, Jane!” + </p> + <p> + Jane was obedient in the flesh, but her spirit was free; her opinions were + her own. Disappointed in the sensation she had expected to produce, she + followed her mother out of the room wearing the expression of a person who + says, “You'll SEE—some day when everything's ruined!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Baxter, left alone, laughed quietly, lifted his neglected newspaper to + obtain the light at the right angle, and then allowed it to languish upon + his lap again. Frowning, he began to tap the floor with his shoe. + </p> + <p> + He was trying to remember what things were in his head when he was + seventeen, and it was difficult. It seemed to him that he had been a + steady, sensible young fellow—really quite a man—at that age. + Looking backward at the blur of youthful years, the period from sixteen to + twenty-five appeared to him as “pretty much all of a piece.” He could not + recall just when he stopped being a boy; it must have been at about + fifteen, he thought. + </p> + <p> + All at once he sat up stiffly in his chair, and the paper slid from his + knee. He remembered an autumn, long ago, when he had decided to abandon + the educational plans of his parents and become an actor. He had located + this project exactly, for it dated from the night of his seventeenth + birthday, when he saw John McCullough play “Virginius.” + </p> + <p> + Even now Mr. Baxter grew a little red as he remembered the remarkable + letter he had written, a few weeks later, to the manager of a passing + theatrical company. He had confidently expected an answer, and had made + his plans to leave town quietly with the company and afterward reassure + his parents by telegraph. In fact, he might have been on the stage at this + moment, if that manager had taken him. Mr. Baxter began to look nervous. + </p> + <p> + Still, there is a difference between going on the stage and getting + married. “I don't know, though!” Mr. Baxter thought. “And Willie's + certainly not so well balanced in a GENERAL way as I was.” He wished his + wife would come down and reassure him, though of course it was all + nonsense. + </p> + <p> + But when Mrs. Baxter came down-stairs she did not reassure him. “Of course + Jane's too absurd!” she said. “I don't mean that she 'made it up'; she + never does that, and no doubt this little Miss Pratt did say about what + Jane thought she said. But it all amounts to nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” + </p> + <p> + “Willie's just going through what several of the other boys about his age + are going through—like Johnnie Watson and Joe Bullitt and Wallace + Banks. They all seem to be frantic over her.” + </p> + <p> + “I caught a glimpse of her the day you had her to tea. She's rather + pretty.” + </p> + <p> + “Adorably! And perhaps Willie has been just a LITTLE bit more frantic than + the others.” + </p> + <p> + “He certainly seems in a queer state!” + </p> + <p> + At this his wife's tone became serious. “Do you think he WOULD do as crazy + a thing as that?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Baxter laughed. “Well, I don't know what he'd do it ON! I don't + suppose he has more than a dollar in his possession.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he has,” she returned, quickly. “Day before yesterday there was a + second-hand furniture man here, and I was too busy to see him, but I + wanted the storeroom in the cellar cleared out, and I told Willie he could + have whatever the man would pay him for the junk in there, if he'd watch + to see that they didn't TAKE anything. They found some old pieces that I'd + forgotten, underneath things, and altogether the man paid Willie nine + dollars and eighty-five cents.” + </p> + <p> + “But, mercy-me!” exclaimed Mr. Baxter, “the girl may be an idiot, but she + wouldn't run away and marry a boy just barely seventeen on nine dollars + and eighty-five cents!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no!” said Mrs. Baxter. “At least, I don't THINK so. Of course girls do + as crazy things as boys sometimes—in their way. I was thinking—” + She paused. “Of COURSE there couldn't be anything in it, but it did seem a + little strange.” + </p> + <p> + “What did?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, just before I came down-stairs, Adelia came for the laundry; and I + asked her if she'd seen Willie; and she said he'd put on his dark suit + after dinner, and he went out through the kitchen, carrying his + suit-case.” + </p> + <p> + “He did?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” Mrs. Baxter went on, slowly, “I COULDN'T believe he'd do such + a thing, but he really is in a PREPOSTEROUS way over this little Miss + Pratt, and he DID have that money—” + </p> + <p> + “By George!” Mr. Baxter got upon his feet. “The way he talked at dinner, I + could come pretty near believing he hasn't any more brains LEFT than to + get married on nine dollars and eighty-five cents! I wouldn't put it past + him! By George, I wouldn't!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't think he would,” she remonstrated, feebly. “Besides, the law + wouldn't permit it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Baxter paced the floor. “Oh, I suppose they COULD manage it. They + could go to some little town and give false ages and—” He broke off. + “Adelia was sure he had his suit-case?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. “Do you think we'd better go down to the Parchers'? We'd just + say we came to call, of course, and if—” + </p> + <p> + “Get your hat on,” he said. “I don't think there's anything in it at all, + but we'd just as well drop down there. It can't HURT anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I don't think—” she began. + </p> + <p> + “Neither do I,” he interrupted, irascibly. “But with a boy of his age + crazy enough to think he's in love, how do WE know what 'll happen? We're + only his parents! Get your hat on.” + </p> + <p> + But when the uneasy couple found themselves upon the pavement before the + house of the Parchers, they paused under the shade-trees in the darkness, + and presently decided that it was not necessary to go in. Suddenly their + uneasiness had fallen from them. From the porch came the laughter of + several young voices, and then one silvery voice, which pretended to be + that of a tiny child. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, s'ame! S'ame on 'oo, big Bruvva Josie-Joe! Mus' be polite to Johnny + Jump-up, or tant play wiv May and Lola!” + </p> + <p> + “That's Miss Pratt,” whispered Mrs. Baxter. “She's talking to Johnnie + Watson and Joe Bullitt and May Parcher. Let's go home; it's all right. Of + course I knew it would be.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly,” said Mr. Baxter, as they turned. “Even if Willie were as + crazy as that, the little girl would have more sense. I wouldn't have + thought anything of it, if you hadn't told me about the suit-case. That + looked sort of queer.” + </p> + <p> + She agreed that it did, but immediately added that she had thought nothing + of it. What had seemed more significant to her was William's interest in + the early marriage of Genesis's father, and in the Iowa beard story, she + said. Then she said that it WAS curious about the suit-case. + </p> + <p> + And when they came to their own house again, there was William sitting + alone and silent upon the steps of the porch. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you'd gone out, Willie,” said his mother, as they paused beside + him. + </p> + <p> + “Ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “Adelia said you went out, carrying your suit-case.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” he said, languidly. “If you leave clothes at Schwartz's in the + evening they have 'em pressed in the morning. You said I looked damp at + dinner, so I took 'em over and left 'em there.” + </p> + <p> + “I see.” Mrs. Baxter followed her husband to the door, but she stopped on + the threshold and called back: + </p> + <p> + “Don't sit there too long, Willie.” + </p> + <p> + “Ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “The dew is falling and it rained so hard to-day—I'm afraid it might + be damp.” + </p> + <p> + “Ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “Come on,” Mr. Baxter said to his wife. “He's down on the Parchers' porch, + not out in front here. Of course he can't hear you. It's three blocks and + a half.” + </p> + <p> + But William's father was mistaken. Little he knew! William was not upon + the porch of the Parchers, with May Parcher and Joe Bullitt and Johnnie + Watson to interfere. He was far from there, in a land where time was not. + Upon a planet floating in pink mist, and uninhabited—unless old Mr. + Genesis and some Hindoo princes and the diligent Iowan may have + established themselves in its remoter regions—William was alone with + Miss Pratt, in the conservatory. And, after a time, they went together, + and looked into the door of a room where an indefinite number of little + boys—all over three years of age—were playing in the firelight + upon a white-bear rug. For, in the roseate gossamer that boys' dreams are + made of, William had indeed entered the married state. + </p> + <p> + His condition was growing worse, every day. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII + </h2> + <h3> + THE BIG, FAT LUMMOX + </h3> + <p> + In the morning sunshine, Mrs. Baxter stood at the top of the steps of the + front porch, addressing her son, who listened impatiently and edged + himself a little nearer the gate every time he shifted his weight from one + foot to the other. + </p> + <p> + “Willie,” she said, “you must really pay some attention to the laws of + health, or you'll never live to be an old man.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to live to be an old man,” said William, earnestly. “I'd + rather do what I please now and die a little sooner.” + </p> + <p> + “You talk very foolishly,” his mother returned. “Either come back and put + on some heavier THINGS or take your overcoat.” + </p> + <p> + “My overcoat!” William groaned. “They'd think I was a lunatic, carrying an + overcoat in August!” + </p> + <p> + “Not to a picnic,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Mother, it isn't a picnic, I've told you a hunderd times! You think it's + one those ole-fashion things YOU used to go to—sit on the damp + ground and eat sardines with ants all over 'em? This isn't anything like + that; we just go out on the trolley to this farm-house and have noon + dinner, and dance all afternoon, and have supper, and then come home on + the trolley. I guess we'd hardly of got up anything as out o' date as a + picnic in honor of Miss PRATT!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter seemed unimpressed. + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't matter whether you call it a picnic or not, Willie. It will be + cool on the open trolleycar coming home, especially with only those white + trousers on—” + </p> + <p> + “Ye gods!” he cried. “I've got other things on besides my trousers! I wish + you wouldn't always act as if I was a perfect child! Good heavens! isn't a + person my age supposed to know how much clothes to wear?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if he is,” she returned, “it's a mere supposition and not founded + on fact. Don't get so excited, Willie, please; but you'll either have to + give up the picnic or come in and ch—” + </p> + <p> + “Change my 'things'!” he wailed. “I can't change my 'things'! I've got + just twenty minutes to get to May Parcher's—the crowd meets there, + and they're goin' to take the trolley in front the Parchers' at exactly a + quarter after 'leven. PLEASE don't keep me any longer, mother—I GOT + to go!” + </p> + <p> + She stepped into the hall and returned immediately. “Here's your overcoat, + Willie.” + </p> + <p> + His expression was of despair. “They'll think I'm a lunatic and they'll + say so before everybody—and I don't blame 'em! Overcoat on a hot day + like this! Except me, I don't suppose there was ever anybody lived in the + world and got to be going on eighteen years old and had to carry his silly + old overcoat around with him in August—because his mother made him!” + </p> + <p> + “Willie,” said Mrs. Baxter, “you don't know how many thousands and + thousands of mothers for thousands and thousands of years have kept their + sons from taking thousands and thousands of colds—just this way!” + </p> + <p> + He moaned. “Well, and I got to be called a lunatic just because you're + nervous, I s'pose. All right!” + </p> + <p> + She hung it upon his arm, kissed him; and he departed in a desperate + manner. + </p> + <p> + However, having worn his tragic face for three blocks, he halted before a + corner drug-store, and permitted his expression to improve as he gazed + upon the window display of My Little Sweetheart All-Tobacco Cuban + Cigarettes, the Package of Twenty for Ten Cents. William was not a smoker—that + is to say, he had made the usual boyhood experiments, finding them + discouraging; and though at times he considered it humorously + man-about-town to say to a smoking friend, “Well, <i>I</i>'ll tackle one + o' your ole coffin-nails,” he had never made a purchase of tobacco in his + life. But it struck him now that it would be rather debonair to disport + himself with a package of Little Sweethearts upon the excursion. + </p> + <p> + And the name! It thrilled him inexpressibly, bringing a tenderness into + his eyes and a glow into his bosom. He felt that when he should smoke a + Little Sweetheart it would be a tribute to the ineffable visitor for whom + this party was being given—it would bring her closer to him. His + young brow grew almost stern with determination, for he made up his mind, + on the spot, that he would smoke oftener in the future—he would + become a confirmed smoker, and all his life he would smoke My Little + Sweetheart All-Tobacco Cuban Cigarettes. + </p> + <p> + He entered and managed to make his purchase in a matter-of-fact way, as if + he were doing something quite unemotional; then he said to the clerk: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, by the by—ah—” + </p> + <p> + The clerk stared. “Well, what else?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” said William, hurriedly, “there's something I wanted to 'tend + to, now I happen to be here. I was on my way to take this overcoat to—to + get something altered at the tailor's for next winter. 'Course I wouldn't + want it till winter, but I thought I might as well get it DONE.” He + paused, laughing carelessly, for greater plausibility. “I thought he'd + prob'ly want lots of time on the job—he's a slow worker, I've + noticed—and so I decided I might just as well go ahead and let him + get at it. Well, so I was on my way there, but I just noticed I only got + about six minutes more to get to a mighty important engagement I got this + morning, and I'd like to leave it here and come by and get it on my way + home, this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” said the clerk. “Hang it on that hook inside the + p'scription-counter. There's one there already, b'longs to your friend, + that young Bullitt fella. He was in here awhile ago and said he wanted to + leave his because he didn't have time to take it to be pressed in time for + next winter. Then he went on and joined that crowd in Mr. Parcher's yard, + around the corner, that's goin' on a trolley-party. I says, 'I betcher + mother maje carry it,' and he says, 'Oh no. Oh no,' he says. 'Honest, I + was goin' to get it pressed!' You can hang yours on the same nail.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk spoke no more, and went to serve another customer, while William + stared after him a little uneasily. It seemed that here was a man of + suspicious nature, though, of course, Joe Bullitt's shallow talk about + getting an overcoat pressed before winter would not have imposed upon + anybody. However, William felt strongly that the private life of the + customers of a store should not be pried into and speculated about by + employees, and he was conscious of a distaste for this clerk. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, it was with a lighter heart that he left his overcoat behind + him and stepped out of the side door of the drug-store. That brought him + within sight of the gaily dressed young people, about thirty in number, + gathered upon the small lawn beside Mr. Parcher's house. + </p> + <p> + Miss Pratt stood among them, in heliotrope and white, Flopit nestling in + her arms. She was encircled by girls who were enthusiastically caressing + the bored and blinking Flopit; and when William beheld this charming + group, his breath became eccentric, his knee-caps became cold and + convulsive, his neck became hot, and he broke into a light perspiration. + </p> + <p> + She saw him! The small blonde head and the delirious little fluffy hat + above it shimmered a nod to him. Then his mouth fell unconsciously open, + and his eyes grew glassy with the intensity of meaning he put into the + silent response he sent across the picket fence and through the + interstices of the intervening group. Pressing with his elbow upon the + package of cigarettes in his pocket, he murmured, inaudibly, “My Little + Sweetheart, always for you!”—a repetition of his vow that, come what + might, he would forever remain a loyal smoker of that symbolic brand. In + fact, William's mental condition had never shown one moment's turn for the + better since the fateful day of the distracting visitor's arrival. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Johnnie Watson and Mr. Joe Bullitt met him at the gate and offered him + hearty greeting. All bickering and dissension among these three had + passed. The lady was so wondrous impartial that, as time went on, the + sufferers had come to be drawn together, rather than thrust asunder, by + their common feeling. It had grown to be a bond uniting them; they were + not so much rivals as ardent novices serving a single altar, each + worshiping there without visible gain over the other. Each had even come + to possess, in the eyes of his two fellows, almost a sacredness as a + sharer in the celestial glamor; they were tender one with another. They + were in the last stages. + </p> + <p> + Johnnie Watson had with him to-day a visitor of his own—a vastly + overgrown person of eighteen, who, at Johnnie's beckoning, abandoned a + fair companion of the moment and came forward as William entered the gate. + </p> + <p> + “I want to intradooce you to two of my most int'mut friends, George,” said + Johnnie, with the anxious gravity of a person about to do something + important and unfamiliar. “Mr. Baxter, let me intradooce my cousin, Mr. + Crooper. Mr. Crooper, this is my friend, Mr. Baxter.” + </p> + <p> + The gentlemen shook hands solemnly, saying, + </p> + <p> + “'M very glad to meet you,” and Johnnie turned to Joe Bullitt. “Mr. Croo—I + mean, Mr. Bullitt, let me intradooce my friend, Mr. Crooper—I mean + my cousin, Mr. Crooper. Mr. Crooper is a cousin of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Crooper,” said Joe. “I suppose you're + a cousin of Johnnie's, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yep,” said Mr. Crooper, becoming more informal. “Johnnie wrote me to come + over for this shindig, so I thought I might as well come.” He laughed + loudly, and the others laughed with the same heartiness. “Yessir,” he + added, “I thought I might as well come, 'cause I'm pretty apt to be on + hand if there's anything doin'!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's right,” said William, and while they all laughed again, Mr. + Crooper struck his cousin a jovial blow upon the back. + </p> + <p> + “Hi, ole sport!” he cried, “I want to meet that Miss Pratt before we + start. The car'll be along pretty soon, and I got her picked for the girl + I'm goin' to sit by.” + </p> + <p> + The laughter of William and Joe Bullitt, designed to express cordiality, + suddenly became flaccid and died. If Mr. Crooper had been a sensitive + person he might have perceived the chilling disapproval in their glances, + for they had just begun to be most unfavorably impressed with him. The + careless loudness—almost the notoriety—with which he had + uttered Miss Pratt's name, demanding loosely to be presented to her, + regardless of the well-known law that a lady must first express some wish + in such matters—these were indications of a coarse nature sure to be + more than uncongenial to Miss Pratt. Its presence might make the whole + occasion distasteful to her—might spoil her day. Both William and + Joe Bullitt began to wonder why on earth Johnnie Watson didn't have any + more sense than to invite such a big, fat lummox of a cousin to the party. + </p> + <p> + This severe phrase of theirs, almost simultaneous in the two minds, was + not wholly a failure as a thumb-nail sketch of Mr. George Crooper. And yet + there was the impressiveness of size about him, especially about his legs + and chin. At seventeen and eighteen growth is still going on, sometimes in + a sporadic way, several parts seeming to have sprouted faster than others. + Often the features have not quite settled down together in harmony, a + mouth, for instance, appearing to have gained such a lead over the rest of + a face, that even a mother may fear it can never be overtaken. Voices, + too, often seem misplaced; one hears, outside the door, the bass rumble of + a sinister giant, and a mild boy, thin as a cricket, walks in. The + contrary was George Crooper's case; his voice was an unexpected piping + tenor, half falsetto and frequently girlish—as surprising as the + absurd voice of an elephant. + </p> + <p> + He had the general outwardness of a vast and lumpy child. His chin had so + distanced his other features that his eyes, nose, and brow seemed almost + baby-like in comparison, while his mountainous legs were the great part of + the rest of him. He was one of those huge, bottle-shaped boys who are + always in motion in spite of their cumbersomeness. His gestures were + continuous, though difficult to interpret as bearing upon the subject of + his equally continuous conversation; and under all circumstances he kept + his conspicuous legs incessantly moving, whether he was going anywhere or + remaining in comparatively one spot. + </p> + <p> + His expression was pathetically offensive, the result of his bland + confidence in the audible opinions of a small town whereof his father was + the richest inhabitant—and the one thing about him, even more + obvious than his chin, his legs, and his spectacular taste in flannels, + was his perfect trust that he was as welcome to every one as he was to his + mother. This might some day lead him in the direction of great pain, but + on the occasion of the “subscription party” for Miss Pratt it gave him an + advantage. + </p> + <p> + “When do I get to meet that cutie?” he insisted, as Johnnie Watson moved + backward from the cousinly arm, which threatened further flailing. “You + intradooced me to about seven I can't do much FOR, but I want to get the + howdy business over with this Miss Pratt, so I and she can get things + started. I'm goin' to keep her busy all day!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, don't be in such a hurry,” said Johnnie, uneasily. “You can meet + her when we get out in the country—if I get a chance, George.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir!” George protested, jovially. “I guess you're sad birds over in + this town, but look out! When I hit a town it don't take long till they + all hear there's something doin'! You know how I am when I get started, + Johnnie!” Here he turned upon William, tucking his fat arm affectionately + through William's thin one. “Hi, sport! Ole Johnnie's so slow, YOU toddle + me over and get me fixed up with this Miss Pratt, and I'll tell her you're + the real stuff—after we get engaged!” + </p> + <p> + He was evidently a true cloud-compeller, this horrible George. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX + </h2> + <h3> + “I DUNNO WHY IT IS” + </h3> + <p> + William extricated his arm, huskily muttering words which were lost in the + general outcry, “Car's coming!” The young people poured out through the + gate, and, as the car stopped, scrambled aboard. For a moment everything + was hurried and confused. William struggled anxiously to push through to + Miss Pratt and climb up beside her, but Mr. George Crooper made his way + into the crowd in a beaming, though bull-like manner, and a fat back in a + purple-and-white “blazer” flattened William's nose, while ponderous heels + damaged William's toes; he was shoved back, and just managed to clamber + upon the foot-board as the car started. The friendly hand of Joe Bullitt + pulled him to a seat, and William found himself rubbing his nose and + sitting between Joe and Johnnie Watson, directly behind the dashing + Crooper and Miss Pratt. Mr. Crooper had already taken Flopit upon his lap. + </p> + <p> + “Dogs are always crazy 'bout me,” they heard him say, for his high voice + was but too audible over all other sounds. “Dogs and chuldren. I dunno why + it is, but they always take to me. My name's George Crooper, Third, + Johnnie Watson's cousin. He was tryin' to intradooce me before the car + came along, but he never got the chance. I guess as this shindig's for + you, and I'm the only other guest from out o' town, we'll have to + intradooce ourselves—the two guests of honor, as it were.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Pratt laughed her silvery laugh, murmured politely, and turned no + freezing glance upon her neighbor. Indeed, it seemed that she was far from + regarding him with the distaste anticipated by William and Joe Bullitt. + “Flopit look so toot an' tunnin',” she was heard to remark. “Flopit look + so 'ittle on dray, big, 'normous man's lap.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Crooper laughed deprecatingly. “He does look kind of small compared + with the good ole man that's got charge of him, now! Well, I always was a + good deal bigger than the fellas I went with. I dunno why it is, but I was + always kind of quicker, too, as it were—and the strongest in any + crowd I ever got with. I'm kind of musclebound, I guess, but I don't let + that interfere with my quickness any. Take me in an automobile, now—I + got a racin'-car at home—and I keep my head better than most people + do, as it were. I can kind of handle myself better; I dunno why it is. My + brains seem to work better than other people's, that's all it is. I don't + mean that I got more sense, or anything like that; it's just the way my + brains work; they kind of put me at an advantage, as it were. Well, + f'rinstance, if I'd been livin' here in this town and joined in with the + crowd to get up this party, well, it would of been done a good deal + diff'rent. I won't say better, but diff'rent. That's always the way with + me if I go into anything, pretty soon I'm running the whole shebang; I + dunno why it is. The other people might try to run it their way for a + while, but pretty soon you notice 'em beginning to step out of the way for + good ole George. I dunno why it is, but that's the way it goes. Well, if + I'd been running THIS party I'd of had automobiles to go out in, not a + trolley-car where you all got to sit together—and I'd of sent over + home for my little racer and I'd of taken you out in her myself. I wish + I'd of sent for it, anyway. We could of let the rest go out in the + trolley, and you and I could of got off by ourselves: I'd like you to see + that little car. Well, anyway, I bet you'd of seen something pretty + different and a whole lot better if I'd of come over to this town in time + to get up this party for you!” + </p> + <p> + “For US,” Miss Pratt corrected him, sunnily. + </p> + <p> + “Bofe strangers—party for us two—all bofe!” And she gave him + one of her looks. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Crooper flushed with emotion; he was annexed; he became serious. + “Say,” he said, “that's a mighty smooth hat you got on.” And he touched + the fluffy rim of it with his forefinger. His fat shoulders leaned toward + her yearningly. + </p> + <p> + “We'd cert'nly of had a lot better time sizzin' along in that little racer + I got,” he said. “I'd like to had you see how I handle that little car. + Girls over home, they say they like to go out with me just to watch the + way I handle her; they say it ain't so much just the ride, but more the + way I handle that little car. I dunno why it is, but that's what they say. + That's the way I do anything I make up my mind to tackle, though. I don't + try to tackle everything—there's lots o' things I wouldn't take + enough interest in 'em, as it were—but just lemme make up my mind + once, and it's all off; I dunno why it is. There was a brakeman on the + train got kind of fresh: he didn't know who I was. Well, I just put my + hand on his shoulder and pushed him down in his seat like this”—he + set his hand upon Miss Pratt's shoulder. “I didn't want to hit him, + because there was women and chuldren in the car, so I just shoved my face + up close to him, like this. 'I guess you don't know how much stock my + father's got in this road,' I says. Did he wilt? Well, you ought of seen + that brakeman when I got through tellin' him who I was!” + </p> + <p> + “Nassy ole brateman!” said Miss Pratt, with unfailing sympathy. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Crooper's fat hand, as if unconsciously, gave Miss Pratt's delicate + shoulder a little pat in reluctant withdrawal. “Well, that's the way with + me,” he said. “Much as I been around this world, nobody ever tried to put + anything over on me and got away with it. They always come out the little + end o' the horn; I dunno why it is. Say, that's a mighty smooth locket you + got on the end o' that chain, there.” And again stretching forth his hand, + in a proprietor-like way, he began to examine the locket. + </p> + <p> + Three hot hearts, just behind, pulsated hatred toward him; for Johnnie + Watson had perceived his error, and his sentiments were now linked to + those of Joe Bullitt and William. The unhappiness of these three helpless + spectators was the more poignant because not only were they witnesses of + the impression of greatness which George Crooper was obviously producing + upon Miss Pratt, but they were unable to prevent themselves from being + likewise impressed. + </p> + <p> + They were not analytical; they dumbly accepted George at his own rating, + not even being able to charge him with lack of modesty. Did he not always + accompany his testimonials to himself with his deprecating falsetto laugh + and “I dunno why it is,” an official disclaimer of merit, “as it were”? + Here was a formidable candidate, indeed—a traveler, a man of the + world, with brains better and quicker than other people's brains; an + athlete, yet knightly—he would not destroy even a brakeman in the + presence of women and children—and, finally, most enviable and + deadly, the owner and operator of a “little racer”! All this glitter was + not far short of overpowering; and yet, though accepting it as fact, the + woeful three shared the inconsistent belief that in spite of everything + George was nothing but a big, fat lummox. For thus they even rather loudly + whispered of him—almost as if hopeful that Miss Pratt, and mayhap + George himself, might overhear. + </p> + <p> + Impotent their seething! The overwhelming Crooper pursued his conquering + way. He leaned more and more toward the magnetic girl, his growing + tenderness having that effect upon him, and his head inclining so far that + his bedewed brow now and then touched the fluffy hat. He was + constitutionally restless, but his movements never ended by placing a + greater distance between himself and Miss Pratt, though they sometimes + discommoded Miss Parcher, who sat at the other side of him—a side of + him which appeared to be without consciousness. He played naively with + Miss Pratt's locket and with the filmy border of her collar; he flicked + his nose for some time with her little handkerchief, loudly sniffing its + scent; and finally he became interested in a ring she wore, removed it, + and tried unsuccessfully to place it upon one of his own fingers. + </p> + <p> + “I've worn lots o' girls' rings on my watch-fob. I'd let 'em wear mine on + a chain or something. I guess they like to do that with me,” he said. “I + dunno why it is.” + </p> + <p> + At this subtle hint the three unfortunates held their breath, and then + lost it as the lovely girl acquiesced in the horrible exchange. As for + William, life was of no more use to him. Out of the blue heaven of that + bright morning's promise had fallen a pall, draping his soul in black and + purple. He had been horror-stricken when first the pudgy finger of George + Crooper had touched the fluffy edge of that sacred little hat; then, + during George's subsequent pawings and leanings, William felt that he must + either rise and murder or go mad. But when the exchange of rings was + accomplished, his spirit broke and even resentment oozed away. For a time + there was no room in him for anything except misery. + </p> + <p> + Dully, William's eyes watched the fat shoulders hitching and twitching, + while the heavy arms flourished in gesture and in further pawings. Again + and again were William's ears afflicted with, “I dunno why it is,” + following upon tribute after tribute paid by Mr. Crooper to himself, and + received with little cries of admiration and sweet child-words on the part + of Miss Pratt. It was a long and accursed ride. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX + </h2> + <h3> + SYDNEY CARTON + </h3> + <p> + At the farm-house where the party were to dine, Miss Pratt with joy + discovered a harmonium in the parlor, and, seating herself, with all the + girls, Flopit, and Mr. George Crooper gathered around her, she played an + accompaniment, while George, in a thin tenor of detestable sweetness, sang + “I'm Falling in Love with Some One.” + </p> + <p> + His performance was rapturously greeted, especially by the accompanist. + “Oh, wunnerfulest Untle Georgiecums!” she cried, for that was now the + gentleman's name. “If Johnnie McCormack hear Untle Georgiecums he go shoot + umself dead—Bang!” She looked round to where three figures hovered + morosely in the rear. “Tum on, sin' chorus, Big Bruvva Josie-Joe, Johnny + Jump-up, an' Ickle Boy Baxter. All over adain, Untle Georgiecums! Boys an' + dirls all sin' chorus. Tummence!” + </p> + <p> + And so the heartrending performance continued until it was stopped by + Wallace Banks, the altruistic and perspiring youth who had charge of the + subscription-list for the party, and the consequent collection of + assessments. This entitled Wallace to look haggard and to act as master of + ceremonies. He mounted a chair. + </p> + <p> + “Ladies and gentlemen,” he bellowed, “I want to say—that is—ah—I + am requested to announce t that before dinner we're all supposed to take a + walk around the farm and look at things, as this is supposed to be kind of + a model farm or supposed to be something like that. There's a Swedish lady + named Anna going to show us around. She's out in the yard waiting, so + please follow her to inspect the farm.” + </p> + <p> + To inspect a farm was probably the least of William's desires. He wished + only to die in some quiet spot and to have Miss Pratt told about it in + words that would show her what she had thrown away. But he followed with + the others, in the wake of the Swedish lady named Anna, and as they stood + in the cavernous hollow of the great barn he found his condition suddenly + improved. + </p> + <p> + Miss Pratt turned to him unexpectedly and placed Flopit in his arms. “Keep + p'eshus Flopit cozy,” she whispered. “Flopit love ole friends best!” + </p> + <p> + William's heart leaped, while a joyous warmth spread all over him. And + though the execrable lummox immediately propelled Miss Pratt forward—by + her elbow—to hear the descriptive remarks of the Swedish lady named + Anna, William's soul remained uplifted and entranced. She had not said + “like”; she had said, “Flopit LOVE ole friends best”! William pressed + forward valiantly, and placed himself as close as possible upon the right + of Miss Pratt, the lummox being upon her left. A moment later, William + wished that he had remained in the rear. + </p> + <p> + This was due to the unnecessary frankness of the Swedish lady named Anna, + who was briefly pointing out the efficiency of various agricultural + devices. Her attention being diverted by some effusions of pride on the + part of a passing hen, she thought fit to laugh and say: + </p> + <p> + “She yust laid egg.” + </p> + <p> + William shuddered. This grossness in the presence of Miss Pratt was + unthinkable. His mind refused to deal with so impossible a situation; he + could not accept it as a fact that such words had actually been uttered in + such a presence. And yet it was the truth; his incredulous ears still + sizzled. “She yust laid egg!” His entire skin became flushed; his averted + eyes glazed themselves with shame. + </p> + <p> + He was not the only person shocked by the ribaldry of the Swedish lady + named Anna. Joe Bullitt and Johnnie Watson, on the outskirts of the group, + went to Wallace Banks, drew him aside, and, with feverish eloquence, set + his responsibilities before him. It was his duty, they urged, to have an + immediate interview with this free-spoken Anna and instruct her in the + proprieties. Wallace had been almost as horrified as they by her loose + remark, but he declined the office they proposed for him, offering, + however, to appoint them as a committee with authority in the matter—whereupon + they retorted with unreasonable indignation, demanding to know what he + took them for. + </p> + <p> + Unconscious of the embarrassment she had caused in these several masculine + minds, the Swedish lady named Anna led the party onward, continuing her + agricultural lecture. William walked mechanically, his eyes averted and + looking at no one. And throughout this agony he was burningly conscious of + the blasphemed presence of Miss Pratt beside him. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, it was with no little surprise, when the party came out of the + barn, that William beheld Miss Pratt, not walking at his side, but on the + contrary, sitting too cozily with George Crooper upon a fallen tree at the + edge of a peach-orchard just beyond the barn-yard. It was Miss Parcher who + had been walking beside him, for the truant couple had made their escape + at the beginning of the Swedish lady's discourse. + </p> + <p> + In vain William murmured to himself, “Flopit love ole friends best.” + Purple and black again descended upon his soul, for he could not disguise + from himself the damnatory fact that George had flitted with the lady, + while he, wretched William, had been permitted to take care of the dog! + </p> + <p> + A spark of dignity still burned within him. He strode to the barn-yard + fence, and, leaning over it, dropped Flopit rather brusquely at his + mistress's feet. Then, without a word even without a look—William + walked haughtily away, continuing his stern progress straight through the + barn-yard gate, and thence onward until he found himself in solitude upon + the far side of a smoke-house, where his hauteur vanished. + </p> + <p> + Here, in the shade of a great walnut-tree which sheltered the little + building, he gave way—not to tears, certainly, but to faint + murmurings and little heavings under impulses as ancient as young love + itself. It is to be supposed that William considered his condition a + lonely one, but if all the seventeen-year-olds who have known such + halfhours could have shown themselves to him then, he would have fled from + the mere horror of billions. Alas! he considered his sufferings a new + invention in the world, and there was now inspired in his breast a + monologue so eloquently bitter that it might deserve some such title as A + Passion Beside the Smoke-house. During the little time that William spent + in this sequestration he passed through phases of emotion which would have + kept an older man busy for weeks and left him wrecked at the end of them. + </p> + <p> + William's final mood was one of beautiful resignation with a kick in it; + that is, he nobly gave her up to George and added irresistibly that George + was a big, fat lummox! Painting pictures, such as the billions of other + young sufferers before him have painted, William saw himself a sad, gentle + old bachelor at the family fireside, sometimes making the sacrifice of his + reputation so that SHE and the children might never know the truth about + George; and he gave himself the solace of a fierce scene or two with + George: “Remember, it is for them, not you—you THING!” + </p> + <p> + After this human little reaction he passed to a higher field of romance. + He would die for George and then she would bring the little boy she had + named William to the lonely headstone—Suddenly William saw himself + in his true and fitting character—Sydney Carton! He had lately read + A Tale of Two Cities, immediately re-reading until, as he would have said, + he “knew it by heart”; and even at the time he had seen resemblances + between himself and the appealing figure of Carton. Now that the sympathy + between them was perfected by Miss Pratt's preference for another, William + decided to mount the scaffold in place of George Crooper. The scene became + actual to him, and, setting one foot upon a tin milk-pail which some one + had carelessly left beside the smoke-house, he lifted his eyes to the + pitiless blue sky and unconsciously assumed the familiar attitude of + Carton on the steps of the guillotine. He spoke aloud those great last + words: + </p> + <p> + “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a + far, far better rest that I go to—” + </p> + <p> + A whiskered head on the end of a long, corrugated red neck protruded from + the smokehouse door. + </p> + <p> + “What say?” it inquired, huskily. + </p> + <p> + “Nun-nothing!” stammered William. + </p> + <p> + Eyes above whiskers became fierce. “You take your feet off that + milk-bucket. Say! This here's a sanitary farm. 'Ain't you got any more + sense 'n to go an'—” + </p> + <p> + But William had abruptly removed his foot and departed. + </p> + <p> + He found the party noisily established in the farm-house at two long + tables piled with bucolic viands already being violently depleted. Johnnie + Watson had kept a chair beside himself vacant for William. Johnnie was in + no frame of mind to sit beside any “chattering girl,” and he had protected + himself by Joe Bullitt upon his right and the empty seat upon his left. + William took it, and gazed upon the nearer foods with a slight renewal of + animation. + </p> + <p> + He began to eat; he continued to eat; in fact, he did well. So did his two + comrades. Not that the melancholy of these three was dispersed—far + from it! With ineffaceable gloom they ate chicken, both white meat and + dark, drumsticks, wishbones, and livers; they ate corn-on-the-cob, many + ears, and fried potatoes and green peas and string-beans; they ate peach + preserves and apricot preserves and preserved pears; they ate biscuits + with grape jelly and biscuits with crabapple jelly; they ate apple sauce + and apple butter and apple pie. They ate pickles, both cucumber pickles + and pickles made of watermelon rind; they ate pickled tomatoes, pickled + peppers, also pickled onions. They ate lemon pie. + </p> + <p> + At that, they were no rivals to George Crooper, who was a real eater. Love + had not made his appetite ethereal to-day, and even the attending Swedish + lady named Anna felt some apprehension when it came to George and the + gravy, though she was accustomed to the prodigies performed in this line + by the robust hands on the farm. George laid waste his section of the + table, and from the beginning he allowed himself scarce time to say, “I + dunno why it is.” The pretty companion at his side at first gazed + dumfounded; then, with growing enthusiasm for what promised to be a really + magnificent performance, she began to utter little ejaculations of wonder + and admiration. With this music in his ears, George outdid himself. He + could not resist the temptation to be more and more astonishing as a + heroic comedian, for these humors sometimes come upon vain people at + country dinners. + </p> + <p> + George ate when he had eaten more than he needed; he ate long after every + one understood why he was so vast; he ate on and on sheerly as a flourish—as + a spectacle. He ate even when he himself began to understand that there + was daring in what he did, for his was a toreador spirit so long as he + could keep bright eyes fastened upon him. + </p> + <p> + Finally, he ate to decide wagers made upon his gorging, though at times + during this last period his joviality deserted him. Anon his damp brow + would be troubled, and he knew moments of thoughtfulness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI + </h2> + <h3> + MY LITTLE SWEETHEARTS + </h3> + <p> + When George did stop, it was abruptly, during one of these intervals of + sobriety, and he and Miss Pratt came out of the house together rather + quietly, joining one of the groups of young people chatting with + after-dinner languor under the trees. However, Mr. Crooper began to revive + presently, in the sweet air of outdoors, and, observing some of the more + flashing gentlemen lighting cigarettes, he was moved to laughter. He had + not smoked since his childhood—having then been bonded through to + twenty-one with a pledge of gold—and he feared that these smoking + youths might feel themselves superior. Worse, Miss Pratt might be + impressed, therefore he laughed in scorn, saying: + </p> + <p> + “Burnin' up ole trash around here, I expect!” He sniffed searchingly. + “Somebody's set some ole rags on fire.” Then, as in discovery, he cried, + “Oh no, only cigarettes!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Pratt, that tactful girl, counted four smokers in the group about + her, and only one abstainer, George. She at once defended the smokers, for + it is to be feared that numbers always had weight with her. “Oh, but + cigarettes is lubly smell!” she said. “Untle Georgiecums maybe be too + 'ittle boy for smokings!” + </p> + <p> + This archness was greeted loudly by the smokers, and Mr. Crooper was put + upon his mettle. He spoke too quickly to consider whether or no the facts + justified his assertion. “Me? I don't smoke paper and ole carpets. I smoke + cigars!” + </p> + <p> + He had created the right impression, for Miss Pratt clapped her hands. + “Oh, 'plendid! Light one, Untle Georgiecums! Light one ever 'n' ever so + quick! P'eshus Flopit an' me we want see dray, big, 'normous man smoke + dray, big, 'normous cigar!” + </p> + <p> + William and Johnnie Watson, who had been hovering morbidly, unable to + resist the lodestone, came nearer, Johnnie being just in time to hear his + cousin's reply. + </p> + <p> + “I—I forgot my cigar-case.” + </p> + <p> + Johnnie's expression became one of biting skepticism. “What you talkin' + about, George? Didn't you promise Uncle George you'd never smoke till + you're of age, and Uncle George said he'd give you a thousand dollars on + your twenty-first birthday? What 'd you say about your 'cigar-case'?” + </p> + <p> + George felt that he was in a tight place, and the lovely eyes of Miss + Pratt turned upon him questioningly. He could not flush, for he was + already so pink after his exploits with unnecessary nutriment that more + pinkness was impossible. He saw that the only safety for him lay in + boisterous prevarication. “A thousand dollars!” he laughed loudly. “I + thought that was real money when I was ten years old! It didn't stand in + MY way very long, I guess! Good ole George wanted his smoke, and he went + after it! You know how I am, Johnnie, when I go after anything. I been + smokin' cigars I dunno how long!” Glancing about him, his eye became + reassured; it was obvious that even Johnnie had accepted this airy + statement as the truth, and to clinch plausibility he added: “When I + smoke, I smoke! I smoke cigars straight along—light one right on the + stub of the other. I only wish I had some with me, because I miss 'em + after a meal. I'd give a good deal for something to smoke right now! I + don't mean cigarettes; I don't want any paper—I want something + that's all tobacco!” + </p> + <p> + William's pale, sad face showed a hint of color. With a pang he remembered + the package of My Little Sweetheart All-Tobacco Cuban Cigarettes (the + Package of Twenty for Ten Cents) which still reposed, untouched, in the + breast pocket of his coat. His eyes smarted a little as he recalled the + thoughts and hopes that had accompanied the purchase; but he thought, + “What would Sydney Carton do?” + </p> + <p> + William brought forth the package of My Little Sweetheart All-Tobacco + Cuban Cigarettes and placed it in the large hand of George Crooper. And + this was a noble act, for William believed that George really wished to + smoke. “Here,” he said, “take these; they're all tobacco. I'm goin' to + quit smokin', anyway.” And, thinking of the name, he added, gently, with a + significance lost upon all his hearers, “I'm sure you ought to have 'em + instead of me.” + </p> + <p> + Then he went away and sat alone upon the fence. + </p> + <p> + “Light one, light one!” cried Miss Pratt. “Ev'ybody mus' be happy, an' + dray, big, 'normous man tan't be happy 'less he have his all-tobatto + smote. Light it, light it!” + </p> + <p> + George drew as deep a breath as his diaphragm, strangely oppressed since + dinner, would permit, and then bravely lit a Little Sweetheart. There must + have been some valiant blood in him, for, as he exhaled the smoke, he + covered a slight choking by exclaiming, loudly: “THAT'S good! That's the + ole stuff! That's what I was lookin' for!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Pratt was entranced. “Oh, 'plendid!” she cried, watching him with + fascinated eyes. “Now take dray, big, 'normous puffs! Take dray, big, + 'NORMOUS puffs!” + </p> + <p> + George took great, big, enormous puffs. + </p> + <p> + She declared that she loved to watch men smoke, and William's heart, as he + sat on the distant fence, was wrung and wrung again by the vision of her + playful ecstasies. But when he saw her holding what was left of the first + Little Sweetheart for George to light a second at its expiring spark, he + could not bear it. He dropped from the fence and moped away to be out of + sight once more. This was his darkest hour. + </p> + <p> + Studiously avoiding the vicinity of the smokehouse, he sought the little + orchard where he had beheld her sitting with George; and there he sat + himself in sorrowful reverie upon the selfsame fallen tree. How long he + remained there is uncertain, but he was roused by the sound of music which + came from the lawn before the farmhouse. Bitterly he smiled, remembering + that Wallace Banks had engaged Italians with harp, violin, and flute, + promising great things for dancing on a fresh-clipped lawn—a turf + floor being no impediment to seventeen's dancing. Music! To see her + whirling and smiling sunnily in the fat grasp of that dancing bear! He + would stay in this lonely orchard; SHE would not miss him. + </p> + <p> + But though he hated the throbbing music and the sound of the laughing + voices that came to him, he could not keep away—and when he reached + the lawn where the dancers were, he found Miss Pratt moving rhythmically + in the thin grasp of Wallace Banks. Johnnie Watson approached, and spoke + in a low tone, tinged with spiteful triumph. + </p> + <p> + “Well, anyway, ole fat George didn't get the first dance with her! She's + the guest of honor, and Wallace had a right to it because he did all the + work. He came up to 'em and ole fat George couldn't say a thing. Wallace + just took her right away from him. George didn't say anything at all, but + I s'pose after this dance he'll be rushin' around again and nobody else + 'll have a chance to get near her the rest of the afternoon. My mother + told me I ought to invite him over here, out I had no business to do it; + he don't know the first principles of how to act in a town he don't live + in!” + </p> + <p> + “Where'd he go?” William asked, listlessly, for Mr. Crooper was nowhere in + sight. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—he just walked off without sayin' anything. But he'll + be back, time this dance is over, never you fear, and he'll grab her again + and—What's the matter with Joe?” + </p> + <p> + Joseph Bullitt had made his appearance at a corner of the house, some + distance from where they stood. His face was alert under the impulse of + strong excitement, and he beckoned fiercely. “Come here!” And, when they + had obeyed, “He's around back of the house by a kind of shed,” said Joe. + “I think something's wrong. Come on, I'll show him to you.” + </p> + <p> + But behind the house, whither they followed him in vague, strange hope, he + checked them. “LOOK THERE!” he said. + </p> + <p> + His pointing finger was not needed. Sounds of paroxysm drew their + attention sufficiently—sounds most poignant, soul-rending, and + lugubrious. William and Johnnie perceived the large person of Mr. Crooper; + he was seated upon the ground, his back propped obliquely against the + smoke-house, though this attitude was not maintained constantly. + </p> + <p> + Facing him, at a little distance, a rugged figure in homely garments stood + leaning upon a hoe and regarding George with a cold interest. The apex of + this figure was a volcanic straw hat, triangular in profile and coned with + an open crater emitting reddish wisps, while below the hat were several + features, but more whiskers, at the top of a long, corrugated red neck of + sterling worth. A husky voice issued from the whiskers, addressing George. + </p> + <p> + “I seen you!” it said. “I seen you eatin'! This here farm is supposed to + be a sanitary farm, and you'd ought of knew better. Go it, doggone you! Go + it!” + </p> + <p> + George complied. And three spectators, remaining aloof, but watching + zealously, began to feel their lost faith in Providence returning into + them; their faces brightened slowly, and without relapse. It was a visible + thing how the world became fairer and better in their eyes during that + little while they stood there. And William saw that his Little Sweethearts + had been an inspired purchase, after all; they had delivered the final tap + upon a tottering edifice. George's deeds at dinner had unsettled, but + Little Sweethearts had overthrown—and now there was awful work among + the ruins, to an ironical accompaniment of music from the front yard, + where people danced in heaven's sunshine! + </p> + <p> + This accompaniment came to a stop, and Johnnie Watson jumped. He seized + each of his companions by a sleeve and spoke eagerly, his eyes glowing + with a warm and brotherly light. “Here!” he cried. “We better get around + there—this looks like it was goin' to last all afternoon. Joe, you + get the next dance with her, and just about time the music slows up you + dance her around so you can stop right near where Bill will be standin', + so Bill can get her quick for the dance after that. Then, Bill, you do the + same for me, and I'll do the same for Joe again, and then, Joe, you do it + for Bill again, and then Bill for me—and so on. If we go in right + now and work together we can crowd the rest out, and there won't anybody + else get to dance with her the whole day! Come on quick!” + </p> + <p> + United in purpose, the three ran lightly to the dancing-lawn, and Mr. + Bullitt was successful, after a little debate, in obtaining the next dance + with the lovely guest of the day. “I did promise big Untle Georgiecums,” + she said, looking about her. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't think he'll come,” said Joe. “That is, I'm pretty sure he + won't.” + </p> + <p> + A shade fell upon the exquisite face. “No'ty. Bruvva Josie-Joe! The Men + ALWAYS tum when Lola promises dances. Mustn't be rude!” + </p> + <p> + “Well—” Joe began, when he was interrupted by the Swedish lady named + Anna, who spoke to them from the steps of the house. Of the merrymakers + they were the nearest. + </p> + <p> + “Dot pick fella,” said Anna, “dot one dot eats—we make him in a + petroom. He holler! He tank he neet some halp.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he want a doctor?” Joe asked. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor? No! He want make him in a amyoulance for hospital!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go look at him,” Johnnie Watson volunteered, running up. “He's my + cousin, and I guess I got to take the responsibility.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Pratt paid the invalid the tribute of one faintly commiserating + glance toward the house. “Well,” she said, “if people would rather eat too + much than dance!” She meant “dance with ME!” though she thought it + prettier not to say so. “Come on, Bruvva Josie-Joe!” she cried, joyously. + </p> + <p> + And a little later Johnnie Watson approached her where she stood with a + restored and refulgent William, about to begin the succeeding dance. + Johnnie dropped into her hand a ring, receiving one in return. “I thought + I better GET it,” he said, offering no further explanation. “I'll take + care of his until we get home. He's all right,” said Johnnie, and then + perceiving a sudden advent of apprehension upon the sensitive brow of + William, he went on reassuringly: “He's doin' as well as anybody could + expect; that is—after the crazy way he DID! He's always been + considered the dumbest one in all our relations—never did know how + to act. I don't mean he's exactly not got his senses, or ought to be + watched, anything like that—and of course he belongs to an awful + good family—but he's just kind of the black sheep when it comes to + intelligence, or anything like that. I got him as comfortable as a person + could be, and they're givin' him hot water and mustard and stuff, but what + he needs now is just to be kind of quiet. It'll do him a lot o' good,” + Johnnie concluded, with a spark in his voice, “to lay there the rest of + the afternoon and get quieted down, kind of.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't think there's any—” William began, and, after a pause, + continued—“any hope—of his getting strong enough to come out + and dance afterwhile?” + </p> + <p> + Johnnie shook his head. “None in the world!” he said, conclusively. “The + best we can do for him is to let him entirely alone till after supper, and + then ask nobody to sit on the back seat of the trolley-car goin' home, so + we can make him comfortable back there, and let him kind of stretch out by + himself.” + </p> + <p> + Then gaily tinkled harp, gaily sang flute and violin! Over the greensward + William lightly bore his lady, while radiant was the cleared sky above the + happy dancers. William's fingers touched those delicate fingers; the + exquisite face smiled rosily up to him; undreamable sweetness beat + rhythmically upon his glowing ears; his feet moved in a rhapsody of + companionship with hers. They danced and danced and danced! + </p> + <p> + Then Joe danced with her, while William and Johnnie stood with hands upon + each other's shoulders and watched, mayhap with longing, but without + spite; then Johnnie danced with her while Joe and William watched—and + then William danced with her again. + </p> + <p> + So passed the long, ineffable afternoon away—ah, Seventeen! + </p> + <p> + “... 'Jav a good time at the trolley-party?” the clerk in the corner + drug-store inquired that evening. + </p> + <p> + “Fine!” said William, taking his overcoat from the hook where he had left + it. + </p> + <p> + “How j' like them Little Sweethearts I sold you?” + </p> + <p> + “FINE!” said William. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXII + </h2> + <h3> + FORESHADOWINGS + </h3> + <p> + Now the last rose had blown; the dandelion globes were long since on the + wind; gladioli and golden-glow and salvia were here; the season moved + toward asters and the goldenrod. This haloed summer still idled on its + way, yet all the while sped quickly; like some languid lady in an + elevator. + </p> + <p> + There came a Sunday—very hot. + </p> + <p> + Mr. and Mrs. Baxter, having walked a scorched half-mile from church, + drooped thankfully into wicker chairs upon their front porch, though Jane, + who had accompanied them, immediately darted away, swinging her hat by its + ribbon and skipping as lithesomely as if she had just come forth upon a + cool morning. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know how she does it!” her father moaned, glancing after her and + drying his forehead temporarily upon a handkerchief. “That would merely + kill me dead, after walking in this heat.” + </p> + <p> + Then, for a time, the two were content to sit in silence, nodding to + occasional acquaintances who passed in the desultory after-church + procession. Mr. Baxter fanned himself with sporadic little bursts of + energy which made his straw hat creak, and Mrs. Baxter sighed with the + heat, and gently rocked her chair. + </p> + <p> + But as a group of five young people passed along the other side of the + street Mr. Baxter abruptly stopped fanning himself, and, following the + direction of his gaze, Mrs. Baxter ceased to rock. In half-completed + attitudes they leaned slightly forward, sharing one of those pauses of + parents who unexpectedly behold their offspring. + </p> + <p> + “My soul!” said William's father. “Hasn't that girl gone home YET?” + </p> + <p> + “He looks pale to me,” Mrs. Baxter murmured, absently. “I don't think he + seems at all well, lately.” + </p> + <p> + During seventeen years Mr. Baxter had gradually learned not to protest + anxieties of this kind, unless he desired to argue with no prospect of + ever getting a decision. “Hasn't she got any HOME?” he demanded, testily. + “Isn't she ever going to quit visiting the Parchers and let people have a + little peace?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter disregarded this outburst as he had disregarded her remark + about William's pallor. “You mean Miss Pratt?” she inquired, dreamily, her + eyes following the progress of her son. “No, he really doesn't look well + at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she going to visit the Parchers all summer?” Mr. Baxter insisted. + </p> + <p> + “She already has, about,” said Mrs. Baxter. + </p> + <p> + “Look at that boy!” the father grumbled. “Mooning along with those other + moon-calves—can't even let her go to church alone! I wonder how many + weeks of time, counting it out in hours, he's wasted that way this + summer?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know! You see, he never goes there in the evening.” + </p> + <p> + “What of that? He's there all day, isn't he? What do they find to talk + about? That's the mystery to me! Day after day; hours and hours—My + soul! What do they SAY?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter laughed indulgently. “People are always wondering that about + the other ages. Poor Willie! I think that a great deal of the time their + conversation would be probably about as inconsequent as it is now. You see + Willie and Joe Bullitt are walking one on each side of Miss Pratt, and + Johnnie Watson has to walk behind with May Parcher. Joe and Johnnie are + there about as much as Willie is, and, of course, it's often his turn to + be nice to May Parcher. He hasn't many chances to be tete-a-tete with Miss + Pratt.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she ought to go home. I want that boy to get back into his senses. + He's in an awful state.” + </p> + <p> + “I think she is going soon,” said Mrs. Baxter. “The Parchers are to have a + dance for her Friday night, and I understand there's to be a floor laid in + the yard and great things. It's a farewell party.” + </p> + <p> + “That's one mercy, anyhow!” + </p> + <p> + “And if you wonder what they say,” she resumed, “why, probably they're all + talking about the party. And when Willie IS alone with her—well, + what does anybody say?” Mrs. Baxter interrupted herself to laugh. “Jane, + for instance—she's always fascinated by that darky, Genesis, when + he's at work here in the yard, and they have long, long talks; I've seen + them from the window. What on earth do you suppose they talk about? That's + where Jane is now. She knew I told Genesis I'd give him something if he'd + come and freeze the ice-cream for us to-day, and when we got here she + heard the freezer and hopped right around there. If you went out to the + back porch you'd find them talking steadily—but what on earth about + I couldn't guess to save my life!” + </p> + <p> + And yet nothing could have been simpler: as a matter of fact, Jane and + Genesis (attended by Clematis) were talking about society. That is to say, + their discourse was not sociologic; rather it was of the frivolous and + elegant. Watteau prevailed with them over John Stuart Mill—in a + word, they spoke of the beau monde. + </p> + <p> + Genesis turned the handle of the freezer with his left hand, allowing his + right the freedom of gesture which was an intermittent necessity when he + talked. In the matter of dress, Genesis had always been among the most + informal of his race, but to-day there was a change almost unnerving to + the Caucasian eye. He wore a balloonish suit of purple, strangely + scalloped at pocket and cuff, and more strangely decorated with lines of + small parasite buttons, in color blue, obviously buttons of leisure. His + bulbous new shoes flashed back yellow fire at the embarrassed sun, and his + collar (for he had gone so far) sent forth other sparkles, playing upon a + polished surface over an inner graining of soot. Beneath it hung a simple, + white, soiled evening tie, draped in a manner unintended by its + manufacturer, and heavily overburdened by a green glass medallion of the + Emperor Tiberius, set in brass. + </p> + <p> + “Yesm,” said Genesis. “Now I'm in 'at Swim—flyin' roun' ev'y night + wif all lem blue-vein people—I say, 'Mus' go buy me some blue-vein + clo'es! Ef I'm go'n' a START, might's well start HIGH!' So firs', I buy me + thishere gol' necktie pin wi' thishere lady's face carved out o' green + di'mon', sittin' in the middle all 'at gol'. 'Nen I buy me pair Royal King + shoes. I got a frien' o' mine, thishere Blooie Bowers; he say Royal King + shoes same kine o' shoes HE wear, an' I walk straight in 'at sto' where + they keep 'em at. 'Don' was'e my time showin' me no ole-time shoes,' I + say. 'Run out some them big, yella, lump-toed Royal Kings befo' my eyes, + an' firs' pair fit me I pay price, an' wear 'em right off on me!' 'Nen I + got me thishere suit o' clo'es—OH, oh! Sign on 'em in window: 'Ef + you wish to be bes'-dress' man in town take me home fer six dolluhs + ninety-sevum cents.' ''At's kine o' suit Genesis need,' I say. 'Ef Genesis + go'n' a start dressin' high, might's well start top!'” + </p> + <p> + Jane nodded gravely, comprehending the reasonableness of this view. “What + made you decide to start, Genesis?” she asked, earnestly. “I mean, how did + it happen you began to get this way?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, suh, 'tall come 'bout right like kine o' slidin' into it 'stid o' + hoppin' an' jumpin'. I'z spen' the even' at 'at lady's house, Fanny, what + cook nex' do', las' year. Well, suh, 'at lady Fanny, she quit privut + cookin', she kaytliss—” + </p> + <p> + “She's what?” Jane asked. “What's that mean, Genesis—kaytliss?” + </p> + <p> + “She kaytuhs,” he explained. “Ef it's a man you call him kaytuh; ef it's a + lady, she's a kaytliss. She does kaytun fer all lem blue-vein fam'lies in + town. She make ref'eshmuns, bring waituhs—'at's kaytun. You' maw + give big dinnuh, she have Fanny kaytuh, an' don't take no trouble 'tall + herself. Fanny take all 'at trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Jane. “But I don't see how her bein' a kaytliss started you + to dressin' so high, Genesis.” + </p> + <p> + “Thishere way. Fanny say, 'Look here, Genesis, I got big job t'morra night + an' I'm man short, 'count o' havin' to have a 'nouncer.'” + </p> + <p> + “A what?” + </p> + <p> + “Fanny talk jes' that way. Goin' be big dinnuh-potty, an' thishere + blue-vein fam'ly tell Fanny they want whole lot extry sploogin'; tell her + put fine-lookin' cullud man stan' by drawin'-room do'—ask ev'ybody + name an' holler out whatever name they say, jes' as they walk in. Thishere + fam'ly say they goin' show what's what, 'nis town, an' they boun' Fanny go + git 'em a 'nouncer. 'Well, what's mattuh YOU doin' 'at 'nouncin'?' Fanny + say. 'Who—me?' I tell her. 'Yes, you kin, too!' she say, an' she say + she len' me 'at waituh suit yoosta b'long ole Henry Gimlet what die' when + he owin' Fanny sixteen dolluhs—an' Fanny tuck an' keep 'at waituh + suit. She use 'at suit on extry waituhs when she got some on her hands + what 'ain't got no waituh suit. 'You wear 'at suit,' Fanny say, 'an' you + be good 'nouncer, 'cause you' a fine, big man, an' got a big, gran' voice; + 'nen you learn befo' long be a waituh, Genesis, an' git dolluh an' half + ev'y even' you waitin ', 'sides all 'at money you make cuttin' grass + daytime.' Well, suh, I'z stan' up doin' 'at 'nouncin' ve'y nex' night. + White lady an' ge'lmun walk todes my do', I step up to 'em—I step up + to 'em thisaway.” + </p> + <p> + Here Genesis found it pleasant to present the scene with some elaboration. + He dropped the handle of the freezer, rose, assumed a stately, but + ingratiating, expression, and “stepped up” to the imagined couple, using a + pacing and rhythmic gait—a conservative prance, which plainly + indicated the simultaneous operation of an orchestra. Then bending + graciously, as though the persons addressed were of dwarfish stature, + “'Scuse me,” he said, “but kin I please be so p'lite as to 'quiah you' + name?” For a moment he listened attentively, then nodded, and, returning + with the same aristocratic undulations to an imaginary doorway near the + freezer, “Misto an' Missuz Orlosko Rinktum!” he proclaimed, sonorously. + </p> + <p> + “WHO?” cried Jane, fascinated. “Genesis, 'nounce that again, right away!” + </p> + <p> + Genesis heartily complied. + </p> + <p> + “Misto an' Missuz Orlosko Rinktum!” he bawled. + </p> + <p> + “Was that really their names?” she asked, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I kine o' fergit,” Genesis admitted, resuming his work with the + freezer. “Seem like I rickalect SOMEBODY got name good deal like what I + say, 'cause some mighty blue-vein names at 'at dinnuh-potty, yessuh! But I + on'y git to be 'nouncer one time, 'cause Fanny tellin' me nex' fam'ly have + dinnuh-potty make heap o' fun. Say I done my 'nouncin' GOOD, but say + what's use holler'n' names jes' fer some the neighbors or they own aunts + an' uncles to walk in, when ev'ybody awready knows 'em? So Fanny pummote + me to waituh, an' I roun' right in amongs' big doin's mos' ev'y night. + Pass ice-cream, lemonade, lemon-ice, cake, samwitches. 'Lemme han' you + li'l' mo' chicken salad, ma'am'—' 'Low me be so kine as to git you + f'esh cup coffee, suh'—'S way ole Genesis talkin' ev'y even' 'ese + days!” + </p> + <p> + Jane looked at him thoughtfully. “Do you like it better than cuttin' + grass, Genesis?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He paused to consider. “Yes'm—when ban' play all lem TUNES! My + goo'ness, do soun' gran'!” + </p> + <p> + “You can't do it to-night, though, Genesis,” said Jane. “You haf to be + quiet on Sunday nights, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. 'Ain' got no mo' kaytun till nex' Friday even'.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I bet that's the party for Miss Pratt at Mr. Parcher's!” Jane cried. + “Didn't I guess right?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. I reckon I'm a-go'n' a see one you' fam'ly 'at night; see him + dancin'—wait on him at ref'eshmuns.” + </p> + <p> + Jane's expression became even more serious than usual. “Willie? I don't + know whether he's goin', Genesis.” + </p> + <p> + “Lan' name!” Genesis exclaimed. “He die ef he don' git INvite to 'at + ball!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's invited,” said Jane. “Only I think maybe he won't go.” + </p> + <p> + “My goo'ness! Why ain' he goin'?” + </p> + <p> + Jane looked at her friend studiously before replying. “Well, it's a + secret,” she said, finally, “but it's a very inter'sting one, an' I'll + tell you if you never tell.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm, I ain' tellin' nobody.” + </p> + <p> + Jane glanced round, then stepped a little closer and told the secret with + the solemnity it deserved. “Well, when Miss Pratt first came to visit Miss + May Parcher, Willie used to keep papa's evening clo'es in his window-seat, + an' mamma wondered what HAD become of 'em. Then, after dinner, he'd slip + up there an' put 'em on him, an' go out through the kitchen an' call on + Miss Pratt. Then mamma found 'em, an' she thought he oughtn't to do that, + so she didn't tell him or anything, an' she didn't even tell papa, but she + had the tailor make 'em ever an' ever so much bigger, 'cause they were + gettin' too tight for papa. An' well, so after that, even if Willie could + get 'em out o' mamma's clo'es-closet where she keeps 'em now, he'd look so + funny in 'em he couldn't wear 'em. Well, an' then he couldn't go to pay + calls on Miss Pratt in the evening since then, because mamma says after he + started to go there in that suit he couldn't go without it, or maybe Miss + Pratt or the other ones that's in love of her would think it was pretty + queer, an' maybe kind of expeck it was papa's all the time. Mamma says she + thinks Willie must have worried a good deal over reasons to say why he'd + always go in the daytime after that, an' never came in the evening, an' + now they're goin' to have this party, an' she says he's been gettin' paler + and paler every day since he heard about it. Mamma says he's pale SOME + because Miss Pratt's goin' away, but she thinks it's a good deal more + because, well, if he would wear those evening clo'es just to go CALLIN', + how would it be to go to that PARTY an' not have any! That's what mamma + thinks—an', Genesis, you promised you'd never tell as long as you + live!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. <i>I</i> ain' tellin',” Genesis chuckled. “I'm a-go'n' agit me one + nem waituh suits befo' long, myse'f, so's I kin quit wearin' 'at ole Henry + Gimlet suit what b'long to Fanny, an' have me a privut suit o' my own. + They's a secon'-han' sto' ovuh on the avynoo, where they got swallertail + suits all way f'um sevum dolluhs to nineteem dolluhs an' ninety-eight + cents. I'm a—” + </p> + <p> + Jane started, interrupting him. “'SH!” she whispered, laying a finger + warningly upon her lips. + </p> + <p> + William had entered the yard at the back gate, and, approaching over the + lawn, had arrived at the steps of the porch before Jane perceived him. She + gave him an apprehensive look, but he passed into the house + absent-mindedly, not even flinching at sight of Clematis—and Mrs. + Baxter was right, William did look pale. + </p> + <p> + “I guess he didn't hear us,” said Jane, when he had disappeared into the + interior. “He acks awful funny!” she added, thoughtfully. “First when he + was in love of Miss Pratt, he'd be mad about somep'm almost every minute + he was home. Couldn't anybody say ANYthing to him but he'd just behave as + if it was frightful, an' then if you'd see him out walkin' with Miss + Pratt, well, he'd look like—like—” Jane paused; her eye fell + upon Clematis and by a happy inspiration she was able to complete her + simile with remarkable accuracy. “He'd look like the way Clematis looks at + people! That's just EXACTLY the way he'd look, Genesis, when he was + walkin' with Miss Pratt; an' then when he was home he got so quiet he + couldn't answer questions an' wouldn't hear what anybody said to him at + table or anywhere, an' papa 'd nearly almost bust. Mamma 'n' papa 'd talk + an' talk about it, an'”—she lowered her voice—“an' I knew what + they were talkin' about. Well, an' then he'd hardly ever get mad any more; + he'd just sit in his room, an' sometimes he'd sit in there without any + light, or he'd sit out in the yard all by himself all evening, maybe; an' + th'other evening after I was in bed I heard 'em, an' papa said—well, + this is what papa told mamma.” And again lowering her voice, she proffered + the quotation from her father in atone somewhat awe-struck: “Papa said, by + Gosh! if he ever 'a' thought a son of his could make such a Word idiot of + himself he almost wished we'd both been girls!” + </p> + <p> + Having completed this report in a violent whisper, Jane nodded repeatedly, + for emphasis, and Genesis shook his head to show that he was as deeply + impressed as she wished him to be. “I guess,” she added, after a pause “I + guess Willie didn't hear anything you an' I talked about him, or clo'es, + or anything.” + </p> + <p> + She was mistaken in part. William had caught no reference to himself, but + he had overheard something and he was now alone in his room, thinking + about it almost feverishly. “A secon'-han' sto' ovuh on the avynoo, where + they got swaller-tail suits all way f'um sevum dolluhs to nineteem dolluhs + an' ninety-eight cents.” + </p> + <p> + ... Civilization is responsible for certain longings in the breast of man—artificial + longings, but sometimes as poignant as hunger and thirst. Of these the + strongest are those of the maid for the bridal veil, of the lad for long + trousers, and of the youth for a tailed coat of state. To the + gratification of this last, only a few of the early joys in life are + comparable. Indulged youths, too rich, can know, to the unctuous full, + neither the longing nor the gratification; but one such as William, in + “moderate circumstances,” is privileged to pant for his first evening + clothes as the hart panteth after the water-brook—and sometimes, to + pant in vain. Also, this was a crisis in William's life: in addition to + his yearning for such apparel, he was racked by a passionate urgency. + </p> + <p> + As Jane had so precociously understood, unless he should somehow manage to + obtain the proper draperies he could not go to the farewell dance for Miss + Pratt. Other unequipped boys could go in their ordinary “best clothes,” + but William could not; for, alack! he had dressed too well too soon! + </p> + <p> + He was in desperate case. + </p> + <p> + The sorrow of the approaching great departure was but the heavier because + it had been so long deferred. To William it had seemed that this + flower-strewn summer could actually end no more than he could actually + die, but Time had begun its awful lecture, and even Seventeen was + listening. + </p> + <p> + Miss Pratt, that magic girl, was going home. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIII + </h2> + <h3> + FATHERS FORGET + </h3> + <p> + To the competent twenties, hundreds of miles suggesting no + impossibilities, such departures may be rending, but not tragic. + Implacable, the difference to Seventeen! Miss Pratt was going home, and + Seventeen could not follow; it could only mourn upon the lonely shore, + tracing little angelic footprints left in the sand. + </p> + <p> + To Seventeen such a departure is final; it is a vanishing. + </p> + <p> + And now it seemed possible that William might be deprived even of the last + romantic consolations: of the “last waltz together,” of the last, last + “listening to music in the moonlight together”; of all those sacred lasts + of the “last evening together.” + </p> + <p> + He had pleaded strongly for a “dress-suit” as a fitting recognition of his + seventeenth birthday anniversary, but he had been denied by his father + with a jocularity more crushing than rigor. Since then—in particular + since the arrival of Miss Pratt—Mr. Baxter's temper had been growing + steadily more and more even. That is, as affected by William's social + activities, it was uniformly bad. Nevertheless, after heavy brooding, + William decided to make one final appeal before he resorted to measures + which the necessities of despair had caused him to contemplate. + </p> + <p> + He wished to give himself every chance for a good effect; therefore, he + did not act hastily, but went over what he intended to say, rehearsing it + with a few appropriate gestures, and even taking some pleasure in the + pathetic dignity of this performance, as revealed by occasional glances at + the mirror of his dressing-table. In spite of these little alleviations, + his trouble was great and all too real, for, unhappily, the previous + rehearsal of an emotional scene does not prove the emotion insincere. + </p> + <p> + Descending, he found his father and mother still sitting upon the front + porch. Then, standing before them, solemn-eyed, he uttered a preluding + cough, and began: + </p> + <p> + “Father,” he said in a loud voice, “I have come to—” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” Mrs. Baxter exclaimed, not perceiving that she was interrupting + an intended oration. “Willie, you DO look pale! Sit down, poor child; you + oughtn't to walk so much in this heat.” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” William repeated. “Fath—” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you got her safely home from church,” Mr. Baxter said. “She + might have been carried off by footpads if you three boys hadn't been + along to take care of her!” + </p> + <p> + But William persisted heroically. “Father—” he said. “Father, I have + come to—” + </p> + <p> + “What on earth's the matter with you?” Mr. Baxter ceased to fan himself; + Mrs. Baxter stopped rocking, and both stared, for it had dawned upon them + that something unusual was beginning to take place. + </p> + <p> + William backed to the start and tried it again. “Father, I have come to—” + He paused and gulped, evidently expecting to be interrupted, but both of + his parents remained silent, regarding him with puzzled surprise. + “Father,” he began once more, “I have come—I have come to—to + place before you something I think it's your duty as my father to + undertake, and I have thought over this step before laying it before you.” + </p> + <p> + “My soul!” said Mr. Baxter, under his breath. “My soul!” + </p> + <p> + “At my age,” William continued, swallowing, and fixing his earnest eyes + upon the roof of the porch, to avoid the disconcerting stare of his father—“at + my age there's some things that ought to be done and some things that + ought not to be done. If you asked me what I thought OUGHT to be done, + there is only one answer: When anybody as old as I am has to go out among + other young men his own age that already got one, like anyway half of them + HAVE, who I go with, and their fathers have already taken such a step, + because they felt it was the only right thing to do, because at my age and + the young men I go with's age, it IS the only right thing to do, because + that is something nobody could deny, at my age—” Here William drew a + long breath, and, deciding to abandon that sentence as irrevocably + tangled, began another: “I have thought over this step, because there + comes a time to every young man when they must lay a step before their + father before something happens that they would be sorry for. I have + thought this undertaking over, and I am certain it would be your honest + duty—” + </p> + <p> + “My soul!” gasped Mr. Baxter. “I thought I knew you pretty well, but you + talk like a stranger to ME! What is all this? What you WANT?” + </p> + <p> + “A dress-suit!” said William. + </p> + <p> + He had intended to say a great deal more before coming to the point, but, + although through nervousness he had lost some threads of his rehearsed + plea, it seemed to him that he was getting along well and putting his case + with some distinction and power. He was surprised and hurt, therefore, to + hear his father utter a wordless shout in a tone of wondering derision. + </p> + <p> + “I have more to say—” William began. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Baxter cut him off. “A dress-suit!” he cried. “Well, I'm glad you + were talking about SOMETHING, because I honestly thought it must be too + much sun!” + </p> + <p> + At this, the troubled William brought his eyes down from the porch roof + and forgot his rehearsal. He lifted his hand appealingly. “Father,” he + said, “I GOT to have one!” + </p> + <p> + “'Got to'!” Mr. Baxter laughed a laugh that chilled the supplicant through + and through. “At your age I thought I was lucky if I had ANY suit that was + fit to be seen in. You're too young, Willie. I don't want you to get your + mind on such stuff, and if I have my way, you won't have a dress-suit for + four years more, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, I GOT to have one. I got to have one right away!” The urgency in + William's voice was almost tearful. “I don't ask you to have it made, or + to go to expensive tailors, but there's plenty of good ready-made ones + that only cost about forty dollars; they're advertised in the paper. + Father, wouldn't you spend just forty dollars? I'll pay it back when I'm + in business; I'll work—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Baxter waved all this aside. “It's not the money. It's the principle + that I'm standing for, and I don't intend—” + </p> + <p> + “Father, WON'T you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I will not!” + </p> + <p> + William saw that sentence had been passed and all appeals for a new trial + denied. He choked, and rushed into the house without more ado. + </p> + <p> + “Poor boy!” his mother said. + </p> + <p> + “Poor boy nothing!” fumed Mr. Baxter. “He's about lost his mind over that + Miss Pratt. Think of his coming out here and starting a regular debating + society declamation before his mother and father! Why, I never heard + anything like it in my life! I don't like to hurt his feelings, and I'd + give him anything I could afford that would do him any good, but all he + wants it for now is to splurge around in at this party before that little + yellow-haired girl! I guess he can wear the kind of clothes most of the + other boys wear—the kind <i>I</i> wore at parties—and never + thought of wearing anything else. What's the world getting to be like? + Seventeen years old and throws a fit because he can't have a dress-suit!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter looked thoughtful. “But—but suppose he felt he couldn't + go to the dance unless he wore one, poor boy—” + </p> + <p> + “All the better,” said Mr. Baxter, firmly. “Do him good to keep away and + get his mind on something else.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she suggested, with some timidity, “forty dollars isn't a + great deal of money, and a ready-made suit, just to begin with—” + </p> + <p> + Naturally, Mr. Baxter perceived whither she was drifting. “Forty dollars + isn't a thousand,” he interrupted, “but what you want to throw it away + for? One reason a boy of seventeen oughtn't to have evening clothes is the + way he behaves with ANY clothes. Forty dollars! Why, only this summer he + sat down on Jane's open paint-box, twice in one week!” + </p> + <p> + “Well—Miss Pratt IS going away, and the dance will be her last + night. I'm afraid it would really hurt him to miss it. I remember once, + before we were engaged—that evening before papa took me abroad, and + you—” + </p> + <p> + “It's no use, mamma,” he said. “We were both in the twenties—why, <i>I</i> + was six years older than Willie, even then. There's no comparison at all. + I'll let him order a dress-suit on his twenty-first birthday and not a + minute before. I don't believe in it, and I intend to see that he gets all + this stuff out of his system. He's got to learn some hard sense!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter shook her head doubtfully, but she said no more. Perhaps she + regretted a little that she had caused Mr. Baxter's evening clothes to be + so expansively enlarged—for she looked rather regretful. She also + looked rather incomprehensible, not to say cryptic, during the long + silence which followed, and Mr. Baxter resumed his rocking, unaware of the + fixity of gaze which his wife maintained upon him—a thing the most + loyal will do sometimes. + </p> + <p> + The incomprehensible look disappeared before long; but the regretful one + was renewed in the mother's eyes whenever she caught glimpses of her son, + that day, and at the table, where William's manner was gentle—even + toward his heartless father. + </p> + <p> + Underneath that gentleness, the harried self of William was no longer + debating a desperate resolve, but had fixed upon it, and on the following + afternoon Jane chanced to be a witness of some resultant actions. She came + to her mother with an account of them. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma, what you s'pose Willie wants of those two ole market-baskets that + were down cellar?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Jane?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he carried 'em in his room, an' then he saw me lookin'; an' he + said, 'G'way from here!' an' shut the door. He looks so funny! What's he + want of those ole baskets, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. Perhaps he doesn't even know, himself, Jane.” + </p> + <p> + But William did know, definitely. He had set the baskets upon chairs, and + now, with pale determination, he was proceeding to fill them. When his + task was completed the two baskets contained: + </p> + <p> + One “heavy-weight winter suit of clothes.” + </p> + <p> + One “light-weight summer suit of clothes.” + </p> + <p> + One cap. + </p> + <p> + One straw hat. + </p> + <p> + Two pairs of white flannel trousers. + </p> + <p> + Two Madras shirts. + </p> + <p> + Two flannel shirts. + </p> + <p> + Two silk shirts. + </p> + <p> + Seven soft collars. + </p> + <p> + Three silk neckties. + </p> + <p> + One crocheted tie. + </p> + <p> + Eight pairs of socks. + </p> + <p> + One pair of patent-leather shoes. + </p> + <p> + One pair of tennis-shoes. + </p> + <p> + One overcoat. + </p> + <p> + Some underwear. + </p> + <p> + One two-foot shelf of books, consisting of several sterling works upon + mathematics, in a damaged condition; five of Shakespeare's plays, + expurgated for schools and colleges, and also damaged; a work upon + political economy, and another upon the science of physics; Webster's + Collegiate Dictionary; How to Enter a Drawing-Room and Five Hundred Other + Hints; Witty Sayings from Here and There; Lorna Doone; Quentin Durward; + The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, a very old copy of Moths, and a small + Bible. + </p> + <p> + William spread handkerchiefs upon the two over-bulging cargoes, that their + nature might not be disclosed to the curious, and, after listening a + moment at his door, took the baskets, one upon each arm, then went quickly + down the stairs and out of the house, out of the yard, and into the alley—by + which route he had modestly chosen to travel. + </p> + <p> + ... After an absence of about two hours he returned empty-handed and + anxious. “Mother, I want to speak to you,” he said, addressing Mrs Baxter + in a voice which clearly proved the strain of these racking days. “I want + to speak to you about something important.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Willie?” + </p> + <p> + “Please send Jane away. I can't talk about important things with a child + in the room.” + </p> + <p> + Jane naturally wished to stay, since he was going to say something + important. “Mamma, do I HAF to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Just a few minutes, dear.” + </p> + <p> + Jane walked submissively out of the door, leaving it open behind her. + Then, having gone about six feet farther, she halted and, preserving a + breathless silence, consoled herself for her banishment by listening to + what was said, hearing it all as satisfactorily as if she had remained in + the room. Quiet, thoughtful children, like Jane, avail themselves of these + little pleasures oftener than is suspected. + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” said William, with great intensity, “I want to ask you please to + lend me three dollars and sixty cents.” + </p> + <p> + “What for, Willie?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, I just ask you to lend me three dollars and sixty cents.” + </p> + <p> + “But what FOR?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, I don't feel I can discuss it any; I simply ask you: Will you + lend me three dollars and sixty cents?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter laughed gently. “I don't think I could, Willie, but certainly + I should want to know what for.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, I am going on eighteen years of age, and when I ask for a small + sum of money like three dollars and sixty cents I think I might be trusted + to know how to use it for my own good without having to answer questions + like a ch—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Willie,” she exclaimed, “you ought to have plenty of money of your + own!” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I ought,” he agreed, warmly. “If you'd ask father to give me a + regular allow—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; I mean you ought to have plenty left out of that old junk and + furniture I let you sell last month. You had over nine dollars!' + </p> + <p> + “That was five weeks ago,” William explained, wearily. + </p> + <p> + “But you certainly must have some of it left. Why, it was MORE than nine + dollars, I believe! I think it was nearer ten. Surely you haven't—” + </p> + <p> + “Ye gods!” cried the goaded William. “A person going on eighteen years old + ought to be able to spend nine dollars in five weeks without everybody's + acting like it was a crime! Mother, I ask you the simple question: Will + you PLEASE lend me three dollars and sixty cents?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think I ought to, dear. I'm sure your father wouldn't wish me to, + unless you'll tell me what you want it for. In fact, I won't consider it + at all unless you do tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't do it?” he quavered. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head gently. “You see, dear, I'm afraid the reason you don't + tell me is because you know that I wouldn't give it to you if I knew what + you wanted it for.” + </p> + <p> + This perfect diagnosis of the case so disheartened him that after a few + monosyllabic efforts to continue the conversation with dignity he gave it + up, and left in such a preoccupation with despondency that he passed the + surprised Jane in the hall without suspecting what she had been doing. + </p> + <p> + That evening, after dinner, he addressed to his father an impassioned + appeal for three dollars and sixty cents, laying such stress of pathos on + his principal argument that if he couldn't have a dress-suit, at least he + ought to be given three dollars and sixty CENTS (the emphasis is + William's) that Mr. Baxter was moved in the direction of consent—but + not far enough. “I'd like to let you have it, Willie,” he said, excusing + himself for refusal, “but your mother felt SHE oughtn't to do it unless + you'd say what you wanted it for, and I'm sure she wouldn't like me to do + it. I can't let you have it unless you get her to say she wants me to.” + </p> + <p> + Thus advised, the unfortunate made another appeal to his mother the next + day, and, having brought about no relaxation of the situation, again + petitioned his father, on the following evening. So it went; the torn and + driven William turning from parent to parent; and surely, since the world + began, the special sum of three dollars and sixty cents has never been so + often mentioned in any one house and in the same space of time as it was + in the house of the Baxters during Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and + Thursday of that oppressive week. + </p> + <p> + But on Friday William disappeared after breakfast and did not return to + lunch. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIV + </h2> + <h3> + CLOTHES MAKE THE MAN + </h3> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter was troubled. During the afternoon she glanced often from the + open window of the room where she had gone to sew, but the peaceful + neighborhood continued to be peaceful, and no sound of the harassed + footsteps of William echoed from the pavement. However, she saw Genesis + arrive (in his weekday costume) to do some weeding, and Jane immediately + skip forth for mingled purposes of observation and conversation. + </p> + <p> + “What DO they say?” thought Mrs. Baxter, observing that both Jane and + Genesis were unusually animated. But for once that perplexity was to be + dispersed. After an exciting half-hour Jane came flying to her mother, + breathless. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma,” she cried, “I know where Willie is! Genesis told me, 'cause he + saw him, an' he talked to him while he was doin' it.” + </p> + <p> + “Doing what? Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma, listen! What you think Willie's doin'? I bet you can't g—” + </p> + <p> + “Jane!” Mrs Baxter spoke sharply. “Tell me what Genesis said, at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. Willie's sittin' in a lumber-yard that Genesis comes by on his way + from over on the avynoo where all the colored people live—an' he's + countin' knot-holes in shingles.” + </p> + <p> + “He is WHAT?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. Genesis knows all about it, because he was thinkin' of doin' it + himself, only he says it would be too slow. This is the way it is, mamma. + Listen, mamma, because this is just exackly the way it is. Well, this + lumber-yard man got into some sort of a fuss because he bought millions + an' millions of shingles, mamma, that had too many knots in, an' the man + don't want to pay for 'em, or else the store where he bought 'em won't + take 'em back, an' they got to prove how many shingles are bad shingles, + or somep'm, an' anyway, mamma, that's what Willie's doin'. Every time he + comes to a bad shingle, mamma, he puts it somewheres else, or somep'm like + that, mamma, an' every time he's put a thousand bad shingles in this other + place they give him six cents. He gets the six cents to keep, mamma—an' + that's what he's been doin' all day!” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but that's nothing, mamma—just you wait till you hear the rest. + THAT part of it isn't anything a TALL, mamma! You wouldn't hardly notice + that part of it if you knew the other part of it, mamma. Why, that isn't + ANYTHING!” Jane made demonstrations of scorn for the insignificant + information already imparted. + </p> + <p> + “Jane!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to know everything Genesis told you,” said her mother, “and I want + you to tell it as quickly as you can.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I AM tellin' it, mamma!” Jane protested. “I'm just BEGINNING to + tell it. I can't tell it unless there's a beginning, can I? How could + there be ANYTHING unless you had to begin it, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “Try your best to go on, Jane!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. Well, Genesis says—Mamma!” Jane interrupted herself with a + little outcry. “Oh! I bet THAT'S what he had those two market-baskets for! + Yes, sir! That's just what he did! An' then he needed the rest o' the + money an' you an' papa wouldn't give him any, an' so he began countin' + shingles to-day 'cause to-night's the night of the party an' he just HASS + to have it!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter, who had risen to her feet, recalled the episode of the + baskets and sank into a chair. “How did Genesis know Willie wanted forty + dollars, and if Willie's pawned something how did Genesis know THAT? Did + Willie tell Gen—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, mamma, Willie didn't want forty dollars—only fourteen!” + </p> + <p> + “But he couldn't get even the cheapest readymade dress-suit for fourteen + dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma, you're gettin' it all mixed up!” Jane cried. “Listen, mamma! + Genesis knows all about a second-hand store over on the avynoo; an' it + keeps 'most everything, an' Genesis says it's the nicest store! It keeps + waiter suits all the way up to nineteen dollars and ninety-nine cents. + Well, an' Genesis wants to get one of those suits, so he goes in there all + the time, an' talks to the man an' bargains an' bargains with him, 'cause + Genesis says this man is the bargainest man in the wide worl', mamma! + That's what Genesis says. Well, an' so this man's name is One-eye Beljus, + mamma. That's his name, an' Genesis says so. Well, an' so this man that + Genesis told me about, that keeps the store—I mean One-eye Beljus, + mamma—well, One-eye Beljus had Willie's name written down in a book, + an' he knew Genesis worked for fam'lies that have boys like Willie in 'em, + an' this morning One-eye Beljus showed Genesis Willie's name written down + in this book, an' One-eye Beljus asked Genesis if he knew anybody by that + name an' all about him. Well, an' so at first Genesis pretended he was + tryin' to remember, because he wanted to find out what Willie went there + for. Genesis didn't tell any stories, mamma; he just pretended he couldn't + remember, an' so, well, One-eye Beljus kept talkin' an' pretty soon + Genesis found out all about it. One-eye Beljus said Willie came in there + an' tried on the coat of one of those waiter suits—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no!” gasped Mrs. Baxter. + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm, an' One-eye Beljus said it was the only one that would fit Willie, + an' One-eye Beljus told Willie that suit was worth fourteen dollars, an' + Willie said he didn't have any money, but he'd like to trade something + else for it. Well, an' so One-eye Beljus said this was an awful fine suit + an' the only one he had that had b'longed to a white gentleman. Well, an' + so they bargained, an' bargained, an' bargained, an' BARGAINED! An' then, + well, an' so at last Willie said he'd go an' get everything that b'longed + to him, an' One-eye Beljus could pick out enough to make fourteen dollars' + worth, an' then Willie could have the suit. Well, an' so Willie came home + an' put everything he had that b'longed to him into those two baskets, + mamma—that's just what he did, 'cause Genesis says he told One-eye + Beljus it was everything that b'longed to him, an' that would take two + baskets, mamma. Well, then, an' so he told One-eye Beljus to pick out + fourteen dollars' worth, an' One-eye Beljus ast Willie if he didn't have a + watch. Well, Willie took out his watch an' One-eye Beljus said it was an + awful bad watch, but he would put it in for a dollar; an' he said, 'I'll + put your necktie pin in for forty cents more,' so Willie took it out of + his necktie an' then One-eye Beljus said it would take all the things in + the baskets to make I forget how much, mamma, an' the watch would be a + dollar more, an' the pin forty cents, an' that would leave just three + dollars an' sixty cents more for Willie to pay before he could get the + suit.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter's face had become suffused with high color, but she wished to + know all that Genesis had said, and, mastering her feelings with an + effort, she told Jane to proceed—a command obeyed after Jane had + taken several long breaths. + </p> + <p> + “Well, an' so the worst part of it is, Genesis says, it's because that + suit is haunted.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm,” said Jane, solemnly; “Genesis says it's haunted. Genesis says + everybody over on the avynoo knows all about that suit, an' he says that's + why One-eye Beljus never could sell it before. Genesis says One-eye Beljus + tried to sell it to a colored man for three dollars, but the man said he + wouldn't put in on for three hunderd dollars, an' Genesis says HE + wouldn't, either, because it belonged to a Dago waiter that—that—” + Jane's voice sank to a whisper of unctuous horror. She was having a + wonderful time! “Mamma, this Dago waiter, he lived over on the avynoo, an' + he took a case-knife he'd sharpened—AN' HE CUT A LADY'S HEAD OFF + WITH IT!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter screamed faintly. + </p> + <p> + “An' he got hung, mamma! If you don't believe it, you can ask One-eye + Beljus—I guess HE knows! An' you can ask—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” + </p> + <p> + “An' he sold this suit to One-eye Beljus when he was in jail, mamma. He + sold it to him before he got hung, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Jane!” + </p> + <p> + But Jane couldn't hush now. “An' he had that suit on when he cut the + lady's head off, mamma, an' that's why it's haunted. They cleaned it all + up excep' a few little spots of bl—” + </p> + <p> + “JANE!” shouted her mother. “You must not talk about such things, and + Genesis mustn't tell, you stories of that sort!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, how could he help it, if he told me about Willie?” Jane urged, + reasonably. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind! Did that crazy ch—Did Willie LEAVE the baskets in that + dreadful place?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm—an' his watch an' pin,” Jane informed her, impressively. “An' + One-eye Beljus wanted to know if Genesis knew Willie, because One-eye + Beljus wanted to know if Genesis thought Willie could get the three + dollars an; sixty cents, an' One-eye Beljus wanted to know if Genesis + thought he could get anything more out of him besides that. He told + Genesis he hadn't told Willie he COULD have the suit, after all; he just + told him he THOUGHT he could, but he wouldn't say for certain till he + brought him the three dollars an' sixty cents. So Willie left all his + things there, an' his watch an—” + </p> + <p> + “That will do!” Mrs. Baxter's voice was sharper than it had ever been in + Jane's recollection. “I don't need to hear any more—and I don't WANT + to hear any more!” + </p> + <p> + Jane was justly aggrieved. “But, mamma, it isn't MY fault!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter's lips parted to speak, but she checked herself. “Fault?” she + said, gravely. “I wonder whose fault it really is!” + </p> + <p> + And with that she went hurriedly into William's room and made a brief + inspection of his clothes-closet and dressing-table. Then, as Jane watched + her in awed silence, she strode to the window, and called, loudly: + </p> + <p> + “Genesis!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm?” came the voice from below. + </p> + <p> + “Go to that lumber-yard where Mr. William is at work and bring him here to + me at once. If he declines to come, tell him—” Her voice broke + oddly; she choked, but Jane could not decide with what emotion. “Tell him—tell + him I ordered you to use force if necessary! Hurry!” + </p> + <p> + “YES'M!” + </p> + <p> + Jane ran to the window in time to see Genesis departing seriously through + the back gate. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk to me now, Jane,” Mrs. Baxter said, crisply. “I want you to go + down in the yard, and when Willie comes tell him I'm waiting for him here + in his own room. And don't come with him, Jane. Run!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mamma.” Jane was pleased with this appointment; she anxiously + desired to be the first to see how Willie “looked.” + </p> + <p> + ... He looked flurried and flustered and breathless, and there were + blisters upon the reddened palms of his hands. “What on earth's the + matter, mother?” he asked, as he stood panting before her. “Genesis said + something was wrong, and he said you told him to hit me if I wouldn't + come.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh NO!” she cried. “I only meant I thought perhaps you wouldn't obey any + ordinary message—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, it doesn't matter, but please hurry and say what you want to, + because I got to get back and—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” Mrs. Baxter said, quietly, “you're not going back to count any more + shingles, Willie. How much have you earned?” + </p> + <p> + He swallowed, but spoke bravely. “Thirty-six cents. But I've been getting + lots faster the last two hours and there's a good deal of time before six + o'clock. Mother—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said. “You're going over to that horrible place where you've + left your clothes and your watch and all those other things in the two + baskets, and you're going to bring them home at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother!” he cried, aghast. “Who told you?” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't matter. You don't want your father to find out, do you? Then + get those things back here as quickly as you can. They'll have to be + fumigated after being in that den.” + </p> + <p> + “They've never been out of the baskets,” he protested, hotly, “except just + to be looked at. They're MY things, mother, and I had a right to do what I + needed to with 'em, didn't I?” His utterance became difficult. “You and + father just CAN'T understand—and you won't do anything to help me—” + </p> + <p> + “Willie, you can go to the party,” she said, gently. “You didn't need + those frightful clothes at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I do!” he cried. “I GOT to have 'em! I CAN'T go in my day clo'es! There's + a reason you wouldn't understand why I can't. I just CAN'T!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “you can go to the party.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't, either! Not unless you give me three dollars and twenty-four + cents, or unless I can get back to the lumber-yard and earn the rest + before—” + </p> + <p> + “No!” And the warm color that had rushed over Mrs. Baxter during Jane's + sensational recital returned with a vengeance. Her eyes flashed. “If you'd + rather I sent a policeman for those baskets, I'll send one. I should + prefer to do it—much! And to have that rascal arrested. If you don't + want me to send a policeman you can go for them yourself, but you must + start within ten minutes, because if you don't I'll telephone + headquarters. Ten minutes, Willie, and I mean it!” + </p> + <p> + He cried out, protesting. She would make him a thing of scorn forever and + soil his honor, if she sent a policeman. Mr. Beljus was a fair and honest + tradesman, he explained, passionately, and had not made the approaches in + this matter. Also, the garments in question, though not entirely new, nor + of the highest mode, were of good material and in splendid condition. + Unmistakably they were evening clothes, and such a bargain at fourteen + dollars that William would guarantee to sell them for twenty after he had + worn them this one evening. Mr. Beljus himself had said that he would not + even think of letting them go at fourteen to anybody else, and as for the + two poor baskets of worn and useless articles offered in exchange, and a + bent scarfpin and a worn-out old silver watch that had belonged to + great-uncle Ben—why, the ten dollars and forty cents allowed upon + them was beyond all ordinary liberality; it was almost charity. There was + only one place in town where evening clothes were rented, and the + suspicious persons in charge had insisted that William obtain from his + father a guarantee to insure the return of the garments in perfect + condition. So that was hopeless. And wasn't it better, also, to wear + clothes which had known only one previous occupant (as was the case with + Mr. Beljus's offering) than to hire what chance hundreds had hired? + Finally, there was only one thing to be considered and this was the fact + that William HAD to have those clothes! + </p> + <p> + “Six minutes,” said Mrs. Baxter, glancing implacably at her watch. “When + it's ten I'll telephone.” + </p> + <p> + And the end of it was, of course, victory for the woman—victory both + moral and physical. Three-quarters of an hour later she was unburdening + the contents of the two baskets and putting the things back in place, + illuminating these actions with an expression of strong distaste—in + spite of broken assurances that Mr. Beljus had not more than touched any + of the articles offered to him for valuation. + </p> + <p> + ... At dinner, which was unusually early that evening, Mrs. Baxter did not + often glance toward her son; she kept her eyes from that white face and + spent most of her time in urging upon Mr. Baxter that he should be prompt + in dressing for a card-club meeting which he and she were to attend that + evening. These admonitions of hers were continued so pressingly that Mr. + Baxter, after protesting that there was no use in being a whole hour too + early, groaningly went to dress without even reading his paper. + </p> + <p> + William had retired to his own room, where he lay upon his bed in the + darkness. He heard the evening noises of the house faintly through the + closed door: voices and the clatter of metal and china from the far-away + kitchen, Jane's laugh in the hall, the opening and closing of the doors. + Then his father seemed to be in distress about something. William heard + him complaining to Mrs. Baxter, and though the words were indistinct, the + tone was vigorously plaintive. Mrs. Baxter laughed and appeared to make + light of his troubles, whatever they were—and presently their + footsteps were audible from the stairway; the front door closed + emphatically, and they were gone. + </p> + <p> + Everything was quiet now. The open window showed as a greenish oblong set + in black, and William knew that in a little while there would come through + the stillness of that window the distant sound of violins. That was a + moment he dreaded with a dread that ached. And as he lay on his dreary bed + he thought of brightly lighted rooms where other boys were dressing + eagerly faces and hair shining, hearts beating high—boys who would + possess this last evening and the “last waltz together,” the last smile + and the last sigh. + </p> + <p> + It did not once enter his mind that he could go to the dance in his “best + suit,” or that possibly the other young people at the party would be too + busy with their own affairs to notice particularly what he wore. It was + the unquestionable and granite fact, to his mind, that the whole derisive + World would know the truth about his earlier appearances in his father's + clothes. And that was a form of ruin not to be faced. In the protective + darkness and seclusion of William's bedroom, it is possible that smarting + eyes relieved themselves by blinking rather energetically; it is even + possible that there was a minute damp spot upon the pillow. Seventeen + cannot always manage the little boy yet alive under all the coverings. + </p> + <p> + Now arrived that moment he had most painfully anticipated, and dance-music + drifted on the night;—but there came a tapping upon his door and a + soft voice spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Will-ee?” + </p> + <p> + With a sharp exclamation William swung his legs over the edge of the bed + and sat up. Of all things he desired not, he desired no conversation with, + or on the part of, Jane. But he had forgotten to lock his door—the + handle turned, and a dim little figure marched in. + </p> + <p> + “Willie, Adelia's goin' to put me to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “You g'way from here,” he said, huskily. “I haven't got time to talk to + you. I'm busy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can wait a minute, can't you?” she asked, reasonably. “I haf to + tell you a joke on mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to hear any jokes!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I HAF to tell you this one 'cause she told me to! Oh!” Jane clapped + her hand over her mouth and jumped up and down, offering a fantastic + silhouette against the light of the Open door. “Oh, oh, OH!” + </p> + <p> + “What's matter?” + </p> + <p> + “She said I mustn't, MUSTN'T tell that she told me to tell! My goodness! I + forgot that! Mamma took me off alone right after dinner, an' she told me + to tell you this joke on her a little after she an' papa had left the + house, but she said, 'Above all THINGS,' she said, 'DON'T let Willie know + <i>I</i> said to tell him.' That's just what she said, an' here that's the + very first thing I had to go an' do!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what of it?” + </p> + <p> + Jane quieted down. The pangs of her remorse were lost in her love of + sensationalism, and her voice sank to the thrilling whisper which it was + one of her greatest pleasures to use. “Did you hear what a fuss papa was + makin' when he was dressin' for the card-party?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> don't care if—” + </p> + <p> + “He had to go in his reg'lar clo'es!” whispered Jane, triumphantly. “An' + this is the joke on mamma: you know that tailor that let papa's dress-suit + 'way, 'way out; well, Mamma thinks that tailor must think she's crazy, or + somep'm 'cause she took papa's dress-suit to him last Monday to get it + pressed for this card-party, an she guesses he must of understood her to + tell him to do lots besides just pressin' it. Anyway, he went an' altered + it, an' he took it 'way, 'way IN again; an' this afternoon when it came + back it was even tighter 'n what it was in the first place, an' papa + couldn't BEGIN to get into it! Well, an' so it's all pressed an' + ev'ything, an' she stopped on the way out, an' whispered to me that she'd + got so upset over the joke on her that she couldn't remember where she put + it when she took it out o' papa's room after he gave up tryin' to get + inside of it. An' that,” cried Jane—“that's the funniest thing of + all! Why, it's layin' right on her bed this very minute!” + </p> + <p> + In one bound William leaped through the open door. Two seconds sufficed + for his passage through the hall to his mother's bedroom—and there, + neatly spread upon the lace coverlet and brighter than coronation robes, + fairer than Joseph's holy coat, It lay! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXV + </h2> + <h3> + YOUTH AND MR. PARCHER + </h3> + <p> + As a hurried worldling, in almost perfectly fitting evening clothes, + passed out of his father's gateway and hurried toward the place whence + faintly came the sound of dance-music, a child's voice called sweetly from + an unidentified window of the darkened house behind him: + </p> + <p> + “Well, ANYWAY, you try and have a good time, Willie!” + </p> + <p> + William made no reply; he paused not in his stride. Jane's farewell + injunction, though obviously not ill-intended, seemed in poor taste, and a + reply might have encouraged her to believe that, in some measure at least, + he condescended to discuss his inner life with her. He departed rapidly, + but with hauteur. The moon was up, but shade-trees were thick along the + sidewalk, and the hauteur was invisible to any human eye; nevertheless, + William considered it necessary. + </p> + <p> + Jane's friendly but ill-chosen “ANYWAY” had touched doubts already + annoying him. He was certain to be late to the party—so late, + indeed, that it might prove difficult to obtain a proper number of dances + with the sacred girl in whose honor the celebration was being held. Too + many were steeped in a sense of her sacredness, well he wot! and he was + unable to find room in his apprehensive mind for any doubt that these + others would be accursedly diligent. + </p> + <p> + But as he hastened onward his spirits rose, and he did reply to Jane, + after all, though he had placed a hundred yards between them. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and you can bet your bottom dollar I will, too!” he muttered, + between his determined teeth. + </p> + <p> + The very utterance of the words increased the firmness of his decision, + and at the same time cheered him. His apprehensions fell away, and a + glamorous excitement took their place, as he turned a corner and the music + burst more loudly upon his tingling ear. For there, not half-way to the + next street, the fairy scene lay spread before him. + </p> + <p> + Spellbound groups of uninvited persons, most of them colored, rested their + forearms upon the upper rail of the Parchers' picket fence, offering to + William's view a silhouette like that of a crowd at a fire. Beyond the + fence, bright forms went skimming, shimmering, wavering over a white + platform, while high overhead the young moon sprayed a thinner light down + through the maple leaves, to where processions of rosy globes hung + floating in the blue night. The mild breeze trembled to the silver + patterings of a harp, to the sweet, barbaric chirping of plucked strings + of violin and 'cello—and swooned among the maple leaves to the + rhythmic crooning of a flute. And, all the while, from the platform came + the sounds of little cries in girlish voices, and the cadenced shuffling + of young feet, where the witching dancemusic had its way, as ever and + forever, with big and little slippers. + </p> + <p> + The heart of William had behaved tumultuously the summer long, whenever + his eyes beheld those pickets of the Parchers' fence, but now it outdid + all its previous riotings. He was forced to open his mouth and gasp for + breath, so deep was his draught of that young wine, romance. Yonder—somewhere + in the breath-taking radiance—danced his Queen with all her Court + about her. Queen and Court, thought William, and nothing less exorbitant + could have expressed his feeling. For seventeen needs only some paper + lanterns, a fiddle, and a pretty girl—and Versailles is all there! + </p> + <p> + The moment was so rich that William crossed the street with a slower step. + His mood changed: an exaltation had come upon him, though he was never for + an instant unaware of the tragedy beneath all this worldly show and + glamor. It was the last night of the divine visit; to-morrow the town + would lie desolate, a hollow shell in the dust, without her. Miss Pratt + would be gone—gone utterly—gone away on the TRAIN! But + to-night was just beginning, and to-night he would dance with her; he + would dance and dance with her—he would dance and dance like mad! He + and she, poetic and fated pair, would dance on and on! They would be + intoxicated by the lights—the lights, the flowers, and the music. + Nay, the flowers might droop, the lights might go out, the music cease and + dawn come—she and he would dance recklessly on—on—on! + </p> + <p> + A sense of picturesqueness—his own picturesqueness—made him + walk rather theatrically as he passed through the groups of humble + onlookers outside the picket fence. Many of these turned to stare at the + belated guest, and William was unconscious of neither their low estate nor + his own quality as a patrician man-about-town in almost perfectly fitting + evening dress. A faint, cold smile was allowed to appear upon his lips, + and a fragment from a story he had read came momentarily to his mind.... + “Through the gaping crowds the young Augustan noble was borne down from + the Palatine, scornful in his jeweled litter....” + </p> + <p> + An admiring murmur reached William's ear. + </p> + <p> + “OH, oh, honey! Look attem long-tail suit! 'At's a rich boy, honey!” + </p> + <p> + “Yessum, SO! Bet he got his pockets pack' full o' twenty-dolluh gol' + pieces right iss minute!” + </p> + <p> + “You right, honey!” + </p> + <p> + William allowed the coldness of his faint smile to increase to become + scornful. These poor sidewalk creatures little knew what seethed inside + the alabaster of the young Augustan noble! What was it to THEM that this + was Miss Pratt's last night and that he intended to dance and dance with + her, on and on? + </p> + <p> + Almost sternly he left these squalid lives behind him and passed to the + festal gateway. + </p> + <p> + Upon one of the posts of that gateway there rested the elbow of a + contemplative man, middleaged or a little worse. Of all persons having + pleasure or business within the bright inclosure, he was, that evening, + the least important; being merely the background parent who paid the + bills. However, even this unconsidered elder shared a thought in common + with the Augustan now approaching: Mr. Parcher had just been thinking that + there was true romance in the scene before him. + </p> + <p> + But what Mr. Parcher contemplated as romance arose from the fact that + these young people were dancing on a spot where their great-grandfathers + had scalped Indians. Music was made for them by descendants, it might well + be, of Romulus, of Messalina, of Benvenuto Cellini, and, around behind the + house, waiting to serve the dancers with light food and drink, lounged and + gossiped grandchildren of the Congo, only a generation or so removed from + dances for which a chance stranger furnished both the occasion and the + refreshments. Such, in brief, was Mr. Parcher's peculiar view of what + constituted the romantic element. + </p> + <p> + And upon another subject preoccupying both Mr. Parcher and William, their + two views, though again founded upon one thought, had no real + congeniality. The preoccupying subject was the imminence of Miss Pratt's + departure;—neither Mr. Parcher nor William forgot it for an instant. + No matter what else played upon the surface of their attention, each kept + saying to himself, underneath: “This is the last night—the last + night! Miss Pratt is going away—going away to-morrow!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Parcher's expression was peaceful. It was more peaceful than it had + been for a long time. In fact, he wore the look of a man who had been + through the mill but now contemplated a restful and health-restoring + vacation. For there are people in this world who have no respect for the + memory of Ponce de Leon, and Mr. Parcher had come to be of their number. + The elimination of William from his evenings had lightened the burden; + nevertheless, Mr. Parcher would have stated freely and openly to any + responsible party that a yearning for the renewal of his youth had not + been intensified by his daughter's having as a visitor, all summer long, a + howling belle of eighteen who talked baby-talk even at breakfast and + spread her suitors all over the small house—and its one veranda—from + eight in the morning until hours of the night long after their mothers (in + Mr. Parcher's opinion) should have sent their fathers to march them home. + Upon Mr. Parcher's optimism the effect of so much unavoidable observation + of young love had been fatal; he declared repeatedly that his faith in the + human race was about gone. Furthermore, his physical constitution had + proved pathetically vulnerable to nightly quartets, quintets, and even + octets, on the porch below his bedchamber window, so that he was wont to + tell his wife that never, never could he expect to be again the man he had + been in the spring before Miss Pratt came to visit May. And, referring to + conversations which he almost continuously overheard, perforce, Mr. + Parcher said that if this was the way HE talked at that age, he would far + prefer to drown in an ordinary fountain, and be dead and done with it, + than to bathe in Ponce de Leon's. + </p> + <p> + Altogether, the summer had been a severe one; he doubted that he could + have survived much more of it. And now that it was virtually over, at + last, he was so resigned to the departure of his daughter's lovely little + friend that he felt no regret for the splurge with which her visit was + closing. Nay, to speed the parting guest—such was his lavish mood—twice + and thrice over would he have paid for the lights, the flowers, the music, + the sandwiches, the coffee, the chicken salad, the cake, the + lemonade-punch, and the ice-cream. + </p> + <p> + Thus did the one thought divide itself between William and Mr. Parcher, + keeping itself deep and pure under all their other thoughts. “Miss Pratt + is going away!” thought William and Mr. Parcher. “Miss PRATT is going away—to-morrow!” + </p> + <p> + The unuttered words advanced tragically toward the gate in the head of + William at the same time that they moved contentedly away in the head of + Mr. Parcher; for Mr. Parcher caught sight of his wife just then, and went + to join her as she sank wearily upon the front steps. + </p> + <p> + “Taking a rest for a minute?” he inquired. “By George! we're both entitled + to a good LONG rest, after to-night! If we could afford it, we'd go away + to a quiet little sanitarium in the hills, somewhere, and—” He + ceased to speak and there was the renewal of an old bitterness in his + expression as his staring eyes followed the movements of a stately young + form entering the gateway. “Look at it!” said Mr. Parcher in a whisper. + “Just look at it!” + </p> + <p> + “Look at what?” asked his wife. + </p> + <p> + “That Baxter boy!” said Mr. Parcher, as William passed on toward the + dancers. “What's he think he's imitating—Henry Irving? Look at his + walk!” + </p> + <p> + “He walks that way a good deal, lately, I've noticed,” said Mrs. Parcher + in a tired voice. “So do Joe Bullitt and—” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't even come to say good evening to you,” Mr. Parcher interrupted. + “Talk about MANNERS, nowadays! These young—” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't see us.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we're used to that,” said Mr. Parcher. “None of 'em see us. They've + worn holes in all the cane-seated chairs, they've scuffed up the whole + house, and I haven't been able to sit down anywhere down-stairs for three + months without sitting on some dam boy; but they don't even know we're + alive! Well, thank the Lord, it's over—after to-night!” His voice + became reflective. “That Baxter boy was the worst, until he took to coming + in the daytime when I was down-town. I COULDN'T have stood it if he'd kept + on coming in the evening. If I'd had to listen to any more of his talking + or singing, either the embalmer or the lunatic-asylum would have had me, + sure! I see he's got hold of his daddy's dress-suit again for to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it Mr. Baxter's dress-suit?” Mrs. Parcher inquired. “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Parcher smiled. “How I happen to know is a secret,” he said. “I forgot + about that. His little sister, Jane, told me that Mrs. Baxter had hidden + it, or something, so that Willie couldn't wear it, but I guess Jane + wouldn't mind my telling YOU that she told me especially as they're + letting him use it again to-night. I suppose he feels grander 'n the King + o' Siam!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” Mrs. Parcher returned, thoughtfully. “I don't think he does, just + now.” Her gaze was fixed upon the dancing-platform, which most of the + dancers were abandoning as the music fell away to an interval of silence. + In the center of the platform there remained one group, consisting of Miss + Pratt and five orators, and of the orators the most impassioned and + gesticulative was William. + </p> + <p> + “They all seem to want to dance with her all the time,” said Mrs. Parcher. + “I heard her telling one of the boys, half an hour ago, that all she could + give him was either the twenty-eighth regular dance or the sixteenth + 'extra.'” + </p> + <p> + “The what?” Mr. Parcher demanded, whirling to face her. “Do they think + this party's going to keep running till day after to-morrow?” And then, as + his eyes returned to the group on the platform, “That boy seems to have + quite a touch of emotional insanity,” he remarked, referring to William. + “What IS the matter with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing,” his wife returned. “Only trying to arrange a dance with + her. He seems to be in difficulties.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVI + </h2> + <h3> + MISS BOKE + </h3> + <p> + Nothing could have been more evident than William's difficulties. They + continued to exist, with equal obviousness, when the group broke up in + some confusion, after a few minutes of animated discussion; Mr. Wallace + Banks, that busy and executive youth, bearing Miss Pratt triumphantly off + to the lemonade-punch-bowl, while William pursued Johnnie Watson and Joe + Bullitt. He sought to detain them near the edge of the platform, though + they appeared far from anxious to linger in his company; and he was able + to arrest their attention only by clutching an arm of each. In fact, the + good feeling which had latterly prevailed among these three appeared to be + in danger of disintegrating. The occasion was too vital; and the watchword + for “Miss Pratt's last night” was Devil-Take-the-Hindmost! + </p> + <p> + “Now you look here, Johnnie,” William said, vehemently, “and you listen, + too, Joe! You both got seven dances apiece with her, anyway, all on + account of my not getting here early enough, and you got to—” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't because of any such reason,” young Mr. Watson protested. “I + asked her for mine two days ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, THAT wasn't fair, was it?” William cried. “Just because I never + thought of sneaking in ahead like that, you go and—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you ought to thought of it,” Johnnie retorted, jerking his arm free + of William's grasp. “I can't stand here GABBIN' all night!” And he hurried + away. + </p> + <p> + “Joe,” William began, fastening more securely upon Mr. Bullitt—“Joe, + I've done a good many favors for you, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I've got to see a man,” Mr. Bullitt interrupted. “Lemme go, Silly Bill. + There's some body I got to see right away before the next dance begins. I + GOT to! Honest I have!” + </p> + <p> + William seized him passionately by the lapels of his coat. “Listen, Joe. + For goodness' sake can't you listen a MINUTE? You GOT to give me—” + </p> + <p> + “Honest, Bill,” his friend expostulated, backing away as forcefully as + possible, “I got to find a fellow that's here to-night and ask him about + something important before—” + </p> + <p> + “Ye gods! Can't you wait a MINUTE?” William cried, keeping his grip upon + Joe's lapels. “You GOT to give me anyway TWO out of all your dances with + her! You heard her tell me, yourself, that she'd be willing if you or + Johnnie or—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I only got five or six with her, and a couple extras. Johnnie's got + seven. Whyn't you go after Johnnie? I bet he'd help you out, all right, if + you kept after him. What you want to pester ME for, Bill?” + </p> + <p> + The brutal selfishness of this speech, as well as its cold-blooded + insincerity, produced in William the impulse to smite. Fortunately, his + only hope lay in persuasion, and after a momentary struggle with his own + features he was able to conceal what he desired to do to Joe's. + </p> + <p> + He swallowed, and, increasing the affectionate desperation of his clutch + upon Mr. Bullitt's lapels, “Joe,” he began, huskily—“Joe, if <i>I</i>'d + got six reg'lar and two extras with Miss Pratt her last night here, and + you got here late, and it wasn't your fault—I couldn't help being + late, could I? It wasn't my fault I was late, I guess, was it? Well, if I + was in YOUR place I wouldn't act the way you and Johnnie do—not in a + thousand years I wouldn't! I'd say, 'You want a couple o' my dances with + Miss Pratt, ole man? Why, CERTAINLY—'” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you would!” was the cynical comment of Mr. Bullitt, whose averted + face and reluctant shoulders indicated a strong desire to conclude the + interview. “To-night, especially!” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Joe,” said William, desperately, “don't you realize that this + is the very last night Miss Pratt's going to be in this town?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet I do!” These words, though vehement, were inaudible; being formed + in the mind of Mr. Bullitt, but, for diplomatic reasons, not projected + upon the air by his vocal organs. + </p> + <p> + William continued: “Joe, you and I have been friends ever since you and I + were boys.” He spoke with emotion, but Joe had no appearance of being + favorably impressed. “And when I look back,” said William, “I expect I've + done more favors for you than I ever have for any oth—” + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Bullitt briskly interrupted this appealing reminiscence. “Listen + here, Silly Bill,” he said, becoming all at once friendly and encouraging—“Bill, + there's other girls here you can get dances with. There's one or two of + 'em sittin' around in the yard. You can have a bully time, even if you did + come late.” And, with the air of discharging happily all the obligations + of which William had reminded him, he added, “I'll tell you THAT much, + Bill!” + </p> + <p> + “Joe, you got to give me anyway ONE da—” + </p> + <p> + “Look!” said Mr. Bullitt, eagerly. “Look sittin' yonder, over under that + tree all by herself! That's a visiting girl named Miss Boke; she's + visiting some old uncle or something she's got livin' here, and I bet you + could—” + </p> + <p> + “Joe, you GOT to—” + </p> + <p> + “I bet that Miss Boke's a good dancer, Bill,” Joe continued, warmly. “May + Parcher says so. She was tryin' to get me to dance with her myself, but I + couldn't, or I would of. Honest, Bill, I would of! Bill, if I was you I'd + sail right in there before anybody else got a start, and I'd—” + </p> + <p> + “Ole man,” said William, gently, “you remember the time Miss Pratt and I + had an engagement to go walkin', and you wouldn't of seen her for a week + on account of your aunt dyin' in Kansas City, if I hadn't let you go along + with us? Ole man, if you—” + </p> + <p> + But the music sounded for the next dance, and Joe felt that it was indeed + time to end this uncomfortable conversation. “I got to go, Bill,” he said. + “I GOT to!” + </p> + <p> + “Wait just one minute,” William implored. “I want to say just this: if—” + </p> + <p> + “Here!” exclaimed Mr. Bullitt. “I got to GO!” + </p> + <p> + “I know it. That's why—” + </p> + <p> + Heedless of remonstrance, Joe wrenched himself free, for it would have + taken a powerful and ruthless man to detain him longer. “What you take me + for?” he demanded, indignantly. “I got this with Miss PRATT!” + </p> + <p> + And evading a hand which still sought to clutch him, he departed hotly. + </p> + <p> + ... Mr. Parcher's voice expressed wonder, a little later, as he + recommended his wife to turn her gaze in the direction of “that Baxter + boy” again. “Just look at him!” said Mr. Parcher. “His face has got more + genuine idiocy in it than I've seen around here yet, and God knows I've + been seeing some miracles in that line this summer!” + </p> + <p> + “He's looking at Lola Pratt,” said Mrs. Parcher. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you suppose I can see that?” Mr. Parcher returned, with some + irritation. “That's what's the trouble with him. Why don't he QUIT looking + at her?” + </p> + <p> + “I think probably he feels badly because she's dancing with one of the + other boys,” said his wife, mildly. + </p> + <p> + “Then why can't he dance with somebody else himself?” Mr. Parcher + inquired, testily. “Instead of standing around like a calf looking out of + the butcher's wagon! By George! he looks as if he was just going to MOO!” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he ought to be dancing with somebody,” Mrs. Parcher remarked, + thoughtfully. “There are one or two more girls than boys here, and he's + the only boy not dancing. I believe I'll—” And, not stopping to + complete the sentence, she rose and walked across the interval of grass to + William. “Good evening, William,” she said, pleasantly. “Don't you want to + dance?” + </p> + <p> + “Ma'am?” said William, blankly, and the eyes he turned upon here were + glassy with anxiety. He was still determined to dance on and on and on + with Miss Pratt, but he realized that there were great obstacles to be + overcome before he could begin the process. He was feverishly awaiting the + next interregnum between dances—then he would show Joe Bullitt and + Johnnie Watson and Wallace Banks, and some others who had set themselves + in his way, that he was “abs'lutely not goin' to stand it!” + </p> + <p> + He couldn't stand it, he told himself, even if he wanted to—not + to-night! He had “been through enough” in order to get to the party, he + thought, thus defining sufferings connected with his costume, and now that + he was here he WOULD dance and dance, on and on, with Miss Pratt. Anything + else was unthinkable. + </p> + <p> + He HAD to! + </p> + <p> + “Don't you want to dance?” Mrs. Parcher repeated. “Have you looked around + for a girl without a partner?” + </p> + <p> + He continued to stare at her, plainly having no comprehension of her + meaning. + </p> + <p> + “Girl?” he echoed, in a tone of feeble inquiry. + </p> + <p> + She smiled and nodded, taking his arm. “You come with me,” she said. “I'LL + fix you up!” + </p> + <p> + William suffered her to conduct him across the yard. Intensely preoccupied + with what he meant to do as soon as the music paused, he was somewhat + hazy, but when he perceived that he was being led in the direction of a + girl, sitting solitary under one of the maple-trees, the sudden shock of + fear aroused his faculties. + </p> + <p> + “What—where—” he stammered, halting and seeking to detach + himself from his hostess. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I got—I got to—” William began, uneasily. “I got to—” + </p> + <p> + His purpose was to excuse himself on the ground that he had to find a man + and tell him something important before the next dance, for in the + confusion of the moment his powers refused him greater originality. But + the vital part of his intended excuse remained unspoken, being disregarded + and cut short, as millions of other masculine diplomacies have been, + throughout the centuries, by the decisive action of ladies. + </p> + <p> + Miss Boke had been sitting under the mapletree for a long time—so + long, indeed, that she was acquiring a profound distaste for forestry and + even for maple syrup. In fact, her state of mind was as desperate, in its + way, as William's; and when a hostess leads a youth (in almost perfectly + fitting conventional black) toward a girl who has been sitting alone + through dance after dance, that girl knows what that youth is going to + have to do. + </p> + <p> + It must be confessed for Miss Boke that her eyes had been upon William + from the moment Mrs. Parcher addressed him. Nevertheless, as the pair came + toward her she looked casually away in an indifferent manner. And yet this + may have been but a seeming unconsciousness, for upon the very instant of + William's halting, and before he had managed to stammer “I got to—” + for the fourth time, Miss Boke sprang to her feet and met Mrs. Parcher + more than halfway. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mrs. Parcher!” she called, coming forward. + </p> + <p> + “I got—” the panic-stricken William again hastily began. “I got to—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mrs. Parcher,” cried Miss Boke, “I've been SO worried! There's a + candle in that Japanese lantern just over your head, and I think it's + going out.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll run and get a fresh one in a minute,” said Mrs. Parcher, smiling + benevolently and retaining William's arm with a little difficulty. “We + were just coming to find you. I've brought—” + </p> + <p> + “I got to—I got to find a m—” William made a last, stricken + effort. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Boke, this is Mr. Baxter,” said Mrs. Parcher, and she added, with + what seemed to William hideous garrulity, “He and you both came late, + dear, and he hasn't any dances engaged, either. So run and dance, and have + a nice time together.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon this disastrous woman returned to her husband. Her look was + conscientious; she thought she had done something pleasant! + </p> + <p> + The full horror of his position was revealed to William in the relieved, + confident, proprietor's smile of Miss Boke. For William lived by a code + from which no previous experience had taught him any means of escape. Mrs. + Parcher had made the statement—so needless and so ruinous—that + he had no engagements; and in his dismay he had been unable to deny this + fatal truth; he had been obliged to let it stand. Henceforth, he was + committed absolutely to Miss Boke until either some one else asked her to + dance, or (while yet in her close company) William could obtain an + engagement with another girl. The latter alternative presented certain + grave difficulties, also contracting William to dance with the other girl + before once more obtaining his freedom, but undeniably he regarded it from + the first as the more hopeful. + </p> + <p> + He had to give form to the fatal invitation. “M'av this dance 'thyou?” he + muttered, doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “Vurry pleased to!” Miss Boke responded, whereupon they walked in silence + to the platform, stepped upon its surface, and embraced. + </p> + <p> + They made a false start. + </p> + <p> + They made another. + </p> + <p> + They stood swaying to catch the time; then made another. After that they + tried again, and were saved from a fall only by spasmodic and noticeable + contortions. + </p> + <p> + Miss Boke laughed tolerantly, as if forgiving William for his awkwardness, + and his hot heart grew hotter with that injustice. She was a large, ample + girl, weighing more than William (this must be definitely claimed in his + behalf), and she had been spending the summer at a lakeside hotel where + she had constantly danced “man's part.” To paint William's predicament at + a stroke, his partner was a determined rather than a graceful dancer—and + their efforts to attune themselves to each other and to the music were in + a fair way to attract general attention. + </p> + <p> + A coarse chuckle, a half-suppressed snort, assailed William's scarlet ear, + and from the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Joe Bullitt gliding + by, suffused; while over Joe's detested shoulder could be seen the + adorable and piquant face of the One girl—also suffused. + </p> + <p> + “Doggone it!” William panted. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you mustn't be discouraged with yourself,” said Miss Boke, genially. + “I've met lots of Men that had trouble to get started and turned out to be + right good dancers, after all. It seems to me we're kind of workin' + against each other. I'll tell you—you kind of let me do the guiding + and I'll get you going fine. Now! ONE, two, ONE, two! There!” + </p> + <p> + William ceased to struggle for dominance, and their efforts to “get + started” were at once successful. With a muscular power that was + surprising, Miss Boke bore him out into the circling current, swung him + round and round, walked him backward half across the platform, then swung + him round and round and round again. For a girl, she “guided” remarkably + well; nevertheless, a series of collisions, varying in intensity, marked + the path of the pair upon the rather crowded platform. In such emergencies + Miss Boke proved herself deft in swinging William to act as a buffer, and + he several times found himself heavily stricken from the rear; anon his + face would be pressed suffocatingly into Miss Boke's hair, without the + slightest wish on his part for such intimacy. He had a helpless feeling, + fully warranted by the circumstances. Also, he soon became aware that Miss + Boke's powerful “guiding” was observed by the public; for, after one + collision, more severe than others, a low voice hissed in his ear: + </p> + <p> + “SHE WON'T HURT YOU MUCH, SILLY BILL. SHE'S ONLY IN FUN!” + </p> + <p> + This voice belonged to the dancer with whom he had just been in painful + contact, Johnnie Watson. However, Johnnie had whirled far upon another + orbit before William found a retort, and then it was a feeble one. + </p> + <p> + “I wish YOU'D try a few dances with her!” he whispered, inaudibly, but + with unprecedented bitterness, as the masterly arm of his partner just + saved him from going over the edge of the platform. “I bet she'd kill + you!” + </p> + <p> + More than once he tried to assert himself and resume his natural place as + guide, but each time he did so he immediately got out of step with his + partner, their knees collided embarrassingly, they staggered and walked + upon each other's insteps—and William was forced to abandon the + unequal contest. + </p> + <p> + “I just love dancing,” said Miss Boke, serenely. “Don't you, Mr. Baxter?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” he gulped. “Yeh.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a beautiful floor for dancing, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yeh.” + </p> + <p> + “I just love dancing,” Miss Boke thought proper to declare again. “Don't + you love it, Mr. Baxter?” + </p> + <p> + This time he considered his enthusiasm to be sufficiently indicated by a + nod. He needed all his breath. + </p> + <p> + “It's lovely,” she murmured. “I hope they don't play 'Home, Sweet Home' + very early at parties in this town. I could keep on like this all night!” + </p> + <p> + To the gasping William it seemed that she already had kept on like this + all night, and he expressed himself in one great, frank, agonized moan of + relief when the music stopped. “I sh' think those musicians 'd be dead!” + he said, as he wiped his brow. And then discovering that May Parcher stood + at his elbow, he spoke hastily to her. “M'av the next 'thyou?” + </p> + <p> + But Miss Parcher had begun to applaud the musicians for an encore. She + shook her head. “Next's the third extra,” she said. “And, anyhow, this + one's going to be encored now. You can have the twenty-second—if + there IS any!” William threw a wild glance about him, looking for other + girls, but the tireless orchestra began to play the encore, and Miss Boke, + who had been applauding, instantly cast herself upon his bosom. “Come on!” + she cried. “Don't let's miss a second of it; It's just glorious!” + </p> + <p> + When the encore was finished she seized William's arm, and, mentioning + that she'd left her fan upon the chair under the maple-tree, added, “Come + on! Let's go get it QUICK!” + </p> + <p> + Under the maple-tree she fanned herself and talked of her love for dancing + until the music sounded again. “Come on!” she cried, then. “Don't let's + miss a second of it! It's just glorious!” + </p> + <p> + And grasping his arm, she propelled him toward the platform with a merry + little rush. + </p> + <p> + So passed five dances. Long, long dances. + </p> + <p> + Likewise five encores. Long encores. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVII + </h2> + <h3> + MAROONED + </h3> + <p> + At every possible opportunity William hailed other girls with a hasty + “M'av the next 'thyou?” but he was indeed unfortunate to have arrived so + late. + </p> + <p> + The best he got was a promise of “the nineteenth—if there IS any!” + </p> + <p> + After each dance Miss Boke conducted him back to the maple-tree, aloof + from the general throng, and William found the intermissions almost equal + to his martyrdoms upon the platform. But, as there was a barely + perceptible balance in their favor, he collected some fragments of his + broken spirit, when Miss Boke would have borne him to the platform for the + sixth time, and begged to “sit this one out,” alleging that he had “kind + of turned his ankle, or something,” he believed. + </p> + <p> + The cordial girl at once placed him upon the chair and gallantly procured + another for herself. In her solicitude she sat close to him, looking + fondly at his face, while William, though now and then rubbing his ankle + for plausibility's sake, gazed at the platform with an expression which + Gustave Dore would gratefully have found suggestive. William was conscious + of a voice continually in action near him, but not of what it said. Miss + Boke was telling him of the dancing “up at the lake” where she had spent + the summer, and how much she had loved it, but William missed all that. + Upon the many-colored platform the ineffable One drifted to and fro, back + and forth; her little blonde head, in a golden net, glinting here and + there like a bit of tinsel blowing across a flower-garden. + </p> + <p> + And when that dance and its encore were over she went to lean against a + tree, while Wallace Banks fanned her, but she was so busy with Wallace + that she did not notice William, though she passed near enough to waft a + breath of violet scent to his wan nose. A fragment of her silver speech + tinkled in his ear: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Wallie Banks! Bid pid s'ant have Bruvva Josie-Joe's dance 'less Joe + say so. Lola MUS' be fair. Wallie mustn't—” + </p> + <p> + “That's that Miss Pratt,” observed Miss Boke, following William's gaze + with some interest. “You met her yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Yeh,” said William. + </p> + <p> + “She's been visiting here all summer,” Miss Boke informed him. “I was at a + little tea this afternoon, and some of the girls said this Miss Pratt said + she'd never DREAM of getting engaged to any man that didn't have seven + hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I don't know if it's true or not, but + I expect so. Anyway, they said they heard her say so.” + </p> + <p> + William lifted his right hand from his ankle and passed it, time after + time, across his damp forehead. He did not believe that Miss Pratt could + have expressed herself in so mercenary a manner, but if she HAD—well, + one fact in British history had so impressed him that he remembered it + even after Examination: William Pitt, the younger, had been Prime Minister + of England at twenty-one. + </p> + <p> + If an Englishman could do a thing like that, surely a bright, energetic + young American needn't feel worried about seven hundred and fifty thousand + dollars! And although William, at seventeen, had seldom possessed more + than seven hundred and fifty cents, four long years must pass, and much + could be done, before he would reach the age at which William Pitt + attained the premiership—coincidentally a good, ripe, marriageable + age. Still, seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars is a stiffish order, + even allowing four long years to fill it; and undoubtedly Miss Boke's bit + of gossip added somewhat to the already sufficient anxieties of William's + evening. + </p> + <p> + “Up at the lake,” Miss Boke chattered on, “we got to use the hotel + dining-room for the hops. It's a floor a good deal like this floor is + to-night—just about oily enough and as nice a floor as ever I danced + on. We have awf'ly good times up at the lake. 'Course there aren't so many + Men up there, like there are here to-night, and I MUST say I AM glad to + get a chance to dance with a Man again! I told you you'd dance all right, + once we got started, and look at the way it's turned out: our steps just + suit exactly! If I must say it, I could scarcely think of anybody I EVER + met I'd rather dance with. When anybody's step suits in with mine, that + way, why, I LOVE to dance straight through an evening with one person, the + way we're doing.” + </p> + <p> + Dimly, yet with strong repulsion, William perceived that their + interminable companionship had begun to affect Miss Boke with a liking for + him. And as she chattered chummily on, revealing this increasing + cordiality all the while—though her more obvious topics were + dancing, dancing-floors, and “the lake”—the reciprocal sentiment + roused in his breast was that of Sindbad the Sailor for the Old Man of the + Sea. + </p> + <p> + He was unable to foresee a future apart from her; and when she informed + him that she preferred his style of dancing to all other styles shown by + the Men at this party, her thus singling him out for praise only + emphasized, in his mind, that point upon which he was the most embittered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” he reflected. “It had to be ME!” With all the crowd to choose from, + Mrs. Parcher had to go and pick on HIM! All, all the others went about, + free as air, flitting from girl to girl—girls that danced like + girls! All, all except William, danced with Miss PRATT! What Miss Pratt + had offered HIM was a choice between the thirty-second dance and the + twenty-first extra. THAT was what he had to look forward to: the + thirty-second reg'lar or the twenty-first extra! + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, merely through eternity, he was sealed unto Miss Boke. + </p> + <p> + The tie that bound them oppressed him as if it had been an ill-omened + matrimony, and he sat beside her like an unwilling old husband. All the + while, Miss Boke had no appreciation whatever of her companion's real + condition, and, when little, spasmodic, sinister changes appeared in his + face (as they certainly did from time to time) she attributed them to + pains in his ankle. However, William decided to discard his ankle, after + they had “sat out” two dances on account of it. He decided that he + preferred dancing, and said he guessed he must be better. + </p> + <p> + So they danced again—and again. + </p> + <p> + When the fourteenth dance came, about half an hour before midnight, they + were still dancing together. + </p> + <p> + It was upon the conclusion of this fourteenth dance that Mr. Parcher + mentioned to his wife a change in his feelings toward William. “I've been + watching him,” said Mr. Parcher, “and I never saw true misery show + plainer. He's having a really horrible time. By George! I hate him, but + I've begun to feel kind of sorry for him! Can't you trot up somebody else, + so he can get away from that fat girl?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Parcher shook her head in a discouraged way. “I've tried, and I've + tried, and I've tried!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Well, try again.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't now.” She waved her hand toward the rear of the house. Round the + corner marched a short procession of negroes, bearing trays; and the + dancers were dispersing themselves to chairs upon the lawn “for + refreshments.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, do something,” Mr. Parcher urged. “We don't want to find him in the + cistern in the morning!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Parcher looked thoughtful, then brightened. “<i>I</i> know!” she + said. “I'll make May and Lola and their partners come sit in this little + circle of chairs here, and then I'll go and bring Willie and Miss Boke to + sit with them. I'll give Willie the seat at Lola's left. You keep the + chairs.” + </p> + <p> + Straightway she sped upon her kindly errand. It proved successful, so + successful, indeed, that without the slightest effort—without even a + hint on her part—she brought not only William and his constant + friend to sit in the circle with Miss Pratt, Miss Parcher and their + escorts, but Mr. Bullitt, Mr. Watson, Mr. Banks, and three other young + gentlemen as well. Nevertheless, Mrs. Parcher managed to carry out her + plan, and after a little display of firmness, saw William satisfactorily + established in the chair at Miss Pratt's left. + </p> + <p> + At last, at last, he sat beside the fairy-like creature, and filled his + lungs with infinitesimal particles of violet scent. More: he was no sooner + seated than the little blonde head bent close to his; the golden net + brushed his cheek. She whispered: + </p> + <p> + “No'ty ickle boy Batster! Lola's last night, an' ickle boy Batster + fluttin'! Flut all night wif dray bid dirl!” + </p> + <p> + William made no reply. + </p> + <p> + There are occasions, infrequent, of course, when even a bachelor is not + flattered by being accused of flirting. William's feelings toward Miss + Boke had by this time come to such a pass that he, regarded the charge of + flirting with her as little less than an implication of grave mental + deficiency. And well he remembered how Miss Pratt, beholding his + subjugated gymnastics in the dance, had grown pink with laughter! But + still the rose-leaf lips whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Lola saw! Lola saw bad boy Batster under dray bid tree fluttin' wif dray + bid dirl. Fluttin' all night wif dray bid 'normous dirl!” + </p> + <p> + Her cruelty was all unwitting; she intended to rally him sweetly. But + seventeen is deathly serious at such junctures, and William was in a + sensitive condition. He made no reply in words. Instead, he drew himself + up (from the waist, that is, because he was sitting) with a kind of proud + dignity. And that was all. + </p> + <p> + “Oo tross?” whispered Lola. + </p> + <p> + He spake not. + </p> + <p> + “'Twasn't my fault about dancing,” she said. “Bad boy! What made you come + so late?” + </p> + <p> + He maintained his silence and the accompanying icy dignity, whereupon she + made a charming little pout. + </p> + <p> + “Oo be so tross,” she said, “Lola talk to nice Man uvver side of her!” + </p> + <p> + With that she turned her back upon him and prattled merrily to the + gentleman of sixteen upon her right. + </p> + <p> + Still and cold sat William. Let her talk to the Man at the other side of + her as she would, and never so gaily, William knew that she was conscious + every instant of the reproachful presence upon her left. And somehow these + moments of quiet and melancholy dignity became the most satisfactory he + had known that evening. For as he sat, so silent, so austere, and not yet + eating, though a plate of chicken salad had been placed upon his lap, he + began to feel that there was somewhere about him a mysterious superiority + which set him apart from other people—and above them. This quality, + indefinable and lofty, had carried him through troubles, that very night, + which would have wrecked the lives of such simple fellows as Joe Bullitt + and Johnnie Watson. And although Miss Pratt continued to make merry with + the Man upon her right, it seemed to William that this was but outward + show. He had a strange, subtle impression that the mysterious superiority + which set him apart from others was becoming perceptible to her—that + she was feeling it, too. + </p> + <p> + Alas! Such are the moments Fate seizes upon to play the clown! + </p> + <p> + Over the chatter and laughter of the guests rose a too familiar voice. + “Lemme he'p you to nice tongue samwich, lady. No'm? Nice green lettuce + samwich, lady?” + </p> + <p> + Genesis! + </p> + <p> + “Nice tongue samwich, suh? Nice lettuce samwich, lady?” he could be heard + vociferating—perhaps a little too much as if he had sandwiches for + sale. “Lemme jes' lay this nice green lettuce samwich on you' plate fer + you.” + </p> + <p> + His wide-spread hand bore the tray of sandwiches high overhead, for his + style in waiting was florid, though polished. He walked with a faint, + shuffling suggestion of a prance, a lissome pomposity adopted in obedience + to the art-sense within him which bade him harmonize himself with + occasions of state and fashion. His manner was the super-supreme + expression of graciousness, but the graciousness was innocent, being but + an affectation and nothing inward—for inwardly Genesis was humble. + He was only pretending to be the kind of waiter he would like to be. + </p> + <p> + And because he was a new waiter he strongly wished to show familiarity + with his duties—familiarity, in fact, with everything and everybody. + This yearning, born of self-doubt, and intensified by a slight touch of + gin, was beyond question the inspiration of his painful behavior when he + came near the circle of chairs where sat Mr. and Mrs. Parcher, Miss + Parcher, Miss Pratt, Miss Boke, Mr. Watson, Mr. Bullitt, others—and + William. + </p> + <p> + “Nice tongue samwich, lady!” he announced, semi-cake-walking beneath his + high-borne tray. + </p> + <p> + “Nice green lettuce sam—” He came suddenly to a dramatic dead-stop + as he beheld William sitting before him, wearing that strange new dignity + and Mr. Baxter's evening clothes. “Name o' goo'ness!” Genesis exclaimed, + so loudly that every one looked up. “How in the livin' worl' you evuh come + to git here? You' daddy sut'ny mus' 'a' weakened 'way down 'fo' he let you + wear his low-cut ves' an' pants an' long-tail coat! I bet any man fifty + cents you gone an' stole 'em out aftuh he done went to bed!” + </p> + <p> + And he burst into a wild, free African laugh. + </p> + <p> + At seventeen such things are not embarrassing; they are catastrophical. + But, mercifully, catastrophes often produce a numbness in the victims. + More as in a trance than actually William heard the outbreak of his young + companions; and, during the quarter of an hour subsequent to Genesis's + performance, the oft-renewed explosions of their mirth made but a kind of + horrid buzzing in his ears. Like sounds borne from far away were the + gaspings of Mr. and Mrs. Parcher, striving with all their strength to + obtain mastery of themselves once more. + </p> + <p> + ... A flourish of music challenged the dancers. Couples appeared upon the + platform. + </p> + <p> + The dreadful supper was over. + </p> + <p> + The ineffable One, supremely pink, rose from her seat at William's side + and moved toward the platform with the glowing Joe Bullitt. Then William, + roused to action by this sight, sprang to his feet and took a step toward + them. But it was only one weak step. + </p> + <p> + A warm and ample hand placed itself firmly inside the crook of his elbow. + “Let's get started for this one before the floor gets all crowded up,” + said Miss Boke. + </p> + <p> + Miss Boke danced and danced with him; she danced him on—and on—and + on—— + </p> + <p> + At half past one the orchestra played “Home, Sweet Home.” As the last bars + sounded, a group of earnest young men who had surrounded the lovely guest + of honor, talking vehemently, broke into loud shouts, embraced one another + and capered variously over the lawn. Mr. Parcher beheld from a distance + these manifestations, and then, with an astonishment even more profound, + took note of the tragic William, who was running toward him, radiant—Miss + Boke hovering futilely in the far background. + </p> + <p> + “What's all the hullabaloo?” Mr. Parcher inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Pratt!” gasped William. “Miss Pratt!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what about her?” + </p> + <p> + And upon receiving William's reply, Mr. Parcher might well have discerned + behind it the invisible hand of an ironic but recompensing Providence + making things even—taking from the one to give to the other. + </p> + <p> + “She's going to stay!” shouted the happy William. “She's promised to stay + another week!” + </p> + <p> + And then, mingling with the sounds of rejoicing, there ascended to heaven + the stricken cry of an elderly man plunging blindly into the house in + search of his wife. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVIII + </h2> + <h3> + RANNIE KIRSTED + </h3> + <p> + Observing the monotonously proper behavior of the sun, man had an absurd + idea and invented Time. Becoming still more absurd, man said, “So much + shall be a day; such and such shall be a week. All weeks shall be the same + length.” Yet every baby knows better! How long for Johnnie Watson, for Joe + Bullitt, for Wallace Banks—how long for William Sylvanus Baxter was + the last week of Miss Pratt? No one can answer. How long was that week for + Mr. Parcher? Again the mind is staggered. + </p> + <p> + Many people, of course, considered it to be a week of average size. Among + these was Jane. + </p> + <p> + Throughout seven days which brought some tense moments to the Baxter + household, Jane remained calm; and she was still calm upon the eighth + morning as she stood in the front yard of her own place of residence, + gazing steadily across the street. The object of her grave attention was + an ample brick house, newly painted white after repairs and enlargements + so inspiring to Jane's faculty for suggesting better ways of doing things, + that the workmen had learned to address her, with a slight bitterness, as + “Madam President.” + </p> + <p> + Throughout the process of repair, and until the very last of the painting, + Jane had considered this house to be as much her property as anybody's; + for children regard as ownerless all vacant houses and all houses in + course of construction or radical alteration. Nothing short of furniture—intimate + furniture in considerable quantity—hints that the public is not + expected. However, such a hint, or warning, was conveyed to Jane this + morning, for two “express wagons” were standing at the curb with their + backs impolitely toward the brick house; and powerful-voiced men went + surging to and fro under fat arm-chairs, mahogany tables, disarticulated + bedsteads, and baskets of china and glassware; while a harassed lady + appeared in the outer doorway, from time to time, with gestures of + lamentation and entreaty. Upon the sidewalk, between the wagons and the + gate, was a broad wet spot, vaguely circular, with a partial circumference + of broken glass and extinct goldfish. + </p> + <p> + Jane was forced to conclude that the brick house did belong to somebody, + after all. Wherefore, she remained in her own yard, a steadfast spectator, + taking nourishment into her system at regular intervals. This was + beautifully automatic: in each hand she held a slice of bread, freely + plastered over with butter, apple sauce, and powdered sugar; and when she + had taken somewhat from the right hand, that hand slowly descended with + its burden, while, simultaneously, the left began to rise, reaching the + level of her mouth precisely at the moment when a little wave passed down + her neck, indicating that the route was clear. Then, having made delivery, + the left hand sank, while the right began to rise again. And, so well had + custom trained Jane's members, never once did she glance toward either of + these faithful hands or the food that it supported; her gaze was all the + while free to remain upon the house across the way and the great doings + before it. + </p> + <p> + After a while, something made her wide eyes grow wider almost to their + utmost. Nay, the event was of that importance her mechanical hands ceased + to move and stopped stock-still, the right half-way up, the left half-way + down, as if because of sudden motor trouble within Jane. Her mouth was + equally affected, remaining open at a visible crisis in the performance of + its duty. These were the tokens of her agitation upon beholding the + removal of a dolls' house from one of the wagons. This dolls' house was at + least five feet high, of proportionate breadth and depths the customary + absence of a facade disclosing an interior of four luxurious floors, with + stairways, fireplaces, and wall-paper. Here was a mansion wherein + doll-duchesses, no less, must dwell. + </p> + <p> + Straightway, a little girl ran out of the open doorway of the brick house + and, with a self-importance concentrated to the point of shrewishness, + began to give orders concerning the disposal of her personal property, + which included (as she made clear) not only the dolls' mansion, but also + three dolls' trunks and a packing-case of fair size. She was a thin little + girl, perhaps half a year younger than Jane; and she was as soiled, + particularly in respect to hands, brow, chin, and the knees of white + stockings, as could be expected of any busybodyish person of nine or ten + whose mother is house-moving. But she was gifted—if we choose to put + the matter in the hopeful, sweeter way—she was gifted with an + unusually loud and shrill voice, and she made herself heard over the + strong-voiced men to such emphatic effect that one of the latter, with the + dolls' mansion upon his back, paused in the gateway to acquaint her with + his opinion that of all the bossy little girls he had ever seen, heard, or + heard of, she was the bossiest. + </p> + <p> + “THE worst!” he added. + </p> + <p> + The little girl across the street was of course instantly aware of Jane, + though she pretended not to be; and from the first her self-importance was + in large part assumed for the benefit of the observer. After a momentary + silence, due to her failure to think of any proper response to the workman + who so pointedly criticized her, she resumed the peremptory direction of + her affairs. She ran in and out of the house, her brow dark with frowns, + her shoulders elevated; and by every means at her disposal she urged her + audience to behold the frightful responsibilities of one who must keep a + thousand things in her head at once, and yet be ready for decisive action + at any instant. + </p> + <p> + There may have been one weakness in this strong performance: the artistic + sincerity of it was a little discredited by the increasing frequency with + which the artist took note of her effect. During each of her most + impressive moments, she flashed, from the far corner of her eye, two + questions at Jane: “How about THAT one? Are you still watching Me?” + </p> + <p> + Then, apparently in the very midst of her cares, she suddenly and without + warning ceased to boss, walked out into the street, halted, and stared + frankly at Jane. + </p> + <p> + Jane had begun her automatic feeding again. She continued it, meanwhile + seriously returning the stare of the new neighbor. For several minutes + this mutual calm and inoffensive gaze was protracted; then Jane, after + swallowing the last morsel of her supplies, turned her head away and + looked at a tree. The little girl, into whose eyes some wistfulness had + crept, also turned her head and looked at a tree. After a while, she + advanced to the curb on Jane's side of the street, and, swinging her right + foot, allowed it to kick the curbstone repeatedly. + </p> + <p> + Jane came out to the sidewalk and began to kick one of the fence-pickets. + </p> + <p> + “You see that ole fatty?” asked the little girl, pointing to one of the + workmen, thus sufficiently identified. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “That's the one broke the goldfish,” said the little girl. There was a + pause during which she continued to scuff the curbstone with her shoe, + Jane likewise scuffing the fence-picket. “I'm goin' to have papa get him + arrested,” added the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “My papa got two men arrested once,” Jane said, calmly. “Two or three.” + </p> + <p> + The little girl's eyes, wandering upward, took note of Jane's papa's + house, and of a fierce young gentleman framed in an open window up-stairs. + He was seated, wore ink upon his forehead, and tapped his teeth with a red + penholder. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “It's Willie.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it your papa?” + </p> + <p> + “NO-O-O-O!” Jane exclaimed. “It's WILLIE!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said the little girl, apparently satisfied. + </p> + <p> + Each now scuffed less energetically with her shoe; feet slowed down; so + did conversation, and, for a time, Jane and the stranger wrapped + themselves in stillness, though there may have been some silent communing + between them. Then the new neighbor placed her feet far apart and leaned + backward upon nothing, curving her front outward and her remarkably + flexible spine inward until a profile view of her was grandly + semicircular. + </p> + <p> + Jane watched her attentively, but without comment. However, no one could + have doubted that the processes of acquaintance were progressing + favorably. + </p> + <p> + “Let's go in our yard,” said Jane. + </p> + <p> + The little girl straightened herself with a slight gasp, and accepted the + invitation. Side by side, the two passed through the open gate, walked + gravely forth upon the lawn, and halted, as by common consent. Jane + thereupon placed her feet wide apart and leaned backward upon nothing, + attempting the feat in contortion just performed by the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Look,” she said. “Look at ME!” + </p> + <p> + But she lacked the other's genius, lost her balance, and fell. Born + persistent, she immediately got to her feet and made fresh efforts. + </p> + <p> + “No! Look at ME!” the little girl cried, becoming semicircular again. + “This is the way. I call it 'puttin' your stummick out o' joint.' You + haven't got yours out far enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have,” said Jane, gasping. + </p> + <p> + “Well, to do it right, you must WALK that way. As soon as you get your + stummick out o' joint, you must begin an' walk. Look! Like this.” And the + little girl, having achieved a state of such convexity that her braided + hair almost touched the ground behind her, walked successfully in that + singular attitude. + </p> + <p> + “I'm walkin',” Jane protested, her face not quite upside down. “Look! I'M + walkin' that way, too. My stummick—” + </p> + <p> + There came an outraged shout from above, and a fierce countenance, stained + with ink, protruded from the window. + </p> + <p> + “Jane!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Stop that! Stop putting your stomach out in front of you like that! It's + disgraceful!” + </p> + <p> + Both young ladies, looking rather oppressed, resumed the perpendicular. + “Why doesn't he like it?” the stranger asked in a tone of pure wonder. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Jane. “He doesn't like much of anything. He's + seventeen years old.” + </p> + <p> + After that, the two stared moodily at the ground for a little while, + chastened by the severe presence above; then Jane brightened. + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> know!” she exclaimed, cozily. “Let's play callers. Right here by + this bush 'll be my house. You come to call on me, an' we'll talk about + our chuldren. You be Mrs. Smith an' I'm Mrs. Jones.” And in the character + of a hospitable matron she advanced graciously toward the new neighbor. + “Why, my dear Mrs. SMITH, come right IN! I THOUGHT you'd call this + morning. I want to tell you about my lovely little daughter. She's only + ten years old, an' says the brightest THINGS! You really must—” + </p> + <p> + But here Jane interrupted herself abruptly, and, hopping behind the + residential bush, peeped over it, not at Mrs. Smith, but at a boy of ten + or eleven who was passing along the sidewalk. Her expression was gravely + interested, somewhat complacent; and Mrs. Smith was not so lacking in + perception that she failed to understand how completely—for the time + being, at least—calling was suspended. + </p> + <p> + The boy whistled briskly, “My country, 'tis of thee,” and though his + knowledge of the air failed him when he finished the second line, he was + not disheartened, but began at the beginning again, continuing repeatedly + after this fashion to offset monotony by patriotism. He whistled loudly; + he walked with ostentatious intent to be at some heavy affair in the + distance; his ears were red. He looked neither to the right nor to the + left. + </p> + <p> + That is, he looked neither to the right nor to the left until he had + passed the Baxters' fence. But when he had gone as far as the upper corner + of the fence beyond, he turned his head and looked back, without any + expression—except that of a whistler—at Jane. And thus, still + whistling “My country, 'tis of thee,” and with blank pink face over his + shoulder, he proceeded until he was out of sight. + </p> + <p> + “Who was that boy?” the new neighbor then inquired. + </p> + <p> + “It's Freddie,” said Jane, placidly. “He's in our Sunday-school. He's in + love of me.” + </p> + <p> + “JANE!” + </p> + <p> + Again the outraged and ink-stained countenance glared down from the + window. + </p> + <p> + “What you want?” Jane asked. + </p> + <p> + “What you MEAN talking about such things?” William demanded. “In all my + life I never heard anything as disgusting! Shame on you!” + </p> + <p> + The little girl from across the street looked upward thoughtfully. “He's + mad,” she remarked, and, regardless of Jane's previous information, “It IS + your papa, isn't it?” she insisted. + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Jane, testily. “I told you five times it's my brother Willie.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said the little girl, and, grasping the fact that William's position + was, in dignity and authority, negligible, compared with that which she + had persisted in imagining, she felt it safe to tint her upward gaze with + disfavor. “He acts kind of crazy,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “He's in love of Miss Pratt,” said Jane. “She's goin' away to-day. She + said she'd go before, but to-day she IS! Mr. Parcher, where she visits, + he's almost dead, she's stayed so long. She's awful, I think.” + </p> + <p> + William, to whom all was audible, shouted, hoarsely, “I'll see to YOU!” + and disappeared from the window. + </p> + <p> + “Will he come down here?” the little girl asked, taking a step toward the + gate. + </p> + <p> + “No. He's just gone to call mamma. All she'll do' ll be to tell us to go + play somewheres else. Then we can go talk to Genesis.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Genesis. He's puttin' a load of coal in the cellar window with a shovel. + He's nice.” + </p> + <p> + “What's he put the coal in the window for?” + </p> + <p> + “He's a colored man,” said Jane. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we go talk to him now?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” Jane said, thoughtfully. “Let's be playin' callers when mamma comes + to tell us to go 'way. What was your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Rannie.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it wasn't.” + </p> + <p> + “It is too, Rannie,” the little girl insisted. “My whole name's Mary + Randolph Kirsted, but my short name's Rannie.” + </p> + <p> + Jane laughed. “What a funny name!” she said. “I didn't mean your real + name; I meant your callers' name. One of us was Mrs. Jones, and one was—” + </p> + <p> + “I want to be Mrs. Jones,” said Rannie. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my DEAR Mrs. Jones,” Jane began at once, “I want to tell you about my + lovely chuldren. I have two, one only seven years old, and the other—” + </p> + <p> + “Jane!” called Mrs. Baxter from William's window. + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm?” + </p> + <p> + “You must go somewhere else to play. Willie's trying to work at his + studies up here, and he says you've disturbed him very much.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm.” + </p> + <p> + The obedient Jane and her friend turned to go, and as they went, Miss Mary + Randolph Kirsted allowed her uplifted eyes to linger with increased + disfavor upon William, who appeared beside Mrs. Baxter at the window. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what let's do,” Rannie suggested in a lowered voice. “He got + so fresh with us, an' made your mother come, an' all, let's—let's—” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Let's what?” Jane urged her, in an eager whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Let's think up somep'n he won't like—an' DO it!” + </p> + <p> + They disappeared round a corner of the house, their heads close together. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIX + </h2> + <h3> + “DON'T FORGET!” + </h3> + <p> + Up-stairs, Mrs. Baxter moved to the door of her son's room, pretending to + be unconscious of the gaze he maintained upon her. Mustering courage to + hum a little tune and affecting inconsequence, she had nearly crossed the + threshold when he said, sternly: + </p> + <p> + “And this is all you intend to say to that child?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, Willie.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet I told you what she said!” he cried. “I told you I HEARD her + stand there and tell that dirty-faced little girl how that idiot boy + that's always walkin' past here four or five times a day, whistling and + looking back, was in 'love of' her! Ye gods! What kind of a person will + she grow up into if you don't punish her for havin' ideas like that at her + age?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter regarded him mildly, not replying, and he went on, with loud + indignation: + </p> + <p> + “I never heard of such a thing! That Worm walkin' past here four or five + times a day just to look at JANE! And her standing there, calmly tellin' + that sooty-faced little girl, 'He's in love of me'! Why, it's enough to + sicken a man! Honestly, if I had my way, I'd see that both she and that + little Freddie Banks got a first-class whipping!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think, Willie,” said Mrs. Baxter—“don't you think that, + considering the rather noncommittal method of Freddie's courtship, you are + suggesting extreme measures?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, SHE certainly ought to be punished!” he insisted, and then, with a + reversal to agony, he shuddered. “That's the least of it!” he cried. “It's + the insulting things you always allow her to say of one of the noblest + girls in the United States—THAT'S what counts! On the very last day—yes, + almost the last hour—that Miss Pratt's in this town, you let your + only daughter stand there and speak disrespectfully of her—and then + all you do is tell her to 'go and play somewhere else'! I don't understand + your way of bringing up a child,” he declared, passionately. “I do NOT!” + </p> + <p> + “There, there, Willie,” Mrs. Baxter said. “You're all wrought up—” + </p> + <p> + “I am NOT wrought up!” shouted William. “Why should I be charged with—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, now!” she said. “You'll feel better to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” he demanded, breathing deeply. + </p> + <p> + For reply she only shook her head in an odd little way, and in her parting + look at him there was something at once compassionate, amused, and + reassuring. + </p> + <p> + “You'll be all right, Willie,” she said, softly, and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + Alone, William lifted clenched hands in a series of tumultuous gestures at + the ceiling; then he moaned and sank into a chair at his writing-table. + Presently a comparative calm was restored to him, and with reverent + fingers he took from a drawer a one-pound box of candy, covered with white + tissue-paper, girdled with blue ribbon. He set the box gently beside him + upon the table; then from beneath a large, green blotter drew forth some + scribbled sheets. These he placed before him, and, taking infinite pains + with his handwriting, slowly copied: + </p> + <p> + DEAR LOLA—I presume when you are reading these lines it will be this + afternoon and you will be on the train moving rapidly away from this old + place here farther and farther from it all. As I sit here at my old desk + and look back upon it all while I am writing this farewell letter I hope + when you are reading it you also will look back upon it all and think of + one you called (Alias) Little Boy Baxter. As I sit here this morning that + you are going away at last I look back and I cannot rember any summer in + my whole life which has been like this summer, because a great change has + come over me this summer. If you would like to know what this means it was + something like I said when John Watson got there yesterday afternoon and + interrupted what I said. May you enjoy this candy and think of the giver. + I will put something in with this letter. It is something maybe you would + like to have and in exchange I would give all I possess for one of you if + you would send it to me when you get home. Please do this for now my heart + is braking. Yours sincerely, WILLIAM S. BAXTER (ALIAS) LITTLE BOY BAXTER. + </p> + <p> + William opened the box of candy and placed the letter upon the top layer + of chocolates. Upon the letter he placed a small photograph (wrapped in + tissue-paper) of himself. Then, with a pair of scissors, he trimmed an + oblong of white cardboard to fit into the box. Upon this piece of + cardboard he laboriously wrote, copying from a tortured, inky sheet before + him: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + IN DREAM + BY WILLIAM S. BAXTER + + The sunset light + Fades into night + But never will I forget + The smile that haunts me yet + Through the future four long years + I hope you will remember with tears + Whate'er my rank or station + Whilst receiving my education + Though far away you seem + I will see thee in dream. +</pre> + <p> + He placed his poem between the photograph and the letter, closed the box, + and tied the tissue-paper about it again with the blue ribbon. Throughout + these rites (they were rites both in spirit and in manner) he was subject + to little catchings of the breath, half gulp, half sigh. But the dolorous + tokens passed, and he sat with elbows upon the table, his chin upon his + hands, reverie in his eyes. Tragedy had given way to gentler pathos;—beyond + question, something had measurably soothed him. Possibly, even in this + hour preceding the hour of parting, he knew a little of that proud + amazement which any poet is entitled to feel over each new lyric miracle + just wrought. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps he was helped, too, by wondering what Miss Pratt would think of + him when she read “In Dream,” on the train that afternoon. For reasons + purely intuitive, and decidedly without foundation in fact, he was + satisfied that no rival farewell poem would be offered her, and so it may + be that he thought “In Dream” might show her at last, in one blaze of + light, what her eyes had sometimes fleetingly intimated she did perceive + in part—the difference between William and such every-day, rather + well-meaning, fairly good-hearted people as Joe Bullitt, Wallace Banks, + Johnnie Watson, and others. Yes, when she came to read “In Dream,” and to + “look back upon it all,” she would surely know—at last! + </p> + <p> + And then, when the future four long years (while receiving his education) + had passed, he would go to her. He would go to her, and she would take him + by the hand, and lead him to her father, and say, “Father, this is + William.” + </p> + <p> + But William would turn to her, and, with the old, dancing light in his + eyes, “No, Lola,” he would say, “not William, but Ickle Boy Baxter! Always + and always, just that for you; oh, my dear!” + </p> + <p> + And then, as in story and film and farce and the pleasanter kinds of + drama, her father would say, with kindly raillery, “Well, when you two + young people get through, you'll find me in the library, where I have a + pretty good BUSINESS proposition to lay before YOU, young man!” + </p> + <p> + And when the white-waistcoated, white-side-burned old man had, chuckling, + left the room, William would slowly lift his arms; but Lola would move + back from him a step—only a step—and after laying a finger + archly upon her lips to check him, “Wait, sir!” she would say. “I have a + question to ask you, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “What question, Lola?” + </p> + <p> + “THIS question, sir!” she would reply. “In all that summer, sir, so long + ago, why did you never tell me what you WERE, until I had gone away and it + was too late to show you what I felt? Ah, Ickle Boy Baxter, I never + understood until I looked back upon it all, after I had read 'In Dream,' + on the train that day! THEN I KNEW!” “And now, Lola?” William would say. + “Do you understand me, NOW?” + </p> + <p> + Shyly she would advance the one short step she had put between them, while + he, with lifted, yearning arms, this time destined to no disappointment—— + </p> + <p> + At so vital a moment did Mrs. Baxter knock at his door and consoling + reverie cease to minister unto William. Out of the rosy sky he dropped, + falling miles in an instant, landing with a bump. He started, placed the + sacred box out of sight, and spoke gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “What you want?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not coming in, Willie,” said his mother. “I just wanted to know—I + thought maybe you were looking out of the window and noticed where those + children went.” + </p> + <p> + “What children?” + </p> + <p> + “Jane and that little girl from across the street—Kirsted, her name + must be.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I did not.” + </p> + <p> + “I just wondered,” Mrs. Baxter said, timidly. “Genesis thinks he heard the + little Kirsted girl telling Jane she had plenty of money for carfare. He + thinks they went somewhere on a street-car. I thought maybe you noticed + wheth—” + </p> + <p> + “I told you I did not.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” she said, placatively. “I didn't mean to bother you, dear.” + </p> + <p> + Following this there was a silence; but no sound of receding footsteps + indicated Mrs. Baxter's departure from the other side of the closed door. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what you WANT?” William shouted. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—nothing at all,” said the compassionate voice. “I just + thought I'd have lunch a little later than usual; not till half past one. + That is if—well, I thought probably you meant to go to the station + to see Miss Pratt off on the one-o'clock train.” + </p> + <p> + Even so friendly an interest as this must have appeared to the quivering + William an intrusion in his affairs, for he demanded, sharply: + </p> + <p> + “How'd you find out she's going at one o'clock?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, Jane mentioned it,” Mrs. Baxter replied, with obvious + timidity. “Jane said—” + </p> + <p> + She was interrupted by the loud, desperate sound of William's fist smiting + his writing-table, so sensitive was his condition. “This is just + unbearable!” he cried. “Nobody's business is safe from that child!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Willie, I don't see how it matters if—” + </p> + <p> + He uttered a cry. “No! Nothing matters! Nothing matters at all! Do you + s'pose I want that child, with her insults, discussing when Miss Pratt is + or is not going away? Don't you know there are SOME things that have no + business to be talked about by every Tom, Dick, and Harry?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear,” she said. “I understand, of course. Jane only told me she met + Mr. Parcher on the street, and he mentioned that Miss Pratt was going at + one o'clock to-day. That's all I—” + </p> + <p> + “You say you understand,” he wailed, shaking his head drearily at the + closed door, “and yet, even on such a day as this, you keep TALKING! Can't + you see sometimes there's times when a person can't stand to—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Willie,” Mrs. Baxter interposed, hurriedly. “Of course! I'm going + now. I have to go hunt up those children, anyway. You try to be back for + lunch at half past one—and don't worry, dear; you really WILL be all + right!” + </p> + <p> + She departed, a sigh from the abyss following her as she went down the + hall. Her comforting words meant nothing pleasant to her son, who felt + that her optimism was out of place and tactless. He had no intention to be + “all right,” and he desired nobody to interfere with his misery. + </p> + <p> + He went to his mirror, and, gazing long—long and piercingly—at + the William there limned, enacted, almost unconsciously, a little scene of + parting. The look of suffering upon the mirrored face slowly altered; in + its place came one still sorrowful, but tempered with sweet indulgence. He + stretched out his hand, as if he set it upon a head at about the height of + his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it may mean—it may mean forever!” he said in a low, tremulous + voice. “Little girl, we MUST be brave!” + </p> + <p> + And the while his eyes gazed into the mirror, they became expressive of a + momentary pleased surprise, as if, even in the arts of sorrow, he found + himself doing better than he knew. But his sorrow was none the less + genuine because of that. + </p> + <p> + Then he noticed the ink upon his forehead, and went away to wash. When he + returned he did an unusual thing—he brushed his coat thoroughly, + removing it for this special purpose. After that, he earnestly combed and + brushed his hair, and retied his tie. Next, he took from a drawer two + clean handkerchiefs. He placed one in his breast pocket, part of the + colored border of the handkerchief being left on exhibition, and with the + other he carefully wiped his shoes. Finally, he sawed it back and forth + across them, and, with a sigh, languidly dropped it upon the floor, where + it remained. + </p> + <p> + Returning to the mirror, he again brushed his hair—he went so far, + this time, as to brush his eyebrows, which seemed not much altered by the + operation. Suddenly, he was deeply affected by something seen in the + glass. + </p> + <p> + “By George!” he exclaimed aloud. + </p> + <p> + Seizing a small hand-mirror, he placed it in juxtaposition to his right + eye, and closely studied his left profile as exhibited in the larger + mirror. Then he examined his right profile, subjecting it to a like + scrutiny emotional, yet attentive and prolonged. + </p> + <p> + “By George!” he exclaimed, again. “By George!” + </p> + <p> + He had made a discovery. There was a downy shadow upon his upper lip. What + he had just found out was that this down could be seen projecting beyond + the line of his lip, like a tiny nimbus. It could be seen in PROFILE. + </p> + <p> + “By GEORGE!” William exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + He was still occupied with the two mirrors when his mother again tapped + softly upon his door, rousing him as from a dream (brief but engaging) to + the heavy realities of that day. + </p> + <p> + “What you want now?” + </p> + <p> + “I won't come in,” said Mrs. Baxter. “I just came to see.” + </p> + <p> + “See what?” + </p> + <p> + “I wondered—I thought perhaps you needed something. I knew your + watch was out of order—” + </p> + <p> + “F'r 'evan's sake what if it is?” + </p> + <p> + She offered a murmur of placative laughter as her apology, and said: + “Well, I just thought I'd tell you—because if you did intend going + to the station, I thought you probably wouldn't want to miss it and get + there too late. I've got your hat here all nicely brushed for you. It's + nearly twenty minutes of one, Willie.” + </p> + <p> + “WHAT?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is. It's—” + </p> + <p> + She had no further speech with him. + </p> + <p> + Breathless, William flung open his door, seized the hat, racketed down the + stairs, and out through the front door, which he left open behind him. + Eight seconds later he returned at a gallop, hurtled up the stairs and + into his room, emerging instantly with something concealed under his coat. + Replying incoherently to his mother's inquiries, he fell down the stairs + as far as the landing, used the impetus thus given as a help to greater + speed for the rest of the descent—and passed out of hearing. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter sighed, and went to a window in her own room, and looked out. + </p> + <p> + William was already more than half-way to the next corner, where there was + a car-line that ran to the station; but the distance was not too great for + Mrs. Baxter to comprehend the nature of the symmetrical white parcel now + carried in his right hand. Her face became pensive as she gazed after the + flying slender figure:—there came to her mind the recollection of a + seventeen-year-old boy who had brought a box of candy (a small one, like + William's) to the station, once, long ago, when she had been visiting in + another town. For just a moment she thought of that boy she had known, so + many years ago, and a smile came vaguely upon her lips. She wondered what + kind of a woman he had married, and how many children he had—and + whether he was a widower—— + </p> + <p> + The fleeting recollection passed; she turned from the window and shook her + head, puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Now where on earth could Jane and that little Kirsted girl have gone?” + she murmured. + </p> + <p> + ... At the station, William, descending from the street-car, found that he + had six minutes to spare. Reassured of so much by the great clock in the + station tower, he entered the building, and, with calm and dignified + steps, crossed the large waiting-room. Those calm and dignified steps were + taken by feet which little betrayed the tremulousness of the knees above + them. Moreover, though William's face was red, his expression—cold, + and concentrated upon high matters—scorned the stranger, and warned + the lower classes that the mission of this bit of gentry was not to them. + </p> + <p> + With but one sweeping and repellent glance over the canaille present, he + made sure that the person he sought was not in the waiting-room. + Therefore, he turned to the doors which gave admission to the tracks, but + before he went out he paused for an instant of displeasure. Hard by the + doors stood a telephone-booth, and from inside this booth a little girl of + nine or ten was peering eagerly out at William, her eyes just above the + lower level of the glass window in the door. + </p> + <p> + Even a prospect thus curtailed revealed her as a smudged and dusty little + girl; and, evidently, her mother must have been preoccupied with some + important affair that day; but to William she suggested nothing familiar. + As his glance happened to encounter hers, the peering eyes grew instantly + brighter with excitement;—she exposed her whole countenance at the + window, and impulsively made a face at him. + </p> + <p> + William had not the slightest recollection of ever having seen her before. + </p> + <p> + He gave her one stern look and went on; though he felt that something + ought to be done. The affair was not a personal one—patently, this + was a child who played about the station and amused herself by making + faces at everybody who passed the telephone-booth—still, the + authorities ought not to allow it. People did not come to the station to + be insulted. + </p> + <p> + Three seconds later the dusty-faced little girl and her moue were sped + utterly from William's mind. For, as the doors swung together behind him, + he saw Miss Pratt. There were no gates nor iron barriers to obscure the + view; there was no train-shed to darken the air. She was at some distance, + perhaps two hundred feet, along the tracks, where the sleeping-cars of the + long train would stop. But there she stood, mistakable for no other on + this wide earth! + </p> + <p> + There she stood—a glowing little figure in the hazy September + sunlight, her hair an amber mist under the adorable little hat; a small + bunch of violets at her waist; a larger bunch of fragrant but less + expensive sweet peas in her right hand; half a dozen pink roses in her + left; her little dog Flopit in the crook of one arm; and a one-pound box + of candy in the crook of the other—ineffable, radiant, starry, there + she stood! + </p> + <p> + Near her also stood her young hostess, and Wallace Banks, Johnnie Watson, + and Joe Bullitt—three young gentlemen in a condition of solemn + tensity. Miss Parcher saw William as he emerged from the station building, + and she waved her parasol in greeting, attracting the attention of the + others to him, so that they: all turned and stared. + </p> + <p> + Seventeen sometimes finds it embarrassing (even in a state of deep + emotion) to walk two hundred feet, or thereabout, toward a group of people + who steadfastly watch the long approach. And when the watching group + contains the lady of all the world before whom one wishes to appear most + debonair, and contains not only her, but several rivals, who, though + FAIRLY good-hearted, might hardly be trusted to neglect such an + opportunity to murmur something jocular about one—No, it cannot be + said that William appeared to be wholly without self-consciousness. + </p> + <p> + In fancy he had prophesied for this moment something utterly different. He + had seen himself parting from her, the two alone as within a cloud. He had + seen himself gently placing his box of candy in her hands, some of his + fingers just touching some of hers and remaining thus lightly in contact + to the very last. He had seen himself bending toward the sweet blonde head + to murmur the few last words of simple eloquence, while her eyes lifted in + mysterious appeal to his—and he had put no other figures, not even + Miss Parcher's, into this picture. + </p> + <p> + Parting is the most dramatic moment in young love, and if there is one + time when the lover wishes to present a lofty but graceful appearance it + is at the last. To leave with the loved one, for recollection, a final + picture of manly dignity in sorrow—that, above all things, is the + lover's desire. And yet, even at the beginning of William's + two-hundred-foot advance (later so much discussed) he felt the heat + surging over his ears, and, as he took off his hat, thinking to wave it + jauntily in reply to Miss Parcher, he made but an uncertain gesture of it, + so that he wished he had not tried it. Moreover, he had covered less than + a third of the distance, when he became aware that all of the group were + staring at him with unaccountable eagerness, and had begun to laugh. + </p> + <p> + William felt certain that his attire was in no way disordered, nor in + itself a cause for laughter;—all of these people had often seen him + dressed as he was to-day, and had preserved their gravity. But, in spite + of himself, he took off his hat again, and looked to see if anything about + it might explain this mirth, which, at his action, increased. Nay, the + laughter began to be shared by strangers; and some set down their + hand-luggage for greater pleasure in what they saw. + </p> + <p> + William's inward state became chaotic. + </p> + <p> + He tried to smile carelessly, to prove his composure, but he found that he + had lost almost all control over his features. He had no knowledge of his + actual expression except that it hurt him. In desperation he fell back + upon hauteur; he managed to frown, and walked proudly. At that they + laughed the more, Wallace Banks rudely pointing again and again at + William; and not till the oncoming sufferer reached a spot within twenty + feet of these delighted people did he grasp the significance of Wallace's + repeated gesture of pointing. Even then he understood only when the + gesture was supplemented by half-articulate shouts: + </p> + <p> + “Behind you! Look BEHIND you!” + </p> + <p> + The stung youth turned. + </p> + <p> + There, directly behind him, he beheld an exclusive little procession + consisting of two damsels in single file, the first soiled with + house-moving, the second with apple sauce. + </p> + <p> + For greater caution they had removed their shoes; and each damsel, as she + paraded, dangled from each far-extended hand a shoe. And both damsels, + whether beneath apple sauce or dust smudge, were suffused with the rapture + of a great mockery. + </p> + <p> + They were walking with their stummicks out o' joint. + </p> + <p> + At sight of William's face they squealed. They turned and ran. They got + themselves out of sight. + </p> + <p> + Simultaneously, the air filled with solid thunder and the pompous train + shook the ground. Ah, woe's the word! This was the thing that meant to + bear away the golden girl and honeysuckle of the world—meant to, and + would, not abating one iron second! + </p> + <p> + Now a porter had her hand-bag. + </p> + <p> + Dear Heaven! to be a porter—yes, a colored one! What of that, NOW? + Just to be a simple porter, and journey with her to the far, strange pearl + among cities whence she had come! + </p> + <p> + The gentle porter bowed her toward the steps of his car; but first she + gave Flopit into the hands of May Parcher, for a moment, and whispered a + word to Wallace Banks; then to Joe Bullitt; then to Johnnie Watson;—then + she ran to William. + </p> + <p> + She took his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Don't forget!” she whispered. “Don't forget Lola!” + </p> + <p> + He stood stock-still. His face was blank, his hand limp. He said nothing. + </p> + <p> + She enfolded May Parcher, kissed her devotedly; then, with Flopit once + more under her arm, she ran and jumped upon the steps just as the train + began to move. She stood there, on the lowest step, slowly gliding away + from them, and in her eyes there was a sparkle of tears, left, it may be, + from her laughter at poor William's pageant with Jane and Rannie Kirsted—or, + it may be, not. + </p> + <p> + She could not wave to her friends, in answer to their gestures of + farewell, for her arms were too full of Flopit and roses and candy and + sweet peas; but she kept nodding to them in a way that showed them how + much she thanked them for being sorry she was going—and made it + clear that she was sorry, too, and loved them all. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by!” she meant. + </p> + <p> + Faster she glided; the engine passed from sight round a curve beyond a + culvert, but for a moment longer they could see the little figure upon the + steps—and, to the very last glimpse they had of her, the small, + golden head was still nodding “Good-by!” Then those steps whereon she + stood passed in their turn beneath the culvert, and they saw her no more. + </p> + <p> + Lola Pratt was gone! + </p> + <p> + Wet-eyed, her young hostess of the long summer turned away, and stumbled + against William. “Why, Willie Baxter!” she cried, blinking at him. + </p> + <p> + The last car of the train had rounded the curve and disappeared, but + William was still waving farewell—not with his handkerchief, but + with a symmetrical, one-pound parcel, wrapped in white tissue-paper, + girdled with blue ribbon. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind!” said May Parcher. “Let's all walk Up-town together, and talk + about her on the way, and we'll go by the express-office, and you can send + your candy to her by express, Willie.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXX + </h2> + <h3> + THE BRIDE-TO-BE + </h3> + <p> + In the smallish house which all summer long, from morning until late at + night, had resounded with the voices of young people, echoing their songs, + murmurous with their theories of love, or vibrating with their glee, + sometimes shaking all over during their more boisterous moods—in + that house, now comparatively so vacant, the proprietor stood and breathed + deep breaths. + </p> + <p> + “Hah!” he said, inhaling and exhaling the air profoundly. + </p> + <p> + His wife was upon the porch, outside, sewing. The silence was deep. He + seemed to listen to it—to listen with gusto; his face slowly + broadening, a pinkish tint overspreading it. His flaccid cheeks appeared + to fill, to grow firm again, a smile finally widening them. + </p> + <p> + “HAH!” he breathed, sonorously. He gave himself several resounding slaps + upon the chest, then went out to the porch and sat in a rocking-chair near + his wife. He spread himself out expansively. “My Glory!” he said. “I + believe I'll take off my coat! I haven't had my coat off, outside of my + own room, all summer. I believe I'll take a vacation! By George, I believe + I'll stay home this afternoon!” + </p> + <p> + “That's nice,” said Mrs. Parcher. + </p> + <p> + “Hah!” he said. “My Glory! I believe I'll take off my shoes!” + </p> + <p> + And, meeting no objection, he proceeded to carry out this plan. + </p> + <p> + “Hah-AH!” he said, and placed his stockinged feet upon the railing, where + a number of vines, running upon strings, made a screen between the porch + and the street. He lit a large cigar. “Well, well!” he said. “That tastes + good! If this keeps on, I'll be in as good shape as I was last spring + before you know it!” Leaning far back in the rocking-chair, his hands + behind his head, he smoked with fervor; but suddenly he jumped in a way + which showed that his nerves were far from normal. His feet came to the + floor with a thump, he jerked the cigar out of his mouth, and turned a + face of consternation upon his wife. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose,” said Mr. Patcher, huskily—“suppose she missed her train.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Parcher shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Think not?” he said, brightening. “I ordered the livery-stable to have a + carriage here in lots of time.” + </p> + <p> + “They did,” said Mrs. Parcher, severely. “About five dollars' worth.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't mind that,” he returned, putting his feet up again. “After + all, she was a mighty fine little girl in her way. The only trouble with + me was that crowd of boys;—having to listen to them certainly liked + to killed me, and I believe if she'd stayed just one more day I'd been a + goner! Of all the dam boys I ever—” He paused, listening. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Parcher!” a youthful voice repeated. + </p> + <p> + He rose, and, separating two of the vines which screened the end of the + porch from the street, looked out. Two small maidens had paused upon the + sidewalk, and were peering over the picket fence. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Parcher,” said Jane, as soon as his head appeared between the vines—“Mr. + Parcher, Miss Pratt's gone. She's gone away on the cars.” + </p> + <p> + “You think so?” he asked, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “We saw her,” said Jane. “Rannie an' I were there. Willie was goin' to + chase us, I guess, but we went in the baggage-room behind trunks, an' we + saw her go. She got on the cars, an' it went with her in it. Honest, she's + gone away, Mr. Parcher.” + </p> + <p> + Before speaking, Mr. Parcher took a long look at this telepathic child. In + his fond eyes she was a marvel and a darling. + </p> + <p> + “Well—THANK you, Jane!” he said. + </p> + <p> + Jane, however, had turned her head and was staring at the corner, which + was out of his sight. + </p> + <p> + “Oo-oo-ooh!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “What's the trouble, Jane?” + </p> + <p> + “Willie!” she said. “It's Willie an' that Joe Bullitt, an' Johnnie Watson, + an' Mr. Wallace Banks. They're with Miss May Parcher. They're comin' right + here!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Parcher gave forth a low moan, and turned pathetically to his wife, + but she cheered him with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “They've only walked up from the station with May,” she said. “They won't + come in. You'll see!” + </p> + <p> + Relieved, Mr. Parcher turned again to speak to Jane—but she was not + there. He caught but a glimpse of her, running up the street as fast as + she could, hand in hand with her companion. + </p> + <p> + “Run, Rannie, run!” panted Jane. “I got to get home an' tell mamma about + it before Willie. I bet I ketch Hail Columbia, anyway, when he does get + there!” + </p> + <p> + And in this she was not mistaken: she caught Hail Columbia. It lasted all + afternoon. + </p> + <p> + It was still continuing after dinner. Thatt evening, when an oft-repeated + yodel, followed by a shrill-wailed, “Jane-ee! Oh, Jane-NEE-ee!” brought + her to an open window down-stairs. In the early dusk she looked out upon + the washed face of Rannie Kirsted, who stood on the lawn below. + </p> + <p> + “Come on out, Janie. Mamma says I can stay outdoors an' play till half + past eight.” + </p> + <p> + Jane shook her head. “I can't. I can't go outside the house till + to-morrow. It's because we walked after Willie with our stummicks out o' + joint.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw!” Rannie cried, lightly. “My mother didn't do anything to me for + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, nobody told her on you,” said Jane, reasonably. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you come out at all?” Rannie urged. “Go ask your mother. Tell her—” + </p> + <p> + “How can I,” Jane inquired, with a little heat, “when she isn't here to + ask? She's gone out to play cards—she and papa.” + </p> + <p> + Rannie swung her foot. “Well,” she said, “I guess I haf to find SOMEp'n to + do! G' night!” + </p> + <p> + With head bowed in thought she moved away, disappearing into the gray + dusk, while Jane, on her part, left the window and went to the open front + door. Conscientiously, she did not cross the threshold, but restrained + herself to looking out. On the steps of the porch sat William, alone, his + back toward the house. + </p> + <p> + “Willie?” said Jane, softly; and, as he made no response, she lifted her + voice a little. “Will-ee!” + </p> + <p> + “Whatchwant!” he grunted, not moving. + </p> + <p> + “Willie, I told mamma I was sorry I made you feel so bad.” + </p> + <p> + “All right!” he returned, curtly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, when I haf to go to bed, Willie,” she said, “mamma told me because + I made you feel bad I haf to go up-stairs by myself, to-night.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, seeming to hope that he would say something, but he spake not. + </p> + <p> + “Willie, I don't haf to go for a while yet, but when I do—maybe in + about a half an hour—I wish you'd come stand at the foot of the + stairs till I get up there. The light's lit up-stairs, but down around + here it's kind of dark.” + </p> + <p> + He did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “Will you, Willie?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all RIGHT!” he said. + </p> + <p> + This contented her, and she seated herself so quietly upon the floor, just + inside the door, that he ceased to be aware of her, thinking she had gone + away. He sat staring vacantly into the darkness, which had come on with + that abruptness which begins to be noticeable in September. His elbows + were on his knees, and his body was sunk far forward in an attitude of + desolation. + </p> + <p> + The small noises of the town—that town so empty to-night—fell + upon his ears mockingly. It seemed to him incredible that so hollow a town + could go about its nightly affairs just as usual. A man and a woman, going + by, laughed loudly at something the man had said: the sound of their + laughter was horrid to William. And from a great distance from far out in + the country—there came the faint, long-drawn whistle of an engine. + </p> + <p> + That was the sorrowfulest sound of all to William. His lonely mind's eye + sought the vasty spaces to the east; crossed prairie, and river, and hill, + to where a long train whizzed onward through the dark—farther and + farther and farther away. William uttered a sigh, so hoarse, so deep from + the tombs, so prolonged, that Jane, who had been relaxing herself at full + length upon the floor, sat up straight with a jerk. + </p> + <p> + But she was wise enough not to speak. + </p> + <p> + Now the full moon came masquerading among the branches of the shade-trees; + it came in the likeness of an enormous football, gloriously orange. + Gorgeously it rose higher, cleared the trees, and resumed its wonted + impersonation of a silver disk. Here was another mockery: What was the use + of a moon NOW? + </p> + <p> + Its use appeared straightway. + </p> + <p> + In direct coincidence with that rising moon, there came from a little + distance down the street the sound of a young male voice, singing. It was + not a musical voice, yet sufficiently loud; and it knew only a portion of + the words and air it sought to render, but, upon completing the portion it + did know, it instantly began again, and sang that portion over and over + with brightest patience. So the voice approached the residence of the + Baxter family, singing what the shades of night gave courage to sing—instead + of whistle, as in the abashing sunlight. + </p> + <p> + Thus: + </p> + <p> + “My countree, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of liber-tee, My countree, 'tis of + thee, Sweet land of liber-tee, My countree, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of + liber-tee, My countree, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of liber-tee, My + countree, 'tis—” + </p> + <p> + Jane spoke unconsciously. “It's Freddie,” she said. + </p> + <p> + William leaped to his feet; this was something he could NOT bear! He made + a bloodthirsty dash toward the gate, which the singer was just in the act + of passing. + </p> + <p> + “You GET OUT O' HERE!” William roared. + </p> + <p> + The song stopped. Freddie Banks fled like a rag on the wind. + </p> + <p> + ... Now here is a strange matter. + </p> + <p> + The antique prophets prophesied successfully; they practised with some + ease that art since lost but partly rediscovered by M. Maeterlinck, who + proves to us that the future already exists, simultaneously with the + present. Well, if his proofs be true, then at this very moment when + William thought menacingly of Freddie Banks, the bright air of a happy + June evening—an evening ordinarily reckoned ten years, nine months + and twenty-one days in advance of this present sorrowful evening—the + bright air of that happy June evening, so far in the future, was actually + already trembling to a wedding-march played upon a church organ; and this + selfsame Freddie, with a white flower in his buttonhole, and in every + detail accoutred as a wedding usher, was an usher for this very William + who now (as we ordinarily count time) threatened his person. + </p> + <p> + But for more miracles: + </p> + <p> + As William turned again to resume his meditations upon the steps, his + incredulous eyes fell upon a performance amazingly beyond fantasy, and + without parallel as a means to make scorn of him. Not ten feet from the + porch—and in the white moonlight that made brilliant the path to the + gate—Miss Mary Randolph Kirsted was walking. She was walking with + insulting pomposity in her most pronounced semicircular manner. + </p> + <p> + “YOU GET OUT O' HERE!” she said, in a voice as deep and hoarse as she + could make it. “YOU GET OUT O' HERE!” + </p> + <p> + Her intention was as plain as the moon. She was presenting in her own + person a sketch of William, by this means expressing her opinion of him + and avenging Jane. + </p> + <p> + “YOU GET OUT O' HERE!” she croaked. + </p> + <p> + The shocking audacity took William's breath. He gasped; he sought for + words. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you—you—” he cried. “You—you sooty-faced little + girl!” + </p> + <p> + In this fashion he directly addressed Miss Mary Randolph Kirsted for the + first time in his life. + </p> + <p> + And that was the strangest thing of this strange evening. Strangest + because, as with life itself, there was nothing remarkable upon the + surface of it. But if M. Maeterlinck has the right of the matter, and if + the bright air of that June evening, almost eleven years in the so-called + future, was indeed already trembling to “Lohengrin,” then William stood + with Johnnie Watson against a great bank of flowers at the foot of a + church aisle; that aisle was roped with white-satin ribbons; and William + and Johnnie were waiting for something important to happen. And then, to + the strains of “Here Comes the Bride,” it did—a stately, solemn, + roseate, gentle young thing with bright eyes seeking through a veil for + William's eyes. + </p> + <p> + Yes, if great M. Maeterlinck is right, it seems that William ought to have + caught at least some eerie echo of that wedding-march, however faint—some + bars or strains adrift before their time upon the moonlight of this + September night in his eighteenth year. + </p> + <p> + For there, beyond the possibility of any fate to intervene, or of any + later vague, fragmentary memory of even Miss Pratt to impair, there in + that moonlight was his future before him. + </p> + <p> + He started forward furiously. “You—you—you little—” + </p> + <p> + But he paused, not wasting his breath upon the empty air. + </p> + <p> + His bride-to-be was gone. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Seventeen, by Booth Tarkington + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEVENTEEN *** + +***** This file should be named 1611-h.htm or 1611-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/1/1611/ + +Produced by Charles Keller and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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